Do you know the old adage? 'No matter where you go, there you are.' The West is Here. It is a place-less place, a myth; it's the utopia we want to escape to and in searching for the West we begin to define ourselves. There's a natural cycle in progress, and in these photographs we've entered it towards the end, at the stage where most of these objects or structures are slowly disintegrating and being reclaimed by the very landscape they once arrogantly sought to command. How does our landscape mirror our cultural identity and what does the visible death of the landscape mean to our collective conscience?
