A kaleidoscope of life: One man’s photographic journey hitchhiking across America

When he didn’t have a place to stay for the night, Viktor Hübner would knock on strangers’ doors to see if anyone had a bed, couch or spot on the floor where he could sleep. Sometimes he would meet people while hitchhiking, or at bars, restaurants, churches or even strip clubs, and they would invite him to their homes. For six months, Hübner hitchhiked around the US and stayed with these strangers—covering 16,000 miles and exploring parts of 41 states. Along the way, he interviewed and photographed the people he encountered, sharing many of their stories in his recently released book, The Americans I Met, published by André Frère Éditions.

He traveled and worked on this project from 2017 to 2019, while he was attending the Rhode Island School of Design on a Fulbright Scholarship. He broke up the journey into three different trips, with each stint on the road lasting between 35 and 82 days. Along the way, he stayed in 74 different homes, six hotel rooms—which were provided by, and often shared with, people he met along the way—and 18 nights outdoors, frequently in a tent.

As a child, he had read stories about the US and watched Hollywood movies that piqued his interest about the country.

“I was quite mesmerized by the idea of America… the idea of the country of the open road.”

- Viktor Hübner

Before arriving in the US, Hübner, who is now 34 years old, spent a lot of time hitchhiking and couchsurfing. In 2014, he caught rides from Jordan all the way back to his home in Germany’s countryside near Cologne, crossing nine countries in 82 days. His photojournalistic skills were further honed in 2016 when he went to northern Iraq and traveled with the Kurdish PKK for several weeks, sharing his journey in a German-language book, Das Leben ist für uns.

While he says his family is supportive—and they weren’t surprised about his desire to tramp across the US after his long history of thumbing rides—he says numerous friends and colleagues were concerned for his safety.

“Literally people said goodbye to me,” he says. “They said, ‘You are not going to come back. This is the last time I’m going to see you. There is no way you are going to survive.’”

While Hübner acknowledged their worries, he says, “I have been in more dangerous countries than the US, just statistically, so I felt that this is probably just the perception of the people here.” 

Hübner, who towers in height at 6’11”, says, “[As] a man, I’m less vulnerable. I’m not saying I’m not vulnerable at all—especially if someone is armed.” But his appearance and demeanor also help open doors. “My height paired with my big backpack, foreign accent—obviously not American—opened many, many car and house doors for me,” he says. “People were incredibly curious many, many times. In cities and the countryside, people approached me. I had an easy time talking to people. Often, I didn’t even need to search for someone because people were flocking around me trying to figure out who I am. From there it was usually not far-fetched to ask, ‘So, can I crash at your home tonight?’”

Before he set out, Hübner established rules for himself. He would eschew public transportation and booking hotels, and not use the internet to find rides or places to stay. Serendipity would guide him, along with the kindness of those he met along the way. He brought only enough money for food and film. Hübner decided to be open to conversation with anyone and everyone, though sex with his subjects was not allowed.

Though he rarely felt unsafe, the trip was not without its uneasy moments. Hübner quickly learned how to decide if he felt comfortable with a person. “I needed to judge in less than a second if I can trust this person or not, and some people definitely gave me the vibe I better not stay with them or get into their car,” he says.

“You’re not just an artist doing this. You are a brother, a father, a friend, a psychologist, a social worker. You’re a missionary, a priest… because people want to talk.”

- Viktor Hübner

Once, while hitchhiking in Texas, a man in a pickup truck stopped and told Hübner he could come with him and work on his farm. “I asked what kind of job, and he said ‘just sorting shit out’,” Hübner recalls. He explained to the man he was an international student and accepting paid work would jeopardize his visa. “He looked at me through the pickup window and said, ‘Where I take you, nobody is going to find you’,” Hübner said. 

He did not take him up on the offer.

When Hübner did join people, they opened up to him and shared their lives, and he obtained their permission for interviews and to photograph them. Using a medium format camera—which only allows 10 images per roll of film—he had to choose his shots carefully.

Images in the book depict a kaleidoscope of imagery: A woman preparing vegetables in her living room, two men fighting on the ground, people enjoying themselves in bars and strip clubs, a Wyoming livestock auction, and people working out on a Florida beach.

Hübner included a number of images of people posing with their firearms, as well as pictures of people at their homes and workplaces, from a country store to a courtroom. 

Other candid shots include everyday things like people doing chores, putting on makeup, and spending time with their kids and pets. He delves into themes like love, longing, violence, poverty, wealth, substance abuse, health and a hearty dose of politics—including gathering people’s opinions on then-President Donald Trump, which were varied.

People were eager to share their stories with someone who wanted to listen. 

“You’re not just an artist doing this. You are a brother, a father, a friend, a psychologist, a social worker. You’re a missionary, a priest; you’re kind-of combining all these different jobs with the strangers you meet because people want to talk,” he says. “People long for someone who is there just to listen and not judge them. It doesn’t matter what crazy ideas they may bring or experiences they have or what things they have done. It’s about someone who sits there and says, ‘I came all the way to listen to you.”

When he presented his book in Berlin, people asked him about the sometimes-dark subject matter and one inquired, “Where do you see the hope?” 

For Hübner, hope comes arrives in the form of open invitations.“If you look at it from a more abstract view, of course, if you look through images and read the statements, it’s quite dark and depressing to a certain degree, with little moments of light in between,” he says. “But if you step back and look at the overall image, what all these people share is that they opened their door to a total stranger. They hosted me. They treated me like their own child.”