Scenes from Small-Town Westford, MA | Photographer Barbara Peacock

When I was 3 years old, my parents moved to Westford, MA, a small New England town 35 miles northwest of Boston. They bought a large, turn-of-the-century house in the center of town. It was a historic house but also run-down, and together as a family of seven we worked to repair it and make it our home.This was an era when families ate meals together and watched TV only on Sunday nights. Kids walked everywhere and played outside all day until the cowbell rang. This was also the era of the Kodak Brownie camera. My brother won a Brownie at a Boy Scout potluck dinner and my sister received one as a gift. We all shared them and took photos of each other, our pets, and daily life. It was pure magic when the small, square black-and-white photos came back from the drugstore.In my large-format documentary class, my professor gave an assignment to photograph something of importance, excluding family. One day, I saw five kids hanging out on the stoop of a local market. I didn’t think much of it until the next day, when I saw the same five kids in the exact same position. They seemed bored to death, yet savoring their daily ritual. At that moment, I was aware of the impermanence of the present and how this daily ritual would ultimately be replaced by memory, childhood by adulthood, and perhaps even the store may disappear.I took out the school’s 4×5 camera and took the shot. When I showed it to my professor, he said, “Well, you can travel the world looking for interesting places and people but in fact you can find them right in your backyard.” He encouraged me to continue, and I did.This project has spanned enough time that indeed, the store has been replaced, the kids from the market are adults, and one of those children has passed away. Our world has gone from virtually no technology to a life governed by it, and I too have gone from analog to digital. The town has almost tripled in size, yet in 33 years our community connectedness remains little changed.As a young girl, I walked all over town. Every day, for years, I walked the same route to and from school. I walked on dirt paths that eventually turned to pavement. I saw the same trees and flowers bloom year after year. I would sneak through a neighbor’s field or backyard to find a shortcut, seeing townsfolk tend their gardens, retrieve their mail, and grow old. I have always felt the very essence of this town has penetrated my soul through the soles of my feet. That feeling has stayed with me over all these years as I have walked through town observing and photographing the people of Westford.There is an unspoken comfort that comes from being part of a community where our roots grow. This does not change with time. Time changes physical things, but the quintessential us — our community, togetherness, and kinship — remains, especially when we are bound by our hometown.—Barbara Peacock (excerpted from her book Hometown, reproduced with permission) See the full Yankee feature, “Hometown,” in the July/August 2017 issue — and please enjoy this bonus collection of Peacock’s photos, with descriptions from the artist herself.

Scenes from a Small Town | Westford, MA

“I took ballet for years as a young girl, and I have a fondness for dance. My friend had a dance studio, and I used to photograph her students for her. I had a standing invitation to come photograph ‘behind the scenes’ for my project, and as it turned out, I went in 2015, when my friend was retiring — so it was the last recital. I found the most interesting spot was right behind the curtains, where the next group of dancers waited to go on stage. The young girls were so curious and of course anxious. Once I was there for a while, they no longer noticed me, which was exactly what I wanted.”

“I was told the best way to get good photos was to be on foot. So, on this day I was just walking around the town with my camera looking for interesting people to photograph. I was on a back road when this truck came by. It was going very slow because the girl on the back was delivering newspapers. I think I got one or two shots only, but I really liked this one. She struck me as the quintessential young person trying to earn a little money and taking on new responsibility as young kids do. For a moment, I truly saw myself as a young girl. As we look at this photo today, we must realize that no parent would be allowed to drive their child around on the back of a pickup, especially while wearing headphones. This photo taken in 1982 really illustrates how the times have changed.”

“Every April we have the Apple Blossom Festival. It has grown over the years as the town has doubled and tripled [in size]. Some of my photos from 1982 show five people standing watching … while now we have a sea of people. One of the highlights and a deep tradition is the high school–nominated contenders for Apple Blossom Queen. It is an honor and scholarship awarded by the Kiwanis Club. The girls wear long gowns and each rides in a convertible (often vintage) for about a mile through the center of town to a field where the awards are given. Very Americana! The girls usually gather at the top of the hill where all the convertibles park. In this particular photo, these are the younger sisters who are allowed to ride along. I will leave the interpretation up to you.”

