Photographs of northern Iowa from a blustery autumn day where the remains of freshly harvested corn stalks blew across the highway and a farmer bragged about a pickup he has owned for forty-two years…
Post title: Darrin Bradbury - Breakfast
True stories
As time goes on, I find it harder to photograph Omaha, my home, than just about anywhere else. It reminds me of something David Byrne says towards the end of his eccentric Texas film True Stories.
“I really enjoy forgetting. When I first come to a place, I notice all the little details. I notice the way the sky looks. The color of white paper. The way people walk. Doorknobs. Everything. Then I get used to the place and I don’t notice those things anymore. So only by forgetting can I see the place again as it really is.”
A few photographs from a unseasonably warm and humid September Sunday morning in downtown Omaha…
I'm a mountain like you said to be
From Billings to Rapid City via the Bighorn Mountains of Wyoming.
US 14 Alternate to US 14 is one of the best drives I’ve ever taken, despite the fact that I’m suffering from a head cold and the changes in altitude have been causing all sorts of problems for my ears. The highway rises so quickly that the views of the surrounding plains are absolutely spectacular. Bighorn Canyon is well worth the trip as well, especially Devils Canyon.
There’s a lot of empty, empty country out here. And the distances are easy to underestimate, with hundreds of miles between any real signs of civilization.
Post title: Sarah Harmer - I Am A Mountain
Look out at that western sky
I last visited Montana on an epic road trip with friends to Glacier and Yellowstone National Parks in 2007. Since then, I’ve wanted to get back to some of the places we passed through - especially Helena. The reality of many of the places, perhaps unsurprisingly, is very different than the fond memories I have from that trip, a milestone in my life that helped put me on the path towards what I have become as a photographer.
Helena is a nice small city, but the potential photographs I had in mind my mind from a dozen years ago simply aren’t there. Livingston is another town that, in reality, shares little in common with the quaint little town I remember from that trip.
Butte, on the other hand, is every bit what I had imagined. While it has undoubtedly changed over the years, you can still feel the spirit of Robert Frank when you walk up and down the steep hills of the city center.
Tomorrow will bring me halfway home, and I’ll be back at work before I know it.
Post title: Lucinda Williams - Big Red Sun Blues