This blog post serves to mark a time long ago—the Spring of 2010—which was the occasion of my first visit to Amagansett. At the time, I was still a very greenhorn photographer. Still, somehow, when I look back at these photos, I see some of my all-time favorites.
I wonder why that is? As I examine the factors at play, I see a few key aspects. First, lasting friendships were seeded during this visit, and the trip marked a clear turning point for me. Most importantly and memorably was one key facet: that was a time when there were people around me who trusted my talents and respected my thoughts. It was their profound (and to me, seemingly unearned) faith in me that allowed for my confidence—in my artistic way of viewing the world—to flourish. Their faith pushed me to believe in myself.
As I go through these photos, the nostalgia for that depth of faith and of respect hangs over me. I do not think I would ever overstate the importance of it. Especially because it was that faith which sustained beyond that moment, and it incubated the rest of my professional and artistic careers. All this, on first visit to a spot on the South Fork of Long Island: Amagansett.
This also was the same visit that I first used the laptop that I am typing on right now. My first download of photos to this machine happened while sitting in the guest bedroom in the home of a now dear mentor and friend.
Today the memories of that trip are still potent, but what actually sparked this post was an occasion. Today I moved these first photos on my laptop fully to an external hard drive. This act did not come easily for me, for my fear of having less access to them, or to not seeing them whenever I am in my photo editing software. It feels like I am losing them entirely. But now I am letting go of that aphasia and am moving them to the archives of my storage. Hurrah!
To mark that shift (as we also make the shift to Fall), I am sharing these photos with all of you. I hope you will enjoy.
My first memory if of the smells and saturated colors of the lichens—seen here on a wet and cold day, which made for rich colors indeed:
It gave me the breeze at my back.
And though the sands of time have shifted,