Truck Stop

In 2013, I began a photographic journey that took me to Love’s Truck Stop in Fort Worth, Texas, along the restless I-35W corridor. I spent a day there listening, observing, and photographing the men and women whose lives unfold on the open road. What began as simple curiosity became an immersion into a subculture of quiet endurance and unspoken kinship.

Each driver carried subtle symbols of identity — a pen in the shirt pocket, a gleaming belt buckle, a weathered cowboy hat — small details that hinted at both individuality and shared ritual. Beneath those outward signs lay deeper narratives: fatigue and freedom, solitude and pride, motion and stillness. Some drivers welcomed conversation; others met the camera with silence, their stories written instead in posture, gaze, and light. Together they formed a portrait of a workforce that keeps the country moving yet remains largely unseen.

The resulting series was exhibited in Art in the Metroplex, juried by representatives from London’s Bluecoat, where the work was recognized for its raw intimacy and storytelling strength. Yet, even with that recognition, the project continues to evolve. Like the road itself, it feels unfinished — a story still unfolding, waiting for its next chapter. I continue to return to this subject, drawn by the rhythm of highways and the enduring mystery of the people who navigate them.

Inspired by Richard Avedon’s In the American West, Truck Drivers seeks to honor those who live between places, capturing fragments of their journeys before they disappear into the horizon. It is a testament to resilience and to the poetry found in the overlooked — a meditation on the human stories threaded through highways, truck stops, and the open road.