Time. Travel.
Time.
My photography professor Dan Talley introduced me to William Christenberry in spring of 2009 when helping me choose an artist for a class project. He looked through a few of my landscape photos and made the suggestion. I was immediately taken with William Christenberry’s work. I was interested in the photos that were of the same subject. For example in the 30s another photographer Walker Evans photographed a view of a post office. William Christenberry came after him in the 70s and rephotographed that same post office with the same cropping. I was interested in Christenberry’s documentation of time. Christenberry often rephotographed locations at different times of the year, through the years. He built records of buildings which would have been entirely forgotten had he not have pressed that shutter. This brought up another interesting topic for me. Do we make things more important by photographing them? Or do we photograph important things? There are many people who view Christenberry’s subjects as unattractive worn down buildings and shacks. I curiously admired his choice to photograph those shacks over some of the more beautiful and ornate southern homes. Like him, I felt that I was more interested in those subjects which are often overlooked, than the more obvious ones.
One of Christenberry’s frequently photographed subjects was the Palmist Building. This building seemed like his favorite. He photographed it many, many times. The last photo of it is a flattened piece of land. It had been razed completely. It’s hard to believe that its existence is only documented by Christenberry’s photographs. I had realized I had my own Palmist Building. The run-down shack along Rt 222 in Breinigsville had often been a photo subject for me. I passed it every day I drove from Trexlertown to Kutztown for class. It was a wide building, not very tall, that sat very close to the road. It had two doors – one on the left and one on the right of the building. I can’t explain my interest in it really. It picked me. I did countless hours of research on it and asked around. My dad remembered it as a diner starting with the letter “L”. He remembered it being a stop for truckers heading back on forth on Rt. 222. Many of the people I spoke to did not even know it existed. It amazed me that so many people could overlook something they drove past every day. I used property records to locate the owner. He and I later had dinner together at a diner where he told me the story of his family’s Birch Beer Stand.
In February 2010 I was in the middle of a graphic design project at Kutztown when my father passed away from his 3 year battle against ALS. My gracious professor, Karen Kresge, worked with me over the Summer to finish the project. The project was a typography book about someone famous. I had chosen Henry David Thoreau because of his relationship with nature and his views on life. I’m not sure the order of events anymore, but I must have been telling Kresge about the birch beer stand when she suggested that I scrap Henry David Thoreau and do my project on the birch beer stand. I can never thank her enough for suggesting that. I felt that I was able to give new life to the birch beer stand. I learned a lot about my passion for photography as a tool for recording a time and place.
Travel.
Jump ahead to 2011 when I graduated college from Kutztown University. I wanted to visit those places in Alabama where Christenberry had stood at and photographed. I was lucky enough to have a co-pilot (now my husband) who would travel ~15 hours with me to Hale County. It was a milestone in my achievements as a photographer. I felt like I had finished a project. I felt some satisfaction in making sure his story was continued. It was tough to find some of the places and I was not as brave as I am today. But the three good photos that I got are still some of my most valuable.
The thirst for travel wasn’t quenched. I remember looking through my parent’s truck-driving photo albums and being amazed at the reds and browns of out west. The landscape was so different from Pennsylvania. I think it was from that moment I knew my heart was calling me to travel and absorb everything possible. I wanted to see those colorful red rock mountains and the dry desert.
In 2013, I finally made the decision to see the desert. I mapped out my road trip through the Appalachians, down to New Orleans, through Texas and the Grand Canyon to the west coast. I traveled up the coastal highway I had always heard my parents talk about (Mom always said truck drivers weren’t allowed on it when they drove). From San Francisco, I headed back east on I-80. I had not planned on going alone, but a few days before my departure I had to make the choice to go alone or not go at all. My dear mother is so brave. She said, “Well I don’t like it, but I think you should go.” I can never thank her enough for that encouragement on that day. The trip was 3 weeks long filled with reflection, new experiences, meeting strangers, and thousands of photos.
In short.
Well if you got through all through all that, congratulations. My point was to tie together my interest in using photography to record a time and place. Moments. I enjoy traveling and experiencing the landscape, architecture, and culture around me. I’m grateful for those influences mentioned above which have helped me grow my passions.
At the time of writing this in 2018, I have a lot of work to catch up on and many more photos to show – and even more places that I want to see. My trusty travel partner Zac and I got married in 2017. For our honeymoon, we explored Rocky Mountain National Park and this year for our 1 year anniversary we road-tripped throughout Germany. Where will we go next?