It was only after spending two months photographing the demolition of 322 Irvine Turner Boulevard in Newark, that I began to see the designs in the Maine ledges.
From 1984 until 1999 each summer, I lived in Brooklin, Maine with the ledges of Eggemoggin Reach as my front yard. I spent a great deal of time on those ledges, noticing the different shapes and colors of the rocks mingling with a wide array of seaweed, lichen, and barnacles, along with a variety of mussels, clams and other shells. It was a constant delight. A panorama of beauty.
But in Februrary and March of 1998, during my passionate effort to photograph the essence of 322, a place I had previously documented for a dozen years, I was challenged. Each time the bulldozer picked up a pile of debris and dropped it somewhere else, I was given a new composition. This constant exercise in connecting the lines and textures and placement of the bricks, metal, wood and plaster developed and sensitized my eye to see order in chaos—a sensitivity that carried into seeing the intricate designs of nature in everything. That summer, walking along the ledges, I was ecstatic as the tangled and complicated designs in the Maine ledges unfolded before me, suddenly changing into clear patterns of line and form, order and structure.