Wednesday, February 6, 2008
The Death of a Farm
I just discovered this photo essay by Chicago Tribune photographer Scott Strazzante, in which he examines a farm in Lockport, IL that undergoes transformation into a cookie-cutter subdivision. It's a really beautiful piece and it's interesting to see a sort of reconciliation made between the agrarian past and the present. My dislike for new subdivisions, generic construction, and the destruction of America's farming heritage is by no means mitigated by this work, but I can certainly see that sometimes such progress (if it can be called that), is the natural course of things and that the inevitable can only be delayed so much.
Gastronomica Quarterly
I was in Borders about three weeks ago, browsing their selection of magazines when I happened upon a copy of Gastronomica Quarterly. Full of beautiful photographs, essays, criticism, reviews, etc., the magazine was compendium of current intellectual discourse on food and food culture. For some reason, I didn't buy a copy – I think I spent a bit too much on dinner and I was in a kind of "wallet-shock" at the moment.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Joy Tivy, "Agricultural Ecology"
Tivy, Joy, Agricultural Ecology, Longman Scientific & Technical: New York, 1990.
More of an overview of sustainable agricultural practices, Joy Tivy’s book is also a melding of the scientific method of Canter’s Environmental Impacts of Agricultural Activities, and the more critical and polemical approach of Fatal Harvest. Tivy also provides case studies of agricultural systems worldwide, from the rice paddies of southeast Asia, to the fields of Africa. While not necessarily so important to my particular study and research, such data gives a comprehensive examination of how the various economies of agriculture differ from what we see here in the United States. Also, like Fatal Harvest, correlations are drawn between agriculture, be it intensive or not, and conventional or organic, and its effect on the environment. This, unsurprisingly, gives Tivy the room to argue that organic non-intensive agriculture has less of a negative impact on the environment than other forms of farming.
More of an overview of sustainable agricultural practices, Joy Tivy’s book is also a melding of the scientific method of Canter’s Environmental Impacts of Agricultural Activities, and the more critical and polemical approach of Fatal Harvest. Tivy also provides case studies of agricultural systems worldwide, from the rice paddies of southeast Asia, to the fields of Africa. While not necessarily so important to my particular study and research, such data gives a comprehensive examination of how the various economies of agriculture differ from what we see here in the United States. Also, like Fatal Harvest, correlations are drawn between agriculture, be it intensive or not, and conventional or organic, and its effect on the environment. This, unsurprisingly, gives Tivy the room to argue that organic non-intensive agriculture has less of a negative impact on the environment than other forms of farming.
Michael Pollan, "The Omnivore's Dilemma"
Pollan, Michael, The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals, Penguin Press: New York, New York, 2006.
In succinct terms, this book is all about the way that we eat. An examination of where our food comes from, how it is made, and how it wends its way from the farm to dinner plate, The Omnivore’s Dilemma is a crafted look at the ways that modern society has created a system to produce food on an immense scale, both organic and non, and also those producers and farmers who still practice the art of farming on intimate terms. Michael Pollan tours a massive feedlot packed with thousands of steers, followed by a walk around a small farm that engages in sustainable practices, and has built up a customer base and profits through the production of quality food. He praises the ideal of organic agriculture, while also pointing out that its recent popularity has led some organic producers to practice industrial agriculture on massive scales. While incredibly fascinating, informative, and balanced, Pollan’s book helps to answer why people find organic food worth the additional premium over conventional produce. And when one answers that question, does it become apparent why agricultural magazines would find it worthwhile to cover organic agriculture in a positive light: there’s money to be made. However, under the influence of the agrichemical industry that subsidizes most of those magazines through advertising, the potential of organic farming may be mitigated or dismissed entirely. So when a book comes along such as Pollan’s, the possibility exists that organic agriculture may become more accepted across all fronts, even as it is now a part of the mainstream of popular culture.
