Photographer Joshua Lutz captures the dichotomy of daily life in Central Florida

A new project always begins with a hint of an idea from the previous work. Once that idea starts to take shape, I look for ways to unpack it differently than I have in the past. You can find a loose thread connecting all my projects. For example, there’s a photograph I took of an unhoused veteran holding an orange in Mind the Gap, which became the basis for Orange Blossom Trail. I didn’t know it would evolve the way it did, but something about that image felt unresolved and kept pulling me back.

Exactly. In the broadest sense, the subject is the trail, which is a real place I spent a lot of time exploring. Within that trail, there are the people who live and work there, the groves nearby, and of course, the orange processing plants. The work touches on both the literal aspects you see in the images and the metaphors they evoke. The metaphors aren't direct, like "this represents that," but more about how we can look at broader ideas. I'm fascinated by how we live, work, and the stories we tell about those experiences.

I try to set my intention to stay in process and explore, but I always have some sort of plan—whether it’s looking for something specific or heading to a certain location. Nine times out of ten, whatever I had in mind turns out to be far less interesting than what comes up during the process.

George and I first worked together about fifteen years ago on an assignment for Esquire about a tent city in Fresno, CA. We formed a loose friendship and stayed in touch over the years. I knew I wanted text in this work, but I also knew I wasn’t the right person to write it. Part of that comes from what I mentioned earlier about finding ways for each project to be different. In my last book, Mind the Gap, I wrote all the accompanying texts. This time, I wanted something else, and George was the obvious choice.

No, we actually framed George’s writing around the images. We chose three stories to build upon for the book. The first deals with the miracle of birth and the environment surrounding it, the second explores labor and the disconnect between classes, and the third touches on impermanence and the stories we tell ourselves. The progression of these three themes creates a bit of a linear narrative we were looking for to tie the work together.

Yes, a few things. I photographed a lot of trees for this book, especially these incredible Live Oak trees that still haunt me. I'm still exploring those images. And I’ve also written a book on contemplative photography, but it still needs another draft.

I mostly shot with a Fujifilm GFX 100 with an 80mm (Fujifilm GF 80mm f/1.7 R WR).

It’s always a balance between being as nimble as possible and having the right equipment. I like to keep things simple and discreet. The results with the Fuji are phenomenal, but it's a bit bulky. I wish I could get the same results with a smaller, more compact camera.