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There
is something about the tensions of photography that have always
appealed to me — the science and potential art of it,
the seeming proof of something that's inherently only part
of the picture. In October of 2001 I left New York and set
out on a road trip across the US and back with that in mind.
I
stumbled across some of the usual road trip gems ("No
minors at bar except accompanied by legal guardian or adult
spouse"), as well as a couple acts of post-September
11th kindness (at a hotel in Wyoming the desk clerk gave me
the bereavement rate upon seeing my New York City address.)
But mostly I just took it all in; watched the landscape transform
around me and back on itself and then into something else
entirely.
8,700 miles later I came home with these pictures. (In case
you're wondering, I took the Northern route there, made a
left at the Pacific, and took the Southern route back.) Admittedly
a couple of the images are from subsequent trips North and
West — but they all come from the same place of exploration.
The interpretation, I leave to you.
Rachel
Sussman, June 2002
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