When I first went to Maine, I was a teenager. My father had moved there to be with his new wife, who was an art teacher and whose brother, Earl, soon became a touchstone for me in my life. Over many summers it was Earl who taught me how to gut a fish, how to fire a gun (reluctantly) and who gave me my first Leatherman, an old one of his and still a cherished possession. Earl is not an easy man, but I have always valued what he tried to teach me. As Earl grew older, I wanted to photograph him at his home, to remember him and what he meant to me.