One night during the fall of '03 I started dabbling around out at a weekend fair. It was rainy and quite empty. I set up a few photos full of colorful lights and empty black backgrounds. I only made it through one roll until two of the ride announcers waved me over shouting lighthearted obscenities. I went over and started talking to two of them and then just listening. Traveling from each town setting up and tearing down. Truck driving was their way of life and their livelihoods. From what I could tell both of them knew quite a bit more than the other. For a reason I could not figure out, and still pondering, this atmosphere was a part of memory. After looking through the photographs I had made, I decided to change my approach only slightly. I found myself at truck stops and small towns. I discovered the smallest details full of memories and subjects I seemed to had forgotten about. A photograph I have of my great-grandmother sitting in a bright yellow lawn chair with a turquoise dress on at a picnic brings up a slight rise to the past. I think she died before I was born and I don’t remember her. Yet, this photograph relates to emotion very much like my past memories. I didn’t grow up in a small town. I’ve never been a truck driver or even ridden in a big rig, yet it stirs up other memories. Through color and familiar subjects, I want to bring about a connection from emotion and memory. I am exploring this further through my photography. Up until now I thought it would be just an afterthought. Now it is pertinent. I’ve gotten up the courage to ask, “Can I take a picture of you in front of your truck?” I shuffled through the prints over and over and looked for the similarities as if I was researching the emotion of the entire Midwest trucking industry in the spring of 2004. If I had to pick a theme it would have to be something like the pride of the modern pony express. Like Richard Avedon’s “In the American West,” here are cowboys and the best of what they have to offer.
|
|||