Exploring the Nomadic Journey: Photographer Justine Kurland's Six-Year Road Trip

In Justine Kurland's photographs taken across the American West, trains quietly pass through the frame. The burnt red and yellow railroad cars can be seen emerging from tree-lined curves, cutting through flat plains, and disappearing into tunnels. Weathered freight cars are connected together, creating a pattern across the landscape. These images are rich in history, reflecting the violent westward expansion of a young nation and the aging infrastructure of a global power today.

From 2005 to 2011, the trains in Kurland's photos also symbolized a special connection between her and her young son, Casper. Casper accompanied her on the road for up to eight months a year, starting when he was just a baby. Living out of a van and a camping tent in parks and rural areas, Casper developed a fascination with the trains passing by. According to Kurland, he often led her to the locations featured in her photographs. In the images, his hair is tousled by the wind, and his eyes are fixed on the moving train cars.

"Casper loved trains," she said in a video call with CNN. "If I was going to take him on these road trips, it only made sense to include trains in the photos I was capturing."

Kurland reconsiders what conventional family portraits look like, and who, historically, is considered an explorer of the West.

Kurland reconsiders what conventional family portraits look like, and who, historically, is considered an explorer of the West.

Justine Kurland

For a while, Kurland kept her work hidden while they journeyed together, only revealing a few photos of Casper in her 2016 book "Highway Kind." This book combined various projects she had photographed on the road to explore American mythologies.

"I had this desire to make this girl world, this feminist utopic solidarity between girls and teenagers," Kurland said.

"I had this desire to make this girl world, this feminist utopic solidarity between girls and teenagers," Kurland said.

© Justine Kurland

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Throughout her three-decade career, Kurland has focused on capturing images of individuals on the outskirts of society. She has staged scenes featuring runaway girls, documented communes, transient lifestyles, and spiritual experiences. Surprisingly, she had never showcased portraits of herself. She felt that creating a whole monograph dedicated to her son seemed overly sentimental.

However, Kurland eventually realized the importance of documenting their life on the road. She admitted, "There was something significant about our experiences that I knew needed to be preserved. I had initially kept those photos hidden away."

A nomadic family portrait

Kurland has gained perspective on the resonance of their images and journeys together in the years since. It is unusual to think of a traditional family unit as a nomadic mother and child. The family images they create do not dwell in nostalgia or highlight every little triumph of boyhood. Kurland and Casper are often seen as solitary figures, even when they are together, each with their own inner lives. They embark on a journey out West, following a tradition that has been mythologized by men, from explorers to photographers and writers.

"What's crucial to consider when looking at these images is imagining a family album that challenges traditional ideas of motherhood," she explained.

For many years, Kurland didn't show much of the work in "This Train," believing that portraits of motherhood would be read as "too sentimental."

For many years, Kurland didn't show much of the work in "This Train," believing that portraits of motherhood would be read as "too sentimental."

Justine Kurland

Casper previously appeared in a handful of images in "Highway Kind," Kurland's book published in 2016.

Casper previously appeared in a handful of images in "Highway Kind," Kurland's book published in 2016.

Justine Kurland's latest work, "This Train," published by Mack Books, showcases a unique duality. The book features accordion-style pages that unfold to reveal the couple's journey on the road. On one side, Kurland is captured preparing a meal at a fold-out table while Casper gazes out over a firepit. Casper is seen holding a hollowed lost tooth in the palm of his hand. On the reverse side, a series of trains traverse the American landscape. Interestingly, some of the photos were actually taken by Casper himself, who clicked the shutter for his mom. This collaborative effort was documented in a conversation published in Aperture in 2016.

“Sometimes we would wait so long,” Kurland told him of their patience for trains to appear. “Sometimes we would wait all day.”

Embedded histories

Kurland describes the book as both a love letter to her son Casper, who is now 19 years old, and an acknowledgment of the challenges he has faced. Casper used to believe his life was normal, like other kids whose mothers also took photos of them at highway rest stops. However, when he started school at six years old, he struggled to adjust. According to Kurland, deviating from traditional ideas of family life can make things more complex.

Casper became fascinated by trains, Kurland said, and he would often lead her to them.

Casper became fascinated by trains, Kurland said, and he would often lead her to them.

Justine Kurland

Kurland often photographs trains within the American landscape, winding in and out of it or disappearing into its vastness.

Kurland often photographs trains within the American landscape, winding in and out of it or disappearing into its vastness.

Justine Kurland

Kurland and Casper often had to wait at campsites until they received a deposit due to their irregular paychecks.

During challenging times on the road, they had to sleep in a garage. Kurland even cooked macaroni and cheese for Casper on a Bunsen burner while waiting for their van to be fixed by a mechanic. The van was 10 years old and had 250,000 miles on it.

In 2008, during the recession, Kurland started teaching to have a more stable income. She cut down on her road trips to only during summer and winter breaks. Casper's father started being more present in his life around that time. When Casper turned 11, he requested to stop traveling altogether.

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"As depicted in 'This Train,' the book primarily focuses on the relationship between the individuals. However, beneath the surface, Kurland's photographs also reveal darker narratives. The rail system serves as a reminder of the colonial settlers' impact on the land, including the forced migration and decline of Indigenous communities. Additionally, the tracks were laid by around 1,200 Chinese immigrants, many of whom lost their lives in the process. Scholar Lily Cho delves into this aspect in an essay featured in the book. Through her images of solitary trains, Kurland captures a haunting presence, following the paths of those who perished while constructing them."

Kurland acknowledges the historical significance embedded in the trains' landscapes. While initially focusing on capturing the trains because of Casper's affection for them, she also recognizes the deeper historical context within her photographs. Reflecting on her work fifteen years later, she expresses a shift towards a more critical perspective. Viewing the images from a distance, she now considers the profound impact of these landscapes on the history of the United States.

Her interpretations and those of viewers may continue to evolve, she recognizes. Just like any other photograph, different people may see it differently over time. She believes that the beauty of every photograph lies in its ability to change. No photograph has a fixed meaning; they are open to interpretation.

Editor's P/S:

Justine Kurland's unique photographic journey with her son, Casper, captured in her latest work "This Train," offers a poignant and introspective exploration of family, identity, and the complexities of modern-day nomadic living. Through intimate and evocative images, Kurland challenges traditional family portraits and reveals the hidden narratives embedded within the American landscape. The trains, a symbol of both progress and displacement, serve as a haunting reminder of the country's colonial past and the struggles faced by marginalized communities.

Kurland's decision to keep her work hidden initially speaks to the deeply personal nature of their experiences. However, the eventual decision to share their journey highlights the importance of preserving and acknowledging the diversity of family life. The nomadic nature of their existence, the challenges they faced, and the resilience they shared form a powerful narrative that resonates beyond their own story. By capturing the solitude and connection between mother and son, Kurland offers a glimpse into the complexities of parenting, the fluidity of family structures, and the enduring spirit of exploration.