Hannah Edelman

Dance Hall (2024 - ongoing) captures a moment of cultural rediscovery, where young New Yorkers, seeking refuge from the constant buzz of screens, are drawn back to the warmth of traditional honky-tonk culture. In a world that often feels disconnected and mediated, there’s something profoundly liberating about stepping into a space where pretense falls away, where you can be yourself and be invited to dance by a stranger without hesitation or judgment. Growing up in the South, I’ve always felt an affinity for these simple yet deeply human traditions. They offer a kind of connection that feels rare in our increasingly fragmented world—a way to meet others on equal footing, to be real and unguarded, even if just for a few fleeting minutes of music. It’s a feeling that’s hard to put into words, but when you’re in that room, dancing and laughing, you understand that it’s something essential we’re all seeking. Over the past year, I’ve been documenting the people who make this unassuming hall their Saturday night home. In their faces, I see the quiet joy of belonging, the kind of authentic togetherness that’s so often lost in the shuffle of daily life. And in the rhythm of their movements, I’m reminded of what it means to truly be present—not just in a room, but in the lives of others.