Maine’s Penobscot Bay is a place where life teeters between unswerving individuality and fierce communal loyalty.
When you and your kind live shoulder-to- shoulder at the edge of the sea, and suck your life from it each day, it’s almost akin to being a barnacle. You learn to hold fast to your piece of the rock, and you grow a tough crust—one that can handle the waves and the weather, and keep your neighbors in their place. You strike a Faustian bargain with the ocean: It brings you a living, but all the while it’s pounding on you.
In this issue, Collective Quarterly meet the last two inhabitants of Eagle Island, tag along with the men and women who make their living fishing lobsters from the deep, and—for the first time in print—present a Stonington photographer’s images from decades of hard living in Penobscot Bay.