In succinct terms, this book is all about the way that we eat. An examination of where our food comes from, how it is made, and how it wends its way from the farm to dinner plate, The Omnivore’s Dilemma is a crafted look at the ways that modern society has created a system to produce food on an immense scale, both organic and non, and also those producers and farmers who still practice the art of farming on intimate terms. Michael Pollan tours a massive feedlot packed with thousands of steers, followed by a walk around a small farm that engages in sustainable practices, and has built up a customer base and profits through the production of quality food. He praises the ideal of organic agriculture, while also pointing out that its recent popularity has led some organic producers to practice industrial agriculture on massive scales. While incredibly fascinating, informative, and balanced, Pollan’s book helps to answer why people find organic food worth the additional premium over conventional produce. And when one answers that question, does it become apparent why agricultural magazines would find it worthwhile to cover organic agriculture in a positive light: there’s money to be made. However, under the influence of the agrichemical industry that subsidizes most of those magazines through advertising, the potential of organic farming may be mitigated or dismissed entirely. So when a book comes along such as Pollan’s, the possibility exists that organic agriculture may become more accepted across all fronts, even as it is now a part of the mainstream of popular culture.
Thomas F. Pawlick, "The Invisible Farm..."
Pawlick, Thomas F., The Invisible Farm: The Worldwide Decline of Farm News and Agricultural Journalism Training. Burnham Inc.: Chicago, 2001.
Thomas F. Pawlick’s book is an interesting animal. In the central thesis of the book, Pawlick bemoans the decline of farm and agricultural journalism. He lays out his case by describing the degree to which that farm reportage has declined in both prevalence, quality, and scope. Once reports from rural America were commonplace in major metropolitan newspapers – now, not so much. With the exception of a chapter devoted almost entirely to a discussion of the pitfalls of large-scale corporate agriculture, Pawlick hardly deviates from his analysis of agricultural journalism. Additionally, a look at the agricultural journalism of Africa, and for that matter, the overall agricultural situation in that continent, both in various states of disrepair, give Pawlick cause to urge on training for Africa’s agricultural journalists as a way for Africa to better its food production system and infrastructure. Referenced by UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization) and ACCE (African Council on Communication Education) documents, the case is made for the importance of agricultural journalism, not just in Africa, but across the entire world. The value of this book to my work is in the fact that it discusses farm and rural journalism, as not just a variant of community journalism, but instead a genre all its own with real power and importance in the journalism world.
Thomas F. Pawlick’s book is an interesting animal. In the central thesis of the book, Pawlick bemoans the decline of farm and agricultural journalism. He lays out his case by describing the degree to which that farm reportage has declined in both prevalence, quality, and scope. Once reports from rural America were commonplace in major metropolitan newspapers – now, not so much. With the exception of a chapter devoted almost entirely to a discussion of the pitfalls of large-scale corporate agriculture, Pawlick hardly deviates from his analysis of agricultural journalism. Additionally, a look at the agricultural journalism of Africa, and for that matter, the overall agricultural situation in that continent, both in various states of disrepair, give Pawlick cause to urge on training for Africa’s agricultural journalists as a way for Africa to better its food production system and infrastructure. Referenced by UNESCO (United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization) and ACCE (African Council on Communication Education) documents, the case is made for the importance of agricultural journalism, not just in Africa, but across the entire world. The value of this book to my work is in the fact that it discusses farm and rural journalism, as not just a variant of community journalism, but instead a genre all its own with real power and importance in the journalism world.
Edmund Morris, "Ten Acres Enough..."
Morris, Edmund, Ten Acres Enough: The Classic 1864 Guide to Independent Farming, Mineola, New York: Dover Publications, Inc. 1864, 2004.
This text by Edmund Morris must have served as inspiration for so many of those back-to-the-landers depicted in Eleanor Agnew’s Back from the Land. Here, Morris details the exact steps he took to remove his family from the congested city of Philadelphia, and install them into the countryside of New Jersey where he commenced to build a personal economy that was sustainable and profitable, with only a small initial sum with which to make all his first purchases, including the farm itself. And Morris hardly dwells on just the pecuniary riches that his farm generates – he talks briefly about humankind’s role on the landscape, as both stewards, and as advanced animals, capable of destroying just as much as creating (91-92), which echoes many of the sentiments expressed by Wendell Berry.
What is so interesting about Morris’ book is that he makes farming out to be a completely accessible endeavour by nearly anyone, which is not necessarily true. The relationship between Morris and his land is a testament somewhat, of the power that farming, practiced sustainably, has to be profitable. Certainly, some of his techniques and equipment used are obsolete now in this era of information-tech and mechanization, but Ten Acres serves as a lesson that one need not dive deep into indebtedness and farming on gargantuan farms in order to live a sustainable and worthwhile existence on the land.
