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the gateway was constructed as directed, but opened upon desolation.
A Maine coast bestiary: the European garden spider (the size of a half dollar with legs stretched out!), lobster-eating herring gulls, and the massively invasive green crab.
In 1891, the brother of my grandmother’s grandmother, Frank Sanford, acted upon the presumed voice of god and founded Shiloh, in rural Durham, Maine, twenty minutes from where I grew up. An offshoot of the popular Free Will Baptist Church of the era, Shiloh presaged 20th-century fundamentalist televangelists via a literal interpretation of the bible, and a structure like a pyramid scheme, concentrating the wealth of an increasing pool of followers to build a huge complex on a rocky, sand-swept hilltop. Shortage and privation, legal troubles, and internal divisions plagued the group through the early 1900s until an ill-supplied sea voyage on converted yacht to reclaim Greenland for Jesus lead to the deaths of six crew members and Sandford’s incarceration. The commune was dismantled, but the original chapel, bizarre crown-tower intact, survives today. Sandford died in 1948, but fragments of his sect live on, scattered.
Mayas of the Maine coast, including that reaction shot to the laughing gull stealing fries from the family right next to us.
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By the time they were acknowledged, the fires had grown beyond all containment.
Stops on the Triboro Line. Currently working on a film about these tracks, so going through some of my newer photos of it from the last year. Included: the 1914 LIRR tunnel beneath Broadway Junction, various street crossings, and the oldest remaining house in New York State.
