The Photographer's forthcoming book, published by Yoffy Press and FW books contrasts the romanticization of the American West with present-day personal, cultural and political realities.

In 2013, Jon Horvath stumbled upon "Bliss" the population-of 300, rural Idaho town and metaphors were born. During a period of introspection, Horvath embarked on a series of photographs that reflect what he describes as "how entrenched mythologies of place and traditional mythologies of happiness collide." Breaking from voyeuristic explorations of small town America, This is Bliss is a search for marks of success, perfection, idealism and hope.

Horvath expresses this through an eclectic mix of color and black+white portraiture, sweeping landscapes and found imagery, ending in what feels like an existential ellipses without resolve. A few days shy of Horvath's Kickstarter fundraiser ending (have we said yet that you should get this book?) we caught up to learn more about his journey.

Jon Feinstein in conversation with Jon Horvath

Jon Feinstein: I’m going to start with a pretty ambitious question: How did making this work change your outlook on the world? And on yourself within it?

Jon Horvath: Such a big question to begin! One thing I can say with certainty is there were substantial benefits gained by letting this work have adequate time. I’ve been immersed in this work for over 7 years. I’ve changed considerably and it goes without saying that the world has, too.

I began the project during a challenging and emotionally low moment in life. In hindsight, I see that the work arrived precisely when I was completing a very long process of leaving behind a version of myself that was attempting to live according to what I thought others wanted, rather than what I desired for myself.

Most people probably complete this process by the time they are twenty-three. It took me until my mid-thirties. So, it’s a bit cliché, but also not inaccurate to say that this work coincided with a period of coming-of-age.

Feinstein: Thanks for sharing that. I think it’s less cliché than you think - and more of a universally human experience of growth and introspection! Going back a bit, how did the work begin and then progress?

Horvath: I entered the work in 2013 as a lost and searching person who just happened to cross by an exit sign on a highway that read “Bliss,” and who fortunately took that as an invitation to make a quick detour to see what was just over the desert horizon. What I wasn’t expecting, though, was to be introduced to a place that sits at a nexus of so much of the story that America tells (and doesn’t tell) itself.

Feinstein: Can you tell me a bit about Bliss and what drew you to it?

Horvath: Bliss is on the Oregon Trail, some of the earliest railways constructed bypass town, and it’s currently struggling for survival as a result of how I-84 has changed the way travelers encounter the town. There’s so much history surrounding this little patch of land, but like so much of what recent years have revealed to us, there are invisible and shameful histories in the area, too.

My time of discovery coinciding with the making of this work was deep, rich, and a moment of recognizing that there is so much mythologizing in our contemporary mindset, often without us even recognizing it. And in the process of creating mythologies, I came to understand how realities are pushed beneath the visible surface. This work let me live in and process through some uncomfortable spaces, both personal and broader in scope.

Feinstein: Did the metaphor of "Bliss" evolve for you as the world changed?

Horvath: I think a lot about how the project lives today relative to when it began. Or rather, how and if it could even be made after what has transpired over the past 5 years. When I went to Bliss for the first time, I did so with the self-imposed directive of pursuing different pathways to happiness (simply as a launchpad for new discovery). Since I was in a moment of starting over, I was pretty much open to anything and within any perspective I might encounter.

So, I spent just as much time with the pastor of the Bliss Community Church as I did in the saloons and out in the desert observing locals shooting guns. I was seeking out a spectrum of answers to that very simple question of what brings one happiness.

As you mentioned, that was 2013. I’m not certain that my arrival to Bliss now, as an outsider, would be embraced in quite the same way as it was at that time. Of course, I can’t say for certain, but I imagine there would be more reluctance and skepticism of my presence. And with the political and cultural divide as substantial as it is today, I feel like it would be much harder to establish common and neutral ground.

Feinstein: Is this work political?

Bliss: There are politics in this work, but they are alluded to more peripherally. If the work were made today, I have a hard time seeing how those elements wouldn’t become more central. I suppose that’s a long way of answering your question with a “yes”; I think it would have been harder to establish as much of a shared experience around the metaphor of “Bliss.” It’s somehow become more tribal.

Feinstein: It also feels somewhat optimistic…or maybe existential…or maybe a mixture –

Horvath: I think I’m comfortable saying that it’s all of that and also based in one’s recognition that ideals in some purified state are simply unachievable. But that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be pursued. I’ve heard people describe the project as sad, and I don’t disagree, but it’s not hopeless. It’s the type of sadness I’ve come to embrace as a necessary experience in life for growth. I don’t know that I had that appreciation when the project began, but I certainly do now, and would fully describe myself as an optimist despite those complicating factors.

