Down East Magazine

1 week ago | downeast.com | Sara Anne Donnelly

In a February 4 YouTubevideo titled “The Real Reason Artists Hate the Blank Page,” Saco illustrator Lewis Rossignol dons a new maroon suit and declares spastic war on a fresh piece of paper. “This paper has been through nothing, it’s pristine,” he says. “I’m not pristine. I’ve been through a ton of crap . . . I’ve made a ton of mistakes. I’ve hurt people’s feelings, I’ve had my feelings hurt . . .

2 weeks ago | downeast.com | Will Grunewald

Fly-fishing and Maine, together, bring a number of things to mind straightaway: the quicksilver flash of brook trout, trailblazing guide “Fly Rod” Crosby, Carrie Stevens’s iconic Gray Ghost fly, casting from a sturdy Rangeley-style rowboat, the quietude of upland rivers and streams. Ever since the middle of the 19th century, when word of Maine’s big and abundant brookies reached the East Coast’s big cities, fly-fishing has been intrinsic to the state’s sporting culture.

3 weeks ago | downeast.com | Will Grunewald

Oun Lido’s chef and co-owner BounahcreeKim, who goes by “Bones,” has a strong Portland pedigree. He cooked for several years at Cong Tu Bot, chef Vien Dobui’s lauded Vietnamese restaurant, and most recently worked at Miyake, the most venerable of the city’s sushi counters, and its sister noodle bar, Pai Men Miyake. At Miyake, where his brother is head chef, Kim was training to be sous chef when Dobui approached him about partnering to run his own kitchen in the city.

1 month ago | downeast.com | Sarah Stebbins

Some of Jill and Joe Drew’s closest friends have been their guests at Harrison’s Greenwood Manor Inn. There are the Daleys, whose kids bounce back and forth with their brood between the single-family home, where the Drews live, and the attached former carriage house, where the inn’s guest rooms are located. There are bachelor buddies Ed, Mike, and Jimmy, who were among the first people Jill texted after giving birth to the couple’s fourth child in January.

1 month ago | downeast.com | Jesse Ellison

Lynn Karlin seems to hardly ever sit down. On a late-fall afternoon in the whitewashed photography studio behind her Belfast home, she was up and down, making coffee and tea, offering crackers and cookies. She moved in and out of a prop room and the large sun-drenched space where she shoots still lifes. She darted between a table where she’d recently staged a portrait of pastel-colored pumpkins and striped squashes atop peeling wooden pedestals and the computer where she edits images.