In just a few short months, the Amish have visually transformed our small, out-of-the-way farming community.
To the old-timers, a poignant reminder of the way things used to be. To the young, a shocking look at the past, photographers like me, an opportunity and a challenge.
The Amish are not permitted to pose for photographs, although exceptions are made. I’ve chosen to honor that preference; it makes the creative challenge all the more acute.
We can see the farms and the horses and the clothes and the carts, but we have to imagine the people and their faces, and that is where creative writing comes in.
I love to capture these iconic images; they connect us to the past and to a simpler, more comprehensible way of life than we now have in many ways.
They have altered the tenor and feeling of our village. It is different since the Amish came. It’s almost as if we all took a deep breath together.
For generations, people didn’t see a horse or carriage in town. Now we see one or two every day. It alters the feeling of the place, softens it and shapes it differently.
These images are new to my town and to the people in it. We can’t help but look up when we hear the clop of those hooves. People all over the country write me daily to implore me to keep on photographing them, it brings people peace and calm.
This is a collaboration now, between me and them, and I have no interest in stopping. This work is among the most creative of my writing life, and I give thanks for it.
The Amish love seeing my photographs, and I love showing them an infrequent opportunity for a photographer to see the impact of a different kind of work.
We trust one another now. I am comfortable taking photographs of their farms, horses, and even them from a distance; they have opened up their farms and lives to me.
I passed a new Amish farm yesterday, it’s a good way from us and from Moise’s farm, but I saw one of the young men plowing his fields with two horses.
It could have been taken 200 years ago, and it would have looked just the same. Something about that is compelling to me. So is the call to a simpler and more peaceful life.
It centered me just to look at it. I hope it centers you.
I don’t wish to be Amish, but I can get to a simpler and more peaceful place.
I too love the photos you’ve been sharing and all the stories of the families. I look forward to reading about the Amish everyday along with all your other great blog posts. I’m wondering how the Amish actually move all their equipment, horse, carriages, etc. Do they travel back roads that aren’t heavily trafficked?
they hire trucks, actually and movers…amish if they can, English if theycan’t They can’t buy trucks, but they can hire them..
Since they are so close to the earth, maybe you can get down close to the soil for a few shots , to get the texture of the plowed or combined soil. A close up of texture.
Not a bad idea, David…
Oh, Jon, I am so loving these stories about the Amish! They seem to be the complete opposite of Donald Trump, the Trump presidency, and his values: gold, gaudiness, celebrities, television shows, and conspiracies. The Amish are the perfect antidote to the pain, anger, and craziness of the past four years. The pendulum swings in both directions. Thank you for your astute observations of both worlds.
Your stories make me remember times spent in Indiana’s Amish country ,but also make me contemplate the possessions we collect. Do I need the number of things I own? Standing in the shower warming under the hot water after I’ve washed, I realize the luxury and possible waste I’m enjoying. Makes me ask myself some rather deep questions.
I haul the Amish to work every day there the best people you will ever meet good down to earth people they know what is going on in this world and don’t like it