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Firefly 2015 - Portraits - Day 2

Sir Paul McCartney (if you squint, you can just about see him).
Taylor Goebel
June 20, 2015
The Hunts, an indie-folk band from Chesapeake, VA, consisting of seven siblings. "We led a music camp in Haiti for local children. We taught them one of our songs and they taught it back to us in their language. The experience was life-changing."
Fest goers partied at The Thicket, a silent disco in the woods that demands headphones, hit songs, and bass drops to have an amazing time.
"What got you into tattoos?" "My dad never let me get any. So when I turned 18..."
"I moved down here from Toronto. I teach Fine Arts at University of Maryland Eastern Shore. It's definitely different here. People are a lot less willing to walk into a bar alone - if they're meeting someone they'll just wait in their cars. I also feel that it's harder to get into people's social circles." "Do you think that maybe people aren't trying to push 'outsiders' away, but that there is already a sense of fulfillment in their circles?" "That could be it. I'm just the kind of guy who likes going into places solo and making friends. Otherwise, it is really beautiful down here. And there's no traffic."
Coffee House sessions
"It's been pretty uneventful. Just the plumes of smoke and people dancing."
"How did you two meet?" "We both go to Del State. We used to have the same major - psychology - but we've since switched." "Who said hello first?" He raised his hand as she pointed at him.
"I've deep-fried a lot of things that went awry. Never deep fry Chips Ahoy by themselves. Or graham cracker-coated hot dogs."
"The Brewery has a ton of records for you to 'destroy.'"
I met Roland while he was looking down at a hammock that hadn't been set up (or it had been, but someone managed to "break it"). Since there were empty hammocks around us, I asked, "Do you like a challenge?" And he said, "Yes." And we set up the hammock together.

Sir Paul McCartney was in Delaware last night (I'm sure all of you know this by now). I could see him on the giant screens of the Main Stage, and I watched 90,000 people watching him, wondering what it would be like to hold so many eyes and ears, so much adoration (and for a few, obligatory attendance) for two and a half hours. Then again, Paul McCartney is an icon. A human being first, but an icon nonetheless. And as thousands of fest goers basked in his history last night, some trying to capture the moment in a photograph then giving it up to be in the moment, I realized what the music festival is: Thousands of people come together, many getting absurdly drunk, filthy and slicked in mud, wearing the bare minimum and caring about nothing. Nothing except for the people, the music, and the sliver of time every year where it is warm and glowing and everyone is dancing.

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