The Edge of America January 08 2012, 0 Comments
I have been walking along the “Edge of America” for the better part of a decade to the end of Folly Beach where the land drops off into the ocean, disappearing as the waves wash it out to sea. A few years back, I walked along the Edge of America everyday for two months after the tourists had gone, capturing, in my images, the splendor of the peace filled early morning hours. I go back now out of the fondness of those memories. I am convinced that when we say that a place is our “favorite” spot to visit, what we are really saying is that we carry fine memories of a place we once encountered and we hope that it will treat us well again. Many times when we return, our experience is manipulated by past memories as we seek to recreate them rather than getting a clear picture of what something has become. But today, I sought out and documented what the Edge of America has become.
I walked along the beach in what John Steinbeck calls, “The Grey Time…” the time when the day has come but the sun has yet to show itself. The time when most haven’t yet realized that the new day has arrived. There is no other hour that offers more than this. There are no demands. The world does not invade. So, quietly I watched and waited for the light to recapture the “Dancing Trees”.
I first photographed the Dancing Trees in an image I call, “Folly Trio.” These lifeless trees with roots deep into the sand were once surrounded by tall dunes, with thick gold and yellow grasses. A protective fencing in and about the dunes decorated the tress with shrimp boats visible not far off shore. But that is the old Folly. Today, palm trees are strewn about like twigs, the fencing, the dunes, and the grasses have all been ripped away by the anger of hurricane Irene leaving only the Dancing Trees. But in the still hour of the grey time, I have found new images to capture of the beautiful Dancing Trees, alone, serene, just the trees and the gentle gliding tide.