Lasting, not lasting.

In the small villages of Lower Saxony time froze 1000 years ago. Since then, the wheat grows on the fields, the thatch gets dried while the sun goes up and down again. The generations of farmers run by like the seasons, children are growing up and having children of their own. Where nature is near, death is still a part of life. The cats are still killing the mice, deer get shot, preserved and eaten.

And in all that romantic circle of life the modern age crawls in, swirling things around while the wheat still grows, and deer gets shot. The local pub which was there for hundreds of years closed because people don’t get out as much anymore, so it was turned into a living space. The crops are no longer eaten by humans but by the gigantic biogas plant nearby. A new generation is growing up in this environment captured somewhere between the old and the new.

This is a debate of change and time, exemplary of our cyclical history and how we may or may not disrupt it. In this sense, some things need to die for the next generation to bloom, because this is how it always has been. But are we rotating out of the seasonal stability with our modern ways? Are we on the point of eternal sunset, or is the sun coming up again tomorrow like she did in all the days before? Are we living the last summer days before an eternal winter?

This part of Lower Saxony are the villages around the city Peine, called Pain around 1130.