Photographer Barbara Davidson on her journey through the swing states of pre-election America

Photographer Barbara Davidson’s trek across the United States in August, before one of the most significant elections in U.S. history, did not begin auspiciously. Our plan was simple: I would precede her on the route across America, travelling and reporting by Greyhound bus; Ms. Davidson would follow the bus’s route in a photographer-friendly car, and meet me day by day in towns and cities in swing states along the way.

That plan, in its pure, ideal form, lasted less than a day. The drive from Los Angeles, where the Montreal-born Ms. Davidson now makes her home (she became a U.S. citizen a year ago) to Las Vegas, our first stop on the route, usually takes just over four hours. The day she set out – a 39-degree Saturday – it was transformed into an 18-hour, bumper-to-bumper nightmare.

The stunning results of her visual safari are now before you. Ms. Davidson and her work have met with steady acclaim at the highest levels, including an Emmy and a Pulitzer Prize for her gripping work on survivors of gun violence, and sharing two other Pulitzers for her photographs of the devastations caused by Hurricane Katrina and the San Bernardino, Cailf., mass shooting. She spoke to me by phone earlier this week about our trip.

An unhoused man in Los Angeles, who preferred not to give his name, told Ms. Davidson in the summer of 2023 that he stays under a sheet for protection from the sun.

Brown: You were on the road for three weeks for The Globe, taking photographs of Americans and Americana in swing states. What did you think of your fellow Americans? And of the state of their country?

Davidson: I’m more invested in this election because I became a US citizen a year ago. How do I feel about what I saw? I am disillusioned by a lot of it. By the mistrust of the media; by blatant lies and misinformation being perceived as truth.

It’s one thing to know it intellectually. It’s another thing to experience it face to face. A lot of what I heard, and what half the country seems to believe, are unfounded conspiracies. I’m concerned by how divided the country is, how hate is fueling that division, and how people are not willing to have civil debates anymore.

Brown: Does your own political inclination pose any challenge to what you photograph or how you photograph it? Do you have to work to suppress your own biases?

Davidson: I really believe in the fundamentals of journalism. That when you’re doing your job, you remain neutral. I would photograph Donald Trump the exact same way I would photograph Kamala Harris. It doesn’t make a difference to me. They get the same professionalism from me. But regardless of those facts, the media has become a target in this country. Many people hate us because they’re fed lies and dangerous rhetoric about us.

Brown: Looking through your photographs, I was struck by how stark the rural-urban divide is in the U.S. Is that a big split in the American psyche?

Davidson: I think people in this country are still dealing with a COVID hangover and learning to reintegrate with one another and trying to punch out of the loneliness and isolation brought on by it. People also love their phones and spend a lot of time on them rather than talking to one another. But as I travelled across the country, I had no problem finding people to talk to. Everybody was open and welcoming. And I love that so much about Americans. They’re always willing to engage. Always offering an opinion. Always up for that 15 minutes of fame.

Stephanie Ashley, a self-described 'urban native' in Holbrook, Ariz., spoke about her life in Navajo County, where disputes over Indigenous rights and water access loom large in local politics.

Brown: You have a great talent for infiltrating and taking pictures of subcultures that don’t usually like public exposure. How do get people to trust you, and then let you photograph them?

Davidson: I’m wildly curious and non-threatening, so people feel comfortable around me. I try to connect with the people I photograph, even if it’s only for a fleeting moment. That connection often leads to an intimate photograph. And nothing really intimidates me: I’m street smart, so I have a Spidey sense that guides me in tricky situations. But mostly people respond well to being treated with respect and kindness – and from that trust and openness reveal themselves in the photos I make, if I’m lucky.

Brown: Who are your influences? And how often do your muses come to mind as you’re shooting?

Davidson: Well, Diane Arbus, of course. Sometimes I have to stop myself and say, “You’re just parroting her. Move on.” Diane Arbus is one of my favorite influences. Margaret Bourke-White, the famous war photographer, is a hero of mine. Eugene Richards is a documentary photographer whose work had a profound impact on me. Their work inspired me to become a longform documentary photographer. I’ve spent the past 15 years covering the consequences of gun violence in this country and the health epidemic it has become.

Brown: One of the challenges of this story that I liked was that so much of it was what I would call wild reporting: You go to a strange place and have to make a story out of the first details you notice or feel. The media are often accused of setting things up too much, of cherry-picking what we choose to describe or photograph. We didn’t have a chance to do that.

Davidson: We were at the mercy of fate. We went to all of these towns blindly hoping that we could find someone or something that would represent a story of America prior to the election. There were a lot of unknowns and nearly every situation was found in the moment. But with that came the freedom of choosing whomever we wanted to talk to – a Hunter S. Thompson-like adventure. Wildly, I drove over 6,000 miles in 18 days.

Brown: You have a rare ability to create compelling photographs at a time when we’re literally drowning in photographs, thanks to the hell of the smartphone. I know hugely talented professional photographers and artists who have turned away from their cameras because – they say – images are now so ubiquitous as to be meaningless. Why do you keep doing it?

Davidson: I can’t imagine not making photographs. We are inundated with images, yes – both good and bad – and that does mean it’s harder to get people to look at our pictures. But turning away, because of that challenge, isn’t happening! I would feel I had lost my voice if I gave up making pictures.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.