Michael Loyd Young
Boots, Bourbon & Brisket
The Texas Hill Country is a special place where ever-changing vistas stretch from Austin to the West Texas plains. Country roads dotted with bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes connect the small towns that are void of the franchised businesses. If you pass another vehicle traveling down a farm road you’re greeted with a friendly wave. Saturday nights are special. Families and neighbors gather at the local dance halls and BBQ joints while children catch fireflies in empty pickle jars under star-filled skies. The sound of laughter can be heard as people enjoy summer carnivals, parades and rodeos where the aroma of smoking brisket, ribs and sausage fill the air. Country music plays every afternoon under the old oak trees in Luckenbach and other historical dance halls scattered throughout the region. Old timers share their stories over an ice cold beer. The creeks and rivers are lined with majestic bald cypress trees providing natural swimming holes with names such as “The Blue Hole” and “Jacobs Well”.
The Hill Country is a way of life…time stands still… and change comes slow. The lifestyle reminds me of the small towns of the past.. “Like old America”.
Boots, Bourbon & Brisket will complete my trilogy of the South. Blues, Booze & BBQ was my first book followed by Beer, Bait & Ammo.
Bio
Michael Loyd Young is a photographer based in Texas, travelling from there all around the world. His main work focuses on exploring the Southern part of the U.S. through the daily life of people.
BLUES, BOOZE & BBQ, published by Powerhouse Books. B,B, & BBQ won the Mississippi Institute of Arts and Letters Award for photography.
CHANGES IN LATITUDE, published by Burn Books, was released in June 2012.
BEER, BAIT & AMMO published by Burn Books. BB&A documents the southern half of the United States, or the “South”. A world of its own where change comes slow and the right to live the way you choose is a way of life.
Michael lives in Texas.
Great Mike. Strong sense of place. The frames flow so well…naturally slow tempo. And for sure I smell boots and bourbon and brisket.
No great pictures on show here, but a few that are relatively good interspersed with many ‘information’ shots. The black and white mainly works ok, and I certainly prefer it to the color treatment of the first book. Overall the images are very safe, thought out, and conservative; much like the lifestyles of The locals depicted here; Barn dances, Beauty Pagents and Rodeos (Hey! A book title) , but maybe that was the intent.
I liked this series a lot; it’s a bit like life here in rural New York, including the deer killing thing; if we had our way deer season would last from Martin Luther King’s birthday till New Year’s Eve. Those damn things are rats with hooves. And now for something completely different…
“I want a roast beef sandwich, but without the roast beef. I’m a vegetarian.” I’ve heard my share of very odd requests at The Horny Toad, the bar where I spend many of my off the clock hours, but this one seemed odder than usual. There is, to my knowledge, no substitute for roast beef in a roast beef sandwich, the roast beef and the salt, pepper, and other sundry condiments being the whole point of the roast beef sandwich. There is a word for a roast beef sandwich without the roast beef, yes there is, and that word is bread. I suppose that somewhere there may be an acceptable substitute for the roast beef in a roast beef sandwich, but I do not believe that any of these substitutes would be acceptable to a vegetarian. Roast pork, roast goat, roast lamb, roast choose any four-legged protein source you want, no vegetarian will surrender the smug attitude of moral superiority that comes with saying, I don’t eat meat, just so that they can have a roast beef sandwich without the roast beef. Our bovine craving veggie eater could use a nice bit of fried eggplant on her sandwich, but for your average vegetarian frying anything other than a Republican is a most evil and wicked practice, comparable to bashing cute little kitty cats over the head with a baseball bat and then drinking their blood, and therefore is not a practice that any decent person who believes in the sanctity of both the human body and cute little kitty cats would choose to engage in.
And then there is tuna fish, although it is difficult, if not impossible, to see how anyone could mistake a tuna fish sandwich for a roast beef sandwich; doing so would truly be a victory of mind over matter. In addition, it is also difficult for me to see the moral difference between eating a cow and eating a fish, unless the genetic accident of having fins instead of feet permits the peckish plant enthusiast to indulge a perverse proclivity for protein while simultaneously salving a guilty conscience. I can see no moral reason why vegetarians should consider the footless and fancy free tuna to be a legitimate source of dinner, whereas they would protect the cow from the dinner plate with the religious intensity of Hindus. This hardly seems fair to the fish and privileges a terrestrial creature over a maritime one, which is the sort of rank speciesist discrimination I think we can all agree has no place in modern American life. So the next time you feel like a roast beef sandwich without the roast beef, eat the bread instead. But make sure that it’s wheat bread and filled with gluten. You can hate gluten these days and I’m sure it has done something to deserve the loathing.
on a side note: looking hard through these I see not a single colored face anywhere.
