![]() ![]() The next day begins a year long photo project for an agriscience company, Corteva. The farmers and seasonal workers at the bar do not grimace and ask, “You ain’t from ‘round here, are yeh?” Instead, they welcome us, and wonder which of their neighbors they can make fun of for agreeing to have their photo taken. We have come to photograph this real thing. But the dive bar is not a movie set- years of dust from the cotton harvest of the farms nearby have caked into the wood siding outside, and those layers are too real of a detail for an art department to capture. We very well could be inside a cliche Americana film scene as envisioned by cosmopolitan advertising agency people from New York. We’re seated at a dive bar in rural Oklahoma, drinking 4 dollar beers under a neon Miller Lite sign. It’s the night of my birthday, pre-Covid. ![]()
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