Last summer I made a series of images that, to this day, are the work I am most proud of: photographing my kids’ short summer break and trying to capture the spirit of childhood. If you missed those images or want to learn more about how they came to be you can check that post out here.
I never really intended to pick the project back up. Partly, I think, because it was already done. I had made those images and to continue making more I feared might feel a little like just going through the motions. And partly because this summer was never going to be like last summer. It was never going to be a “normal” summer. There wasn’t really even an official start to it. No last day of school, no big summer kickoff. It just sort of happened. And in much the same way, so did these photos.
The thing I find in looking at them is that, in some ways this summer was perhaps the most “normal” my boys have ever had. While last summer was mostly about adventuring - hiking and camping and beaches and berry picking - this summer was really just about being a kid, in the purest sense. It was about being bored with nowhere to be and nothing (they had) to do. It was about making their own fun. About playing in the sprinkler when I watered the garden, or making a tent under the big maple using an old sheet. It was about backyard picnics and ghost men on first, dirty knees and messy faces and playing with their shadows in the late evening sun. Sometimes it was even about just laying in the grass, because there was time to.
I certainly wouldn't have chosen the circumstances that led us to this place. But I’d be lying if I said that I wasn't grateful for what it gave us; grateful for this slow and simple summer.