Next Town Over was created over a period of a year and a half living back in the East Bay Area, the place where I grew up. For the first couple weeks of that time I weaved restlessly through the pile of towns thrown shoulder to shoulder on the water. Albany, my hometown of a single square mile with its low slung bungalows and antiquated main street silently bled into to El Cerrito, which sat there, unsuspectedly, just to the North.

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I slowed my pace and walked in and through and up and down this next town over, quickly becoming lost among the endless auto-shops and dealerships on San Pablo Avenue. I started walking with a camera a couple miles each day. I talked to the few people I could find and tried, often in vain, to take their photograph. But mostly, the town gave me the feeling of being constantly at half capacity, never reaching some critical density necessary even for the smallest of cities. I realized I was in over my head. I got yelled at for trespassing. I got badly sunburnt. I quickly wore through the heels of a newly purchased pair of sambas. I felt terribly estranged. 

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Finally, while walking the cement perimeter at Cerrito Vista Park, I met a man named Dennis, who left his house unlocked and the keys in the transmission of his Dodge Caravan. Then I saw no one for several weeks. I crossed town lines to photograph the redwood tree in People's park and broke my own rules. I continually asked myself aloud, "What's a town?" and "Where the hell is everyone, anyway?" 

 

I finally caved and photographed my best friend.