I grew up on the edge of the sky, where the Great Lakes meet the prairie, horizons are endless and towering cumulus gather to storm across the water. Both my parents were avid pilots, so at every opportunity we were off into the blue yonder regardless of weather conditions. Much of my early life was spent adrift in dazzling cloudscapes, forehead pressed against the window watching the play of light on the earth below. Destinations were vague. It was about the journey.

Photography like aviation has long been a part of my life. I began by trying to document the breathtaking vistas we encountered as we wandered the skies. Over the years I have continued to travel and capture celestial images from the Sahara Desert to the Himalaya.

I am married to photographer John Goodman. Both of our sons are image makers. In the early 1990s, to be closer to the Maine Photographic Workshop where John taught, we purchased a former lobster pound at the mouth of Medomak River. I started photographing the sun setting over the islands of Muscongus Bay.

Around the same time I attended a number of workshops at the legendary Eastman Kodak Center for Creative Imaging in Camden, where many of the most talented pioneers in digital imaging had come to teach. After CCI closed, I continued taking courses wherever I could find them including Maine Media, the School of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, Macworld conferences and Seybold Seminars. For more than a decade I served as a docent and studied art history at Wellesley College’s Davis Museum and seven years ago began guiding tours at the Institute of Contemporary Art in Boston. At the ICA I train with curators and working artists from around the world whose art is as challenging as it is inspirational.

In my recent project; Sea Glass, rather than succumb to the beauty of the spectacle for its own sake, I have experimented with layering physicality into the photographs by using glass objects collected from flotsam along the shore. The imperfections embedded in the material create lush textures and disorienting illusions. Each found ‘lens’ has a story to tell, a unique history etched on to its surface that filters and disrupts the light in unpredictable ways. Each becomes a kind of viewing device that illuminates both the visible and the invisible and activates feelings that help to evoke rich emotional memories.


Jeanne Goodman    June 2, 2017