Finding my summer in Abbyville, KS
On May 20, I left on a 1-week road trip that was to take me into Colorado, where, outside my normal range of visual stimulation, I would find much-needed inspiration. The pandemic has been difficult for a number of reasons, but especially restrictive to a photographer who likes getting images of people. Obviously, I make a lot of stuff that doesn’t involve humans, but what I love most is motion blur, and with everyone including me staying home, the options have been sorta limited.
I did take the trip, and went high into the mountains, then along back roads to Denver, then across rural Nebraska (I know — is there any other kind?) and back home. During the week, I reunited with a bunch of great people and had a lot of fun. But what I found most interesting happened on the first day, just 200 miles from home, in a town I’d never heard of.
I saw the small sign for Abbyville, and turned off US 50 on a whim. It seemed like a good time to take a break. What I found was a town so small, they don’t have a store or a gas station. What they do have every year is a rodeo.
The first thing I noticed on the dirt road in was a quarter horse wearing a suit — no, 3 horses all wearing colorful compression suits, tied to their trailer. A young woman was feeding and grooming them, so I got out to ask about it and grab a few shots. Turns out they’re barrel racers (including the young woman) and tiny Abbyville’s rodeo is so prestigious that people come from all over to compete in it.
I hung around for a while and learned from the very-friendly townsfolk that this annual weekend rodeo includes a BBQ, a dance, and a parade. Most of the money comes from a cowboy church in nearby Hutchinson, which is a much larger town.
The love and excitement of the local folks for this event was clearly evident, and quite contagious. Sometimes, when I find myself in an unfamiliar place with welcoming people, I have the feeling that I somehow ‘belong’ and that this little section of my life has a special meaning in and of itself, that will stand on its own for the rest of my existence, no matter what else happens. Maybe it’s a doorway to another dimension where my parallel life runs a little differently. There’s an odd kind of serenity accompanying that thought.
Part of me wished then (and wishes now) that I’d changed my plans and stayed through the evening, but feeling the need to meet my schedule, I left after only an hour. Nevertheless, that small slice of time revealed what turned out to be the main inspiration of the trip.
Backstory: My grandfather and great-grandfather were cattle dealers in the Kansas City stockyards for decades, and my mom’s family came from a small town called Baldwin City in which I spent a lot of time. Although I grew up in the Kansas City suburbs, I’ve always felt a connection with the agrarian part of our country. And while traveling across Kansas seems boring to so many others, it’s always fascinated me.
Although it would be inaccurate to describe me as a rodeo fan, I feel a strong affinity with the people who love rodeo. And I find warmth and comfort among small-towners. Big gaps in wealth and access have driven people out of small towns, where a lot of America grew up. We all know there’s a widening divide politically and culturally that seems to define people more and more. But if you want to understand this country, you have to look at all of it, not just the parts you happen to agree with.
This summer, I’m planning to crisscross the state to see rodeos, county fairs, and the little towns that host them. I’ll be looking for opportunities to capture the color and motion in my usual blurry way, but also documenting the people I meet. I hope you’ll find it interesting to follow.
