When I tell people that I am a photographer by profession, the response is often something along the lines of “how cool!” or “so fun!”. Typically, I just smile and nod, but the truth is that the “cool” and “fun” parts of being a professional photographer are often overshadowed by the minutiae of running a business—the backache of lugging heavy gear, or sales tax forms that make your head spin. It’s exhausting—the worry during slow months, and the eye-watering hours spent editing in front of a computer screen. The sheer amount of time spent on marketing efforts alone is a full-time job. I do love it, generally speaking. I’m grateful for my work and there’s really nothing I would rather do—except maybe to be a photographer for not-work.

The things that drew me to photography in the first place—the parts I love about it—are ever-present, but connection to those things sometimes feels elusive. Finding a way to stay connected to what fills me up about this work is vital to warding off burnout.

So I (try to) make time for personal projects. I follow inspiration in ways that aren’t about the bottom line, they’re about the work. Often this takes the form of a long-term project. The freedom of designing my ‘assignment’ and answering only to my own vision fuels the creative well that powers the rest of the work.

One such recent project started a few summers ago, with a chance meeting during a pre-dawn walk along the wharf in Portland, Maine. I came across the crew of the Perseverance loading up for a day of work. They were gracious, and allowed me to document some of their morning. I kept in touch with Joey on Instagram, so that I could send him the images I shot.

Two summers later, on somewhat of a whim, I messaged Joey to see if it would be ok for me to visit the crew for more photos. Again, he was gracious and generous with his time and met me the next morning at the docks. I photographed, and we talked, and he taught me about splicing rope and cultivating mussels (on fuzzy ropes). I learned of his plans to continue his career in sustainable aquaculture by starting his own oyster farm on the mid-coast with his sister. I told him that if/when he did that, I would love to come back and document.

So we did. This past June, during his first harvest, he took me out on the water every morning for almost a week. Just scratching the surface of what there is to learn about sustainable aquaculture and working waterfronts and how farming oysters impacts the environment—this is a story I will continue to document. Maybe the images will accompany this story in the world somewhere. But if they don’t, I will go back and continue documenting as long as they’ll have me. Because this project, is fuel for all the others.