Every town has its edgelands.
Where domesticated sprawl meets semi-rural fields.
Where manicured hedges wrapping homes are replaced by scraggy bushes enclosing fields.
And mobile phone masts are shouty trig points.
Where trees stand sentry while the well trodden path is a filled-in moat.
Where the sports field hints at the open spaces beyond.
And a neglected goal meshing with chicken wire is the last stand.
A warning. Keep out.
Concrete and cans. Fags and fumbles. Remnants and refuse.
Edge away, turn your back and get home in time for tea.
Photos of the edgelands in my hometown of Bradford on Avon.
Further reading, listening and looking:
The memoirs of ‘Another Planet: A Teenager in Suburbia’ by Tracey Thorn and ‘Coal Black Mornings’ by Brett Anderson.
The albums ‘Blue Hour’ by Suede and ‘Your Wilderness Revisited’ by William Doyle.
The photos of ‘Looking at the Overlooked’ by John Myers and ‘The New West’ Robert Adams.
The paintings of George Shaw.
“Suburban avenues and riverbanks, backstreets and woods [are] the best free show on Earth.”
Jonathan Meades
Edgelands
I loved this piece!
Some lovely images here, thanks for sharing.