By Jacob Burgess, MTSU Seigenthaler News Service
BROWNSVILLE, Tenn. – Driving down I-40 in West Tennessee, those who take one of the three exits leading to Brownsville see sights that are familiar to rural Tennessee. There’s farmland on both sides of the two-lane blacktop that leads into town.
But once travelers get to the town square, an unusual sight sticks out. A towering metal conglomeration that looks vaguely like a power station can be seen to the west, where it looms over the local grocery store and roadside motel.
It’s called the “Mindfield,” and it began taking shape in 1989 as a passion project for local artist Billy Tripp. There appears to be no rhyme or reason for the collection, but with a keen eye, the meaning behind this lifelong piece of art becomes clear.
“It’s an odd roadside attraction,” Tripp said. “I mean, it’s odd and I think because of it being kind of odd and different, it gets more attention than it deserves.”
He added, “People accomplish a lot with age, but it’s the record in which it’s accomplished is not as altogether and as visible as this.”
Behind the ‘Mindfield’
Tripp grew up in a prominent Brownsville household in the ‘60s and ‘70s with two brothers and his parents.
Tripp’s father was a successful businessman and Methodist minister who owned a plot of land that holds a collection of businesses: A grocery store, motel, tattoo shop, car wash and a few restaurants.
In a plot of land behind the tattoo shop, a young Tripp went to work on the Mindfield.
“I don’t know, late ‘60s, he had this property, but it was so long and narrow,” Tripp said. “See its got the ditch inside it. It wasn’t really commercially viable … he was fine with as I put my smaller stuff here and then when I started doing bigger, it was fine, because he really didn’t see any commercial way for this.”
Tripp took his early love of metal work to Memphis State University and welding school for a short time, before dropping out of both and returning to Brownsville.
The project went vertical in 1989 when Tripp was in his mid 30s, and he found a set of support beams up for grabs.
“I was able to get some structural beams from a local building that had burned,” Tripp said. “And I thought, well, I’ll make a framework and start putting this smaller stuff on the ground on the framework. “
“When I was putting up the framework, you know, just the beams, and so, the building inspector put a stop-work order. He thought it was a building, which I understand.”
Toni Eubanks, the daughter of late former mayor Web Banks, remembers when the Mindfield started growing up — and out.
“My dad got a lot of pushback,” Eubanks said. “The more it grew and got bigger, the madder people got, but dad just kept supporting it and there it is. Some people think it’s an eyesore, some people love it.”
The opening portion is highlighted by a metal slab high up in the air. The slab, elevated by the original beams, has cutout hands of Tripp’s brothers’ and father’s hands and a heart for his mother.
“My mom died before I started this, so I didn’t have a chance to take her handprints,” Tripp said.
2003-2026: Rapid growth
The majority of the Mindfield came after 2003, including the boats, airplanes, a water tower, steeple and hunting stand that reaches 125 feet, or more than 10 stories tall.
Throughout the project, the memoryof Tripp’s parents is on display. The water tower, soaring above the entire project, “in honor of mom and dad,” he said.
“I had the best of parents, even when I was young and had both mom and dad,” Tripp said. “My mom probably would have liked certain careers over others for her children than my dad did.”
Both parents supported any endeavor as long as it was done honestly and enjoyed, Tripp said.
Along with his parents, Tripp places tributes to other artists and writers through the Mindfield. Charles Lindbergh was the first aviator to fly solo from New York to Paris non-stop over a 33-hour span in 1927.
Lindbergh named his historic aircraft the Spirit of St. Louis, after two St. Louis businessmen who helped fund the project.
When Tripp got the chance to find an airplane, he already knew what he would pair with it.
“I started thinking of an airplane, for an element of design and if I got one, I named mine the Spirit of Brownsville,” Tripp said.
“Brownsville has been good to me, so I put up there underneath it but then it says ‘small town, large mine, mostly maybe.’”
Now, at age 70, Tripp plans to continue adding to his life project for as long as possible.
“After my death or after I am physically no longer able to work on it, I will give it to the Kohler Foundation,” Tripp said. “I expect in 10 years at the max, I will not be able to work much on it.”