ANNA BRYANT

“I live in a century-old farmhouse built by a formerly enslaved family from Monticello. It feels ancient and creaky and warm and grounded all at once. With three young children, our life is far from tidy. Particularly this spring, with disrupted work schedules and busy life on the farm and new anxieties and social isolation. In the midst of swirling concerns and distraction, I have done my best to focus on doing the thing that’s right in front of me. Reading to my children. Nursing my baby. Weeding the garden. Drawing a bath.

These photographs were taken with my phone. Often composed with an infant balanced on my hip or a dishtowel over my shoulder. They are spontaneous and candid. It is easy to see the weariness of the land and house, but in making these pictures, I was also reminded of the great power of home—of a place to be and to belong. I do not know where we go from here, but I am growing to know here more and more. My sincere desire is that we will look back on this season—with all its suffering and fear—and see also that it was a time of renewed hope.”

JUNE 2020