The Death of the Backdrop: Why I’m Leaving Pioneers Park Behind
The Comfort of the Common
Every city has “The Spot.” In Lincoln, it’s the limestone columns and the red barn at Pioneers Park. It’s safe. It’s convenient. And for a long time, it was the standard. But as I transitioned my work from simple photography to ARTography, I realized something uncomfortable:
When we choose a location because it’s easy, we aren’t documenting your history—we’re just renting a stage that thousands of others have stood on.
A Story Lost in the Grass
Last year, I stood near the buffalo exhibits and watched three different groups rotate through the same patch of high grass. Each family wore coordinated outfits; each looked beautiful. But as a Documentary Archivist, I felt a disconnect.
Your legacy isn’t found in a public park you visit once a year for a card. Your story is written in the gritty details of your real life—the way the light hits your kitchen table, the textured brick of the coffee shop where you had your first date, or the cinematic shadows of a Haymarket alleyway.
Why “Expensive Grit” Demands More
My eye has shifted. I’ve traded the soft, predictable greenery for expensive grit. I’m looking for:
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Architectural Weight: Concrete, iron, and glass offer a structural depth that grass simply cannot provide.
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Cinematic Contrast: I want to play with the high-contrast light that bounces off city buildings, creating a moody, editorial feel that looks like a film still.
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Physical Permanence: We aren’t just making digital files. We are creating physical archives. When you look at a printed piece of art on your wall twenty years from now, I want you to see your world, not a manicured lawn.
Your History Deserves an Original
I am officially moving away from the “turn and burn” locations. If you’re looking for the columns, I can point you to a dozen talented people who will take that photo for you.
But if you want to document your history with an editorial edge, if you want your life to look as raw and expensive as it feels, then let’s go somewhere real. Let’s find a corner of Nebraska that hasn’t been photographed a million times.
