Ongoing
American
Spectacle
As seen in 
, 
There's something uniquely American about the strange reasons people gather and create ritual. Armadillo races and festivals celebrating hearts of palm, gator wrestling on a humid summer day. Strangers have become friends through shared meals, stories, and long afternoons together. I've been seeing the real America through the smaller county roads, and experiencing true hospitality, openness, and an eagerness from strangers to tell me their stories and share traditions. American Spectacle is an ongoing documentation of the surreal and idealistic places where Americans gather. The project explores the rituals and niche celebrations that shape communities across the country, from gator wrestling to armadillo races, revealing the strange yet endearing reasons Americans come together.
In Print
I take the county roads over the highways,
stop at diners and yard sales,
and ask the same question:
“So, what do y'all do around here?"
History
Where Americans
First Gathered
The county fair started with two merino sheep tied to an elm tree. In 1807, Massachusetts farmer Elkanah Watson brought his best sheep of the flock to the town square so that his neighbors and community could see his prized animals. To his surprise, crowds gathered just to look at the sheep.
The next year, he invited his neighbors to bring their own animals to the town square to do the same. Two years after that, Elkanah organized the first county fair in the United States — no longer just livestock, but an event the whole town could take part in.
Soon, the ritual of the county fair began to spread across the northeast and eventually the country—with agricultural competitions and events being staples.
Two hundred years later and the county and state fair are staples of American culture, and show us the origins of where and why Americans first started to gather.
Scroll →
In Sopchoppy, Florida, I met Gary Revell, a 4th generation worm grunter. I told him I had driven 9 hours just to come to Sopchoppy, and when he saw how excited and curious I was to learn more about worm grunting, he invited me to the backwoods behind his house to try it myself. I asked Gary why he still goes grunting, and what the worms had taught him after all these years. He sat back and looked out toward the field, smiling to himself, before he turned back to me. In his deep southern accent, he said:
“When it's just me alone in the woods, watching the sun rise between the pines, it's the closest I feel to God.”
These types of traditions are often on the brink of disappearance and remain largely unseen. Though they’re small, regional, and often strange, they are happening everywhere across the country. To gather for worms, for gators, for a tree’s heart—it’s proof that we still belong with each other. At these gatherings, people stand shoulder to shoulder with their neighbors, marvel at animals racing and worms lured from the dirt, and allow themselves the gift of being amazed by the same, strange, and wonderful sight.