This series of work was inspired by my study of the agricultural fences in my local area.
Every fence is a mishmash of seemingly random materials- plastic rope, barbed wire, deer fence, chicken wire, brambles, planks, sticks, chainlink...
It's often hard to tell where the original line of the fence was laid, since so many repairs have been made over the years.
Very often these modifications seem to have taken place with whatever resources the repairer had to hand, creating a chaotic jumbled mess that's difficult to discern from the hedgerow it's placed upon.
When sections of a fence collapse or are trampled, they generally aren't removed and instead new fencing material is added to supplement the void left.
When you look at a lot of these fences it's almost impossible to tell which sections are still load bearing.

I'm interested in these fences because I think they speak to a tradition of repair and regeneration, in a chaotic and informal way. Many of these fences are decades old, and in some instances a chronological material evolution can be observed, wherein later modifications have been made with plastic tape to a cast iron fence, for example.
As a metaphor, the agricultural fence carries many loaded connotations;
The question of land ownership and agricultural land usage and stewardship
tradition and heritage
the line between wildness and domesticity
Man's attempt to bound the un-boundable

A deer-wire fence built on a famine wall

Detail of a haphazardly repaired section of a fence

Sketch of a deer-wire fence built on a famine wall