For centuries, suburbanites have lived with a moderately-sized grass plot in front of their homes. Money and time are invested in the landscape: chemicals are sprayed, tools are purchased, and once Timmy’s old enough, he’s out there mowing every Saturday afternoon, I don’t care if he’s got baseball practice in 15 minutes.
It seems a large price to pay in exchange for a kind word from a neighbor as they admire your handiwork on the sidewalk and their schnauzer ruins it all at the other end of the leash..
Yet, these are congested times, and empty space has become more and more of a precious commodity. As a species, we are fortunate enough to have someone rise up every so often and point our heads in a new direction.
Artist Fritz Haeg has done just that, giving the front yard as a concept something many yards have gone without: purpose. His “Edible Estates” Project seeks to evolve the front yards of America into fruitful, productive gardens.
“I’m interested in being a catalyst,” he says.
In 2005, the Edible Estates project went live, as several families across the country volunteered their property to be converted into gardens. Selecting homes in varying climates, the plan was to grow a plethora of crops to take the front yard out for a spin and show what it can really do. Now, four years later, there are former whiffle balls fields sprouting up crops everywhere, from London, England to Maplewood, New Jersey.
“I grew up with a front lawn. We all take it for granted,” Haeg explains. He went on to pen a book explaining the project in detail, for the benefit of those lagging behind. “Planting is the easiest part. Telling the stories of the garden after its planted is the challenge.”
Like all good ideas, this one was met with fervent opposition from people who spend a good amount of time being confused and angry about change. “The [Edible Estates] book seems very obvious,” the artist rationalizes. “95% of the population was like, ‘Why are you writing this? The front lawn is fine.’”
Getting the campaign into practice is a critical step toward a radical change in our culture. Edible Estates, however, is supposed to fuel more than just an environmental renaissance.
“Its a social engineering project, disguised as an environmental project,” Haeg admits. “It’s about examining the way we’re living, and proposing an alternative. We should be open to all the possibilities we have.”
Ideally, the project will see suburb and city streets lined with tomato plants, corn stalks, grape vines, and whatever else will keep people fed. As neighbors pop out of their homes to tend to their respective gardens, close-quarters social interaction is inevitable, no matter how good the technology gets inside the house.
“You’re taking advantage of the front yard; Your neighbors are able to enjoy it as well,” Haeg adds. He hopes to get people out of their homes and into the garden, so that “… you’re out there every day, re-engaging with people.”
While Haeg’s campaign continues to gain momentum, its hard to ignore the parallels it shares with earlier portions of human culture. After all, families growing their own crops didn’t seem too out of place hundreds of years ago. Is Edible Estates also telling us that the answers to our advancement comes from looking to the past?
“There’s nothing inherently historical about growing crops,” Haeg responds, without missing a beat. “In fact, for some people… its pretty futuristic.”
