Tom Arndt’s pictures are as plainspoken and humane as the people in the photographs. They speak to an ideal of modesty and fairness, of beauty in common things. They are a reminder of who we were and what we can still be.

Tom’s images reflect his compassion for the people he photographs. For me, his work has a visual clarity and emotional richness equal to the very best documentary photography out there.

Each of Tom Arndt’s photographs evoke a short story, telling tales of lives lived long and well, and of youth living fast and hard. The Minnesotans at home whose histories are proudly shared counter the strangers passing through the State Fair Midway, yet we are drawn into both worlds through Tom’s camera lens. Gathered together in his book, the resulting narrative features a cavalcade of characters, all of whom take their place in our imagination.

Tom Arndt’s world is a dangerous place. In it you may catch a glimpse of your one, true, unattainable love, or you may walk right into a mean right hook you didn't see coming and end up on your back, seeing stars. Both hurt like the devil. There are moments in his pictures when you can feel the cold breath of despair on your neck or see in another's eyes the reflection of your worst fears. But never for long; darkest night is always relieved by the presence, however faint, and the promise, however implicit, of the illumination that will tell us where and who we are. The light is the destination and the reward. Tom’s photographs are a map and they are the path itself. They encourage us to unlock ourselves, and the world opens up in response. By this we may understand that the risk of pain is the price of an open heart. We're grateful to Tom for giving us a key.

With Tom Arndt as your native-born guide, you can actually know a lot about Minnesotans just by looking. He begins from a psychological bedrock that he shares with his fellow Midwesterners and brings it to universal consciousness. It is an entirely human report on a place profoundly understood and sympathetically photographed, something rare in these days of instant messaging and short attentions spans.

Spanning 40 years, these moments freeze a lost time, a lost Minneapolis, and, when Arndt visits rural farming relatives with camera in hand, a lost way of life. The best part of the book comes at the end (although Garrison Keillor contributes a nice forward; the men are pals), when the photographer gives a little insight into the making of each photo.

Arndt has a generous spirit and creates images of tremendous empathy. Home is completely accessible, a book of local history for everyone who’s ever groaned at having to sit through a slide show of vacation photos with no people in them. Arndt is all about the people; as with an album of family photos, we smile at the familiarity of his subjects while noting the telling period details that creep in around the edges of the frame. This is a collection to visit and revisit for its documentation and celebration of the real Minnesota, the Minnesota we know and love.

Forty years of Minnesota in gorgeous black and white.

Arndt’s observations convey more than is seen at first glance, drawing the viewer back again to delve more deeply into the images. Home will resonate with anyone admiring fine photography—doubly so if Minnesota is their home too.

At his best, Ardnt’s photos, most of them portraits, have the depth and power of documentary work by Frank and Liebling.

Arndt has entered into a pact with his subjects, a mutual understanding about this Minnesota life—honest and affectionate without being sentimental or cloyingly romanticized. Each of these portraits is tied to a specific recognizable time and place: diners, parlors, drag strips and sports arenas, city sidewalks or the County Fair. The details of these settings are wonderful, and we could happily dwell on them alone. But these photographs are, most essentially, about the people who inhabit these places (often stoically, sometimes joyfully, always proudly) and call them home.

This book features a beautiful collection of . . . black and white images that offer a candid glimpse at daily life from the 1970s to the present.

Midway through my first look at Home, agape came to mind among cascading layers of emotions and thoughts. I’ve never used that word in conversation or print (unless for some long forgotten college paper) before now. Rachmonis, yes—for you Lutherans, Yiddish for a broad sympathy, a feeling for the other: love, well of course, everyone knows what love is, even true love. Without true love there would be no Great American Songbook or rock n’ roll or opera. If you have a few lingering questions on this ancient topic, take a slow look at this book. Tom Arndt loves people; he loves each and every one of us unconditionally. Photographs prove nothing, but his photographs bear witness to this claim.

Viewing Arndt’s photographs is like reading a book, very slowly, isolating and focusing on each word, one at a time. But, in the end there are sentences, paragraphs, stories, and meaning.

Arndt’s images are powerful. . . . These photographs are potent not only in composition, but also for the information they contain. In a culture possessed with the attractions of consumption (at least until very recently), whether of things or personalities, Arndt’s work is singularly unconcerned with such things. His subjects are society’s persistently uncultivated; they are anti-bling. Rather, Arndt’s risk has been to find the significance in the insignificant. Underlying these seemingly banal images, a careful viewer can mine a reservoir of information—about the politics of the day, racial tension and harmony, the steadfast hand of poverty, the fruits of hard work, and the power of friendship.

By allowing people’s lives to speak for themselves, Arndt’s photographs reveal the often forgotten moments that build common bridges across a diverse and ever-changing state.