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lignum
The choir loft at the meetinghouse was nice, once I got used to the steep (very) and narrow (especially with a camera and a tripod) stairs. There was good light. The rope for the church bell was right there in case you wanted to, uh, hear the dulcet tones of the bell. There were pews for the choir members. And hymnals. And an organ that had very definitely seen better days.
And here’s one of the wood side panels of the organ, with a view of the nicely-weathered floor beyond.
At one point during our time there, I sat in one of the pews and wept. I wept for the abundance of my life that let me take such a trip, for the abundance of my friendships that made the trip so perfect, for the things I thought were wrong in my life, and for the things I know for a fact were (and are – this was only in March) wrong with the world. The space and my time in it felt like an important planetary alignment.
And now that I’ve edited this photo, I see how there’s a distinct balance/tension between the dark and the light. Sort of like real life.
South Solon Meetinghouse
Solon, Maine
photographed 3.19.2026
church on a platter
Look! A church on a platter!!
(Detail from a fresco inside the South Solon Meetinghouse. It’s a little trippy to look at a painting of the outside of the very same building you are standing inside of.) (Also, what do you think that kid on the side is glaring at? She seems somewhat unhappy.)
South Solon Meetinghouse
Solon, Maine
photographed 3.19.2026
celestial manifestation
Four months ago I was in Maine, where I spent the better part of three days inside a one-room building in the woods. I wasn’t held prisoner there, which is sort of the way that first sentence sounded when I re-read it.
Rather, it was photography workshop, an immersive look at the South Solon Meetinghouse. I posted some photos from here earlier, but it’s taken me some time/space to be ready to think more about that time. The schedule for the trip was ridiculous when compared with what I had going on at the very same time: I was in the middle of writing a huge grant at my (real) job and didn’t really have the time to give to this endeavor. But this was a place that I’d wanted to see for myself and I didn’t plan on letting the opportunity slide by without me. We were a small, compatible group. Our work there swung from quiet writing time, to solo photo-taking, to helping each other get “the” shot we were chasing, to giving our own unique* interpretations on the frescoes, to laughing, to crying, to just…being there.
It was what I needed to do. That grant could (and did) wait. And I came home a different (and maybe better) person than before.
South Solon Meetinghouse
Solon, Maine
photographed 3.19.2026
the gloom of twilight gathers fast
Here’s the last one – for now – from the South Solon Meetinghouse. It was a transformative few days and I am grateful that I was able to attend the workshop.
One afternoon while we were in the meetinghouse, I sat in a pew and looked through one of the hymnals. I was looking for words, for phrases that caught my eye. By the time I was done, I had filled two pages in my journal with pieces of songs that appealed to me. I often title my images with a few words from a song and my intent that afternoon was to mine the words for future photo titles.
And from that list, I drew the following list of titles:
- thanks + love + faith + grace
- our strength proved false
- since happier light
- of unseen things above
- wondrous grace
- the gloom of twilight gathers fast
So, l will gently leave my meetinghouse photos here. They are filled with thought, with intention, and with the unrelenting joy of seeing. It is my hope that you found something in them that was meaningful.
South Solon Meetinghouse
Solon, Maine
photographed 3.19.2026
wondrous grace
The afternoon sun through the windows gave a nice sideways light to the mural on the wall, which is why I made the photo. (Of course.)
I am often realizing things about my photographic style seem new to me. That’s sort of silly, right? I mean, I take a LOT of photos. I try to be purposeful with them. I think I carefully compose and understand what I’m seeing in the viewfinder before I press the shutter. So it seems like my style would be established by now, and further, that I would know why I do things the way I do.
These series of images from the meetinghouse has reminded me anew how much I depend on the darkness in the images – the darkness that is complete black. The darkness that is, technically speaking, “too” dark. But in my mind, what good is the light unless it’s balanced with the dark? How much less value does the known and clearly visible parts of an image have if it’s not offset by parts you can’t see?
Which leads me to wonder how much more joyous the bright parts of life are when they are balanced against life’s darknesses. It’s the balance that makes it work. In photography. In life.
South Solon Meetinghouse
Solon, Maine
photographed 3.19.2026
One Day | One Image 