This text by Edmund Morris must have served as inspiration for so many of those back-to-the-landers depicted in Eleanor Agnew’s Back from the Land. Here, Morris details the exact steps he took to remove his family from the congested city of Philadelphia, and install them into the countryside of New Jersey where he commenced to build a personal economy that was sustainable and profitable, with only a small initial sum with which to make all his first purchases, including the farm itself. And Morris hardly dwells on just the pecuniary riches that his farm generates – he talks briefly about humankind’s role on the landscape, as both stewards, and as advanced animals, capable of destroying just as much as creating (91-92), which echoes many of the sentiments expressed by Wendell Berry.
What is so interesting about Morris’ book is that he makes farming out to be a completely accessible endeavour by nearly anyone, which is not necessarily true. The relationship between Morris and his land is a testament somewhat, of the power that farming, practiced sustainably, has to be profitable. Certainly, some of his techniques and equipment used are obsolete now in this era of information-tech and mechanization, but Ten Acres serves as a lesson that one need not dive deep into indebtedness and farming on gargantuan farms in order to live a sustainable and worthwhile existence on the land.
Fatal Harvest, edited by Andrew Kimbrell
Fatal Harvest: The Tragedy of Industrial Agriculture, edited by Andrew Kimbrell, Island Press: Washington, 2002.
A massive, well-thought-out compendium of essays from a disparate spectrum of people, all tied together under the umbrella of being distinctly anti-industrial agriculture. This book is full of perspectives, from academics interested in farm policy, to gourmet chefs, such as Alice Waters, who is known for her near-exclusive use of local food in her restaurants. Much like Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma, this is a book written for the masses, but on the contrary, this hardly detracts from the content. Fatal Harvest does make an attempt to be all-encompassing – nearly every facet affected by industrial high-yield agriculture receives attention, from the environment, to farming communities, to even the big city. Also like The Omnivore’s Dilemma, is this book’s use of specific foodstuffs, such as corn and soybeans, to prove points, but minus Pollan’s even-handed approach. The arguments here, while certainly one-sided, are balanced from where they are sourced – those in academia have their say, just as much as those from other points in the sphere of influence. A major focus of this book is organic agriculture, and while its devotion to the topic is certainly understandable, Fatal Harvest does find room to critique certain aspects of the organic movement, such as the “Wal-Martification” of organics.
A massive, well-thought-out compendium of essays from a disparate spectrum of people, all tied together under the umbrella of being distinctly anti-industrial agriculture. This book is full of perspectives, from academics interested in farm policy, to gourmet chefs, such as Alice Waters, who is known for her near-exclusive use of local food in her restaurants. Much like Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma, this is a book written for the masses, but on the contrary, this hardly detracts from the content. Fatal Harvest does make an attempt to be all-encompassing – nearly every facet affected by industrial high-yield agriculture receives attention, from the environment, to farming communities, to even the big city. Also like The Omnivore’s Dilemma, is this book’s use of specific foodstuffs, such as corn and soybeans, to prove points, but minus Pollan’s even-handed approach. The arguments here, while certainly one-sided, are balanced from where they are sourced – those in academia have their say, just as much as those from other points in the sphere of influence. A major focus of this book is organic agriculture, and while its devotion to the topic is certainly understandable, Fatal Harvest does find room to critique certain aspects of the organic movement, such as the “Wal-Martification” of organics.
Wendell Berry, "The Gift of Good Land" and "The Unsettling of America"
Berry, Wendell, The Gift of Good Land. New York: North Point Press; Farrar Straus, and Giroux, 1982.
To Wendell Berry, the farm, the soil, and the land are not just mechanisms of food production, institutions out in the country, and far removed from the city, but rather the glue that binds together society and all of humanity. Berry is a man much interested and maybe obsessed with how modern society, in its quest to absolve itself of its agrarian roots with gleaming cities, mass-production, and high levels of efficiency achieved only through invention, is still inextricably attached to the fields and forests from whence it came. It is this connection that strikes at the heart of the essays collected here in Gift – the “taint’ of progress, with its mechanized and chemical means of production, has Berry here questioning whether such progress is rather just a step backward. Berry is a proponent of the agrarian ideal, because he lives it. To him, a farmer with his or her own hands and a set of well-selected tools, is quite capable of producing enough food to make a living off of, without submitting to the tragedies of factory farming, with its farms of excess acreage, chemicals, and short-term production goals, ignorant of land stewardship or conservation.
