Perry Dilbeck

Q: You live south of Atlanta, in Henry County, Georgia. Can you describe the development happening to this and other areas near Atlanta and how it inspired you to begin this series of photographs?
A: The urban sprawl has really hit Henry County hard in past eight years or so. It hasbeen voted one of the fastest growing counties in the nation on several occasions. There was once over fifty dairies in Henry County alone, and now I think there is only one still in operation.

When I was in graduate school ten years ago, I noticed on monthly visits to my parents that many of the local farmer’s land was being sold and converted in housing developments. These were some of the same properties that I grew up on and spent many hours playing on. On my hometown street alone (only 3 miles long), there used to be only sixteen houses, now there are well over 3000.

I felt a great sense of loss and wanted to capture what was left before all the farmers in this area were gone and land overrun with housing tracts. So I began to photograph and record personal histories of those farmers left in Henry County. I then researched other counties in Georgia and found that the same thing was happening and I continued to document this fading lifestyle.

Q: These photos evoke strong feelings of affection—both between you and your subject and in the way the subjects seem to feel about their work in the photos. Was this a conscious effort on your part?
A: Absolutely. You can see the wonderful pride and dignity in the farmers’ faces and the sense of loss in their eyes. I greatly admire their passion and work ethics. People today just don’t have that kind of work ethic. They don’t know what is like to grow their own food for survival and they have never really had to worry about where there next meal is coming from. A few of the farmers that I have documented vividly recall the depression and how tough it was just to put food on the table and to barter any surplus crops for clothing and equipment.

Q: How did your subjects feel about being documented as part of a culture and way of life that is vanishing? What were their reactions generally like to the photos?
A:I would take some sample images and explain that I was trying to tell the story ofthe demise of the small town farmer and most were more than happy to oblige. All of their reactions were very positive and they seemed grateful that someone was finally noticing this alarming trend and was informing others about it. The farmers’ grand kids and great grand kids were very honored to see the photographs and where their heritage began .

Q: You spent over ten years taking these photos and getting to know the truck farmers. Did you become friends with some of them? Are you still in touch with some of them?
A: Since I have spent hours and hours recording their stories and hundreds of rollsof film documenting them with the camera, I indeed have become close friends with all of my subjects. I have made many repeated visits without a camera, just to see how they are doing. I have been to 90th birthday parties and sadly, a funeral of the farmer’s wife.

I am honored to have met these people; they have deeply enriched my life and appreciation for what they do.

Q: Tom Rankin calls your images "a liturgical offering to the cultural and visual richness of these men and their care of land and community." Can you tell us more about what drew you to the truck farmers visually?
A: Visually, I am attracted to weathered hands and faces that show the signs of a vigorous life. The true essence of the farmer is captured with his hands and that is why there are many portraits conveying this.

Q: Why did you decide to use Holgas for these photographs? Can you tell us a little bit about these cameras and the techniques you used?
A: I found that my photography was becoming a little too predictable and static so I began to photograph with these cheap little plastic cameras from China that cost less that $20. These unpredictable cameras that tend to leak light everywhere yielded softly focused images with a dark edgy feel—southern gothic style, that I think added something special to the overall image. It was really exciting because the outcomes on film were exciting and I never really knew what to expect from camera to camera. It made photography fun again for me.

Q: You do commercial work and other art photography that is quite different from the photos in The Last Harvest. Can you tell us a little about some of your other work and how this body of images compares to the rest of your work?
A: My earlier commercial work was architectural interiors and studio still lifes. I then worked on color abstractions with multiple exposures without the use of the computer. I then traveled throughout the southeast documenting total strangers on their front porches or in their backyards. This was a somewhat interesting body of work since I was only with my subjects for a few hours and I put the camera really close in their face to get the images.

My newer work is color travel photography and black and white pinhole photography with the latter being my most favorite. Since I enjoy the happy accidents and surprises in photography, I have been shooting landscapes with lens-less cameras built from wood. Similar to plastic camera work, but even more unpredictable, the pinhole camera involves exposures that can reach into the hours.

Q: Can you name some photographers or other artists who have inspired your work?
A: Keith Carter, Sally Mann, Debbie Fleming Caffery, and Bill Burke have all been great inspirations for me. All but one have their roots deeply in the South, something I can strongly relate to.