Observations of the Tallgrass Prairie

Matfield Green, Kansas, lies nine hours due north of my home in Central Texas, the two places threaded together by not only Interstate 35 but also the ecology of the prairie. My house is a typical low-slung mid-century ranch situated atop a limestone hill, surrounded by wiry live oaks in a neighborhood of similar homes—all built during the Sun Belt boom of the 1950s when Texas first experienced substantial in-migration. In the past decade, this region, at the southern edge of what was once the vast tallgrass prairie, has once again become one of the fastest-growing areas in the country.

My project—initiated during the Tallgrass Residency—has been to photographically map both the remnant and extinguished prairie from Texas to Kansas along the I-35 corridor. I am interested in creating a set of critical notes about the land, tracing the intertwined histories of the destruction of the tallgrass prairie and the explosive growth of infrastructure and development along the interstate. 

The steady hum of semitrucks ferrying goods north on the interstate from Mexico to the Midwest reverberates through town at all hours. Yellow excavators scrape away the drought-tolerant native landscape to make room for subdivisions with large garages and manicured lawns. The roadway is repeatedly widened in a futile attempt to accommodate the swelling traffic.

The route carved by I-35 is far from new. Here in Central Texas, where the prairie meets the coastal plains and cross timbers—an ecological crossroads laced with rivers flowing to the Gulf and fed by natural springs—life has always flourished. From time immemorial, Indigenous groups such as the Coahuiltecan, Jumano, and Wichita found sustenance, if not an abundance, in the flora and fauna of the tallgrass. In the late 19th century, cattle were driven from South Texas to Kansas through the prairielands along what became known as the Chisholm Trail, a path that, over time, morphed into Interstate 35. Today, the corridor facilitates trade between Mexico, the United States, and Canada.

The residency gave me the time and space to begin the work in earnest—work that had long simmered in my mind during countless commutes along the corridor. 

So far, the work has unfolded as five observations of the tallgrass prairie: Matfield Community, Bison Wallow, Interstate Corridor, Prairie River, and Prairie Sky. These mark only the beginning of what I envision as a long-term practice of attention and sustained engagement with this vital ecology.

As Wendell Berry writes, “To live in a place and have your vision confined by it would be a mistake. But to live in a place and try to understand it as a standpoint from which to see, and to see from there as far as you can, is a proper challenge, I think.”

Jason Reed is a Professor of Photography at Texas State University and holds a BA in Geography from the University of Texas and an MFA in Photography from Illinois State University. With a background in geography, his work centers on the intersecting histories, ecologies, ideals, and dilemmas as they play out on the southern end of the Great Plains. In 2023, he was co-editor of Otherwise, It Would Be Just Another River with Molly Sherman (Spector Books) and in 2022, he published Field Work (Victory in the Wilderness Museum). He has created gallery and public space exhibitions at venues such as Artpace in San Antonio, Krannert Museum at the University of Illinois, storefront windows in Miles, Texas, the Blackwell School in Marfa, Texas, Galerie Reinthaler in Vienna, Austria, The Washington State History Museum, La Asamblea Legislativa in Mexico City, and the Harry Ransom Center at the University of Texas at Austin.