Several weekends ago, J and I took the T to Harvard Square, where we had lunch then walked to the Charles River to watch the Head of the Charles Regatta, which every year attracts rowing crews from around the world. This is the third year J and I have watched the Regatta: today’s photos, in fact, come from last year’s race. J and I don’t know anything about rowing, but we’ve learned from experience there’s nothing more relaxing than walking along a river in mid-October when the weather’s brisk and the foliage is turning.
Annual events like the Head of the Charles are one way we keep time here in New England. If it’s April and the daffodils are blooming, it’s time to watch the Boston Marathon, and if it’s October and there’s a nip of chill in the air, it’s time to watch the Head of the Charles. In either case, it doesn’t really matter if you know much about the competition you’re watching: all you need to do is show up, mingle alongside other spectators, and enjoy the show. With both a marathon and a regatta, you can’t possibly cheer for every participant at every stage of the race, so instead, you cheer for whoever happens to be running or rowing past right now. It’s the epitome of an in-the-moment activity where you show up and enjoy whatever floats past.
On our T ride home from Harvard Square, J and I struck up a conversation with a fellow from North Carolina who was visiting Boston with his girlfriend. They’d come for the weekend to see Clemson play (and, unfortunately, beat) Boston College in football, and in the course of their tourist wanderings, they encountered a fellow in a Navy sweatshirt who was on his way to watch his son compete in the Regatta. “Right then, we knew we’d have to check it out,” the fellow from North Carolina said. “Folks come from all over the world to see this race, and we just happened to be in town the same weekend!”
The river of life has many twists and turns, and typically it’s helpful to know what’s ahead of you as you navigate those movements. But sometimes, the river of life throws up a surprise, and you just have to roll (and row) with it. J and I are lucky to live in a place where world-renowned athletic events happen to happen within an easy T commute away. Other folks come from afar to row the river that wends through our lives every single day.
This is my Day Three contribution to NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month, a commitment to post every day during the month of November: thirty days, thirty posts.
Nov 4, 2014 at 12:24 am
L,
It’s always a bit of a shock when people end up in your photos! I’ve noticed that you tend almost actively to avoid taking pictures of people in favor of photographing (non-anthropic) nature (leaves, trees, flowers, animals), geometric angles (building architecture, railings, windows, etc.), light-and-shadow, street art/sculpture, museum exhibits, and glass-pane reflections that may or may not hint at a human presence. The main exception to this seems to be sporting events, when the human form is suddenly revealed, through your lens, in all its athletic glory.
I don’t mean the above observation as a criticism. All of your photos are amazingly gorgeous, and you have a great, perceptive eye. I enjoy every picture I’ve seen on your blog and hope you keep doing what you’re doing. But I’m honestly curious as to what motivates you to pick your subjects. Just trying to pick your brain, is all. What makes you tick?
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Nov 4, 2014 at 2:36 pm
I’m shy about photographing strangers! An athlete who is competing knows there are spectators watching, as do people marching in a parade. But folks who are just walking down the street aren’t necessarily thinking that others are watching, much less taking (and then posting) their picture. I love street photography and the candid portraits it features, but I personally don’t have the nerve to do it.
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Nov 5, 2014 at 4:43 pm
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