Scooter in the Sticks

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

Prisoner of Light

by 13 Comments

I remain photographically constricted because of my belief that dramatic light is an essential ingredient for a good photograph. In practice I photograph in all kinds of light and in the rainbow picture I made last week on a ride into town I see evidence that dramatic light does not make a dramatic picture. My brain tells me that good pictures are everywhere and do not require any formula of essential elements. But whispering deeper is some stilted, stunted core level belief in dramatic light. Perhaps it is a result of early exposure to Ansel Adams and Edward Weston. Wherever it came from it has an effect on my decision making. I am a prisoner of my own beliefs.

On clear days I often leave early to catch the low light which can render objects and landscapes in more dramatic fashion than the middle part of the day. I’m certain this plays a partial role in my habit of riding at dawn. Even if I am not making pictures I want to see the world change. Color and texture change rapidly in the morning. Spaces are more clearly defined. Last Saturday morning I put my Mamiya 7 camera in the Vespa and headed towards the mountains to make photographs. Not far from home I stopped to look at the road and the brightness beginning to consume it. The little point and shoot Canon camera makes recording these moments simply as my own visual sketching.

The transition from motorcycle back to scooter was invisible. The ride of the Vespa is plush; even on gravel. I’ve become more accustomed to riding on these forest roads and always find a sense of quiet satisfaction being able to move beneath the trees. And it didn’t matter if I was not inclined to bring out the film camera.

Those of you familiar with Rothrock State Forest may recognize the switchbacks on the road to Little Flat. It’s narrow and can be unnerving when the inattentive driver comes barreling down the hill in a truck or SUV. I would not want to attempt any off-road riding here.

Several stops to search for non-scooter pictures didn’t reveal anything I cared to spend film on. The process was underway and by the next day had finished a new roll of Ilford black and white film. After digging through my desk I now have a total of four rolls awaiting the darkroom treatment. On this day though my thoughts turned (as always) to food. The Pump Station Cafe was only a few miles away.

Riding a scooter tends to offer some parking alternatives that a motorcycle does not. My Vespa is small enough to park right in front of the cafe on a little sidewalk. It looks like it belongs there. At least that’s what I tell myself. While eating I jot notes on an index card about my troubles getting my head back into shooting pictures. I don’t count the things I do for Scooter in the Sticks or at work. I judge myself, perhaps wrongly, by the photographs I make solely for myself. I hit these dry spells now and again and I just need to wade through them. Get past my thinking and get closer to doing.

And quit being a prisoner of light.

Kick Starting the 3 Prints Project

by 7 Comments

Some of you might have wondered what has happened with the 3 Prints Project. Due to circumstances beyond my control, my dog has been eating my prints, there was a storm, no a flood, a tornado, locusts, it’s not my fault that I haven’t been shooting any film.

Well, I have shot some but have not ventured into the darkroom. Summer is a busy time for me and I just haven’t had time. And once I step away from the routine I am one difficult boy to get back in gear. But Gordon and I have continued to meet almost every Sunday morning and I am ready to start up again. So perhaps this time next week there will be more real live silver prints. None of this digital nonsense…

It is nice to take the scooter out on a sunny morning for a short ride. This one to the Pump Station is really short since it is less than a mile from my house. But after photo talk, bagel, juice, tea and a scone I had plans for a short ride before tackling some garden work.

No Vespa pictures on the ride. As lovely as things were the sunshine leaves me cold photographically sometimes. I did marvel at this lone tree though. I have a lot of lone tree pictures.

This evening I had to ride into town and parked in this lovely Motorcycle Only space. Not usually my first choice of parking in town but always nice to have. And on a Sunday afternoon there are few machines to crowd me.
All that’s left to do this evening is drop my Ford Ranger off for the Pennsylvania Safety Inspection. The last time my truck visited the mechanic it cost me $2800 dollars. I expect to get off cheap this time!

More Solitude in the Sticks

by 18 Comments

Alexander Pope, 1688-1744.
ODE ON SOLITUDE
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
In his own ground.
Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest, who can unconcern’dly find
Hours, days, and years slide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease,
Together mixt; sweet recreation;
And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown,
Thus unlamented let me die,
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

Solitude has much been on my mind of late and I suppose has been reflected to some degree in the photographs I make. I believe there is a measure of psychology available through the pictures one makes. I came across the poem by Alexander Pope and was struck by the simplicity I seek through solitude and by extension through riding.