Perhaps the greater import of Berry’s work, is that the act of growing food, is not just a profession selected according to what one is best-suited for, but maybe more a philosophical journey, one that carries with it a gravity that has unfairly been stripped from it by the stomp of progress in the years following the Industrial Revolution, and more specifically, after World War II.
Berry, Wendell, The Unsettling of America. San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, 1977.
This book echoes many of the same sentiments in The Gift of Good Land, but it’s more an examination of the connections between agriculture, human society and culture, and the environment, and how a fracture in any part of that triumvirate sends echoes and tremors to the other two. It seems the argument here is that by the rise of the city and the demands that urban dwelling places upon the environment (through pollution and urban sprawl), and the food supply (it’s awfully difficult, if not impossible for a city dweller to raise enough food to live off of), the agrarian environment must in turn compensate for that demand, which impacts the environment, usually negatively due to the demand for perfect produce and marbled meats, which often requires the use of pesticides, hormones, and other ‘supplements’ to the growing process. Not so much as Gift, Unsettling further reinforces and embraces the organic ideal of the rural land, and by proxy, the art of farming, as a sort of religion – a cult of the pure soil. Berry never lets go the notion that our grip on the Earth is transient – certainly our mark has been irreparably made, but we are, for all intents and purposes, stewards of the land. We could either trammel upon it, or coddle it, either is within our means, but Berry argues that it is our own personal responsibility to treat the planet as we ourselves would want to be treated.
It is this idea that is at the heart of many of those who farm organically: humans are mere caretakers of the land, and by farming organically, one is keeping with a sort of farming “ideal.”
To Wendell Berry, the farm, the soil, and the land are not just mechanisms of food production, institutions out in the country, and far removed from the city, but rather the glue that binds together society and all of humanity. Berry is a man much interested and maybe obsessed with how modern society, in its quest to absolve itself of its agrarian roots with gleaming cities, mass-production, and high levels of efficiency achieved only through invention, is still inextricably attached to the fields and forests from whence it came. It is this connection that strikes at the heart of the essays collected here in Gift – the “taint’ of progress, with its mechanized and chemical means of production, has Berry here questioning whether such progress is rather just a step backward. Berry is a proponent of the agrarian ideal, because he lives it. To him, a farmer with his or her own hands and a set of well-selected tools, is quite capable of producing enough food to make a living off of, without submitting to the tragedies of factory farming, with its farms of excess acreage, chemicals, and short-term production goals, ignorant of land stewardship or conservation.
Perhaps the greater import of Berry’s work, is that the act of growing food, is not just a profession selected according to what one is best-suited for, but maybe more a philosophical journey, one that carries with it a gravity that has unfairly been stripped from it by the stomp of progress in the years following the Industrial Revolution, and more specifically, after World War II.
Berry, Wendell, The Unsettling of America. San Francisco: Sierra Club Books, 1977.
This book echoes many of the same sentiments in The Gift of Good Land, but it’s more an examination of the connections between agriculture, human society and culture, and the environment, and how a fracture in any part of that triumvirate sends echoes and tremors to the other two. It seems the argument here is that by the rise of the city and the demands that urban dwelling places upon the environment (through pollution and urban sprawl), and the food supply (it’s awfully difficult, if not impossible for a city dweller to raise enough food to live off of), the agrarian environment must in turn compensate for that demand, which impacts the environment, usually negatively due to the demand for perfect produce and marbled meats, which often requires the use of pesticides, hormones, and other ‘supplements’ to the growing process. Not so much as Gift, Unsettling further reinforces and embraces the organic ideal of the rural land, and by proxy, the art of farming, as a sort of religion – a cult of the pure soil. Berry never lets go the notion that our grip on the Earth is transient – certainly our mark has been irreparably made, but we are, for all intents and purposes, stewards of the land. We could either trammel upon it, or coddle it, either is within our means, but Berry argues that it is our own personal responsibility to treat the planet as we ourselves would want to be treated.
It is this idea that is at the heart of many of those who farm organically: humans are mere caretakers of the land, and by farming organically, one is keeping with a sort of farming “ideal.”
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