Baltimore, MD

Washington, D.C.

The summer of 2012 my partner and I journeyed to his homeland, the United States of America. While not typically considered a tourist destination, Baltimore sits tucked away in one corner of the triangle spanned by Philadelphia and the political capital of Washington D.C. and offers perhaps an unfiltered view of the realities that make up the lives of average Americans.

The trip brought us mouth-to-ear with propagandising and bullish politicians out for their morning tourist junket, as well as single moms riding the buss back from a second night shift at seven in the morning. Gang members, hard-working entrepreneurs, diner chefs, musicians, and kids, all thicken the busy concrete and asphalt arteries of these two metropoles. The term "Americana" is usually reserved for the glorified assets of media culture and history that form the popular understanding of America. But mere things miss the mark; it is the people and the very air in their proximity, with gracious hope, with personal fears and industrious indifference, that commands the understanding of what it is like to be American


This photo essay delves into the culture shock of a mildly socialist, gay, Swede when he set out to get to know his partner's heritage.

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