A Corrupt Nature

Maciek Jasik flips our traditional viewpoint of Las Vegas reminding us of the barren landscape that preceded our arrival and the prevarication of man over nature.

Once it was established that God was separate from Nature, Western civilization took a headlong turn into dominating and subjugating nature.

“In this miracle of progress, the plow was the unerring prophet, the procuring cause, not by any magic or enchantment, not by incantations or offerings, but instead by the sweat of his face toiling with his hands, man can persuade the heavens to yield their treasures of dew and rain upon the land he has chosen for his dwelling… The raindrop never fails to fall and answer to the imploring power or prayer of labor,” Charles Dana Wilber, The Great Valleys and Prairies of Nebraska and the Northwest, 1881.

Las Vegas expands upon these myths by serving as the symbol of conquered nature, a city where casinos rise like mountains, each borrowing from the fabled Venice, Paris, New York, ancient Egypt and Rome. Along with nature, time and place have been overcome; this is a total victory where anything is possible – a template for cities like Dubai or Abu Dhabi.

In A Corrupt Nature our traditional viewpoint of Las Vegas is flipped. The focus is sets of lonely, forgotten trees and strange piles of detritus resembling pyramids, the casinos far in the background. Immediately, we’re reminded of the barren landscape that preceded our arrival. Through the use of color, these elements transcend their ordinary appearance and become symbols of nature’s inherent power and endurance, patiently outlasting eras and species.

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