Every day in October I set out to make photographs that were as much inward looking as outward. I visit the same spots year after year in close proximity to my home. They are little corners, paths, intersections, back lots, woods, groves, pastures of dying meadow grass. The locations are of no particular importance but for the magnetic pull they perform on my psyche. I love making these pictures year after year in these same spots of inexplicable allure.
What is it, the human condition, that makes it fragile and pliable to such thickets?
Green Lane © Michael Ast, 2017
