“Everything is an altar”, muttering to myself, climbing around the rocks on an empty Maine island, the tidal pools reflected back. Rock, seaweed, sky. All so holy. Holy for a woman from New Jersey, an atheist, a singer, a listener. There are places that are whispered. The coming together of elements.
Those tidal pool photographs are long gone, as are most of my old electronic photos. My ignorance was how to keep them from disappearing into the e-chasm. A lesson to learn about modern methods. The archiving of this new medium.
This pink bathroom altar shot in an 1800s Maine house about to be demolished. We were hurrying to removed some early American wall murals before the place fell apart. Tarps hung to keep the paintings dry.