In 1999, after my freshman year in college, I was a counselor at a camp in central Vermont. Camp was where I found my professional calling: Teaching kids to mold clay flowers by hand made me realize I wanted to spend the rest of my life making and teaching art. Somewhere in this outdoor summer utopia — a blend of vaguely Quaker ethos with a communist, hippie, artsy sensibility and a dash of Midwestern kindness — I found my people. Although I was technically hired as a ceramics counselor, I also appointed myself the unofficial photographer of Camp Killooleet. Camp felt magical.

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Persons: —, Camp Killooleet Locations: Vermont