When I walked into the Cambridge Food Pantry, I knew I needed to take photos there. The walls were adorned with messages of hope and struggle, a testament to the community’s faith and resilience. The chapel, a beautiful sanctuary, was filled with longing and maybe comfort. It was a place where good people, driven by love, cared for their neighbors, and an endless stream of people, burdened by sorrow and struggle, sought the food they needed for their families.

Food pours in and out of the building; everything stays short, and there is no way to keep up with the need, only the longing. Somehow, they always pull it off, though usually by a thread.

Feelings go through the place; you can almost reach and touch it, from religion to desperation.

 

 

In a sense, it’s a monument to the good that exists in human beings, no matter how deep, and feeling for the many people who can’t quite get on top of life, no matter how many jobs they have or how many rich and powerful people play with their lives.

After all, it’s a place of hope, a place to get help, to get the children fed, a place of community where someone always comes to help. My favorite sign is the one above, “Give Thanks To The Lord.” People of great faith founded the pantry and still work there. It reminds me of all the good things religious people often do, which are also embedded in the walls and sometimes forgotten in the streets.

More than anything, I’m touched by the people who come daily to help their neighbors.

It is an instinct, a deep need, in almost mystical balance to the sorrows and hardships of life. Some people have to help, and some people can’t. Many of the cards of life have been played in the Cambridge Food Pantry. I’m in love with the building and hope arrogantly that I can capture the feeling with my photographs. I can’t promise I can, but I can promise to try. I call this Pantry Art.

It’s easy to feel at home in the pantry; the volunteers there are friendly and welcoming. After all, everyone is there to help and to do good.

Outside, sitting in cars, waiting hours for the pantry to open, is the other side—the people who can’t keep up or get a break. All these feelings come and go but never stop.

 

Food waits in corners and on shelves, sometimes in the dark.

The pantry is always looking for food and running out of money and space.

The building has bright and dark corners. Director Harrington wants to modernize and brighten up the spaces. I better work fast; she does.

 

There are all kinds of odd and dark corners with all sorts of dark things, and they never seem to move. Some have been there a long time time.

 

Food can be beautiful in its packages, lighting up the building.