Cyborgs

A Cyborg Army Rises

Before we arrived the Lost Tribe were already parked up on the deadzone that had once been the route of the Berlin Wall. They’d created a garden around their bug-like, military trucks. The weed-killer soaked dust meant that a traditional garden was impossible. But, like dragon’s teeth, the spent bullets and blasted shrapnel had seeded the poisoned ground – and the artist’s imaginations. It wasn’t hollyhocks that sprouted from the sterile earth, but a jagged crop of  metal sculptures – skeletal, cyborg figures.

When we’d first arrived, Joe Rush, sculptor with the Lost Tribe, had shown Debbie and I around the garden. Dressed in dark overalls, and with welder’s goggles across his forehead, he gave us the advice: mutate and survive! And that’s exactly what we did.