Andrew K. Howard
Artist's Short Biography and Reflective Statement

I have lived on or around Cape Cod for the better part of my life.  I was born in Megansett on the upper cape in 1948.  I was actually born in Wareham, in Tobey Hospital, so the purists would probably argue that I am not a "true" Cape Codder, but I would counter their argument by saying that legally I am because my parents residence was "on" the Cape at that time.  Whether I am or I am not a native or a "wash ashore," what truly matters is that I have grown to love this place.  I love the look of it, the smell of it, and the way it feels under my feet.  I can differentiate the smell of Buzzards Bay from the more ocean smell of Sandy Neck or the pungency of the marshes.

The Cape has been transformed over the years from a sleepy seasonal area to a twelve month a year thriving interconnected community.  No longer do traffic patterns change after labor day as they once did in Hyannis.  The Cape is now a series of dynamic towns, each with its own problems and  expanding population.  The warmer months bring swarms of people to this relatively small peninsula.  They are attracted by the beauty of its natural resources, the wonderful ambience and the desire to share the Cape Cod seashore experience, whatever they perceive that to be.  In a sense, the Cape is assaulted by the thousands of people who cross the two bridges to enjoy the sea, the shops and the ocean air.  Beaches are covered, blanket to blanket, boats crowd the waterways, traffic fills the roadways and shop owners, restaurateurs,  and motel and inn owners scurry to keep up with the demand.  There is almost a palpable vibration that envelopes the Cape during high season. …….  Then…. children return to school, vacations are over, the air gets colder and the entire pace of life on the Cape changes.  Most of the traffic over the bridge is in the opposite direction.  One can almost feel a sigh of relief coming from the land itself as the onslaught ebbs and life returns to a more manageable pace.

This time of quiet renewal is the subject of my photographs.  The time where the natural cycle of the Cape rejuvenates itself.  Where the wind can blow across the beaches without interference, and the tides can come and go without anyone watching.  A time when one has the time to listen to the woody rustle of marsh grass as the wind moves across these flat surfaces.  This is the time when the Cape lowers its shoulders and exhales, centering itself for what will surely come again.