In one of my early childhood memories, we had a grand family reunion picnic on Belle Isle. Of course, it was fun to play on the giant slide, soar in the air on the swing set, chase cousins around the fountain and catch a glimpse of the zoo. Belle Isle was part jungle, part amusement park, part party, and as a kid one couldn’t help but be endlessly curious to know what other surprises it held.
A man sitting along the river in the distance - his fishing hat just barely visible above the rocky shoreline - caught my eye. It didn’t seem too far a walk from the picnic to get a better view of the fisherman quietly casting his line into the Detroit River, so I joined him. I remember he smiled and nodded, carrying on with his task. It was a peaceful, beautiful view along the river, as large ships sailed by. Where were they going? Could they see me waving at them from the shore? My mind wandered as I watched the waves lap against the rocks, the sound of seagulls and laughter in the background, the breeze blowing the short sleeves of my shirt. Eventually, the sounds of laughter turned to frantic calls that faintly sounded like my name. A family search party was scouring the area, looking for the curious kid who wandered off.
As I grew older, Belle Isle evolved over the years, but it was always a place that held both serenity and wonder. As I began to learn photography, a desire to explore both the presence of humanity and the quiet joy of solitude to be found on the island returned. Collected over the course of about 7 years (2010-2017), these are some of the images from that exploration.
Check out Waving From The Shore: Belle Isle by swiping right or left through the gallery.