“The places in which any significant event occurred become embedded with some of that emotion, and so to recover the memory of the place is to recover the emotion, and sometimes to revisit the place uncovers emotion. Every love has its landscape.”

Taconic is a personal narrative of my experiences with distance, both physically and emotionally. It is a commentary on history; that of my own, as well as the Taconic State Parkway itself. It is an exploration of oneself using a common thread that connects us all to the planet we occupy— landscape.

The Taconic State Parkway is more than a road that carries me from point A to point B; it is a vehicle for the unconscious mind, it is a plot of points that hold critical memories, and it is a map of the places in which I exist. For the majority of my life, I have been drawn to landscapes; by their complex purpose, their ability to store memories, and an innate desire to keep seeking new ones. Landscapes relate to larger concepts such as distance, time, and place. As members of a post-modern, productivity-driven society, most aspects of our lives revolve around time. Through my lens, I explore how we experience time, why that is significant, and how we inevitably create distance between ourselves and others as time passes.

We often overlook the unique occurrence of coming and going because of our innate instinct to fixate on the future. Vernacular photography has always been my focal point for that reason. Everyday life needs attention, and our common experiences largely shape why we function in the way we do. Kathleen Stewart, a writer, and educator, argues that everyday life needs attention and that ordinary occurrences are critical to creating relatable feelings. “Ordinary affects are the varied, surging capacities to affect and to be affected that give everyday life the quality of a continual motion of relations, scenes, contingencies, and emergences. They’re things that happen.” My work has always gravitated towards the present moment happening right before my eyes and the places that feel the most familiar to me. By having a relationship with these spaces, my ability to portray them in a photograph is much stronger. Photography is a direct link to memory, and I am documenting my experiences through this practice. “Ordinary life, too, draws its charge from rhythms of flow and arrest. Still lives punctuate its significance: the living room strewn with ribbons and wine glasses after a party, the kids or dogs asleep in the back seat of the car after a great (or not so great) day at the lake, the collection of sticks and rocks resting on the dashboard after a hike in the mountains, the old love letters stuffed in a box in the closet, the moments of humiliation or shock that suddenly lurch into view without warning, the odd moments of spacing out when a strange malaise comes over you, the fragments of experience that pull at ordinary awareness but rarely come into full fame.” Our lives are intertwined with the landscapes around us, and furthermore, informed by them.

The uncertain, unpredictable nature of the world that I’ve been making this project in has influenced my work tremendously. The coronavirus pandemic changed my perception about time and place, and how we relate to each, specifically when we lack interaction with people. It created a slowness in both my photographic and overall thought process and allowed my awareness to shift. I was drawn to familiarity but viewed it with a new lens. The height of the pandemic forced me to be stagnant for days and weeks, confined to the walls of my house, with little room for outside exploration. As time continued to pass, I was able to harvest nostalgia in the familiar landscapes that were prospering around me. This project was inspired by daily walks up and down my street, noticing the oddities I never glanced twice at, and destination-less drives. It was inspired by the back-and-forth nature of calling multiple places home and by the desire to be in two places at once.

Place is a direct link to the people we’ve experienced those spaces with, and it has the ability to catapult us right back to the memories we made there. As time passes and we grow older, places that were once so familiar to us become a distant memory and we find new places in which to seek comfort. During the pandemic, my family and I were simultaneously trying to navigate my grandmother’s illness. She was in and out of the hospital for months and we knew that she was not going to be able to live alone any longer. The apartment I made precious moments in was shifting from a maze of boxes to a large empty room right before my eyes. Drives to the hospital fostered obscure trains of thought and allowed my mind to wander to places beyond my imagination. I was flooded with thoughts about loss, death, impermanence, and documentation.

Photography became a means of preservation as I photographed each step of the move, in the hopes of making the change feel less substantial. Photography, as explained by Roland Barthes, is in direct correlation with death and time. He says, “…this work retains, through its root, a relation to “spectacle” and adds to it that rather terrible thing which is there in every photograph: the return of the dead.” When we make a photograph, that moment is in the past, or a memory, as soon as we release the shutter. Therefore, each photograph symbolizes the death of a moment. “Every photograph is a certificate of presence,” Barthes says.

