Ireland (1995)

In my mid-twenties, I took my first backpacking hitchhiking trip. The place was Ireland. I was living in New York at the time, and a photographer I respected showed me a photo that inspired me. Until then, I had been so obsessed with the city of New York that I could not imagine myself going anywhere else. But on this trip, I was able to free myself from that curse. I went out without any information, relying on the local people introduced to me by my friends. There I was introduced to new people, and hitchhiked to the place where they lived. I walked from east to west all day long on roads where only a few cars passed by. The rain clouds that seemed so far away quickly approached and fell on me like a dust storm, and within an hour the sun was shining again. While it made me realize how important it is to spend time talking to people, I can't say anything because I've been alone for too long. Asking them to let me take their picture is the beginning of communication. In one village I met a man with a musical instrument. He told me he was a musician. Of course he was, I thought. With my camera hanging from my neck, I told him I was a photographer. He said, "I thought so." Just like having a musical instrument does not make you a musician, having a camera hanging around your neck does not make you a photographer as well. But the fact that I looked like a photographer to him gave me confidence and the determination to keep going. He inspired me to buy a harmonica in the village, but I soon realized that I was not a musician.