Like most Taylor Camp institutions, the Church Guest House was managed by “vibes”. There were no reservations and, in a community where the men outnumbered the women, it was not surprising to find the Guest House “vibe” favored beautiful, single, young females.
I don’t recall this woman’s name. She didn’t stay in camp long. I saw her doing something in front of the house, asked to take her photo, posed her on the ladder, set up the tripod, the cat crept through the curtained doorway, gave her a nuzzle and I snapped this shot. Here today, gone to Maui. Another moment in beautiful Taylor Camp light.
“When I finally got there, somebody let me live in a teepee by the garden. My first friend in Taylor Camp was a baby Mynah bird. It used to fly over and eat out of my avocado. That was a time when I really needed a refuge from the world. But there were a lot of political games in camp. You had to kind of feel your way around and see where you fit. There were a lot of things to deal with living really close like that. The thing that I remember the most about Taylor Camp is that you gained some kind of an innocence. Being naked meant absolutely nothing. It was an unspoken agreement among everybody that being naked would mean nothing, living really close to the earth like that in the natural light, in the natural living of the seasons.” — Maggie Mitchell