[smashing barbed wire between trenches with mortar shells; Europe during the Great War]
From the very beginning the concept of fencing was inverted in the
American colonies. In England the law
required that domesticated animals be fenced in and managed on a piece of
property- it was a strategy of retention. In the Americas however, a tradition of
common lands and open grazing quickly developed. Livestock were left to roam free and rounded
up at the end of the season for slaughter or overwintering in barns, while
farmers were responsible for fencing in their fields or subsistence
gardens. And so they did, developing
fence types as a defensive strategy of
detention, meant to keep hogs, deer, goats and other livestock or wild
animals at bay. Though the spatial
patterns and urbanization regimes varied wildly throughout the Americas, the
fencing strategy of enclosed, agricultural production surrounded by expansive
open lands for grazing was normalized from the commons of New England to the haciendas of California and Mexico, the estancias of Chile and Argentina, and the
fazendas of Brazil.
The materials at hand influenced the fence types developed. The Virginia worm fence was especially
popular in the English colonies on the Atlantic seaboard. Despite using massive quantities of wood it
needed no metal, leather, mortar, or other valuable materials and could be
cannibalized during the winter for firewood when there were no crops to
protect. This policy quickly brought the
colonists in the east into conflict with the indigenous people who considered
the lands to be their hunting grounds and the roaming pigs to be free
game. Despite the political
difficulties, the material demands of this fencing strategy were well suited to
the eastern seaboard and the technology began to spread west during the 19th
century.
[the Virginia worm fence at Gettysburg, PA]
While the Louisiana Purchase in 1804 opened up the possibility of US
expansion westward, it was not until nearly 60 years later with the signing of
the Homestead Act by Abraham Lincoln that population pressure began to
increase. With the ending of the civil
war, the maturation of canal technologies and rise of steam locomotive engines,
Americans began pushing to expand out of the woodland areas of Appalachia and
into the plains. In the Midwest there
were few trees, and there certainly weren’t enough to build a house and
construct a ridiculous worm-fence around one’s property to protect the farm
from the cattle and bison roaming free.
Barbed wire made homestead settlement there possible. By offering a fence technology that used very
little wood and was relatively easy to construct, barbed wire fencing made it
possible to farm in the Midwest. Sales
of barbed wire boomed. The Texas Genealogy and History site notes that in 1875 the Washburn and Moen Wire Company sold 10,000
pounds of barbed wire. Five years later
it sold nearly 51,000,000 pounds in Texas alone. Railroad right-of-ways were required to be
lined with the wire, which proved a useful source to farmers who found
themselves in a pinch or without the ability to get to market.
National armies quickly realized that this wire not only hindered
livestock but also humans and anything else made of flesh, and it was quickly
deployed to demarcate defensive positions.
Coils of the stuff were rolled out between trenches to create thick
defensive membranes that offered little resistance to mortars and bullets but were
impenetrable to grounded fleshy combatants.
Within a century this temporary strategy had crystallized along
contested borders such as the Korean DMZ or parts of the US-Mexico border. A frontier technology was adapted for the border
landscape.
[American GI's put down barbed wire coils on the Korean border; 1962]
[the Korean Demilitarized Zone, between North and South Korea; barbed wire is used in conjunction with lighting and a patrol regime to ensure the border is not transgressed]
Deploying barbed wire is a land-assault strategy: it is a measure of control for creating a
territory, and it is geographical (just putting a chunk down that one can easily
go around does nothing). And it is perceived
as a particularly nasty one, offending our delicate sensibilities because it
confronts a most basic weakness- fleshness.
But this was not always the case- there was a time when barbed wire
fencing was perceived as a miracle of the American frontier can-do spirit, and
as such there are still historical societies and old-timers that travel around
collecting special pieces of the stuff.
Levi Bryant’s ontic principle
suggest to us that a whole new range of fence types might be developed and
deployed, and that especially in frontier landscapes- those defined by ambiguous
and overlapping jurisdictions, perceived dangers, and latent potentiality-
fencing might be particularly apt as a strategy for respecting difference.
Everyone has seen if not noticed the weeds and trees that spring up
along guardrails and fence lines that can’t be easily mowed. Robert Irwin’s “Two Running Violet V Forms”
showed that fences can create difference without limiting human movement, and Brett Milligan’s “Goats on Belmont” project is
an example of a fence generating the conditions for a recreational landscape
[granted, it’s a stupid chain link fence and it’s the project that is smart. nonetheless the project couldn’t happen without the fence].
[Robert Irwin's "Two Running Violet V Forms" weaves chain link fence fabric between Eucalyptus trees]
[combinations of banal materials and forms like jersey barriers and chain link fencing might be used to separate in unexpected ways and generate new possibilities for use and experience]
[construction fencing, here used to simply demarcate a swath of trees to be cleared, also serves to register topographic change and plays against the tree trunks and vegetation; this might be used not only to showcase formal variation but also to create the conditions for new plant ecologies, goat parks, or play areas]
We’d like to see more ASLA awards go to landscape projects laced with
flesh-tearing wire, keeping out voracious yuppy whiners like ourselves and
sharing its secrets only with the lunatics, chimney swifts, and mycorrhizae
that respect the de/militarized landscape.
That may be a bridge to far for now, but by considering seemingly
mundane, offensive, or inappropriate technologies in the context of the
frontier landscape that is endemic to the Americas, we might develop some new
possibilities for program, form and construction of a real public space.






Save the Chimney Swift, build more flesh-tearing fences!
ReplyDeleteReally appreciate the linking of the ontic principle with the fence at the Goats on Belmont project. In nearly equal measure with the goats, that stupid flimsy fence generates all kinds of things that continue to surprise me. Its very stupidness is its curious vibrancy.
ReplyDelete....and I've long been obsessed with the gloriously banal quality of construction fencing.
ReplyDelete