“It is a way of life for many,
Of which many do not know”
Sweet Especial Rural Scene is not another trawling sprawl of misery and sympathy, but rather, a mature overview of British farming in its entirety. Hannah Boardman’s latest photographic series offers a unique perspective on the British countryside and on those who inhabit its masked beauty.
Hannah’s latest offering denotes a heady mix of the picturesque and the provoking. Driven by the plight of her neighbours, Hannah couples cosy, post-card imagery with the inevitable harsh realities of farming. Careful attention to detail unearths startling realities that leave one simultaneously stunned and inquisitive.
Hannah is immune to the images that may shock the plastic-package meat-eaters among us. Growing up with the explicit cycle of life and death in her back garden; her upbringing, in an Oxfordshire small-holding, has given her a rare insight into the strained relationship between farmers and their animals.
It is a compendium of humour, darkened only by the coupling of intimate compositions and industry necessity. Often the two themes are combined in a single frame as seen in ‘Work and Home’. The familiar, floral patterns that adorn the walls and floor, uncomfortably frame a loosely concealed gun creeping out of a satchel.
In more jovial expression, ‘Cushion’ captures the close proximity of farm life between man and beast, as geese scurry between a washing line and discarded football posts. The wild flowers expected in such a scene are only visible when hung synthetically on the design of a drying cushion. This typifies Hannah’s veracity on rural life - a stark contrast to the ideal portrayed in paint by one of her early influences, George Stubbs.
Fallyrag met with Hannah in Cornwall, where part of ‘Sweet Especial Rural Scene’ was shot. She talks of an upbringing where she often felt isolated and excluded from urban society, stranded, socially as a child by her location. Yet Hannah regards her upbringing with fondness. “At that age I was oblivious to the physical and arduous challenges of farm-life; my childhood was about running through green fields and playing amongst hay stacks. It was only when I moved to Cornwall that I realised how the countryside was portrayed in the media. It was only half of the story.”
‘Last Encounter’ begins to show the other half. It is a photograph that many would view with disparagement towards the blue collar. Yet Hannah talks about the distress of the farmer when situations such as these arise. She informs me the injured cow in question was shot because treatment was simply not financially viable, and in fact this went against the wishes of the executioner. The solemn acceptance by both farmer and cow demonstrates the crisis of independent British farming and the helplessness felt by those in the industry. The competitive nature of the industry means scenes like these are becoming increasing familiar.
‘Without Formaldehyde’ draws attention to the truth behind the meat industry. The animal halves are reminiscent of Damian Hirst’s infamous ‘Mother and Child Divided’. Yet here, rigid to their environment, they convey a more fierce and brutal picture.
The collection contains inviting and intimate portraits of farmers and the inseparable relationship with their animals - often ignorantly perceived as the singly oppressed. In fact they both are. Hannah left me with a quote from English art critic, John Berger, “We never look at just something; we are always looking at the relationship between this and ourselves.”
Visit Hannah’s Profile Page for contact details, website links and a summary of featured articles on Fallyrag.
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