State of the Blues is photographer Jeff Dunas's stirring tribute to the power of the blues, an American tradition that has its roots in the Mississippi Delta and branches that have spread around the world. One of the most vital early expressions of African-American culture, the blues makes poetry of sorrow and finds humor and bitter irony in the hardships of life. It tells of loves lost and regained, and of the fight for dignity in a world that judges people by the color of their skin. Alongside a series of intimate portraits of the greatest blues performers of our time--including B.B. King, Koko Taylor, Charlie Musselwhite, Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown and many others--the book presents Dunas's timeless photographs of the landmarks and byways of the Blues Highway, a heritage trail through the American South that leads from New Orleans to Chicago, where the blues continues to thrive today. “The Blues is the roots of all music. It's the roots... Blues has been here since the world was born. Once there was women and men loving each other and breaking up, that's the blues.” --John Lee Hooker, from the Preface
When the dog days of August commence their humid yowl, and the body and brain stagger toward the promise of cooler seasons, readers may balk at poetry, even at a compulsively readable novels. Thus the appeal of picture-books-for-grownups like STATE OF THE BLUES, a photographic essay which offers a time-honored prescription for treating end-of-summer malaise. Go with the heat, here embodied in the steaming blues riffs of B.B. King and others.
John Lee Hooker's preface, Bill Ferris' introduction, and interviews with blues folk notwithstanding, STATE OF THE BLUES pulses most warmly via Jeff Dunas' lush, sepia-toned photographs, all taken at the Los Angeles House of Blues just minutes before the artists were scheduled to perform. Dunas' subjects, ranging from R.L. Burnside and Bobby "Blue" Bland to Bonnie Raitt and Lou Ann Barton, not only granted the photographer the sittings he requested, but the subjects also agreed to be photographed without their instruments, which constitutes a kind of willing psychological nakedness. "Sometimes surprised and often intrigued by the fact that I was clearly looking for something other than a classic and often clichéd promotional picture," Dunas writes, "many of the artists responded by abandoning their standard poses and revealed a new and previously undocumented side of their personalities. Their faces resonate with the blues. I have endeavored to create photographs that transmit the feeling of blues music." And transmit they do, rendering the sweat and sorrow in which the blues was born, and the gut-bucket lyrical joy through which personal and historical grief are expressed and transcended.