Sarah Sherman

Heidi: You attended the event as a photojournalist and part of “the huddled masses” – can you unpack how you felt like you were both?
Sarah: Everyone was expecting D.C. to be cold, but as all major events moved inside or were canceled entirely, everyone was left outside with dwindling options, including press.

The photographers with indoor access were swiftly cut down to a slim group of AP and White House Press Pool photographers stationed inside. Most press passes became mute—they didn’t get you inside the Rotunda anymore. You had access to the streets like everyone else.

The Capital 1 Arena was opened as a holding shell for the simulcast. It was the official backup location, so that’s where most of the core base of Trump supporters were going, and I was going with them. We all walked together trying to find the place.

As part of the “huddled masses,” I shared in the frustration, cold, and confusion. But as a photojournalist, I was there to observe and catch the images that illustrated this complicated political and emotional backdrop, and the historic day. Being in the cold gave me a physical show of the disparity between the wealthy attendees’ experience and that of the everyday supporters.

The city was fenced off like a maze. Members of the Special Services, police, National Guard, and military manned the barricades. As such, they were the only people to ask for directions. We asked guards at every gate we passed. They simply didn’t know where the Arena was or how to get there, and it seemed they hadn’t been told. And it seemed like it was on purpose. The disorganization and lack of information for the people felt almost cruel, or, to assume the best of the Trump Administration, a huge failure in planning.

There was a massive lack of pomp and circumstance. Sharing in the same experience as the average Trump supporter showed me the event’s class divide—for the more well-to-do attendees there were packed and patriotic schedules—spreadsheets filled with exclusive galas, private watch parties, luncheons, music, and a banquet of indoor events that you either had to pay quite a lot for, or be invited by an insider. For the average person the choices were to either wait in line for two hours to see Trump simulcast on a screen, or watch from a bar if there was any space/tickets left. Most bars and restaurants were not allowing free entry to see the inauguration on their TVs.

You did a stellar job at dealing with comments on IG about the bag pile and the polarizing narrative by thanking the person for their insight and knowledge. In a few words, how do you use respect as a tool during these dynamic times?
Yes, a woman in my comments wrote that the experience I described of attendees being required to throw their bags into a trash pile to enter the arena was not her experience at all. I know what I saw, so I took no offense. I sent her a link to a video of all the piles of bags. She commented back that actually her bag was one of the bags in that pile, but that it was more than worth it for her, and that’s why she did it. I thanked her for sharing that honesty, because that is the truth that people want to hear. A lot of Democrats would be quick to ask what could compel someone to throw an LV purse away to see a simulcast in an arena, but when we listen, we often get the answers. I really felt honored that she was able to let her guard down and share that with me, and my followers.

You had a lovely and very human framing of your images on IG, “We are all brothers and sisters on this earth together” – how do you let those you are photographing know you come in peace and respect?
We really are all in this together whether we like it or not. The hate won’t help. Things might get a lot worse and they might get better–those who voted for him will experience the outcomes too, just like people who didn’t vote for Trump. The way I view it, there is evidence in the world to support any conclusion. Respect is about recognizing the humanity behind every perspective, even when it’s challenging.
My approach is rooted in nonverbal safety–I try to attune to the emotion of my subject and match it so they see me seeing them. I rarely cover my face with my camera—I want them to see my eyes and share a moment with them. Or if they’re smiling and singing I smile and sing too so they know I’m with them, and not here to embarrass them. By being present and engaging with my subjects in a truly curious and nonjudgmental manner, they know I am a friend. Sharing moments of camaraderie—whether through conversation, shared laughter, or simply by showing gratitude for their openness— helps establish that trust. When people feel respected, they’re more willing to let you into their world. And how boring would it be if I only knew people who dressed and thought just like me? I want to see the circus. I want to be immersed in the circus.

Observe History: As an observer, you bring an aesthetic and POV with your framing and the moments you select. What were you trying to communicate with this image set?
I wanted to show moments of extreme highs–screaming, singing, embracing–with more somber images of people in the cold, to show the whole gamut. The “huddled masses” and their sacrifices and big emotions were so visually different from the exclusivity and mild smiles of wealthier attendees’. I was highlighting the tension between unity and disparity.  By highlighting the perseverance, emotions, and camaraderie of the people in the cold, I wanted to show the commitment and resilience of everyday individuals, and what that looks like. There were high spirits amidst harsh conditions, reflecting a realistic view of the event–Trump’s supporters were all there because they wanted to be, and come rain, snow, or shine, they were not giving up on seeing him sworn in, even if they were left out in the cold.

What was left out of frames on the image sets? Meaning, what was happening outside the frame that didn’t support your POV, if anything?
Some moments of hostility among the attendees were left out—not that they didn’t happen, but if there was a fight in the Capital 1 Arena line, the offenders were removed immediately, and the police were quicker than I was. These next four years will be a shared experience for all Americans no matter if we voted for him or not. Images that reinforced oversimplified or harmful stereotypes were left out. Images of angry white women were left out (too much of the blame for Trump’s success has already gone to women). It’s important for me to show viewers that not just white Americans attend these events. I wanted to include what I believe is a powerful and underestimated diversity amongst the President’s supporters. Additionally, the experiences of those inside luxurious events weren’t my focus. I didn’t include images of law enforcement even though that was a staple for me when I documented the Republican National Convention. They weren’t the focus, the people were. I caught glimpses and images of opulence in hotel lobbies, or in lines for fundraising Galas, and even outside, but the story to me was more about staying aligned with what I really saw–the narrative of the “huddled masses”, and what seemed to me like a suddenly discarded pillar of Trump’s supporters–the poor and working class base.

How did you get to the point where they were dropping pants to show their tattoos in total elation?
Moments like these are often born from genuine camaraderie and mutual trust. He was elated, he was so proud to show me his tattoos and that his commitment to Trump had paid off. And that his guy won. I encourage people by talking to them while I’m photographing. I say what I really feel, and I give them compliments; “Dude, this is insane and badass, you’re so brave,”. When he dropped his pants, I knelt down on the floor of the bar to look. Once I did that, a whole crowd gathered to take their own photos because they saw his art being respected and they realized he wanted his art to be seen. My ability to connect with people from a place of curiosity—without judgment, human to human—makes people feel comfortable and safe enough to express themselves freely. Moments of unfiltered reaction are easily able to be photographed when people feel seen and respected.

By being present and effusive in a celebratory atmosphere, I build verbal and nonverbal rapport with my subjects through shared energy and curiosity. Their joy makes me feel joy, because it’s very real and it’s intimate. When I hear a man belting out ‘Glory Glory Hallelujah’ with the choir on the bar TV, I feel the power and vibration of his voice and how genuine his feelings are, even on a controversial subject. I can feel their relief and excitement. In those moments I am totally present with them, not thinking of any potential “worst case scenario” outcomes of the election. In those moments I am embedded in the atmosphere and that alignment allows the images to almost flow through me with very little decision making.

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1 Comment

  1. Amazing photographs and a very introspective interview. Love the curiosity and nonjudgmental vibe that Sarah shows to her subjects. Seems like she is a true chameleon of sorts- becoming one with the crowd to tell their story. Only wish her social pages were linked so we could see more of her work (so I found them myself! @starpaste_ on IG) Sarah Sherman is one to watch!


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