“This photo was taken at an event called the Fireman’s Muster. It is an event where the firefighters and firetrucks gather and have games, food, and various tactic drills. At first look, the photo here is a simple, innocent moment: two high school girls who probably walked to the event, enjoying cotton candy and soda. Nothing too unusual besides the wardrobe and hairstyle of the era. But upon a closer look, the girl on the left has a pack of cigarettes between her legs. So, lots of things have changed … and nothing has changed. Kids still want to smoke, experiment, and do all the things adults tell them not to. They don’t seem to care about the adults around them, but both have watches as everyone did back then. Rest assured, they have to be back by a certain time and probably have a mile or two to walk back home.”

“This is opening day for little league. The kids hold the American flag while the national anthem is played. I love the disparity of expressions on these boys’ faces. One is incredibly attentive, while the rest just are goofing off and holding on for dear life until it’s over!”

“I was walking through the center of town and ended up at my old school (Frost School) that I walked to for five years to attend first grade through fifth. We all walked to school back then, in the rain, snow, or sleet. There was a single classroom for each grade, and there were two porches where we used to run and play and also, upon occasion, put on plays and skits. On this day there was a small group of young teens, some that I knew, just hanging out listening to a big … wait for it … boombox! Yup, those were the days of buying and playing cassettes and cruisin’ the town in small groups to just hang out.”

“Every year I photographed the Apple Blossom festival, since 1982. Each year I looked for something different. There is a carnival that goes along with the parade that sets up for three days. I tried unsuccessfully several times to get permission to photograph the workers behind the scenes. As I was walking down a long hill to the carnival, I saw this gentleman resting behind a ride. I could see the potential of what appeared to be a perfectly composed photograph — all I had to do put the frame where I needed it and pray he didn’t move. There was a beautiful symmetry to all the lines of his body and the weary look on his face. I took one shot. I chatted with him after, and he said he was very tired but quite honored to have his photograph taken. When I look at it now, I am bit mesmerized by how all the pieces of this little moment fit together perfectly.”

“This photo was taken at a little league baseball game. What I find particularly interesting — besides the fact that they are overtly drinking beer in a public place — is that if this photo were taken today, everyone here would be on their cell phones. Either using them to take photos or using them to chat or go on the Web, etc. I feel that if you look at the photos from this nontechnological era, you will see people are lost in thought or daydreaming.”

“A particular favorite photo of mine. I was inspired. I had just come back from Sicily, where I studied with master photographer Ernesto Bazan. He taught how to tell more complex stories and to have multiple subjects in your frame that not only add to the story but complete it emotionally as well as compositionally. I heard there was a woman in town turning 103 and was granted permission to photograph the private event. It was an incredibly enjoyable experience, and once all the festivities began no one noticed me anymore, which is exactly what I wanted. This was black-and-white film, and I remember shooting two rolls of this scene. I kept a watchful eye on everyone’s movement and I adjusted my position to be sure to fill each space with a face or detail. There were several good ones but this one has it all — from the woman on the left gazing into the frame, to the girl on the right with the huge piece of cake going into her mouth, to the girl in the back with her arms crossed on her chest, having a meltdown, and all the details in just the right place. And I love how the 103-year-old birthday girl is the one cutting and serving the cake!”

“My plan was to take a photograph of a lovely and very beloved woman who had polio, and every Sunday she would brave the steps, bent over almost in half, and climb up the steps. She did this with grace and always with a big smile on her face. She is just one of those special people. I did get a few shots of her but I didn’t think they came out very good. These two girls were sitting on the wooden bench exactly where I had sat hundreds of times in my patent leathers, ankle socks, and Sunday best.”

“I went to this black-tie fundraiser for many years as a guest and supporter, but this year I went as a fly on the wall. It was very dark, and there was a lot of pink and purple light. I quickly decided to shoot tight details in black and white, much like Larry Fink’s work of the fashion world and high society. I was attracted to a beautiful woman’s delicate hands holding a vintage pocketbook juxtaposed with the gentleman’s watch. As it turns out, this image was posted on a photography site and Larry Fink made this comment: ‘This picture with its wristwatch time ticking away … each layer of density of description is loaded with a latent sense of fulfillment, the bodies describe folks just waiting in place, waiting to bolt in slow motion to another scenario filled with dreadful ennui.’” To purchase a copy of Hometown and to see more of Barbara Peacock’s work, including her new series “American Bedroom,” please visit her website.

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