21 march 2022, Wouter van den Eijkel
Nature is indifferent to us, and I somehow find that consoling | Bryan Schutmaat about his County Road series
American photographer Bryan Schutmaat has made a name for himself in recent years with poetic work with a loving eye for humans documenting our relationship to our surroundings, nature and fellow humans. He usually works in inhospitable places where life mainly revolves around survival. During the pandemic, Schutmaat was forced to stay closer to home in Texas. This resulted in the beautiful County Road series, which can be seen at Galerie Wouter van Leeuwen until the end of the month.
Schutmaat made his debut in 2013 with Grays the Mountain Sends, a penetrating account of the hard life in the miner towns in the state of Montana. The portraits of the inhabitants, communities, quarries and youth who want to escape this existence have received considerable international attention. This was followed by Good Goddamn, a poignant series about the final days spent in freedom by a wrongfully convicted friend of his, and Vessels, a series about vulnerable people trying to survive on the fringes of society – literally and figuratively, as many of the shots were taken in the desert of the southwest United States.
Schutmaat made the County Road series during the pandemic and although portraits are lacking as a result, the theme of compassion is still present in the photos of abandoned houses, poor roads and polluted streams. The series was very well received in the Dutch press. This was partly why gallery owner Wouter van Leeuwen decided to extend the exhibition until the end of March.
Bryan Schutmaat, Road C, 2020 ( from County Road Series ), 2020, Galerie Wouter van Leeuwen
Compassion with vulnerable people is a recurring theme in your work. Was it hard to touch on this theme without taking any portraits?
Yes, it was difficult, but I also think human effort and emotion is recorded in commonplace, inanimate things. An abandoned house, an empty doorway or a dirt road still has a sense of human presence and can ignite narrative possibility.
You made this series during the pandemic. Consequently, you were forced to stay close to home. Would you say this is your most intimate series to date?
It’s hard to say. This work doesn't have pictures of people and I think portraits convey the greatest intimacy photography can offer. That said, this project came the most naturally, as I just photographed what was near to me, both physically and emotionally. For a lot of my work, I travel to faraway places to take pictures. In County Road, I shot closer to home and I was more familiar with the locations. Still, I felt a sense of curiosity and discovery. The poet Wendell Berry once wrote, “Even in a country you know by heart it's hard to go the same way twice. The life of the going changes. The chances change and make it a new way. Any tree or stone or bird can be the bud of a new direction.”
Bryan Schutmaat, Door A, 2020, Galerie Wouter van Leeuwen
As far as I can tell, County Road is your first series featuring close-ups of plants. Is this indeed a novel theme and if so, how does it fit in with the rest of your work?
I often try to measure human effort against nature’s scale of time. This puts things in perspective for humanity and reminds us of the brevity of our lifespans or even our civilizations. I’m inspired by filmmaker Terrence Malick and how he conveys nature alongside his characters. In my prior bodies of work, I shot among the mountains ranges and plains of the American West. There I dealt with the seeming eternity of geologic time and open spaces. In central Texas, there are no mountains and the horizons aren’t as vast, so I changed scale and began looking at grass and flowers. County Road is largely about time passing and it shows the transition from winter to spring. Despite a global pandemic at hand – or any tribulation endured by humans – the world keeps turning. Nature is indifferent to us, and I somehow find that consoling.
One striking feature of this series is the absence of portraits. Can you explain why you chose not to make any for this series?
Most of these pictures were taken in the early days of the pandemic and people didn’t get too close to each other, so I just drove around and watched time pass.
Bryan Schutmaat, Grass Flowers C, 2020, Galerie Wouter van Leeuwen
The Dutch press was unanimously positive about the County Road exhibition. A recurring typo in the reviews was the misspelling of County Road, inserting an extra ‘r’. What is a county?
That mistake with the title occurs quite often here in the States, too. I think people’s brains just want to convert ‘county’ to ‘country’ because ‘country road’ is such a common phrase. Maybe it has something to do with the famous John Denver song.
In the United States, a county is simply a small governmental district within a state that has its own administrative responsibilities – tax collection, providing emergency services, holding elections, and so on. Counties also oversee local infrastructure, such as civic buildings, bridges, and roads. Whereas highways lead to cities and to sights to see, most county roads lead to nowhere. And depending on where you are, it’s rare to see other cars and trucks on such roads, so you can drive around and be alone and really get lost.
Could you tell us a bit more about Leon County – the county in which you made this series? Is it typical for Texas or does it represent other parts of the U.S. as well?
I took many of the photos for this project in Leon County, but not all of them. Leon County is in the east of Texas. It’s mostly rural, with farms, forests, and small towns. The U.S. and Texas are such a big and diverse place that it’s hard to say what’s typical, but Leon County resembles Texas identity to me. Growing up, I spent a lot of time there. My parents have property there and it’s where I photographed my prior book, Good Goddamn. It has a place in my heart and in part, I consider Leon County home.
Bryan Schutmaat, County Road, Galerie Wouter van Leeuwen
The County Road exhibition can be visited by appointment until 31 March at Galerie Wouter van Leeuwen
