SEE COLLECTIVE
SEE COLLECTIVE

SUMMER

WORDS BY SARA HELM

000080380004.jpg

Summer, somehow, always seems like a long time ago. Even when I'm in the middle of it. Time moves differently, like a dream, punctuated not by the hours spent in the sun (which feel endless), but something else; ice cream cones, campfire smells, bird songs and cricket chirps.

I always spend my summer consumed with the pressure of making the most of every moment. Have I stayed up late enough? Swam in the lake as much as I could have? Did I smell every flower in my path?

No one needs to know how I spent those long aimless days. Maybe when the flakes of dead skin from my unintentional sunburn were shed I discovered I was an entirely different person. Or maybe I was napping. Summers are secrets.

Time moves more practically now. There aren’t any more flowers in my path, and the chances of experiencing a life changing sunburn are rapidly decreasing. Shorter autumn days allow for far fewer opportunities to nap. Summer feels like a faraway dream again, and maybe some of it was. But one of these days I will pull a sweater out of my closet that smells of a long ago campfire and I will know that I did just as much as I needed to.

The images that follow are someone else's summer secrets. A fraction of a larger than life season: evoking all the senses that summer can bring out.

 SARAH BAUMAN

SARAH BAUMAN

 DOMINIQUE JURIC

DOMINIQUE JURIC

 TIM LIMSANA

TIM LIMSANA

 APRIL NICOLE

APRIL NICOLE

 ANGIE MARADIAGA

ANGIE MARADIAGA

 SARAH BAUMAN

SARAH BAUMAN

 ANGIE MARADIAGA

ANGIE MARADIAGA

 DOMINIQUE JURIC

DOMINIQUE JURIC

ANGIE MARADIAGA

 TIM LIMSANA

TIM LIMSANA

 APRIL NICOLE

APRIL NICOLE

 CORY DOWNING

CORY DOWNING

 GP PARHAR

GP PARHAR

 ANGIE MARADIAGA

ANGIE MARADIAGA

 CALISTA TEMMERMAN

CALISTA TEMMERMAN