I went back to Charleston this past weekend to visit my mom and spend time with my sister Susan, down from New York for the week. She was inspired to go check out the sidewalk that runs along the Kanawha River, next to the Boulevard; neither of us had ever set foot on it, and it was an almost springlike day, perfect for an expedition. Downtown Charleston seems so deserted–on a gorgeous Saturday morning, we only passed perhaps four or five other people out walking, jogging, or cycling. From this viewpoint there’s a clear sense of the river as an artery; it’s lined with roads and railroad tracks, and you get a direct understanding of why this was the only way through the mountains for so long. My energetic sister was probably frustrated by waiting for me as I stopped and took pictures every hundred yards.

We walked up the river for quite a ways, then doubled back, poked around some Boulevard buildings and explored our old church, crossed back into the downtown area, and wandered up Hale Street, where we ran into a cousin, made impulse purchases in a goofy antique store, and looked for yet another cousin in the family-run photo store–Merrill’s, where my siblings and I bought our first cameras and received our first lessons in photography. It was a classic old-school camera shop where the salesmen were experienced photographers and loved to instruct; it doesn’t seem to have changed in 30 years, although it must have–camera stores are among the biggest victims of not only the decline of film photography but also the takeover of “big box” stores and eBay as sources for photographic equipment. Of course the greatest loss is the expertise, wisdom, and joy in sharing knowledge that seems to emanate from so many people who work in real camera stores.

We moved on from Merrill’s to Capitol Street, where Taylor Books is thriving; it’s one of my favorite bookstores anywhere (and a reliable source of superb photo books on sale!). Some random errands took us back to Washington Street, where we caught a glimpse of our grandparents’ old church–now converted into a theater and home to the Kanawha Players. The last stop was up on the mountainside where our father was buried last summer at Spring Hill Cemetery. We visited the family plot (Susan inspected the boxwoods and formulated her plans for spring pruning) and explored this complex historic cemetery with its vast view of the city.

One of the benefits of my more frequent visits to Charleston over the last year is the reawakening of my desire to take pictures there. My first four cameras–Polaroid, Instamatic, Practika, and Pentax–all came from Merrill’s, along with my first enlarger, and I think I fell in love with photographs by looking at the panoramic images of the city that hung in my dad’s structural engineering office (complete with notations about which buildings were constructed by the company). The urban/rural combination of dense downtown and steep hillsides, along with the ever-changing clouds and light, make for a rich source of imagery. I feel drawn to keep returning if only to make more pictures; I guess at some point we all return to where we started and try to make sense of it again.

“And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.” –T.S. Eliot, “Little Gidding”