“There was only the enormous, empty prairie, with grasses blowing in waves of light and shadow across it, and the great blue sky above it, and birds flying up from it and singing with joy because the sun was rising. And on the whole enormous prairie there was no sign that any other human being had ever been there.” —Laura Ingalls Wilder
These images, presented in 16:9 black and white, are possible contributions to the Omaha Sprawl project. Taken January and February 2024.
With winter feeling like it’s slowly becoming a thing of the past, I had to take advantage of a storm opportunity for some wandering around midtown and downtown Omaha. Four hours, eight miles, and 400 photos later in 0F/-30F windchill: here are a few shots. The tips of my fingers are still numb two days later.
At 174th Street in west Omaha, an old red brick two lane highway emerges from between two glitzy looking car dealerships like a ghost. It ends unceremoniously at an intersection, cut off by new development and the Dodge freeway.
It’s often worth re-tracing worn paths. Yesterday, I wandered into downtown Omaha, using a route I had taken many times. I was worried before I left that it would be a boring walk. That I wouldn’t see anything new. What I actually found was the opposite: subtle changes worth documenting and a dynamic sky that occasionally belched flurries of snow. Often, my walks result in few to no interesting images. Other times I find a few keepers. Either is okay. It’s the getting out and doing that matters.
It’s possible some of images below will make it into the Fronts + Sides series (working title), but I think I need to sit on them for awhile longer to see if they stay with me.
Omaha, NE. March 18, 2023. Omaha, NE. March 18, 2023. #half Omaha, NE. March 18, 2023. #half Omaha, NE. March 18, 2023. Omaha, NE. March 18, 2023. Omaha, NE. March 18, 2023.
A coil of old sod lies like a dead animal on a bulldozed landscape below power lines. Dried mud preserves tire tracks near a group of identical new homes. A sculpture that used to sit downtown now has a commanding view of new housing developments. These are a few images from two trips I made out to west Omaha in the first few months of 2023 that you’ll find below. As I post these, I’m realizing these new additions to the Omaha Sprawl series feel particularly bleak and apocalyptic. Maybe that’s because snow has been a little hard to find this winter in Omaha. Or maybe it’s a reflection of the general direction of Nebraska these days. This is increasingly becoming a state hostile to anyone who’s not male and heterosexual.
There’s an interesting dichotomy that plays out with these new developments, which I’ve touched on before in these blog posts. On one side, these homes represent new opportunities. You can get a large new home geared toward a family for relatively cheap. At some level, it’s the American Dream, even if the dream part is born from development run amok. Yet, oppression is very much on the horizon. Spring and Summer are coming, and with it, harsh sun to bake shade-less streets and homes. And new laws which promise to wash that American Dream away with the spring rains.
Omaha, NE. January 16, 2023. Elkhorn area, Nebraska. February 26, 2023. #half Elkhorn area, Nebraska. February 26, 2023. #half Elkhorn area, Nebraska. February 26, 2023. Elkhorn area, Nebraska. February 26, 2023. #half Elkhorn area, Nebraska. February 26, 2023. #half Elkhorn area, Nebraska. February 26, 2023. Sidney Buchanan’s sculpture “Tree House with French Doors” looms over new developments in west Omaha, Nebraska. February 26, 2023.
A few weeks ago, I made an impromptu trip to Marcus, Iowa, to see the place my great grandparents raised their children. A howling frigid wind and the season’s first snowflakes greeted my arrival. Following some directions out of town, I came over a little hill with my car and saw the place. An old farm house among a group of leafless trees. I wasn’t positive but it felt right. This had to be the place.
The old farm struck me more than I thought it would. The stories my mom, grandmother, and great uncle tell started to make more sense. They emerged from the weird abstract place of stories you hear as a kid and became a reality. In the peeled paint, perseverance through the Great Depression. The looming wind turbines, unstoppable passage of time and change. Out the driveway and onto the gravel road, the kids who would serve in World War II, become parents, writers, nurses, artists, and schoolteachers.
Old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022. #half Farmhouse, old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022. #half Rear of the farmhouse, old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022. View from two outbuildings, old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022. Corncrib, old Meylor farm. Marcus, IA. November 11, 2022. #half Entrance to the old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022.#half Gravel road near the old Meylor farm. November 11, 2022.
Blair, NE. September 5, 2022. Christmas tree farm. Blair, NE. September 5, 2022. Blair, NE. September 5, 2022. Blair, NE. September 5, 2022. Blair, NE. September 5, 2022.
These black diamond-shaped signs are fast becoming a motif in my Omaha urban sprawl series. Beyond these scarecrow-like figures lie planned but unfinished avenues leading to eventual homes. There is a dualism about them that intrigues me. On one hand, they are harbingers of new opportunity: new homes, new lives, new stories. On the other, they are a momentary self-imposed dead-end to movement that seems to have no limits.
Omaha, NE. August 6, 2022. Omaha, NE. August 6, 2022. Omaha, NE. August 6, 2022.Omaha, NE. August 6, 2022.
