Far outside America's cities and consciousness sit untold roadside patches of faded plans and ambitions that are most people's nowhere. To a select few, though, they are that most important somewhere: home.

The names are poetic in their plainness: Jerome, Ariz., population 402. Warm River, Idaho, population 11. Glenwood Plantation, Maine, population 2. And Hoot Owl, Okla., population 0.

It's gulag conditions like these that drive so many New Yorkers off on work-release weekends to the Hamptons or the Jersey Shore. For more than three years, Dennis KITCHEN was part of that exodus. Rather than making tracks for the nearby woods or dunes, however, he would pack his gadget bag and light out for such distant and wide-open places as Monowi, Neb. (pop. 8), and Warm River, Idaho (pop. 11), Ismay, Mont. (pop. 20), and White Rock, S.D. (pop. 6).

KITCHEN's weekend getaways weren't just a means of escaping Manhattan and replenishing his barren soul. His focus was strictly business: to photograph the smallest towns in America's 50 states, including as many of their inhabitants as he could gather outside the town hall, the church, the gas station, the population sign, or, in the case of Florida, Mo., the cemetery, which is the site of Mark TWAIN's grave.

"It wasn't as if I was wandering the back roads for years," said the 38-year-old photographer, explaining his methodical approach to his travels, which he packaged into a book, "Our Smallest Towns: Big Falls, Blue Eye, Bonanza, & Beyond" (Chronicle Books, San Fransico 1995). Before he hit the road, KITCHEN said he consulted the Bureau of the Census [1990 census] for the least populated town in a target state, mapped out his route, then notified townspeople he was on the way.

Photos of towns like Delphos, Iowa, Ismay, Mont., and Granite, Ore., show only endless distance and cotton cloud formations in the background, making the few people in the foreground seem vulnerable and alone. In Monowi, Neb., a lone dog sits on the road at the photo's edge.

"People bring dogs out here to the country and dump them," Ralph BRAMME the mayor of Delphos, Iowa, told KITCHEN, suggesting that the 18 two-legged residents are often outnumbered by the four-legged population.

"No crime here," reports Mayor BRAMME. "Just dog killing. People bring dogs out here to the country and dump them. This ain’t no dumping ground. It's our town, and it happens a lot more than it should. Last night I seen a pack of dogs running around out back of here. I've killed several. I'll admit to that. I'm a farmer. I've got sheep and cattle around here, and I won't put up with it. The sheriff said just catch 'em and have them put to sleep. And I said a fourteen will put 'em to sleep a lot easier. It costs six or eight dollars apiece to put them to sleep. I figure I save the county money by doing it myself."

The high cost of housing — actually the high cost of everything — is a problem for everyone, no matter what Vineyard town you live in. . . . Charles TILTON, a selectman from Gosnold MA., population (400 in the summer), says, "It takes a real individualist to live here all year-round. You can't go to the store, can't buy liquor, can't go to the movies, can't even get your hair cut – without taking a boat."

SOURCES:
Anthony, Ted. "Photographer Captures The Struggle of People Who Hang On In America's Least-Populated Places" St. Louis Post-Dispatch
"It's A Small World: Nation's Tiniest Towns Are The Big Project of a Photographer" Fort Worth Star-Telegram October 22, 1995.
Blades, John. "These Towns Are So Small" Chicago Tribune Chicago. January 1, 1996.
Cabral, Doug. "At Large" The Martha's Vineyard Times Martha's Vineyard. July 7, 2005.

Transcriptions by Sharon R. Becker, September of 2009