I bought my first camera on a whim when I was seventeen years old. I had no idea what to do with it, but I immediately fell in love with the way the world looked through the viewfinder, and later, the subtle little lies photographs could tell. I loved the idea that you could create your own world with this fairly simple machine.

For years I tinkered with cars. There was always an element of dissection and problem solving that engrossed me; it was the same with photographing at the dirt track. It was a way for me to deconstruct the races in order to understand them more thoroughly.

The races are full on-the noise is deafening, clouds of dust make you intermittently blind. You choke on the exhaust fumes from open headers, with their sickening and sweet smell. I think it's a perfect sport, and I was intrigued by the people. I wanted to convey the character of the race without actually showing the main event. I'm drawn to situations that are a little bit dangerous, a little bit uncomfortable. I try to convey this sense of unease, of things being on the verge of an explosion or disaster. Races are a controlled violent activity, and there are moments when they appear as a strange transfigured dance, a kind of feral ballet.

andrew@artistsontour.org