Turf War, Statement of Purpose by Melissa Warp

On a recent bike ride along the Blue Ridge Parkway I looked out at newly built houses stacked upon each other, thinly veiled by skeletons of trees, butting up close to the national park boundary. I thought about the ways in which we are changing the setting in which we live. On each ride, I’d study my surroundings: the farms and old houses, the open fields and meandering rivers, the mountains I know by name. In the six years I have lived in this region, many such natural features that make this area distinct have been altered.

Rather than building smaller and blending with the land, we alter the landscape’s original form and take away the elements that make it distinct. We cut directly into the side of the mountain, or plow through old farm fields, remove all natural vegetation, lay down a carpet of foreign turf (which holds promise of pesticide saturation), and build. Old farms
transform into new developments with names that reflect what is no longer: Greenfield Street, Pheasants Ridge, and Valley Stream Drive. We are stretching cities out further into the country, building neighborhoods that consist solely of houses, leaving us completely dependent upon driving elsewhere for our needs. We threaten the borders of one of the region’s most
distinct National Parks, so that we have the very best views. We destroy the land we one relied upon for food and build upon it, causing us to search for alternatives that must be driven to our supermarkets from afar. Our garages have become half the size of our homes and store all the devices we use to "attack" our surroundings: leaf blowers, weed whackers, riding lawn mowers, and hedge trimmers. Superstores are built and we support them rather than our local businesses, which are left to stand vacant.

While visiting friends in Mexico I became aware of the many aspects of the country that, by our standards in the United States, might be considered poor. Yet despite such differences their communities are rich. San Luis Potosi is a city of one million residents, yet it was composed of what seemed to be distinct villages. Not only are most of their amenities within
walking distance, they know all the business owners near to their homes. More than simply going through the motions of a transaction, they connect. Perhaps through this, they have a deeper link with their community than many of us do in the United States. I noticed a great number of Mexicans commuting by bike, working close to home, or in their home. Whole families could be found working at businesses and eating and playing together. In many new suburban neighborhoods in the United States, many of these aforementioned aspects seem to be missing. When a neighborhood is built that lacks the elements to support a community, we lose touch with each other. We are not having the important conversations about what truly matters in life.

Each piece in this project is based on the theme of development. Because I felt images would have more impact, I wanted to produce artwork that helps reveal our changing landscape. And, more importantly, a majority of the pieces in the show are interactive, so that viewers become participants in altering landscapes. By directly involving the viewer, my hope is that they
will gain a sense of the power we have over land, and the consequences we face in ignoring the environment. While growth is inevitable and even encouraged in many parts of the world, I feel my role is to present images and text that will lead people to make smarter growth choices, and to think about the larger effects of the sprawl of development.