Once again, we asked this year for you to send us the photos that best represent your personal vision of Maine — and, man, did you ever respond.
Arts & Leisure
How a physician’s assistant in Bridgton became Stephen King’s Hippocrates of horror.
I need, and refuse to own, a navigational system with a robotic voice saying turn left here, go 200 yards, bear right, etc., etc. I am under the stars, benighted in the shallows, churning up mud, with time and tide running out.
There’s a trace of the sacred in it — in the light, in the title — plus a hint of the absurd, the faintest whiff of the freewheeling nature of that day at sea.
Home is someplace between Walden and a woodstove.
From “Trekking on Rawhide,” by Robert Deis, in our January 1980 issue.
George French delivered 20 years worth of stirring images, mostly black-and-white, of pastoral landscapes, but he was also a devoted chronicler of working people.
British animator Will Rose draws inspiration from Eastport’s wildlife, architecture, and late-night Justin Bieber dance parties.
The shot is all feel-good goofy nostalgia — one part Norman Rockwell, one part Yankee wit.
In far northern Maine, four things in life are certain: death, taxes, hard winters, and the persistence of francophone culture.
The images of Christmas that came to us fused and confused geographies, histories, and iconographies: the stony, semi-arid, goat- and sheep-herding Holy Land with its jumbled, inhospitable terrain; the deep-forested European north, where the dire winter cold and darkness threaten to engulf the world forever.
A few hard-charging ski heroes are taking Maine’s nascent backcountry ski scene to the next level.