We left my mom’s house and drove for 12 hours on the first day. Charlottesville, now synonymous with the Unite the Right rally in 2017, is where I grew up. The people who live there hang rainbow flags, believe in equity and join together in support of the community.
This was 73 miles from my mom’s house. I was not inspired here, but I wanted to keep following the rules of my own project. Eventually, I let go of the mileage requirement and shot locations that were a good example of how I felt in a place.
West Virginia is gorgeous. My mom’s family is originally from here, near the Kentucky border. We ended up in Charlottesville because my granddad spent his school days at the University of Virginia.
I’m still following my every 73 miles photo rule. I kind of like how this represents West Virginia, though. Even with a shitty highway in the foreground, the mountains and lush greenery pull your eye in.
This is so much of what the US looks like. I love little places like this because it puts everything in perspective. We are a divided nation because this town with a few gas stations and some chain fast food restaurants is a lot of people’s only reality. My version of our country lies in my experience as an Angeleno. In Barborsville, WV, there is a different version of what it means to be an American. What if we could both see each other’s story? How would that change the narrative?
This was at a rest stop 73 miles past the last stop. It’s a challenge to lock in one frame that makes for the best visual of a whole place, but I liked the lines with the Wrong Way signs. I wonder how many people have disregarded the message.
My camera and I have a secret love affair with tall, wispy grass. I also love the golden hue. It’s one of my favorite things about the Southern California landscape, even though I know it signifies dryness and drought. I have mixed feelings about my love for it; hence, my “secret love affair.”
The light, the lines. This sign perfectly depicts rural Indiana. So many truckers living a life I will never understand. But without them, we as a population would be sunk.
This little town was really cute and charming. Behind me was the highway. I thought about getting a shot of the road signs for a location ‘stamp’, but when I saw this Sherwin-Williams used to be a Coca-Cola branch, I wanted to showcase how much I appreciated their tribute to what lived there before. The trolley also added a sprinkle of nostalgia to this street corner.
We minded the sign and didn’t go down this road. It did lend us a good laugh, though.
Being the perfectionist that I am, I had to take another shot that I knew was in focus. I actually prefer the soft one. It explains this moment perfectly. We weren’t actually “lost”, but the GPS also didn’t fully understand where it was either. A lesson in letting go. (And not wasting film).
I think about all of the telephone calls that have made their way through these lines. Millions of miles of them exist. Most of us have a cell phone now. How much longer will these pillars of communication continue to exist as we move towards becoming a mostly wireless world? I’ve become so accustomed to seeing them, but I would be lying if I said I would miss them cluttering the landscape.
Our first encounter with any major civilization in hundreds of miles. Corporate America at its best (or worst). This is consumerism numbing our deeply rooted insecurities, keeping us busy for a long enough moment to quiet the words we try to avoid. The vacant parking lot in the foreground of the places we seek to fill our void is a metaphor for what consumerism does to our psyches. It fills them for a fleeting moment with what we believe is happiness and then we are left feeling empty until we can get that next fix.
There’s that golden grass again.
It was in the high 90s and there were some plump flies that were very persistent in stinging us. A couple of them ended up in the car, and it was a battle to the death. One of them lived on and had to put down new roots about 20 miles down the road. Regardless of that part, this little backroad excursion was a nice addition to the day.
We pulled off the state route onto a side road in Keyes, OK. A guy in a truck rolled up next to us a few minutes later asking us if we were lost. When Kurtis told him that we’d stopped to take a few photos and knew where we were, he looked around at the vast flatness and then returned to meet Kurtis’ eyes saying, “You mean to tell me that y’all came to Keyes, OK on purpose?”
I stepped into TX. There’s a little plaque in the ground that tells you not to mess with it. We cruised through 11 states on this trip.
Northern New Mexico surprisingly has way more green space than one would imagine.
Just me being literal.
I love Flagstaff for its mountains and fresh air. It’s always a stop for us on our way to New Mexico where we go to visit Kurtis’ family. This was my first time seeing the downtown area. We rolled out right around one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen. There was a massive forest fire ablaze near Sedona making the sky create a buffet of orange hues from apricot to salmon.
The view from our subpar hotel room in Kingman. We awoke that morning after a restless night of sleep, visions of the terrible motorcycle accident we witnessed outside of Flagstaff flashing in our psyches. We stopped along the side of I-40 to help. I called 911. We, along with a few truckers, stayed with the couple until help arrived what seemed like decades later. They had collided with an elk, breaking its neck. They were both wearing helmets (there is no helmet law in Arizona). I have to assume they are alright, but I don’t know, and that will stay with me.
That mid-century vibe makes my heart go pitter-patter.
False advertising on that Ludlow Motel.
Stop fucking littering.
A rush of excitement and anxiety overcame me as we drove under the green Los Angeles signs adorning the freeway. This is the place I’ve called home for the last 10 years, but I’d been gone long enough that I started to question my residency. How much had it changed? Would the city welcome me back?
Home.