Dreaming of Fenway Park
What This Is
Seventeen photographs made inside Fenway Park, the oldest ballpark in baseball. Every one is a single exposure, shot with a slow shutter while the camera moves on purpose, so the frame comes back looking closer to watercolor than to a photograph. Nothing here is composited and nothing is a filter.
It is a chapter of Dreaming of, a series that takes a place I know well and photographs it the way I would remember it rather than the way it looks. Boston's North Shore was the first chapter. Fenway is this one.
Everyone who loves baseball carries a version of the ballpark in their head. It is never quite how the place actually looks.
The Night
Almost all of this was made across one game: August 22, 2026, Red Sox against the San Francisco Giants.
The Red Sox were in the middle of a run nobody saw coming. A club buried in the standings in May, written off by half of Boston, had run off two long winning streaks through July and August and clawed back into the wild card conversation. The Rafael Devers trade to San Francisco was supposed to be the year the roster fell apart. Instead the room he left behind let a younger core play, and by August the park was selling out on weeknights. Devers was back at Fenway for the first time since the trade, and there was no love in the building for him.
The game itself stayed quiet and stayed close. A hit by pitch or a harmless single drew something closer to wild applause than a cheer. By the seventh, Boston was down two to nothing. Sweet Caroline came on in the middle of the eighth and the place woke up.
In the bottom of the ninth, Nick Sogard doubled off the Green Monster to tie it. Then the bases loaded with one out, and Wilyer Abreu came to the plate 0 for 4 with four strikeouts on the night. He made weak contact down the first base line, Bryce Eldridge dove to field it and threw home, and the throw pulled the catcher off the plate by inches. Safe on the field. Then the review. The call stood. Red Sox 3, Giants 2.
That is the arc the book follows, in order, from an overcast summer evening to a pile at home plate in the ninth.
How These Are Made
One camera, one lens, this project only. The movement is the part people miss. I am not making blurry pictures. I am picking a movement that caricatures what is in front of me, the way a caricature artist exaggerates the one feature that makes a face that face. Fenway is old and tight and alive, holding a hundred years of people who sat in those seats and stood up out of them, so the movement has to exaggerate that.
Standing Room is the clearest example. I wanted the one second where a whole section comes up onto its feet together, so I whip panned upward as they stood. What came back looks closer to a painting than a photograph, and it holds that second better than a sharp frame would have.
The full technique, and why a working director of photography ended up making still photographs this way, is written up here: intentional camera movement →
The Six Prints
Six of the seventeen are sold as signed and numbered limited edition prints in the print shop. The other eleven appear only in the hardcover.
Walk Off in the Ninth Inning
Fenway Park, Boston, MAThe dugout empties, the call stands, and the whole park comes up out of its seats at once.
Under the Lights of Fenway Park
Fenway Park, Boston, MALights came to Fenway in 1947, and the towers holding them up have been standing ever since.
Standing Room
Fenway Park, Boston, MAA crowd coming up out of its seats together, a whole section streaking upward at once.
The Oldest Seats in Baseball
Fenway Park, Boston, MAWooden seats, no cup holders, narrower than anything built since. A whole grandstand turning into light.
Nine Innings
Fenway Park, Boston, MAOne pan the length of the ballgame, handed back as a single horizon.
Tarps Off
Fenway Park, Boston, MA2026 will be remembered as the season of Tarps Off, half the stadium bare chested and twirling their shirts overhead.
The Book and the Zine
The hardcover carries all seventeen photographs, eleven of which are in no print edition and appear nowhere else. It runs the night in order, with the story of the game told across the frames, and prints each photograph's shutter, aperture, ISO, and lens underneath it. Thirty two pages, 8.5 inches square, on museum quality paper.
There is also a twelve page zine, saddle stitched at 5.5 by 8.5 inches, carrying the six print photographs and the artist statement. It ships free.
Both can be paged through in full before you buy anything, in the print shop.
Common Questions
Is the blur added in editing?
No. Every frame is a single exposure made in camera. The movement happened while the shutter was open.
What game is this?
August 22, 2026, Red Sox against the Giants at Fenway Park. Boston trailed two to nothing into the ninth and won it three to two.
Can I buy a Fenway print?
Yes. Six of the photographs are limited editions of five at 16 by 24 inches and ten at 4 by 6 inches, as a print, on canvas, or framed. Details are in the print shop.
Do you ship?
Everything is made to order and ships from Massachusetts. Local pickup around Boston and the North Shore can be arranged.
See More
The print shop → How these are made → Photography portfolio →
Fenway Park Prints
Each of these six photographs is printed on archival lustre paper, inspected, signed, and numbered by hand, in an edition of five at 16 by 24 inches and ten at 4 by 6 inches. Once an edition sells out it is never reprinted.
Visit the Print Shop →More work: Photography Films & TV About
