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.
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
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.
Sussman, June 2002