As referenced in my post about Old Sturbridge Village, we get to New England fairly often. While I was growing up, Boston was always a place one avoids while traveling elsewhere. I still remember hearing my father while he was driving up front. Why would you go within 50 miles of Boston? So many reasons to avoid it. The traffic, the traffic and most importantly the traffic.
After the unqualified success of Ray Larose’s NEWLK in Portsmouth in the spring of 2015, plans of a second meeting were made almost immediately. Happily enough it wasn’t much further than Portsmouth, we were to meet in the historic town of Salem MA. Better yet, we would be meeting the week before Halloween. It was a target-rich environment. Continue reading “NEWLK Salem”
My wife hails from a small town in Nova Scotia called Yarmouth. It’s got all the typical problems of a town of its size and location. Yarmouth isn’t on the way to anything and it’s got little to offer an outsider that justifies the 4-hour drive from Halifax. If Lori’s family wasn’t from Yarmouth, I’m not sure I’d have any justification to visit.
Being a bit of a recreational luddite, I find myself often romanticizing the past. It’s easy to think of times-gone-by fondly, or at least idealize them as simpler if not superior. I like cars without airbags and shoulder belts. I like mechanical wrist watches and nixie tubes. Not necessarily because they’re better and sometimes expressly because they’re not.
We travel frequently throughout New England and tacked this excursion to Old Sturbridge Village onto a November homeschool trip to Boston.
I’m surely the final participant to journal this event, but better late than never. I decided to make the trek to Ray Larose‘s brainchild, NEWLK in May 2015. It included an 8 hour drive for me, and many of the participants were awed when we were doing meet-and-greets outside the SBUX on the market square that afternoon.
I’ve tried on more than one occasion to raise a group locally who’d want to socialize and shoot on the regular, but as a result of what I can only assume is my abrasive personality have failed in that regard. Since leaving the professional life, I’ve wanted to reconnect with people who enjoy photography for its own rewards, as opposed to dealing with peers who see your jobs and opportunities they’ve lost out on. The professional life for me was a solitary one, with no cooperation or community feel. While studying photography in college, I made real friends with similar goals and dreams. We all were drawn to art school for a shared love of making images.