The Volkswagen bus—Hippie icon, progenitor of the art car genre, BMOC badge of honor, Mystery Machine, chick-magnet, chick-pellent—is arguably among the most enduring symbol of a generation that was, not so long ago, more concerned with living than with counting money and waging war. In pursuing the Venice series—and these inspirational, boxy chariots in particular—Alston came to feel that, “There is something tribal about these images. With these vans, it is so obvious that they are the canvas of each owner’s soul and spirit. Each one is cut from the same mold but ends up so different in character.”





Their owners take pride in the battle scars, park stickers, political slogans, and homespun folk art that constitute vehicular travelogues, evidence of the moveable feast—each as much an emblem of freedom as any “Make Love Not War” poster, sit-in, rock festival, wide open highway, or burned draft card. And as this series lovingly, but straightforwardly illuminates, regarding them as works of art is not that far-fetched. Their optimistic color schemes, weather-induced, painterly decrepitude, and inevitable creative customization unfold on the same canvas: its iconic frame. They blend into and emerge from the local landscape as inherent and organic as wild flowers.





Previous aspects of the Venice series have focused on studio portraits, candid street culture shots, landscapes, heterogeneous crowds, fashion, and vernacular architecture—seemingly disparate subgenres that when taken, as Alston does, as parts of a whole, combine to illuminate the intimate portrait of a community that has become one of the world’s most legendary beacons of progressive, creative, curious living. And, if this 100+ and growing portfolio of van snaps is any evidence, it is also the VW Microbus capitol of the world. Just keep Volkslivin’.