The Taconic State Parkway has served as a relevant landscape in my life for as long as I can remember. From the moment I was strapped in a car seat and staring out the backseat window on the way to my grandparent’s apartment to merging for the first time after getting my license and eventually anticipating the pothole in the right lane on the way to work. The Taconic has commanded the way I encounter the unique experience of coming and going. Taconic delivers this experience to the viewer in the same way you would experience a familiar drive— the kind where you don’t have to think about which turn comes next, so your mind can wander freely. The unconscious mind is fascinating, specifically how our thoughts mimic the winding roads.

Photography was used in the past as a means of documentation for the construction of the roads I find myself documenting again today. Their purpose was completely informative and straightforward, while my intent is abstract and thought-provoking. David Campany suggests this idea as well, in his book The Open Road. “Photography, a medium once so vital to the rationalized scientific mapping of the continent seems to have been transformed into a means to map unconscious or precocious ideas of space and nation.” This book is filled with photographers who embarked on the “Great American Road-Trip” and found themselves getting lost in the landscape. Photographers such as Stephen Shore, Robert Frank, and Justine Kurland used the places around them to tell their individual stories. They were not seeking out breath-taking scenery; rather they were using what was right in front of them and documenting compositions that felt meaningful.

One project in particular that heavily influenced my work is Alec Soth’s “Sleeping by the Mississippi.” Soth pays attention to the documentation of time and place, creating a story between each photograph included in the series. He allows the work to speak for itself while touching on some very large themes such as faith, loneliness, death, religion, and politics. Because of these common links, the project feels cohesive while also being very personal and abstract. Taconic is similar in the way I used the road (Soth, used the river) to talk about history, place, and memory. I did not tell the viewer what to think, or how to interpret the subtle hints of class, death, and religion because their experiences with those topics are just as critical as mine when viewing the project. The book is relatable and elicits personal feelings and emotions. To further communicate my subjective perspective, I sourced photographs from my family archives as well as archives of the Taconic State Parkway. When talking about time and place, it is inevitable to discuss history. “…all the sources and inspirations that come from other media and other encounters, from poems, dreams, politics, doubts, a childhood experience, a sense of place, leave out the fact that history is made more of crossroads, branchings, and tangles than straight lines,” says Solnit. History is complex but necessary when talking about almost anything. In the same way I’ve experienced the Taconic differently for the past twenty years, the Taconic has experienced us differently as well.

Landscape is one of the most abstract, yet concrete beings in my mind. There are so many narratives that can be unfolded and discovered, and everyone has their own set of memories attached to a particular landscape. Simon Schama states in Landscape and Memory, “…and that is what Landscape and Memory tries to be: a way of looking; of rediscovering what we already have, but which somehow eludes our recognition and our appreciation. Instead of being yet another explanation of what we have lost, it is an explanation of what we may yet find.” To further conceptualize the link to landscape and memory, as time passes and we reflect on our memories, our memories themselves become landscapes. We conjure up as much as we can remember and paint pictures in our minds to fill in the rest. As we consider what is real and how much of this is our imagination, we consequently discover ourselves. “To discover America is to discover oneself,” states Joel Sternfeld in American Prospects. “America is a mirror, and in the process of describing it, we cannot help but describe ourselves.” The nexus between landscape and the unconscious mind is one of the most powerful yet overlooked miracles of human existence. Landscape fosters our memories, our dreams, and our ability to grasp the space we exist in.

