While on vacation in Maine, this was a window in the old cabin I had previously photographed. What I didn’t realize until I walked around the corner of the wall was just how rugged this little piece of human engineering was. I could imagine someone generations ago hewing wood from the property and building this the old fashioned way: slowly; by hand.
It’s weathered and worn and the paint is peeling from the wooden frame. But perhaps my favorite part of this piece is the glass. On one side, you have a reflection of the thick woods on the property, but in that last third of the window, there is just desolation and ruin.
I happen to like the juxtaposition. But then, of course I would.