It's the End of the World As We Know It

I found 'express my right to vote' tote bag for only $2.99 when I picked up some pizza along the interstate today.  I couldn't believe that I was so lucky to get it for so cheap.  All this talk on the about a rigged election and my vote maybe not counting, well, they have it all figured out here in New Jersey - just $2.99 and all those problems go away, and - bonus! - you get this cute little tote bag, too!  It's a new world.

Meanwhile, I'm thinking that this could be the last election. I mean, can we go through another one of these again? I think we might have reached our maximum capacity for radioactive bullshit. I'm fried. This time in history is going down in the record books for darn sure. And here I am driving around looking for ways to capture it on film; I think it might be easier to photograph UFOs.

I have to admit, the last 10 days I've felt like I've been walking through The Twilight Zone.  I bet you've felt the same.  I've met a whole ton of nice people (so many good people!) along the road and that sense seems universal. Now just 6 days until the Big Day, I have a feeling this is going to be rather drawn out.  Ugh.  Torture.

I'm missing the old days.  I'm missing the positivity of 2008.  Sure there's been ugliness in past elections, probably just about every single one.  But in one fell swoop, the entire integrity of American democracy has come into play. It's painful.  Who knew we were so sensitive? Who knew the power of one man's lies and one woman's lies were able to upend the entire democratic process? 

All bets are off.  So I'm changing my course. I need a little perspective.  I'm headed to D.C. tomorrow, and then, who knows.  This is uncharted territory.  It'll be a reflection back on the main course, a new landscape, a new vision, a new world.

Crossing Roads

Being on the road for over a week now, I can understand how politicians can feel out of touch. It's a challenge to stay grounded, healthy, in tune with what's real versus what's being fed to me by the media and by my surrounding environment; who's brainwashing whom anymore?  Where is the meeting of the minds, what's the truth? It's a navigational challenge that goes beyond my GPS.  

The last few days I've crossed paths with both presidential candidates.  They were both campaigning in Ohio, just miles from where I landed for the evening.  One thing is for sure, no matter where the presidential candidates land - nobody is interested in talking about this election any more.  It's over.  We are ready to re-connect to what matters without being told we are any lesser for it. We carry on with our business, trying to make it in this world, hoping for a better future.  

People are innately good people; Americans are kind and generous.  Sure there's fear in there, and that's natural, that's human. I'm pretty sure we all have that in common - even these people we've put on a pedestal.  These things I am understanding more and more as I interact with all sorts.  This is what I'm seeing.

Coming from the west and entering what most people call the east coast, America from my car window so far looks like this: the beautiful expansive land of farms and prairie express intense (but interrupted) outward support for Trump, scattered excitement for Bernie Sanders in some surprising places (yes, still), and the entirety of the landscape is peppered with little blue Hillary signs mostly close to the more urban areas, though no overwhelmingly fervent support.  NOTE! Signage is still quite few and far between as compared to a similar journey in the last two elections.  

For the record, this is not a scientific study. I'm not trying to be technical, not trying to be partial, not trying to be political. I'm not taking a poll. I'm not counting.  I'm stopping randomly in random places for random reasons. What I'm looking for is something I haven't quite found just yet: an image that, in one shot, captures our time and place alongside the emotive qualities that have penetrated American culture.  It's an image that encapsulates a crossroads: of metropolitan and rural places, of colliding cultures within America, of sadness and disunity and change.  I'm not just taking pictures of signs, they are just the marker in time that represent a piece of the intensely complex picture that has come to light.

The image I'm looking for is potentially abstract, potentially un-find-able.  It's an outward exploration of an inward feeling of an individual's place in our world, of my place in the world, of yours. This image I'm looking for -  I'm not sure it exists.  Every intersection I reach, I keep my eyes peeled. Each crossroads, each crossing path, I'm still looking.

The Flag is Up

People aren't putting signs out this year.  I'm not just saying it, I'm seeing it.  I've driven 1267 miles in 4 days, and seen maybe 7 or 8 presidential signs - total.  I'm not just hoping to see them from the road - states like Wyoming and Nebraska have laws against political signage along interstate freeways.  I'm driving through neighborhoods, going up and down the avenues specifically looking for signage. No, I am not reaching every inch of every town - I'm just one person, one car, so I've probably missed a few. But it's been surprising. I've never had a problem finding a sign if I drove around enough.  This time is different. 

There's definitely local signage: mayor, governor.  That's great! People are paying attention to what's happening locally. Fantastic! 

Trump and Hillary are off the lawns this year.  Republican and democratic presidential candidates don't get an inch of grass.  "Get off my lawn," says America. 

The man at the coffee shop in Salt Lake City said that that nobody was going to vote for either Hillary or Trump in Utah.  "It is all about Evan," he said.  

A woman in the breakfast room at the hotel in Rock Springs (where I left my pillow) was clearly annoyed by the political discussion on the TV in the breakfast room.  She can't wait for it to be over, she doesn't even want to vote. "They're both gross," she says.  She'll probably vote for Trump. "He's rude, but... that's who everyone else is voting for."

That's who everyone else is voting for. Oh boy.  Elementary school student council election- Carson Elementary, San Jose, California. I remember critiquing the posters and deciding my vote based on poster design (telling, I suppose). However, most kids vote for the guy their friend is voting for.  Adults too.  It's an entire industry.  It's psychological tricks.  

It's a game.  It's rigged. It's your fault.  It's lies, so many lies.  It's Twilight Zone lies. Is this real?  This is real. This is now.  

But nobody is willing to stand up and put out the lawn sign this year. Perhaps out of fear - fear of vandalism, fear of criticism, or, perhaps, they're embarrassed.  Sad.  Confused.  When a lawn sign used to mean being part of something that was impressive, part of a subset of America that held common core beliefs, this year is a melting pot of mushy muck.  

Instead, the main political landscape so far in the 2016 election season is ... drum roll please.... the flag.  The American flag. The old stand-by.  And there's a sense of sadness to this year's flag. Maybe it's just me,  but it seems to hold an element of longing, of sadness, like we've lost something.

I began photographing American flags on 9/11 - that was a moment of unprecedented nationalism in my generation-  even in San Francisco. I was caught off-guard seeing all of these American flags when before there had been so few. So I photographed them.  There was a similar atmosphere then as there is now - a sense of unifying sadness and frustration. Perhaps it was easier to digest back then, with a defining moment and a specific threat, an event, a good reason to be sad.  

But now, it's just us - Americans - with no one defining moment to identify the cause of sadness and suffering. But we're here together, for better or worse. So the flag is up.

That's what I see so far.