My summer camp was a safe place to grow up: no technology, just us girls, our laughter, the water, and the sun.
My youth, and the best memories of it. A world shared with friends who became sisters, summer after summer, on the shores of a quiet lake in Maine, tucked away in a private cove.
As a young girl, I was convinced that when I died and went to heaven, it would be to my camp. There was something so comforting about that place, the smell of the woods, the sound of pine needles under my sandals, the coolness of the water, silhouettes by the campfire. When I wasn’t at camp, I dreamt of it.
Two summers ago, I returned, camera in hand, to tell the story of summer camp life and create images that offered a glimpse into a world few people ever see. In that single week, what I captured felt almost cinematic: girls reading together, sitting in cabin bunks chatting, skipping hand in hand, learning to live independently, and simply being present in nature. Small pockets of unbroken serenity, hidden away from the congestion of modern life.
That week opened my eyes to how necessary summer camp is right now. Perhaps one of the few spaces left where teens can live peacefully and thrive without technology. Inspired by what I created in that one week, I set out to expand the project. I reached out to six all-girls summer camps, each running for seven weeks and completely screen-free. For thirty-one days, I road-tripped from Virginia to Maine, documenting the world of summer camp.
