Grafton Cheese Company

Author's Comments

Grafton in the morning has a softness to it that I do not entirely know how to describe. The hills hold their mist longer than they should, and the village itself seems to have agreed, sometime around the turn of the last century, to stop changing. The creamery sits inside that agreement. I came for the cheese and stayed for the building, which is the honest order of things here. The viewing windows are a quiet pleasure. You watch hands working curds in stainless vats, the same essential motions that have been happening on this site since 1892, and there is something about morning light through those windows that flattens the years. I am not usually drawn to photographing process, but the gestures here are worth the patience. Wait for a moment when a worker pauses. That is the frame. Outside is where I spent most of my time. The roads that wind out from the village pass barns weathered to the color of pencil lead, pastures still wet at eight in the morning, fence lines that follow the contour of hills rather than fighting them. Late September is when I would return. The light then is long and the maples have started but not committed, and the whole valley feels like it is holding its breath before the show. This is not a dramatic place. It does not photograph itself. You have to bring something to it - a willingness to slow down, to notice the way a barn door has aged, to wait for a cow to lift her head. That is the hidden gem of it. The reward is proportional to your patience.

Gallery