I am absolutely fascinated by the sheer violence of the gun. I was given my first gun, a .22 rifle at around 8 years old. While I never actually killed an animal with it, I shot at every sort of target I could find or create. I stopped shooting in my teens when I moved from the farm in Iowa but I have continually remained interested in our love of guns.

In the New Mexico desert I realized I was not alone. The Bureau of Land Management's holdings all over the West are dotted with impromptu shoting ranges. Hidden in valleys or behind stands of pinons. It seems to be where all old appliances go on to their next life as targets. The ground is littered with casings and empty shells and absolutley everything is riddled with bullet holes. At first I was mortified by these dumping grounds but the more I looked the more beauty I saw.