Scooter in the Sticks

Exploring life on a Vespa, Royal Enfield Himalayan, Honda Trail 125, and a Kawasaki W650

Autumn Light

by 12 Comments

Autumn near Galbraith GapJust a few weeks ago autumn was still amidst its fragrant, natural bloom of color and leaf.  Circumstance and schedule largely kept myself and the Vespa indoors engaging other worlds and foes.  But Kim, Junior and I did find a few moments late one afternoon to drink in the spectacle that comes to central Pennsylvania each fall and let the autumn light wash us clean of responsibility and concern, if only for some dazzling minutes.

On the way home from an appointment, the light guided our little car towards Galbraith Gap and a corridor of land recently acquired by the Commonwealth that leads into the mountains.

Kim Dionis in autumn light

Long shadows imply a rapid change in the day as the sun plummets toward the horizon.  I’m convinced the transition is faster in autumn and winter.  My camera watched Kim explore as Junior watched me, waiting for a tennis ball to emerge from a pocket.  Funny how attention, human and canine, can be so focused and connected among a group of people.

Kim Dionis, photographer

As the remains of the day began to fade toward dusk I watched as Kim worked with her camera.  She considers me the photographer in the family but that’s purely a one-sided judgement.  In the art world arena she’s sold more photographs than I have.  She shoots more that I do.  And her relentless approach to a subject is dizzying.  I’ve learned much from that approach though must confess I cannot bring the focus of mind or will to bear on any subject.  It remains a goal but I suspect I don’t have the intellect or obsessive capacity for it.

Due to a chronic medical condition her productive time is limited, strangled really, to a few short hours each day.  Some days less.  In any good relationship people find strength in one another.  How those are embodied are different, and for some perhaps unknown.  It’s clear to me though.  I’ve watched Kim struggle with loss and defeat, but she returns over and over in enthusiasm and desire.  In the autumn light I’ve had the chance to witness the soaring of human spirit and be able to say, “Hey, that’s my wife!”.

I hope I can offer something useful in return because Junior just wants fed, played with or another biscuit…

Seduced by the Morning

by 10 Comments

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

by 13 Comments

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

by 8 Comments

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

by 9 Comments

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…