Dynamic tensions.

Water towers are like architectural memory. Most were built during the Industrial revolution, some still exist as functional infrastructure to community -- and some as ornamental reminders of progress. And for me, they are part of the rural, American farm landscape. Perhaps it was all those road trips as a kid, driving through the Midwestern plains to Grandma's house in South Dakota (I'll have you know that Grandma Jo would give me a penny for every cow that I counted along the way.)

I snapped this photo in Zeeland, MI just last month, though it wasn't the intended shot. This particular morning drive to work I noticed a brilliant sliver of a moon in a glowing blue sky, with some industrial goo spraying right through its midst. And yes, I realize that there are regulations galore on goo. Someone recently explained (defended?) their release of smoke into the air we breathe as OK because it was scrubbed really, really well. Really?

I do have a sweet spot for West Michigan -- the summertime produce, the lake shore, the composition of the farmscape. It feels original, like a throwback, a reminder of simpler times. I'm aware that farmers are now sophisticated and their techniques are driven by "progress" in technology, chemical development and the monopolies of the business of food. So, my perspective is probably painted with a brush of idealism, but I'm OK with that. And there are good people doing good things with food in Michigan.

So, Michigan is struggling in big ways. No news there. There is this dynamic tension that exists with the natural farmscape and the unnatural foodscape. Somewhat of a foodie myself, I found great, local spots for noshing, but generally there seems to be a lack of appreciation for real food. The stuff that isn't coated, shipped, processed, reconstituted, shaped, packaged and delivered.

Michigan's agri-food industry is the state's second largest economic driver (Agriculturally speaking.), yet I continue to see the corporate food chains outnumber the mom and pop's. A friend recently told me that the Holland Sentinel rated KFC as having the "Best Chicken" in town. I couldn't find the article myself, but that same paper did offer a review of KFC, where they noted:

The grilled chicken had a pleasing appearance and aroma and we found it tender and well-seasoned.

Which reminds me of that time Oprah gave coupons to KFC. Do you remember the riots? I don't blame the Holland Sentinel or question its journalistic integrity, though. Because I bet there are many other newspapers and taste testers that would report something along the same lines. Maybe it shows a majority perspective, maybe we should work better together to give voice to what food is, what it was and how to exploit and share in that splendor. So, as I scoff at the Sentinel's review, at least I'm scoffing. Isn't that the point of anything published, designed, created, shared? It's just there for some reaction. Maybe acceptance, maybe rejection, but at the very least, hopefully discussion.

(Maybe that's why I enjoy making people feel uncomfortable so much. It usually makes them do something.)

Sometimes vision and passion for change meets funding. Take John Hantz, of Detroit. He sees possibility in the postindustrial space of Detroit when others see it as desolate and a reminder of better times that may never be again. And he happens to be a multi-millionaire. Fortune Magazine recently covered his story and vision, asking Can Farming Save Detroit?

Have we "progressed" so far that we no longer value authenticity of food enough to sustain business that provides it? What's the foodscape like in your neighborhood?