Surveyor's Mark, Diamond Bar, California 1984

Editor: Here we have Joe Deal’s 1984 photograph, "Surveyor's Mark, Diamond Bar, California." It’s a black and white image of what looks like a barren, almost lunar landscape. I'm immediately struck by its desolate beauty, and by the stark contrast of light and shadow. What is your take? What do you see in this piece? Curator: Desolate beauty... yes, I like that. You know, there's something quietly profound about the way Deal captured this altered landscape. To me, it's not just a document; it's a quiet meditation on our impact on the environment. It reminds me of a zen garden—serene on the surface, but humming with deeper meaning, no? The tire tracks and the single rock, the eponymous surveyor's mark, become these almost haunting signifiers. Editor: Haunting how? Curator: Well, look closer—it’s California, right? Sunshine and roses. Except it’s this sort of scarred topography instead. Almost as if he's whispering a warning about unchecked development. A quiet elegy in silver gelatin. What do you think the single rock is trying to say? Editor: Hmmm, an elegy… maybe. I guess it stands out with all the tire tracks; this enduring natural element against something so temporal. Curator: Right! Exactly. Think about it: Diamond Bar—this was probably taken during one of the area's boom times. Suburbia sprouting up from the desert floor. He’s not just showing us a landscape; he’s showing us time itself—layers of natural history and human intervention, isn’t he? Editor: Wow. That’s given me a lot to consider about landscape photography. Curator: Indeed. And it's a photograph that challenges the way we see both art, and the ground beneath our feet. I might have to make this one my new desktop background.