Our New Reality
The week before, we sat in the lobby of a large hotel in the suburbs of Washington D.C., surrounded by friends and colleagues. That was Saturday, March 7, 2020.
By mid-week, I was on a lobster boat in New England, photographing a project about a disappearing culture. By end-of-week, I was on a plane back to Athens, Ohio, only to find a nearly deserted town upon arrival. Businesses quickly shuttered. The university closed. The chapter of college had suddenly come to a close for many of us. Goodbyes were left unsaid, congratulations and thank yous were to be delivered remotely. Caps and gowns were shelved, with only a sliver of hope remaining that they would one day be paraded across stages that signify the future to come. Across the country, around the world, everyone would come to redefine expectations and reevaluate certainties.
Despite the circumstances, our creativity could not cease to exist — we needed it, I needed it — maybe now more than ever. I was adamant that my documentation of the world around me must continue in its old ways, even as I came to accept our new reality.
