Transit

For 40 days, I rode only public transit, and documented the experiment with a small film camera.

By Tim Chambers

May 1^st, 2009

We never go to strange places. Maybe the fare is expensive, and so, after some kind of expensive travel, we think we’re in exotic country. But, if we are somewhat comfortable there, it’s because we took a chunk of ourselves and found something of ourselves again.

— Frederick Sommer, Photographer

It’s exactly seven and one-half blocks from my apartment to the nearest light rail station. I leave by 7:48 to catch the 8:01 Meadowview train which connects me to the 8:22 65 bus which drops me three-tenths of a mile from my office at 8:47.

Once on board, though, time loses its influence. No amount of haste changes the numbers printed in the time table. The regulars know this and exploit it.

There are other unwritten rules, like the proper distance to keep between yourself and another stranger, or when it’s appropriate to make conversation, but the regard for time is most interesting.

As an experiment a while ago, I gave up driving for a week. I found those days on public transit oddly enjoyable, but I couldn’t put into words why. I decided to try again, carrying a small camera to document the experience.

These photographs are portraits of the regulars: the strangers who taught me the rules and showed me how to use my time on board. They helped me realize what it is I enjoy about those two hours of each day: solitude.