Through my research and exploration of the Taconic State Parkway, I was able to define a clear connection between my present self and my past self. The landscape served as a metonym for both the state of my mind and the state of our current times. My photographic process shifted and became much more intentional due to the uncertain state of the world. I began making connections to my childhood and attributing qualities found in my present self to the surrounding landscapes and environments. A clear and cohesive narrative started to form, thus giving me a clearer perception of the way I see the world around me and more-so, why I see it in that way. Taconic exemplified the common experience of travel; of time passing and the “close-to-home” feeling we all long for. We are constantly in a liminal, transitional state of mind and thus fail to notice the way our lives are intertwined with the elements of the earth. The Taconic State Parkway instilled in me the value of nostalgia and taught me how to truly see, not just look. This road, mundane to many, serves as my gateway to the world.

Solnit, Field Guide to Getting Lost, 118.

Stewart, Ordinary Affects, 1-2.

Stewart, Ordinary Affects, 19.

Barthes, Camera Lucida, 9.

Campany, The Open Road, 36.

Barthes, Camera Lucida, 87.

Solnit, A Field Guide to Getting Lost, 59.

Schama, Landscape and Memory, 14.

Sternfeld, American Prospects.

I am very interested in showing the idea of impermanence through photography. Whether we want to acknowledge it or not; the people, places, and objects in our lives are not going to last forever. Through photography, however, we are able to capture the things that are important to us and have physical photographs even when we no longer are able to possess the subject matter.

Similar to the ideas of Roland Barthes, I believe there is a strong relationship between death and photography. When we make a photograph, we are capturing a moment that will never exist again. Thus, we are creating a direct commentary about loss, fleeting moments, and the passage of time. Along with wanting to photograph concepts that interest me, I want to make work about things that are relevant to my present life and document places and people that hold significance to me.

My work concentrates on the idea of time and fleeting moments. As photographers, we are documenting things that will never exist in that space in time again. This idea is such a powerful tool that we possess and something I’ve been thinking a lot about moving forward as a photographer.

One of my biggest influences is Stephen Shore. I love the way he captures things that are commonplace and tells stories about them. His photos are unique while being very raw and straightforward. He captures moments in time that he wants to preserve, similar to my intentions for this project. Another series I reference often is Larry Sultan’s “Pictures from Home.” Sultan documented his parents as a new way of seeing them, and ultimately himself, while wanting to preserve moments with them. He said, “The demands of my project and my confusion about its meaning, is the wish to take photography literally. To stop time. I want my parents to live for ever.”

Photographing in this way is an emotional investment; as I have such a close attachment to the subject matter. However, I am passionate about the ideas I am trying to convey and know I will be grateful for my ability to capture people, places, and moments that will not exist forever.

Throughout the history of photography, many photographers have made projects commenting on American life and the social issues that people have faced throughout our country’s history. These issues include segregation and racism, poverty, inequalities due to gender and ethnicities, and many more. By bringing these issues to light through photography, people are faced with real images and see how issues that don’t affect them are truly hurting other people. Photography has an impact on people that other mediums cannot convey. These photographers were making important work during the time period they were photographing in and raising awareness. Additionally, they documented history for those who view their photographs today and shed light on what life was like in America through the years.

One photographer who made direct commentary about America throughout different states and different walks of life was Robert Frank. His project titled “The Americans” was shot in the 1950s and explored the American people—black and white, military and civilian, urban and rural, poor and middle class. He photographed in common places such as drugstores and diners, on city streets, in funeral homes, and in and around cars. Frank highlighted topics such as politics, power, and injustice that were circulating throughout the country. Frank traveled to different states to depict America through multiple lenses and staggered the diversity of lives coexisting through America. His idea was to introduce America to itself through the images he made. This project was pivotal, not only to the history of photography but the history of America itself. One photo in particular from this series, Trolly-New Orleans, shot in 1955, sits on the cover of Franks book, The Americans. We see black travelers seated in the back of the bus, while the white travelers are seated towards the front. The passengers seem to look directly at Frank’s camera and convey strong emotion. There is a white woman who seems to look down at Frank, two children seated behind her, and a black man behind the children, looking tired and helpless. There are hazy glares above the people, and the windows fill the whole frame with little outside context. This photo reveals the message Frank was trying to convey in this series. America prided itself on being the land of opportunity for all, but only demonstrated hypocrisy when it came to putting that statement into action. America only provided opportunities for those of a certain class and race, especially during this time period. Frank’s project provided a distinct, poetic, and piercing critique of the state of America during this time.

