Whenever my thoughts drift to the Land of the Free, without fail I envision it to be exactly like this.
My name is Solomon Levi, the desert is my home, my mother’s breast was thorny, and father I had none. The sands whispered, Be separate, the stones taught me, Be hard. I dance, for the joy of surviving, on the edge of the road.// Stanley Kunitz
Retro, sparse and very much mysterious. These photographs captured by She Is Frank, practically entices you to come forth and discover those lost and abandoned towns of America’s once thriving yesteryears. It feels like someone has seen into my mind and located several spaces that I’ve dreamt about since, forever. Those golden plains and mountains that frame horizons. Faded neon signs in forgotten 1960’s typography. Cerulean skies and rusted barbed wire too. It’s probably not the concrete picturesque image that most of you associate when thinking of the USA. And maybe it stems from a childhood filled with Chevy Chase, Steve Martin and Billy Crystal movies, but the images my mind depicts of this great land is always of an over-saturated landscape with a warm filter and slight vignette applied. It’s endless possibilities. Solitary, bar from with ones thoughts and countless natural distractions to amuse oneself with. Wandering through those sands, dirtying up a pair of New Balance with the arenaceous ground and some Ray-Ban to protect from the blistering and uncomfortable sun.
Take me there,
|images via she is frank|