The blue horizon

It was early in the day, I was walking the path. The sun was in the sky, the water and wind were welcoming me. The path was soggy, it must have rained the night before or the high tide was seeping through the ground. I was standing on an area that used to be muddy, and a small path from the mainland to the tip of the island. It must have looked like a fish head and spine from a birds eye view. That all changed around 1910 when earth movers flattened the island and filled the marshy area to construct the buildings. The sounds of the wind and water must have been drowned out for years except at night when everything was quiet.

I walked towards the shoreline down the path and set up the tripod and attached box camera. I always photographed the grass and trees, when the was no wind, and the sun was hot there seemed to be wind there. The grass made the shhhh sound and the trees boughs swayed. The black leaves were scattered all over the ground.

I opened the shutter and timed 6 or 7 minutes. I sat on a rock in the sun and listened to the sounds of the bay. Boats passed, the train passed and you could hear the quahoggers scraping the bottom of the bay for their take. I closed the shutter and pulled the film holder out of the camera to see if the grass and trees made their stained impression on the paper. Something was on the paper so I put the dark slide in and continued walking and listening.

I treated the paper before I scanned it and waxed the paper negative and printed it.

I saw what was on the paper and adjusted the contrast and added color and tonality.

The bay was on the negative. Across the way, the coastline stretched for miles and the bay opened up before it went to the Atlantic.

Across the bay.
Blue horizon