This is Cliven Bundy and his wife. They are the largest ranch land owners in the valley north of Las Vegas. They are currently in a battle with the Federal Government™ and the Bureau of Land Management, who have been herding his cattle with helicopters and stealing them and selling them over state lines in Utah. Problem is now the bordering counties have set up checkpoints and aren’t allowing the stolen cattle through. The police and BLM thugs have started attacking and arresting people and photographers, justifying it under Territory Law, not Constitutional Law. Neighboring ranchers, as well as people from across the country have set up an encampment near the Virgin River on Highway 170. I turned off the highway randomly and for no apparent reason and happened upon their protest site. I hung out for a couple hours and talked with them and learned all about their struggle for their constitutional rights against a system bent on denying them. #BUNDYvsBLM #notesfromtheroad (at Bundy Ranch)

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I write a lot while I’m traveling to make photographs. My notes act as a way for me to remember the individuals I meet; I write about who they are, what they do, the conversations we had, and our shared experiences.

These experiences are rarely visible in the final photograph, as are many of the connections between individual photographs. In a number of upcoming posts, I’m going to share some of my direct notes from the road and in some cases, additional research I made after I returned home.

I made the photograph, Sneak, Will, Avery, Sergio, & Kevin, Fall River, Massachusetts, March 4, 2012 one day while exploring the city. Perched above the Mount Hope Bay, a group of friends were riding their dirt bikes around a makeshift course that circled around where I made the photograph. As I approached the group I began talking with Will, who is standing in the middle of the photograph with his hands on the back of his son, he told me that he just bought a new mini dirt bike for his son, Avery. As we talked, Avery, Sneak and Kevin, rode past us on their bikes down to a jump in the mud below and back up the hill. Eventually everyone gathered for the group photograph and after, Will asked if I could take a photograph of his son down in the mud. Of course I agreed, and we walked down into the mud to photograph Avery on his bike.

I told Will that I could bring him some copies of the photographs I made that day, and he said for me to come back to his barber shop, Smooth Cuts on Main Street. I returned a month later to drop off the photographs. While I was there I met Avery and Will again and stayed while Will cut the hair of a steady line of customers. He told me he was popular among the many guys who worked at the Gold Medal factory in town. After I said my goodbyes, I left thinking about how important his space is, not just for the vanity of his customers, but for the social aspects his barbershop brings to the community.
Marilyn & Camp Cohen

By Marilyn Ambach

Where do I start my Leonard Cohen story and how do I tell it? Needless to share the part of I’m a fan; loving his music and admiring the man. After working on his legendary concert in Israel in September 2009, I was asked to join the tour in July 2010 as production assistant.    – read more here

Interstate 95, Pawtucket, Rhode Island, January 16, 2012

Interstate 95 extends nearly two thousand miles along the entire eastern coast of the United States, crossing through the area of twelve of the original thirteen colonies. Traveling this distance during the American Revolution would have taken months. In less then twenty-four hours, contemporary travelers are now able to bypass entire towns and cities as they travel between Savannah, Georgia and Houlton, Maine.

Check out my photos from last night about Cliven Bundy’s battle with the Federal Government and the BLM and how they’re protesting the Feds stealing their cattle. It’s a tense standoff over Constitutional Rights and Martial Law that I stumbled across while taking the road less traveled… #BUNDYvsBLM #notesfromtheroad (at Bundy Ranch)

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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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so today we were driving down highway 89 through the backcountry of utah and couldn’t find a place to eat. We stopped at a Mexican place (run by white people) and it was so terrible looking/smelling we turned around and walked out. Well, about a mile down the road, we came across this taco truck parked in this Mexican families front yard. I thought about it for a second, then flipped the car around and went back. Best al pastor taco I’ve had on a long time, and the homemade hot sauce slayed all comers. And then takota and stella played with their kids on the front porch of their mobile home for about 30 minutes. VIVA AMERICA. #dadlife #notesfromtheroad (at Gunnison, UT)

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“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.” BUNDYvsBLM #notesfromtheroad (at Bundy Ranch)

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