Having been raised north of the Mason Dixon Line, as an innocent college student even in the late 90’s in the South; I think I harbored somewhat of a misunderstanding with regards to southern culture. At the time, I think I referenced my surroundings mostly in stereotypes and movie lines. And I was almost too busy experiencing it all to take very many pictures.
Flash forward more than a decade (yikes) and taking pictures has gone from being my hobby and great love, to being my job and great love. As I returned last week to the stomping grounds of my late teens and early twenties, I found a South largely unchanged. Instead, it was my understanding of it which had changed. It was my appreciation for it which had grown over the years I’d been gone. I can’t put into words what the South means to me now. All my lackluster writing skills mean nothing when emotion is the ruling factor. This time though, I took pictures. And this time; I listened, watched and tried not to judge – but instead, to celebrate. I celebrated both the stereotypical charms of the South and some which are perhaps, lesser known.
This is my trip back.: My trip to Little Rock, Arkansas
and Memphis, Tennessee