Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa Scooter and Royal Enfield Himalayan motorcycle.

Seduced by the Morning

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farm field at sunrise

I’m a morning person.  Or at least I used to be.  Eyes still spring open automatically at 6:05am regardless of when they closed.  The mind is ready but the body has begun to resist the transition from horizontal to vertical, from the dream world to the real world.  Riding one morning last week I was reminded how I’m seduced by the morning as I watched the light sweep across the fields as the sun breached the horizon.  Fog and mist glows as the day begins and I am grateful to be a witness.  I know so many people who can’t remember seeing the sunrise, don’t care actually because the bed offers a greater allure.

A road at sunriseNot every Vespa ride unwinds as a quiet, zen-like experience.  Some mornings are unwelcome packages of rush, stress and chaotic thinking allowing mere glimpses of the world.  A quick stop to drink in the day first and forget about placing the scooter in the picture.  A few seconds of freedom before moving on into the noise of the day.

On through the day with a taste of the morning lingering on the lips.  Oh, the joy of riding…

 

Frank Armstrong: Photographer

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Vespa GTS scooter on a rainy morning

On the road early to have breakfast with photographer Frank Armstrong at the Naked Egg Cafe in Pine Grove Mills, Pennsylvania.  Grey mist shrouded the valley with a quiet threat of rain.  For a few moments I considered the seductive ease of getting into the car rather than pull on protective gear to ride.  A moment in the driveway pondering the monochrome sky and the choice was clear.

Frank was on a photographic walkabout starting a couple days in Worcester, Massachusetts.  I became part of a small email group of photographers that in the pre-digital era that included Frank and have been friends since.

Frank Armstrong, photographer at the Naked Egg CafeI associate two words with Frank — photography and Texas.  A camera is never out of reach and the Texan sensibility and storytelling is delivered with at Lone Star state drawl.  This quick picture was made while waiting for an order of dry toast.

Vespa scooter in a car filled parking lot

My chair faced the parking lot during breakfast and I noticed how insignificant the Vespa scooter looks amidst a sea of automobiles — a visual reminder of the need to carefully manage myself on the road and the American love affair with cars.  I predict this will not change in my lifetime and the Vespa will remain alone in the lot.

Frank is criss-crossing Pennsylvania making photographs on his way to Ohio to visit friends.  It’s been awhile since I engaged the kind of serious photography he has been doing for decades.
Gordon Harkins, Paul Ruby and Frank Armstrong at the Naked Egg Cafe

Gordon Harkins, a photography instructor at Penn State, Paul Ruby, a State College photographer, and Frank Armstrong are all members of the Zoners email group.  As much as I look forward to getting together with these guys, I have to say I was feeling glum as I considered the photographic work they are engaged in while my own creative output has spun down to images with my iPhone or point and shoot camera.     I’ve been in a multiple year slump.  Talking with Frank has me thinking it’s time to work again…

Vespa scooter in autumn leaves.

After breakfast everyone went their own way.  One stop on the way home to wonder how the summer slipped past so quickly and to think a bit about my own photographic next steps.  It’s probably time to abandon film and darkroom work and make a commitment to digital photography and printing.  I’ve avoided it for a decade now and the result is I remain frozen in time not making any new work.  Ebay here I come…

Frank’s visit this time and the ones in the past all provided some creative kick-in-the-ass though I suspect he didn’t realize it.  If you have a moment check out Frank Armstrong’s website to look at the complete collection of work.

 

Learning to See

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Vespa GTS 250ie scooter on gravel at night.As the day began to darken I stood in the driveway watching the sky as the dark clouds swept overhead, the grey descending like a thick blanket masking sharp edges of the world so only soft shapes and tones remained.  “The light is nice right now,” emerged from my lips and intended for no one, just talking out loud to myself.  The photographer inside was weighing possibilities, factoring time till dark, making a mental note of the tripod in the topcase of the scooter, struggling to decide if I should venture out to make some photographs.  Part of me wanted to go inside to make a cup of tea and watch season 8 of Trailer Park Boys.  Another part was trying to remind me that a photographer takes pictures, they don’t think about them or talk about them.  Finally, thankfully, Kim, who was nearby in the garden said, “Go.  Go take pictures.  You never know what you’ll see.” That idea is at the heart of learning to see creatively.

Kim is right.  She’s almost always right when it comes to the mental gymnastics I go through related to creative thought, inertia, and production.  Sitting here now I know that she’s largely responsible for me being able to put more than a few words together in an intelligent manner.  Without that influence I would still be a photographer, selling my expertise to the highest bidder with little ability to reflect or share what I was thinking, feeling or seeing.

