Summers, when I was a child, always included watching my father pack his truck with his fishing rods and a bucket of worms for his day trips to the nearby creek. And the start of fall was traditionally marked by my dad preparing his guns, ammo, and camouflage duffle bag full of clothes for hunting trips with his friends. As a young girl, I wondered why he loved going on these trips and often wished he would invite me to go along. My older brother never had an interest in accompanying him, so I guess my dad assumed that if his son did not want to go, then his little girl would certainly not be interested either.
Photographing these places is my way of immersing myself into my father’s world, one I grew up around, but never fully experienced. I am still an observer in this community, studying the spaces and belongings. By observing and arranging, I am learning more about the people, the places, and their histories. This process has helped me find answers to the question of why my father loved the outdoor sports as well as the cherished trips with his friends. Through my photographic glimpses into game clubs and lodges, where people like my father have been gathering for centuries, I am beginning to comprehend the value of these places in sportsmen’s lives.