In late February and early March of 1997, I headed to the Mississippi Delta to photograph what was left of blues culture and hopefully hear some music. I was nineteen at the time, and was struggling to find the type of photography career I wanted. I did a lot of research, managed to get pseudo permission from my professors, and headed south for three weeks with about thirty rolls of Tri-X and slide film. That short period of my life helped shape how I saw the world, and my role in it. With the camera, I was allowed into so many places where I would have seemed out of place otherwise. I was an observer, and in the eyes of the subjects, I was important. It’s strange, but the complete opposite is true. I was there to hopefully tell their story, while mine was irrelevant. It’s only ten years later, that I feel comfortable sharing my perception of the experience. Thanks to everyone who helped make this trip possible ten years ago, and thanks to those who have helped me since.