America was always the big dream for me photographically. Without sounding like a cliche of non-conformism, I was never keen on seeing the big places like New York or Holly wood. In fact when I stumbled upon  bit or Route 66, I was reluctant to travel on it, so as to avoid saying I had done the infamous ‘Mother Road’. My dream was always to see the bits that didn’t make the movies. The areas that weren’t full of fame, and fake optimism, but were just places of existence. Places where everyday things happen to everyday people. It was with this in mind that I embarked on a trip across the South West. America was more than I expected photographically. Everything is photogenic, and not just because it is different to my life, but because things are just sitting. Mechanical, automotive, and structural relics are just left to decay, slowly and peacefully. But more than this, everything seems to stand still in time in the smaller towns and places. It’s like people forgot how to have urgency, realizing that ‘it’ will happen regardless.



“…And anyway, small town America, with its rustic main street charms often embellished in history no older than the elderly folks that still patrol it, it’s childhood sweethearts, it’s optimistic breeze, and its hospitable sunshine glow, is far more romantic than any Hollywood film could portray or outshine.”



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