Feinstein: I’ve been thinking about this work in relation to Timothy Briner's Boonville series from a decade or so ago. Visually, they are very different, but I see a really interesting kinship, maybe a dialogue between both series.

Horvath: Absolutely! I love Timothy’s work. For me, there is a real similarity in how the sites we explore open into broader narratives that extend well past the boundaries of the particular towns we are visiting. I met Timothy shortly after I began this work and he had great advice on how to meet people with an honest, open, and sincere approach.

I’m an introvert by nature and was originally concerned that my presence in Bliss might have been received with some questioning. Timothy’s simple advice of just getting a slice of pie in a diner and announcing yourself proved to be all that was needed to get the ball rolling with how the residents of Bliss embraced me and took me for an adventure. In reflecting on our two bodies of work, maybe there’s a difference in the narrator’s voice, mine being a little more 1st person and his 3rd. But, yes, I love your recognition of that connection between the two.

Feinstein: After 6+ years working on the series, what made you feel it was ready to be a book?

Horvath: I originally conceived of the project as a book, so I knew that would one day be the final destination. I studied literature as an undergraduate and was at one point on a path to pursue writing, but making visual art changed that. Still, I’ve held onto some desire to be a storyteller and this work allowed me to explore approaches that I wouldn’t have, had I limited myself to only using text.

There’s a literary strategy called a short story cycle that allows for a series of standalone narratives to assemble into a larger more comprehensive whole. I took a visual approach to that format, knowing as an outsider to the experience of this town, that I wanted multiple “narrators” and points of view in the final product. This led to some moments of collaborating with town residents, providing them with some authorship in the shaping of the work, while also acknowledging that this work is ultimately through my lens, an individual with an extremely limited set of experiences to create an official representation of Bliss. So, the project lives (for me) as one person’s experience, in one period of time, as shaped by those that have an insider’s perspective of the town.

The book form lends itself so perfectly to that experimental play in narrative. The covers functioning as a metaphorical entry and exit, but the body of the book being given the opportunity to meander through the contemporary and historical aspects of Bliss in just one of so many possible ways. Hans Gremmen designed the book and, in my estimation, perfectly captured that sense of possibility, nonlinearity, and surprise that a visitor to a new place might experience.

Jon Horvath checking out proofs with Hans Gremmen at Enter Enter in Amsterdam.

Feinstein: The cover photo is a mysterious, faceless silhouette, looking down at us. It's both daunting and beautiful in its hazy pink... what's the story behind it and why did you decide to make it the cover image?

Horvath: That was Hans’ choice and it was perfect! I had never envisioned that image as the cover for a potential book, but in hindsight I have no idea why. Metaphorically, it sums up so much of where my mind was at when I began the project; struggling to discern a clear view on life, this almost looming pressure of the unknown. More literally, though, it’s a picture I made of the first resident I met in Bliss as reflected in the hood of my car. So, for that to serve as the entry point to the experience that follows in the book, I can’t think of any better image.

*Side note: For any young photographers looking to blend into a new location, don’t arrive in an orange Honda Element.

Feinstein: HA! Noted! In closing, I want to ask one marketing question 'cos hey - we want people to buy this damn book! You're doing a kickstarter with just a couple days to go. What's your favorite reward and why?

Horvath: Yes, this is a darn near impossible question. I put a lot of energy into creating rewards that could almost enter the bigger Bliss project as their own works. The beer bottle tintypes are certainly one of the more popular items available, but I’ll limit my response for you to two if that’s ok. The first is a framed stone from the crash site of Evel Knievel’s attempted jump over the Snake River Canyon in the 1970’s. I kayaked on the Snake to the site of his crash and attempted to jump the canyon myself; I just did so by skipping stones (credit to Kyle Seis for his willingness to Kayak alongside me and operate the camera for those images).

The other reward speaks to maybe my personal favorite discovery in Bliss. As I mentioned, I studied literature while in college and a very influential character to my younger self was Holden Caulfield. By pure coincidence (and almost shock), I learned that J.D. Salinger based the character on an individual he befriended in the military, and that man was a one-time resident of Bliss.

So, the reward that speaks to the alignment between my personal history and that of the town’s is a framed page from “Catcher in the Rye”, hand-redacted to reveal just one line that reads “and in a few days I’d be somewhere out West where it was very pretty and sunny and where nobody’d know me.” There are a limited number of those rewards available as I’ve collected copies of Catcher in the Rye from bookstores in Idaho throughout my travels.

Get This Photobook: Jon Horvath's This Is Bliss Looks at a Small Town as a Symbol of Personal and Political Idealism