the dusty cedar walls of the white water tavern hold every word that’s been sung within them. for many, this place is a kind of totem imbued with the ARTISTRY, sorrow, LONELINESS, heartbreak, love, perseverance, and beauty of their lives.

The stewards of the WWT understand the healing magic that happens inside this simple timber frame. It’s a place where legends have picked a guitar and laid bare their lives—sharing it with us. Those nights, surrounded by people who are willing to let go and drift wherever the music takes them, amplifies your soul. Reminding you that you aren’t alone.

Regulars know that a show there means you will sit five feet from Mary Gauthier, Ray Wiley Hubbard, Jimbo Mathis, Levon Helm, Billy Bragg, or the Secret Sisters, and become a part of a collective musical experience rare in contemporary times.

The music starts, and sooner rather than later, the walls fall away. we all become human again. Just people in a room watching another person put it out there. Putting it out there is fucking hard. The reverberations of it, the self-doubt and fear, are often felt way into the night of our alone. This crowd respects the courage of sharing your art and meets it where it falls.

This place is more than a bar or venue. It’s a spiritual home for artists and their followers. It was an honor to be able to photograph our collection here, as this place has saved many, inspired generations, and steadfastly champions real life.