Landscape art pioneer Stan Herd recently rendered a Van Gogh painting on 1.2 acres of land for the Mineappolis Institute of Modern Art. Promoting the museum’s centennial anniversary, an image of a tree-lined field was horticulturally etched on to a tree-lined field over two seasons.
Herd has been lauded as the father of crop art, but his website is a bit more blunt about it. In his 20s he realised that in order to get attention for his art, he had to “develop skills in public relations, communications, media relations, logistics, and fund raising”. He could almost work on the Bond franchise.
Herd’s media savvy is not the only thing that differentiates him from traditional makers of crop circles (assuming, of course they are not from space, and are actually just the lads). Herd intends to be successful and is not afraid of fame. Meanwhile, crop circle tradition stems from anonymity and accessibility (and space travel).
It’s easy to understand the appeal of earthwork craft for the rural homo sapian. Materials are readily available and the tradition of carving land has been around since the Stone Age. Faking alien invasion is similarly important, and at its best effectively makes people consider their place in the universe.
Herd’s artworks are considerably more instructive than crop circles, in being specifically commissioned for commercial ends. A lack of ownership means that crop circles are much less exclusive.
Meanwhile back at the literal ranch, there’s a small society of crop circle makers who ruin the effect by taking full credit for what they do while still trying to promote the existence of aliens. The omnipresent air of otherworldly mystery and unexplained wonder about them is killed by the possibility of buying custom printed wood planks and ropes to make your own circles at home. Herd is at least much less of a sell out than this particular crowd.
