Smoke Clouds 5, 2025 by Steve Carr strips away the romanticised palettes of the New Zealand wilderness, dropping the viewer smack-bang in the middle of a dense, capitalistic mess of Monterey pines. While on the surface it evokes echoes of a low-budget Jimi Jackson spoof set, the underlying ecological supplanting within this frame is unavoidable.
These all-for-profit trees forcibly displace the native bush and prevent any future comebacks growing in the tannin-heavy soil. Like smoke, the green landscape simply vanishes. The core irony speaks to an oxymoronic state of modern Kiwi existence and directly parallels a common farce of public plea to 'respect my privacy'.
The subject longs to be alone yet ignites a distinctly bright flare to orchestrate their escape. A deeper paradox emerges through a visual accident; the big statement of setting off a large artificial plume with an agenda full of Orange, swiftly loses its message as it fades into an already dead background. In attempting to stand out, the unnatural smoke inadvertently harmonises with the sea of burnt sienna brackish. A portrait in landscape exposes a profound crossover—of unnaturalness of the pines and the shared collateral reality with the figure.
Beneath the cheeky surface lies a portrait of intentional self-sabotage and the purposeful withholding of full capacity. It functions as an ostentatious refusal to play the game—capturing the specific paralysis of a formidable mind that shuts down, unable to untangle its own resistance to external expectation. While the image initially reads as a gag, its implicit procrastination is unsettling. This defiantly defensive urge to scream, "because, f*** you—that's why!" — is much more than a personal quirk.
It taps into a heady, collective fatigue shared by dozens of people, exhausted from being told their future potential has already been extinguished long before ever getting to shoot their shot. Carr's work elevates these fleeting forest theatrics into a poignant piece of cultural commentary, offering a validating 'nod' for anyone who has chosen to stall rather than succumb. This piece nudges us on our way and reminds us for a moment that we are over here, and that we have a shared modern right to keep looking through the forest for the trees.