ROADKILL MANIFESTO: Just Because It's In Slow Motion Doesn't Mean You Can Stop It

Preface - An ongoing eight-year-old project documenting roadkill, with various cameras.


07/08/2004: This morning while I was driving to work, I was finally able to nail down my obsession with taking pictures of roadkill. The reasons are complicated and complex, but it appears to be a form of ancestor worship and spiritual connection, or ritual.

There are several factors that have merged and corrupted each other, and have formed the many facets of my reasoning.

1. My immediate human family is very small and fragmented, so there is not the great sense of belonging that some families enjoy, even in a cultural or ancestral sense. No tribe. No peers. No "people". Adoption, deception, denial and class structure have fragmented the greater ties. This has created a hole in my being. My bloodlines are scary and vague. I don't really want to trace my maternal lines for fear that I am linked to some whip-wielding slave-ship owner. I detest such people, and constantly work to unravel them. I have no interest in exploring my paternal side, since I was a responsibility apparently not worth taking. So, geneology isn't my path to the answer.

I moved a lot as a kid and was isolated and alone most of the time. I didn't have time to create my own "tribe" of friends. Circumstances throughout my life have kept me too busy to really socialize. And in the end, I would choose to make art instead anyway. Animals give me the closest thing to a sense of "tribe", because they're everywhere, and as long as I respect their nature, they respect mine.

3. I've always loved the natural world and animals, and feel a deeper connection to them than I do to people. Nature does not destroy without replenishing, and nothing is ever personal. Naturally, I have always been drawn to rituals with a deep spiritual connection to nature, and have a great respect for Eastern and tribal traditions, as well as farming and simple rural living. I have slowly watched my childhood pastures and haunts be replaced by exploding residential growth. Animals and open space are dying. What was once my great-grandparents' farm is now a fucking Walmart.
Literally.
It was sold by a third party against the family's wishes, and now services the new influx of commuter lemmings. Where did all the deer go?

4. Growing up in the eighties probably had a lot more to do with it than I will ever give it credit for. I was suscepted to the same phenomenon that has been considered to be a factor in the creation of the "Furry" subculture. For some reason, back in the eighties when I was little, there were a lot of cartoon shows based on anthropomorphic characters that were animal/human hybrids. Being a latch-key kid, I watched a LOT of TV. Every day after school, I had the Thundercats, and my own cat, Buttercup, to keep me company. They were always there when I needed them. Like any girl, I also loved stuffed animals and had a wall of them around my bed to keep out intruders. They protected me and welcomed me home every day as a fluffy surrogate family. Now I am fascinated to a large degree with anthropomorphism.

Sometimes, I would sneek out of the house at night, and climb a mountain of dirt across the street left over from construction on a new housing development. I would howl at the moon, in sorrow for the loss of the land, and in hopes that maybe some "wild" suburban animal would come join me. In those moments I was a wolf, and could forget about junior high and everything that went with it, and just exist as pure expression. At least until someone would turn on a light and throw a shoe at me.

5. Like all little girls, I swore I could talk to animals, and that they understood me. I had a vivid imagination, and give it total credit for keeping me from going "Fight Club" today. I spent more time talking to imaginary animals than I did human beings, and wrote epic stories and drew pictures of their lives. I still can't keep myself from conversing with the bunny who lives in my yard, much to the confusion of my neighbors. I despise progress for progress' sake, and see the international community depleting its resources in the near future, including the animal kingdom and the natural world. The refusal to do things logically, say, finding sustainable fuel sources, boggles my mind and makes me want to distance myself from the human race, if it were possible. If man goes, he's going to take everything and everyone else with him. Including my ancestors, the bunny in my yard, and the poor beings who lost their lives on the roads I travel. Meanwhile, animals are unconcerned with the amount of money you'll save with Our Everyday Low Prices. Unfortunately, they are probably not aware of the threat of mindless consumerism and how it has already killed them many times over.

Conclusion:
I prefer to look at animals as my ancestors, and kin. This is partly because of the scientific evidence of evolution, and partly because they respect their role in life, and do not tend to live beyond their means. I believe that somewhere, my human ancestors were guardians of nature and the circle of life, because it is the strongest spiritual drive that I have. It is synchronistic and symbiotic with my maternal instincts, and with self-sustaining logic. I feel the need to preserve these ideals, and to remind the world that our dependency on the natural world is the basic building block of our existence.

Documenting roadkill is a way for me to honor the dead and heighten consciousness.
It is a feeble apology to all my ancestors who were run over in the name of "progress", and a shrine to their perfect spirits. It is also a reminder of modern man's priorities, and the shrinking timeline for his existence, if he continues to ignore his place in the circle. If things do not change, one day, he too, will be run over by his own progress and lie flat on his back in the sweltering sun, festering and smelling like garbage.