The backyard is a variable extravaganza of compositions.
An overarching archetype of duality and banality. Red against green but not in a Hark! The Herald Angels Sing kind of way. We follow the winding crimson trail through thick emerald underbrush. Snaps and collapse.
Here we find what was left behind. The unfinished refined. A coil of polyvinyl chloride lies in wait like a snake or more like it’s skeletal remains. A home now for vermin I can almost hear them squirming. It’s hard to determine what left this place in disarray but I sense a general tone of dismay in the decay.
Not far from our last still life I find pillars three; one for death, one for life, one for technology. Do you see the pipes peeking through greenery? Some ancient aqueduct left behind by a primitive bread of man. Maybe this explains the overgrowth; or it could be the tropical climate applied to such confinement. Fences and wood provide consequences and adulthood.
The final archeological discovery is bit more perfunctory. Greco Roman influences collaborate with the tile department at Lows to create this less than immaculate oasis. Again, we see water, this time held in place by extruded synthetic rubber. It tries to blend in with its surroundings just using color. Have you ever noticed what we call green, the plants, the tress and of course the grass on our knees, is closer to citron than the green in magazines? Even nature is asked to conform to an unrealistic beauty.