Similar to Frank, Gordon Parks was also making a photographic series during the 1950s that was centered around exposing racism. Parks documented the everyday activities and rituals of an extended African American family living in the rural south under Jim Crow segregation. He set a grim reminder of the “separate but equal” phrase that African Americans continually heard. In Atlanta, African Americans could shop and spend money in the downtown area, but they were not allowed to eat in the restaurants there. This is not only a comment on racial inequalities but a comment on class and capitalism. Parks focused on everyday occurrences like this and wanted to focus on common places rather than photographing demonstrations, boycotts, and brutalities. By doing this, his photographs were very impactful because of their ability to elicit empathy through the emphasis on the shared human experience. Parks wanted to undo racial stereotypes by providing a positive, complex amount of real people. While Parks was photographing this family, he not only risked their safety but his own. He was mainly photographing them in Alabama, which he referred to as “the motherland of racism.” Local gas stations refused to sell gas to this family and confiscated their belongings. One of the daughters was fired from her teaching job and had to move her family out of the state because of her fear for their safety. Parks’ series “The Restraints: Open & Hidden” does a lot of similar things that “The Americans” does in the ways that it openly critiques America and the inequalities it possesses. One photograph in this series that is particularly striking is Department Store, Mobile, Alabama, taken in 1956. This photo has a muted color palette, except for the neon sign at the top of the photo that reads “Colored Entrance.” One black woman and a younger black girl stand underneath the sign, dressed up from head to toe. The perspective is eye-level, and the viewer feels like they are standing on the street with these girls, looking directly into the photo and down the street. The photograph is relatively standard in perspective and frame, putting the subjects directly in the middle, but is so telling about the time period Parks was photographing in and living through. Parks depicted his own experiences with segregation, while also showing how others around him are affected by it. He made a project that was relatable, raw, and informative. This project is still recognized today as one of the most poignant examples of this issue within America.

Martha Rosler, an artist who worked with many different mediums also played a big role in defining the relationship between art and the nation. She was interested in the unfulfilled historical premise of documentary photography and was heavily influenced by feminism and New Left Marxism. Rosler used documentary photography and photomontage to make work during a time of increased intervention by the US military in Vietnam. She wanted to show Americans how close they were to the war and in turn, how complicit they were being about the events that were taking place. The United States formed an expression “living-room war” after the news of ongoing massacres in Southeast Asia filtered into American homes through television reports. Her series “House Beautiful: Bringing the War Home” is a direct response to this phrase. She wanted to raise awareness about the harsh realities of war and eliminate the idea that it was happening so far away. Americans only thought of war in the way media depicted it, and Rosler wanted to reveal this collective experience, and thus, disprove it. In an image like Cleaning the Drapes that Rosler made in 1967-72, she spliced photos of war that she found in Life Magazine, and collaged them with images of the homes of wealthy Americans found in House Beautiful magazine. This photograph shows a woman cleaning her drapes, but as the drapes pull back, we see an image of military men in full gear holding guns. This photo speaks to the idea of “living-room war” and disrupts the calm realm of the American home. Rosler creates a unique way of looking at the nation, especially during wartime. She critiques Americans for being complicit, ignorant, and oblivious to what was happening in their backyards.

Photography is a very powerful tool for bringing attention to social issues and makes an impact on the way we view the nation. When looking at the work of photographers and artists who made critical work about America, we are transported into that time period, and see real, frozen moments of history. The three photographers mentioned above, along with many others, made projects that tried to understand, shape, and critique the state of the country through their creative methods and ways of looking. Their unique perspectives shed light on issues that we being buried and ignored. Photography has a very close relationship to the nation and has shaped the way we see America today.