Sometimes I look and Junior and try to imagine how simply he takes life. Looking out ahead at the path in the woods nothing else exists for him other than what he senses before him. He has lessons to teach. I have to practice to achieve what comes natural to him. And even then it seldom lasts long. This picture was made a few days ago as part of my ongoing 3 Prints Project work.
Riding comes close to what I imagine Junior experiences. Once on the road I’m able to let go of the noise and chaos that gathers in my head. At times it’s loud enough to keep the Vespa in the garage. Lately there has been a lot to do at work and around the house and I have not been as productive a blogger as I wish I could be. Two BMW motorcycle reviews live as notes that need to be massaged into blog posts. Add my dislike of riding in warm weather and suddenly I find myself arriving at work in a truck. This picture was made on Father’s Day. A fine, relaxed ride through the countryside.
Every morning the boy reminds me of the importance of ritual. Rain or shine, hot or cold, busy or not, we walk. How hard is it to apply that lesson to work, photography, and other parts of my life?
My friend Gordon and I have continued showing up each Sunday morning to share prints made during the previous week. Some weeks I show up with nothing more than good intentions. We added a stick to the project for motivation. If one of us doesn’t have any prints they owe the other $20. It’s helped so far.
Even with the added motivation I find myself rushing at the last minute. Last week my prints weren’t completely dry so instead of a relaxing ride into town on the Vespa I had to spread the prints on the front seat of the truck with the air-conditioner blowing them dry.
Rushing means you’ll miss something. I first saw these ducks in town while having breakfast with a friend. Junior found them first my smell and then by site on another day as we walked through town. With nose to the ground he is open to what the next turn brings. I have to remember that.
Sunday morning means a ride to Saint’s Cafe or Starbucks to share prints and provide moral support for creative endeavor. At times I ask myself why I continue to shoot film, make prints, spend the money on something that will never return a nickel for my effort. Then I think of Junior and try not to ask the why questions. Those are for God.
Dogs are good teachers. They know what they want. They know what’s important. I’ve been photographing Junior more in hopes of discovering a few secret ways. I hope to find those things in many of the pictures I make as part of the 3 Prints Project. Of few of the recent prints follow below.
Kim sitting in a corner of the garden as the light fails in the evening.
Saturday morning not far from Warriors Mark.
An angel looks out over our garden.
Junior waits patiently for me to remove his leash and throw tennis balls across the field. He has a few obsessive traits. Tennis balls are one.
I feel guilty every time I look at this picture. Gordon made it one Sunday morning as I prepared to ride a BMW F650 GS north towards Sproul State Forest. Looking at it makes me feel guilty. I still have not written reviews of two other BMWs I have ridden — the F800 GS and the RT1200. They’re on my list of things to do.
Junior contemplating a fork in the dog road while I contemplate him.
Kim photographing ornamental grasses in the late day sunlight.
It’s late Sunday night and I still have a few chores to finish. The Vespa is out in the driveway and I am not sure how to get it into the garage without first taking it for a ride. Junior waits patiently for one last walk through the night.
Perhaps he has one last lesson for me.
