Sweet Shop Seating
This is old-time America, fifty miles west of New York City. We call it God's Country. New Jersey is also officially known as The Garden State, too, for good reason, although most folks only see it when passing through the ugly industrial sprawl from Newark Airport to other destinations. There is so much more to New Jersey, my home state, than a corridor of transit on the miserable New Jersey Turnpike.
Most would be surprised to know that New Jersey glories to the most affluent and secluded old wealth of the nation. It's not Silicon Valley, which is new wealth, and not nearly as prestigious. This is Millicent Fenwick territory. There are more than a few first-tier prep schools here. And though I am not personally fond of riding with the hounds, I spent two years living among the hack set with the U.S. Equestrian Headquarters only a half mile away.
Once off the interstate, I've long known there were treasures to frame and record. I've been in these parts since a teenager, but only now, as a photographer, do I embrace the by-gone days that are slowly fading from view. A culture lost is a culture to mourn.