Here I’ve tried to recreate a small slice of the rural south of long ago. Concrete block building, oil drums out back, lonesome narrow road, stupidly hot day, nothing stirring for so long until off in the distance a shower is heading this way. The lights will soon click on, humming as darkness falls.
I guess this is really a stage set. The “rain” is strands of chain links hung from a wire suspended by old telephone poles. This “rain” obscures the trees at the back of the lot, giving them a hazy, far off quality. The oil barrels become planters for whatever weeds will take root in them. A right of way fence hugs the narrow blacktop. The deck hanging off the concrete block “garage” becomes the place for contemplation of this scene.