On January 6, 2021, the United States of America was strikingly split into us and them. The assault on the United States Capitol was the final nail in the coffin that shattered the illusion of unity for the world’s superpower. In the midst of this, the central expanse of the country, where most working-class people from diverse races and ethnicities live, was also intentionally being ignored and overlooked. In recent years, this area received the designation of ‘flyover country,’ a derogatory term for those who travel to the coasts by air instead of traversing the heartland. To bridge the divide between this central area and the remainder of the nation, photographer Richard Sharum took it upon himself to document those who are part of America and its future. His newest book, Spina Americana, offers an empathetic perspective on the 100-mile wide corridor that stretches through the Central United States and between the borders of Mexico and Canada. Curiously, it also constitutes the “spine” of the United States while initiating a crucial conversation about empathy and love.
The hardcover of Spina Americana features a plain, off-white color, with the title presented vertically. Initially, you may not understand the reasoning behind this. You realize its importance only after you engage with Sharum’s introductory essay. The title represents the spine of America and has thus been positioned in this manner to convey its symbolism. Likewise, the back cover showcases one of the book’s photographs and utilizes visual elements. The image shows three young girls in front of the American flag, which can be interpreted to signify that they represent the nation’s future.
The straightforward yet imaginative cover of Sharum’s Spina Americana is merely the beginning of how considerate his publication is. In the opening pages, you will be greeted by images of striking clouds and lighting. This also serves as his introduction to what awaits you in the book: a blend of beauty, love, affection, and anger. As you turn the pages, you encounter two drawings of the country’s map made by a child named Lilly. In one, it simply states “United States of America” spanning the entire area, while in the other, “Spina” is inscribed right at the center of the map. This is a clever choice, which deserves recognition, as it reflects Richard Sharum’s emphasis on the upcoming generation of the region, who are destined to contribute to America.
The book gradually unveils several more elements that readers come to adore. For instance, Spina Americana has been carefully crafted for the photographs. It is intentionally segmented into 10 chapters, where each image challenges your pre-existing beliefs about the area. Each section contains a dozen or so images, but the visual progression from chapter to chapter will lead you to reflect and think, ‘Have I always been this mistaken about them? ’
The narrative begins with a section titled ‘Home,’ which illustrates how individuals in this region exist and flourish. The initial image (immediately following the clouds), showing the inhabitants in the central corridor, embodies the book’s theme. We observe a couple gazing at Richard through the window, with the phrase “1 nation under God” inscribed on the glass pane. From that point on, Spina Americana resembles a Lotus, where every photograph acts like a petal. As you navigate through them, you start to perceive the essence: A vast and stunning area where commonplace individuals, including Mennonites, Lutherans, Indigenous Americans, and Mexican Americans, persist in their efforts to aid the United States in regaining its former splendor. The black and white presentation will remind you of W. Eugene Smith’s series, The Country Doctor, which serves as the utmost commendation for Richard’s enduring endeavor.
Several other chapters also explore not only the landscapes but also the professions, lifestyles, and entertainment that individuals pursue in this locale. There exists considerable contradiction, illustrating the wide range of the central region. For example, Richard Sharum depicts Mennonites in one chapter, followed directly by the nudist colony. The photographs, therefore, demonstrate that despite the differences, the two coexist peacefully. This raises the question: if they can live together, why can’t the people along the coast and in Central United States?
Readers will also find enjoyment in the portraits, which are scattered throughout the book. Individuals are captured in their professional outfits, attired as school students, state fair attendees, cotton candy sellers, ice fishermen, mechanics, politicians, or dancers. In some images, the subject does not face the camera, while in others, the intensity of their gaze secures you firmly in your seat. They are urging you to view them wholly, and successfully achieving such an expression is an accomplishment in itself.
Other elements that function very well include the positioning of the captions, located right at the conclusion of each section. Additionally, Richard opted to use standard paper to differentiate the title page of the chapters. The photographs have been produced on matte finished paper, and the print quality is so fine that one can easily discern the details in shadows and highlights. There are moments in the book where a blank page follows several single images, almost as if granting you a moment to inhale and process what you’ve just witnessed. While the double spreads generally work effectively, there are occasions where a figure is centered, and their bodies are cropped at awkward angles. Thus, we did hope Richard Sharum would have designed such pages a bit differently.
Overall, Spina Americana is a respectful depiction of the main spine, where individuals engaged in blue-collar occupations share the same hopes and ambitions as those residing in grand, shining towers. The sole distinction is that they embrace their identity, in contrast to many of us, who don a facade to conceal our anxieties.