I grew up in the Southeastern cities of Charlotte, North Carolina and Atlanta, Georgia during the 70’s, a time of major transformations in that region. One of the driving forces of change of the so-called ‘New South’ was the rise of the interstate system. The explosive growth of the region was shaped by the interstates in the form of shopping malls, subdivisions, and the abandonment of the cities. For the privileged, the interstate became synonymous with progress, prosperity, and modernity. For me personally, the interstate came to symbolize liberation from a limiting and restrictive culture in rural Georgia and a way out of our small town. As a teenager, I spent many restless nights circling Atlanta on its perimeter, pretending I was on my way.

As an adult, I found myself returning to the interstate in times of uncertainty, seeking the kind of introspection that I could only find on a long journey through its empty landscapes. ‘Bardo’ is a Tibetan term, meaning ‘the space between’, usually the space between death and rebirth. I find driving on the interstate to be a kind of bardo. The sealed environment of our cars, the high speed of travel, and the limited access of the interstate itself, all serve to separate us from our fellow travelers and the landscape we traverse. In this most common mode of modern travel, I feel I step outside the confines of time and space. In such a place, I can let go of demands on my attention and just be: with the thrill of speed and my forward momentum, with the intimate dramas I share with the other inhabitants, or with an internal journey of contemplation and reflection. Just as we form identity through the narratives we create about ourselves and the people we come in contact with, I’m creating portraits of individuals I’ve encountered on the interstate to illustrate my personal concept of the modern highway journey.