There is no substitute for working if you want to improve your skill or output with a camera.  If you want to make good pictures you have to be out there shooting.  The more you shoot the better you’ll become.  That may be oversimplifying things a bit but working, especially when you don’t want to or when you’ve convinced yourself there’s noting to see, those are the times that you need to step out.

A passing rainstorm swept away the heat and humidity leaving the evening at a cool 68F as the light escaped in the west.  I didn’t see anything to shoot but I did get out on the road, on the Vespa, and let my spirit fly for a bit, let my eyes wander across the landscape should the piano picture appear (that’s the one you like enough to put in a frame and set on the piano.  A technical term used by photographers over 50).

You’ll never know what you’ll see so it’s best to have a camera at hand and experience the world so you don’t miss the visual gifts that abound.

 

Released, Relaxed and Sated

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Fading snow and warmer temperatures signal the end of winter, more riding and a general recession of the gloom inside my head.  The other morning on the way to work 38F felt positively tropical and my thoughts turned towards longer rides.

The phenomena finds Kim and I outdoors more as well with her working a camera and me wandering on foot and drinking in the world.  I admire her focused attention with a camera.  We work differently and while I may be more technically experienced I cannot match her keen eye.  I see what is familiar.  She explores what is not.

As the snow melts and the thaw works its way through the valley a wet fog develops that paints a mysterious picture.  When I used to work with a large format camera this was the weather I lived for, packing my gear and driving off to chase it.  There are storm chasers, I was a gloom chaser.

This evening, late, a craving swept over me.  Not for riding but for sugar.  Chocolate.  A compulsive companion since I was a kid and would walk to the local general store with a nickel in my pocket to buy a Hershey bar.

And now I ride with dollars in my pocket to find the holy grail — the small pack of little chocolate donuts, waxy little rings of fatty sugar infused goodness.  The local convenience store glows with the promise of satisfaction as the Vespa resists the pull.  But I don’t, seeking satisfaction and relief that only a dose of junk food can deliver.

And now I can rest, released, relaxed and sated…

Riding or Obsession?

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Sitting at home late this afternoon reading a book when I suddenly noticed the fading light, warmly orange streaking across the hilltops and clouds.  Dropping everything, I grabbed my camera and raced to the garage.

I like to think that I love to ride but it clearly isn’t that simple.  And I’ve been a working photographer my entire adult life though I let countless things derail a wide range of photographic opportunities and projects.  I want to make simple assessments of my life and actions but it just isn’t so simple.

Riding the Vespa and making photographs are clearly linked in some unholy manner.  More than one person has referenced my obsessive placement of the scooter in pictures and I confess to a powerful draw to do so.  As I stood in front of Mount Nittany in the fading light I forced myself to make a photograph without the Vespa.

The race was on as I forged ahead in the cold as the indicator flashed 27F on the instrument cluster.  I usually am careful to be warm before departure but this time I neglected to do so and could feel my feet getting cold after five miles.  Not a good thing for someone who suffers from Chilblains, a condition where the capillaries in my feet are easily damaged by cold and can lead to some nasty blistering.

Just one of a few medical conditions foisted on my by bad genetics and age.  But the recognition wasn’t enough to turn me towards the warmth of home and instead I kept riding, searching for some image or experience.  On rides like this I really do wonder about my obsessive traits.  They may account for some of my ability to focus doggedly on projects, at least those that capture my interest.  Things like painting walls or mowing lawns, they don’t attract any of my obsessive powers.

Riding on two wheels has some advantages — in this case being able to navigate around locked gates and other barriers to four wheeled vehicles.

By the time I rode through State College, Pennsylvania I was ready to head home.  The cold had won out over other obsessive/creative desires.  For a moment I considered stopping at Starbucks for tea and some sort of sugar delivery system but decided to ride home where I could wrap my feet tightly in warm blankets.  Good thing too since my feet were almost on fire in a decidedly cold way when I arrived.

Preparations for First Night are underway with an assortment of ice sculptors practicing their craft.  The weather will be more cooperative this year with a bit of cold to keep the ice in good shape for a few days.

So I’m left wondering if I’m driven by a passion to make photographs, and strong desire to ride, or if some other psychological mechanism is at work.  Many riders tell me they enjoy riding, it’s fun and exciting.  This ride wasn’t fun by any definition I use and I don’t think I derived any enjoyment.  I can say the same thing about photography — it’s neither a hobby or an activity to have fun.  In riding and photography I’m driven by something else.  It’s work, at times a burden, but I need to do it.

Something to think about as the year comes to a close…