In 1972, Stephen Shore left New York City and set out with a friend to Amarillo, Texas. He didn’t drive, so his first view of America was framed by the passenger’s window frame. Half a century later, another young man—this time a foreigner, from a distant land, with a strange accent—embarked on a similar journey, to travel across the country on, sometimes, trains, which he loved, but more often the backseat of a car because he was in modern America.
The 1970s was a long time ago, so long ago that the young man’s parents hadn’t been born yet, which was why he expected Shore’s images to likely be outdated, in some way, and should be stowed in a basement of some library. Yet in the mirage of fancy new technology, the young man still scented the 70’s America ghosting around.
It was then when he ultimately realised how pioneering and chronic photography could be.
