San Antonio, TX.
The first thing you find out once you step foot in South Texas is that nothing- and I mean nothing- was intended to live there. The heat swelters and folds in tenfold with the humidity, making the “Devil’s Cocktail” in the tail-end of the Bible Belt. I was around the San Antonio area with these images: capturing the remainders of the rotting away Americana. However- here it was much more than the typical Americana- it was a crossroads of dreams. The border blended away for many back in the day, you were free to live between the two- you could be just as American as you were Mexican. You’ll find this dream has vanished: the family-run businesses have folded up shop and ran for the hill country. The smalltown and the humble origins are fleeing San Anton. The hope I had was to capture all of it and find some story from the boarded up windows and neon before it disappeared into the skyscrapers.
What you spot in the nights of San Antonio is the neon. True neon is hard to find nowadays, but you'll know it when you see it. It's like the first sparks at the striking of a lighter- they flicker like motion picture grain at the start of an old film. That glow is so sensational and bright that it forms an ethereal halo around it. This dingy glow is the exact callsign that comes with the remains of Americana.