Sometimes we just run out of steam, probably one book to many in the series
Regarding demographics, best as I can tell there are very few people of recent African descent in Texas Hill Country, and presumably most of them are in Austin. The data I can find for Hispanics, mostly Mexican-Americans range between 19 to 24 percent, which is relatively low for Texas. Reportedly, the Hispanic population is almost entirely segregated into “barrios.”
If that’s actually the reality, Lloyd’s essay may demonstrate the truth of it – 75 to 80 percent of it, anyway.
The only problem I have with it is that the text infers the essay provides a comprehensive portrait of Texas Hill Country, when in reality, it is limited to only one ethnic group.
But that’s just the text. As far as the photos go, I have no problem with that particular limitation in scope. Lloyd, from what I’ve seen, is not out there trying to document social ills, or be culturally inclusive. He’s more of a celebrator of particular cultures, which is, imo, a valuable thing.
Critically, I think this work shows a nice progression as a storyteller. There are nice contextual shots that are visually interesting and do not come off as didactic. On the positive side, I think I get a good sense of place. On the less positive, I’m still left wondering “who are these people?’ On the technical, I’d say there are one or two too many parade and music hall pics. Point’s been made. Kill your darlings, or, I guess I should say, darlin’s.
Overall though, I like what I like about it much more than I don’t like the things I don’t. Nice work.
I don’t see any salamanders in there either, JG, but I wouldn’t read too much into that. Rural America tends to be Caucasian.
@ MICHAEL:
Great local story with plenty of energy. Black and white works well, but color is so powerful!
Would be great to post pictures and music at the same time here on Burn :) Pictures and Music as a whole.
Looking forward to see you, and to see more “B” (althought there is an “A”mmo).
Shine. P.
Funny, I see this work quite the opposite. Far from running out of steam, I get the impression this third essay is a lovely smooth and calm ballad. Shot by a photographer who’s isn’t out to pull any stunts or eyeball acrobatics.
It kind of reminds me about those happy Saturday afternoons when I feel suddenly all is perfect. No rushes, everything feels easy and the best of your life is gathered round you.
A nod to the BURN editors. After a spate of essays dealing with loneliness, here is a story that goes against that approach. In a land historically tied to rugged individualism no less, there is evidence of the strength of community brought on by interaction, and communication.
I especially enjoyed two sequences; stories-within-the-story. The first starts with the girl on the barstool, and ends with the silhouette of the cowboy at the town parade. The second, a slightly minor mini-essay to the first sequence, commences with the woman in pancho, with her shadow on the wall, and continues back through to the beginning of the posting, ending with the grave marker and bare tree. This is sensational editing.
Either set has a totally satisfying aesthetic appeal, and tells a story I can make-up or respond to…difficult with my metaphorically-challenged thinking. My hat is off to you, Michael!
I am sorry for the hijacking …just to say
Happy birthday MR.HARVEY !!!
and for MICHAELY…bravo,BB&B …better business bureau rated AAA and I am waiting for the trilogy BBC for the official exit !!!!
Viva Amigos …bourbon,y oho,yoho the party is on !!!
I find the images to be quite excellent and to basically accomplish what the photographer set out to accomplish – however, as matters of personal perspective and the paths my own life and career has led me down, I do not see “Old America” in this essay. To my eyes, Old America appears to be all but erased in this place. “Indian paintbrushes” may connect the towns but I see no signs of the indigenous people and life once there. I suspect it still remains, tucked away in hidden spots Michael did not reach and I don’t hold that against him or his essay as that is not what he was seeking – it’s just how the words, “Old America, coupled with “Indian paintbrushes” struck me.
While I see where Jeff is coming from, I personally see a great deal of loneliness in these photos – loneliness being so fundamental to the basic story of New America.
Thank you Burn Team for your hard work on Burn Magazine, Burn Dairy, Burn Instagram and the EPF.
Michael,
I like the variety in your images, and get the feeling you’re having a lot of fun shooting this and interacting with your subjects.
Michael
I like this essay a lot. I think the black and white works with the subtly of the images. There are some beautiful, and relaxed moments here. I don’t feel the need for constant colourful punches in the face. Quiet, ordinary moments say as much if not more. Yes, violence, decay and depravity are all around us, but that’s not everyone’s story. I see a story here, a slow-to-change, relaxed way of life that I knew nothing about. It’s one story, and doesn’t have to be every story of this region. And as for multi-cultural representation… We’re not running a political campaign here! Well done Mike. This is a gorgeous essay. Love it.