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Fields and Fragments

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Seven Fridays in South Phoenix

Observations, Reflections, and Photographs by Matthew Alan Lord

The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.

-Leslie Poles Hartley in The Go-Between (1953)

 Fields and Fragments

One of the pleasures of this course is being in the field with persons who come to South Phoenix with divergent backgrounds.  Unsurprisingly, this means that others call to our attention things we are overlooking or they interpret the same scene differently.  I arrived in the class having spent time looking at Laveen, South Phoenix’ western neighbor.  The verdant fields that give it a “wide-open feel” have long been a defining trait of the landscape in that place.  Their disappearance is the most obvious sign that suburbanization is transforming that community, and something that catches my eye.

One of the most-needed new academic journals to come online in the last few years is The Journal of Mundane Behavior.  Unfortunately, as happens so often in mundane living, the project has stalled and there has not been a new issue since mid-2004.  The key reason I feel the underlying idea for this journal is so important is that so much academic writing in the social sciences focuses on the unusual, the distinctive, or the outstanding that the mundane gets overlooked.  As one who has studied history, I worry what sort of portrait the academic paper trail will leave for the future.

It is with these notions in mind that I offer the current webpage for this class website.    I will confess that I am not certain I have seen every single one of our predecessors’ pages, but I can say with confidence that I surveyed nearly all.  It seems to me that they have overlooked one key feature of the South Phoenix landscape of today and yesteryear.  My intent is not that this mundane webpage will make some lofty theoretical statement, but that it adds an essential tile to the mosaic Dr. K’s classes create.  In part, I was also inspired by re-reading an excerpt from Dolores Hayden's The Power of Place: Urban Landscapes as Public History.  In the introductory chapter, she reviews an argument that took place in New York City over what sorts of buildings should be given historic preservation status.  In South Phoenix, it is not buildings but farm fields, orchards, and nurseries that are disappearing with few to advocate for their preservation.

When you are doing the “snapshot” style of fieldwork this class demands, it is easy to be drawn to dynamic, dramatic places like the Rancho Grande Super Market.  Quiet, two lane “farm-to-market” roads like the one shown below still exist at the western and southern periphery of South Phoenix.

 

Farm fields are not flashy.  Tree (and other plant) nurseries are rather sedate.  Unless there is a brush fire, vacant lots do not usually draw much attention.  Most of the time, there are no people active in these spaces.  Yet these fields, nurseries, and “holes in the urban fabric” remain very much a part of South Phoenix’ landscape.  As even casual observers of this place know, but perhaps fail to document or discuss for future generations to remember, there are basic patterns involved in their appearance and removal from the landscape.

Agricultural production has taken place in most of our study area for about a century.  Prehistoric American Indians also relied on an irrigation-based system of agricultural production in this area for hundreds of years.  The photos below show water being diverted from a lateral canal into a field of wheat.  The farmworker is reinforcing a barrier to keep the water from advancing to the next section of the field.

      

This type of irrigation is called flood irrigation.  It is what has fed the flowers, citrus orchards, and field crops, and even front yards here from time immemorial.  Other than the water source differing from the Huhugam, the diversion into field here remains essentially the same.  There are two modern differences.  First, the water is moved from the lateral into the field by inserting pipes (right photo) which siphon off the water from the canal to the lower elevation of the field instead of opening a gap in the canal water to divert it.  Second, the canal itself is lined with concrete rather than clay and rocks.  Although drainage canals (also called ditches) still can be earthen, the concrete lining substantially reduces water loss in transit.

In South Phoenix as elsewhere, fields like this can be directly converted to housing or other development.  Often, however, they can instead sit unproductive for years at a time.  They typically emerge once agricultural production ceases but before the owner (either the farmer or someone else) decides to cash in, speculating that the value will rise.  This vacant lot is one such example.  These vacant lots are typified by weeds which are dead most of the year, providing the fuel for brush fires.  Development has surrounded it years ago.  The City is probably responsible for dressing up the sidewalk when it widened the road.  This lot also typifies a pattern seen in South Phoenix and elsewhere in that the section of the parcel right at the street corner was developed, in this case as a Circle K.  More than likely, those who opened the Circle K were willing to pay a premium to get right on the corner.  The property owner at the time may have speculated that this would also increase the value of the rest of the land.  Now, however, parcels like this one are less attractive to commercial property developers as the convenience store is considered an eyesore in a prominent spot.  The intensity of development in South Phoenix is now such, however, that this vacant lot will soon disappear, as the General Plan Hearing sign testifies.

Whether going directly from agricultural production or from vacant lot status into development, there is a final, brief phase that all such open spaces transition through before development.  It is an old saw in farm country that crop rotations on the fringe go “Cotton, Corn, Condos.”  The final tilling of the soils is a brutal one.  Sometimes one will see a tractor pulling a plow with the discs set at odds.  Instead of generating furrows, it simply tears up the land in preparation for compaction.  At the particular site shown below, there are a variety of earthmovers at work.  Besides compacting the soil so that structures do not sink, their primary task is to rework the surface (or topography) so that water will move in a controlled manner.  Until recent decades this usually meant just getting it to drain off site into storm sewers.  At present, however, they must create artificial swales and basins to either retain the water on site or detain it temporarily before releasing it into the storm sewer system so that the system does not get overwhelmed.  Engineering of this sort is particularly critical in desert cities where the nature of precipitation patterns is dominated by very short, intense periods of rainfall.  Retention has the added advantage of helping recharge the groundwater, but both retention and detention are essential buffers to reduce, if not eliminate, flash flood hazards. 

One side note that has attracted my attention for a couple years now is what I call “urban growth graffiti.”  Some of my classmates have chatted about the gang (and other) graffiti in South Phoenix.  Markings of that sort are considered a blight and are not officially sanctioned.  Growing areas see a proliferation of markings in anticipation of and during development, but is usually ignored by everyone not directly involved with construction.  Ofttimes it is not removed after construction is finished.  Below are several examples.  Just like gang graffiti communicates in a language of its own, so too do these 1:1 maps on the landscape.  (see box with color-coded text) While stakes and paint have long been the urban growth graffiti artists’ stock in trade, “whiskers” are a lovely, relative newcomer to the scene.

"Whiskers"

Not Here Much Longer

Plan of Attack