04/26/2026
One of the touching stories shared at our Old Roads, New Voices lecture last Saturday wth There Are Places - the Photography of Michael Wade. I think Mr Mole Man as I will call him would be surprised to know many people will remember him and his humble rural home on the side of the road tending his yard and garden. Read the story oh how this photograph came to be and the story of this humble place.
Two unique things happened at the lecture I gave last Saturday. One was having people who had purchased prints and magazines asking me to autograph them. I can't tell you how much that meant to me.
The second was this image, which I'll forever call "The Mole Man." Now this is, in my opinion, one of my strongest images. In all humility it reminds me of one of Van Gogh's character studies of peasants working in the fields. It is about the dignity of work, of those whose labors in the soil feed and clothe us.
The home was off Burkes Pond Road, a winding road, two lane, "speed limit? what speed limit?" road. Between Squirrel Run Road and Chitlin Switch Road - but don't bother trying to find it, it was demolished years ago; possibly not too long after this shot.
When I saw the home I knew I had to get that photograph but there was nowhere to pull over so it had to be from the car, and from the driver's side. It took me probably 6-8 attempts to get the shot because every time I "had it" some good ol'e boy came barreling around the curve at 80mph aiming at my Honda like it had a bull's eye on the hatchback. Finally, after going up and turning around on an off road, then coming back and turning around again at the intersection, I finally had no one on my arse. As I lined it up I saw this little old man (old man - hell probably my age) just hoeing in his little more dirt than vegetables garden. I took my shot, he looked up puzzled, but then another good ol' boy came barreling down the road so I just gunned it and drove on.
It really wasn't until I got home and started downloading the work that I realized what I had captured. That home and the man - both worn by years and labor. As simple and dignified as Vincent van Gogh's "The Sower, June 1888."
Well Saturday a young woman came up to me with tears in her eyes asking me to autograph the copy she had purchased and she told me about "The Mole Man." Growing up,it seems the kids she knew always kind of mockingly called this guy "The Mole Man" because he was always, like a mole, working in that garden, turning the soil, trying to grow some food.
Unlike the other kids, she had always had a kind of love and respect for him. She told me that both he and the home were gone. The home torn down. She never knew what became of him. But every time she passes this stretch of road she sees that little home and "The Mole Man" gently, patiently turning the soil, digging in his garden.
Her story gave me a new insight on my work. I'll never forget her story, and from now on, I'll always refer to this image as "The Mole Man."
