Final Project - Taylor Jennings

My artwork looks at the tie between landscape and humanity’s footprint. Rusted out cars, old dilapidated buildings, abstractions and landscape. Once upon a time these pieces had purpose and value. Now they sit neglected, weathered by the elements. Left to rust and decay they become fixtures of the landscape. Memories of a past no longer here. Manufactured and built once to serve a purpose. They have been left alone and forgotten, slowly to disintegrate back to what they once were, before man had a hand in shaping them to his will and purpose. Each of these pieces have history, character and a story. My intention with these photographs is to portray that story and character with my photography

Final Project Jessica Carbine

Old Soul; a term used to describe those who find themselves out of place in this new world, often feel a longing to go back to the old times. Helper Utah is one such place that seems to embody this idea. The town looks as though it is from another time, the buildings are in good repair as though no time has passed at all, but the atmosphere feels almost deserted at times. Helper is a historic mining town, where the railroad was used extensively to take coal out of the town and bring supplies in. The rails were once so important to take you in and out of this town but many of them are no longer in use. If you follow these abandoned rails out of town, you will come to a place called Spring Canyon. Once this area was a small mining community much like Helper, the buildings now fall into decay, but they refuse to wither away completely. This black and white series seeks to explore not only the difference between these two places, but also how eerily similar they are. 

Final--Aften Ritzman

Growing up in a small, rural, western town I was surrounded by cowboys, cattle, horses, and wide open spaces. I lived in cowboy boots and blue jeans. My skin care consisted of scrubbing the dust and sweat from my face at the end of the day. My hands were calloused and my nails had a constant crescent of dirt beneath them. I believed the whole world lived the way we did in my tiny home town.

When I went off to college I realized the world was not the way I had once believed it to be. Seeing cowboy boots walking down the sidewalk was a rarity. My new community did not understand what I meant when I talked about hauling hay, and they complained about our distance from urban centers. For the first time I realized the American Cowboy is a dying breed.

In this photographic project I use cowboy boots and landscapes of cattle, horses, and rangeland, empty of the men and women who traditionally occupy them, to portray the nostalgia I feel when thinking about what once was.