Note to self: read up again on Land Art.
Hunch: the Land Art tradition intervenes in the natural landscape to produce monumental statements. I intervene within an impure environment to produce small, inconsequential statements, phrased as simple, inexplicable absences.
Observation: so these cars have spilled down the escarpment hills on dark and drunken evenings (or so I imagine, perhaps the truth is less colourful and violent, perhaps the violence only takes proper shape when the cars slip over the edge – when gravity kicks in – perhaps prior to that there is only the dull thought of getting rid of an unwanted thing), but as soon as they halt their slide, as soon as they come to rest, they gradually become something else. They are absorbed within the forest. They become habitat for lizards and possums. Their skin grows mottled and less reflective. That is what I notice the most – the shininess disappearing, passing into something else – something that I cannot quite describe. Abject and desolate perhaps, but also calm and oddly transcendent. Transcendent not of the forest, but of whatever originally shaped their existence. The wrecked cars remain at once very obviously cars, but at the same time, as dumped things, as things slowly decaying in the forest, manage to transcend their identity as cars, manage to transcend even the sense of ruin and simple decay. They gain another indeterminable skin.