An early breakfast in Bellefonte at the Café on the Park, a favorite, offered a quiet place to eat and read the paper before going to work. While I have no herds or fields supplying me with milk and bread I imagine the café as just a few simple steps away. A lot of years have passed since Pope wrote his poem.
I sat at the counter, something I seldom do. Looking at the place I found it more like an old general store than a restaurant. It has it’s own unique charm and I’m glad I found it.
The ride yesterday morning was cold enough that I had to stop to put the liner in my First Gear Kilimanjaro IV riding jacket to be comfortable. At 64 degrees I’m a wuss. Looking at the Vespa parked between Interstate 99 passing overhead I’m reminded of how small and insignificant the scooter is on the road. I left with a renewed sense of rider responsibility.
I learned what benthic invertebrates are while photographing two scientists working in Spring Creek. This big gravel lot used to be the site of the McCoy Dam near Milesburg, Pennsylvania before it was torn out a few years ago to allow Spring Creek to return to it’s natural flow. The two women at the van were pulling on their waders to begin sampling in the creek which flows on the right. They’ve been studying how the ecosystems restore themselves after a big disturbance like the removal of a dam. As a value-added educational feature of Scooter in the Sticks I’ll let you research the meaning of benthic invertebrates. (grin)

Quiet by day,

On roads like this there is ample supply of quiet both for the ear and the eye. It surprises me at times how I continue to be drawn to these places.
At the end of the day at the southern end of the valley I found myself in another quiet place. Visually at least. While making this photograph a large truck full of liquid manure pulled in to begin spreading it’s nutrient goodness on an open field behind me. Something I’ve learned is you don’t want to cross paths with a working manure truck.

While the day was full of work it also provided more lessons in solitude. I know many riders abhor being alone on the road choosing travel to pig roasts and poker runs and the socialization that follows. Maybe I’ll learn to appreciate those events someday. For now I still find value in the sweet recreation of solitude on the road.

3 Prints Project: April 5, 2009

by 14 Comments

I have some catching up to do since I didn’t post last week’s images. I keep falling short on shooting, printing and posting. It is a challenge to balance everything and there are times I ask myself why I am doing this. Just when I think I’m nuts to invest the time and energy in the 3 Prints Project I seem to have an epiphany. It’s too long to go into detail but I had another revelation. I see a path leading somewhere important so I will keep shooting.

My friend Gordon and I met at Saint’s Cafe this morning to look at the week’s work. Each time he hands me his contact sheets and prints I know I am in for a visual treat.

Gordon purchased a new (to him) Rolleiflex camera and had a test roll of film to show me. These waist-level cameras are amazing little machines once you get used to them. I left wanting one myself. For some years in the 1970s I used one of them a lot.

After some prodding Gordon has embarked on a series of “happy” pictures of his family. It sounds simple and easy but I know myself that I tend to be attracted to more emotionally intense images of people and for some reason reject the happy ones as cliche. Or something. I probably need to do this myself.

On to the pictures.

I continue to shoot near home. I have put aside any beliefs that I must seek out new or exotic locations. I find the familiar surroundings I travel through every day hold rich stories if I can pay attention. I walk past this willow tree almost every morning and it always seems a little different. I’ll keep making pictures of it until I don’t see something new. And then probably some more.

Our garden provides frequent subject matter — during dog walks or morning explorations. As spring time progresses the place changes almost constantly.

I try and keep the Leica M6 handy for moments where the light changes for an instant like it did on this morning when sunlight streamed through a fog for a few moments.

More illuminated fog. The small rangefinder camera serves to make sketches and allows me to practice. A person wrote on a forum recently that compares what I am doing to a musician practicing scales. I am exercising my eye and my technique in preparation for a performance.

I like the metaphor.

This past week I have been shooting with the Mamiya 7 rangefinder camera. This shoots a larger negative and is a bit slower in operation. I’ve not warmed to the camera but there is an elegance to the prints made from the bigger negative.

I am fascinated by trees. I am another tree photographer. If I am diligent I can work up to rocks in streams.

3 Prints Project: March 22, 2009

by 13 Comments

Another Sunday morning meeting with my friend Gordon at Saints Cafe in State College to review the work from the previous week. It’s nice to get together and talk with another photographer over a hot drink and a bagel.

I’m posting prints from the previous two weeks because I didn’t get around to it last week. Not finding enough time to print beyond quick work prints and that’s frustrating. For anyone who has worked seriously with gelatin silver materials you know how challenging it can be to achieve the nuanced values that make a print sing. Hopefully I will find a few extra hours this week to explore a bit further.

This week also found me returning to chemicals manufactured by Eastman Kodak — Dektol for prints and D-76 for film. I’ve used those for over 35 years. Some things just don’t need any improvement I guess.

So here are the pictures:

I’ve started walking in the morning before work and the camera comes along. It’s quite dark at 6am but long exposures make it possible to create an image.

Another morning, a bit later as the sun crests the horizon.

Essa is a regular model in my photographs. She is not comfortable with the camera. She probably doesn’t know what I am doing but she is wary of the camera.

As I often do with people I make photographs from behind. There is a lot of expression taking place from this angle.

Another stolen moment. Kim taking notes on something she’s found in an architectural book.

Essa on a Saturday morning walk. At nearly 16 she keeps on going.

One of the advantages of hanging out with other photographers is they often make pictures of you. I know a lot of people don’t like to look at themselves or feel it’s vain, but I am fascinated at how I change. I could get lost in a self-portrait process if I let myself. Changes in body shape, receding hair, graying hair, creases and wrinkles. I have watched myself turn into my father in pictures. I see the natural process at work. The photograph below was taken by Gordon Harkins after one of our meetings at Saints.

That’s me, the old guy. And not a Vespa in sight.