Wish You Were Here, 2009 - present

When the economy crashed and it became apparent life would be very different from then on, I needed new expectations for my life. To me, if I could figure out how to change my outlook, everyone else could too. Immediately, I wanted to live more in the present and to see beauty in the local. I especially wanted to start living dreams now, rather than waiting until retirement, or “I’d saved enough”. One long-time fantasy was to buy a vintage camper and hit the open road, discover the corners and crevices of the country, and be lost in the wilderness, yet find so much more. I would be a twenty-first century pioneer, merging my love of technology with a simpler, happier life. I wanted to create a new volume on America, after Robert Frank, and channel the freedom of the highway with the intensity of Jack Kerouac.

In 2009, I bought a 1964 aluminum travel trailer named Alice, and set out on a three-month road trip. I brought two cameras, a digital SLR and a Polaroid; my grandpa's typewriter; my laptop and a scanner; and my two cats. Intensely documenting my progress on Twitter, a blog, and Google maps, I considered this journey a performance. Viewers could take a vicarious road trip in the middle of their workday, tracking my progress across the country on two-lane highways. I went to the places that were built in the Century of the Car, many of which are deserted or visited only by foreigners and locals now that airfare is cheap and fast.

I photograph Alice as the surrogate for the nuclear family of a bygone era, posed in front of the monuments, the scenic overlooks, and the kitschy roadside attractions, though the ever-present road stands with her, beckoning us to the next nostalgic turn-off. Occasionally, Alice upstages these landmarks, herself an ambassador from an idealized (if not realized) past, and the manifestation of many people’s dream to be on the road. You can’t own a trailer like Alice if you want to go unnoticed or stick to yourself. In Alice, you are an exhibitionist, though you know full well anywhere the road takes you, no matter how scarce the cellular network, you have your own private bathroom.

Over that first summer, I posted 77 blog entries, 600 tweets, and took more than 10,000 pictures over 6,200 miles. Since her purchase, Alice and I have crossed the country four times and visited nineteen states.