Scooter in the Sticks

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

Memento Mori

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Memento Mori: a reminder of mortality…

an old brick in a frozen bird bathWitnessing Life

Save for the photographs I make for Scooter in the Sticks and a few family snapshots I’ve been an idle photographer.  The darkroom is shuttered and I’ve sold almost all of my “serious” cameras — the Leica is gone along with the view camera.  And with them my desire to seriously pursue any more photography projects. Finally free of the torment of camera work and creative irritations I could relax and enjoy each day as it unfolded.  At least until I found myself picking the camera up each morning as I wandered the garden with the dogs.  Without intention or goal I pressure the shutter on whatever provided interest.  Or not.  I was engaging a photographic process that I knew, at least subconsciously, would stimulate desire.

A desire to see again.

garden details and dogLearning to See

I can’t remember when the camera became a means to see beyond what was revealed to my eyes.  There is more — sometimes wonderful images reflecting the soaring joy felt felt witnessing a magnificent vista, the grin on a granddaughter’s face, or the loving eyes of a faithful dog.  Make enough photographs and you may find something else, something not everyone is comfortable looking at — the march of time.

Writer, filmmaker, teacher and activist Susan Sontag eloquently described a part of the photographic phenomena.

“All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.”
― Susan Sontag

Wandering the garden with the camera I’m stricken by what is passing away.

bamboo grove closeup of culmsStride with Grace

My lovely bamboo grove — planted 20 years ago and growing into a dazzling array of culms and shimmering leaves.  Such a graceful plant (though wildly aggressive lest one wield a shovel continuously). And then, seemingly overnight, it passes its peak and begins to fade.  The camera sees it.  There is less life ahead. The Phyllostachys aureosulcata surrenders to time’s relentless melt.  Evidence is everywhere.  In the garden, along the road.

In the mirror.

A Belgian Sheepdog in a gardenDear Friend Junior

There are dogs and then there is something more — canines of myth with mystical power to influence behavior.  Junior, our Belgian Sheepdog, has wandered with me for almost seven years now and submitted to frequent encounters with the camera.  Photography can make some knowledge almost too much to bear.  But it also reminds of what is happening constantly.

A dog’s stare — a quiet mesmerization whispering, “pickup that ball”.

sunlight illuminating the hairs on a staghorn sumac branchA Photography Project

Fine hairs on a Staghorn Sumac branch as the dawn comes to the garden.  I work with the camera each morning.  Sometimes for only a moment, a nod toward compulsion that I can check off a commitment to work. Kim loves this tree and her enthusiasm has rubbed off on me.  I’m slow to change in almost everything, including trees.

After a few weeks of making exposures with the camera in the garden I can sense a simmering desire to do something more — a photography project that stares at the memento mori.  Friends have suggested my heart attack last spring has influenced an outlook toward mortality but I know I’ve been photographing that feeling for years, long before the heart attack.

I’m uncertain where the photography will lead but I’ll share evidence here as it surfaces and provides a glimpse of time’s relentless melt…

 

Film vs. Digital

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Steve Williams at Saint's CafePhotographic History

Before the Vespa scooter, before marriage and children and Belgian Sheepdogs there was photography. Like the love of chocolate and a draw to the outdoors photography has been a constant companion. Looking through a box of prints and contact sheets is like walking a trail of personal photographic history; an illustrated story of where I’ve been.  The prints also mark an end of a photographic life — the moment in time when film gave way to digital capture of images.  The film vs. digital photography discussions are as boring as which motorcycle or scooter is best.  There is no answer, only utility and preference at any given moment.

My friend and photographer Gordon Harkins made the picture of me at Saint’s Cafe on one of our Sunday morning meetings to share prints and discuss projects.  I don’t remember whether the juxtaposition of me with my Leica M6 was the result of an odd reflection or a double exposure.  It does “feel” like those times.

Steve Williams, photographer, standing in a field outside of Boalsburg, Pennsylvania in the 1980s.Photography in the 1980s

I can’t remember who made this photograph.  My guess is a self portrait because the camera was seldom turned my way by anyone else.  It’s odd to look at now as I try to bridge a gap of perhaps 35 years.  I recognize the Domke bag over my shoulder, the bright red wool Boy Scout shirt by father-in-law gave me, the white tennis shoes I always wore.  An expensive home sits in this field now.  The alfalfa replaced by a sweeping desert landscape of turf and artfully placed trees.

Photography was how I earned a living then.  Any use of it as a means of personal expression was still ahead.  I was fascinated by expanding technical skills and acquiring equipment.  I was approaching the height of my work with ad agencies and corporate annual reports.

I was a hired gun.

Portrait of Boalsburg, Pennsylvania made with an 8x10 view cameraEnter the View Camera

A view camera is a heavy, slow, plodding device.  Not unlike a Harley Davidson motorcycle.  But it’s nature holds unique power to pull you off life’s treadmill and lead you to a different way of surviving until it changes the way you live and see the world.

A couple years before I purchased my first Vespa scooter I was using an 8×10 Zone VI view camera with a heavyweight wooden tripod.  With lens, film holders and other minor accessories it was a ponderous load to use and carry.  Photographically, from a technical perspective, the large format negatives make stunningly crisp, almost luminous silver prints.  I was seduced by these traits independent of image content.  Over time though, a more important power emerged from this graceless beast — the ability to slow down time.

The image of the old, InselBrick sided garage was photographed using a lens that couldn’t cover the entire piece of 8×10 film yielding a circular image.  I experimented with this point of view for a long time as I wondered about what I was seeing.  This view looks across the cemetery in Boalsburg, Pennsylvania toward the Zion Lutheran Church.

Two intertwined tree trunks near Linden Hall, PennsylvaniaNoticing the World

These intertwined tree trunks have posed for me dozens of times over the last 25 years.  The symbolism of my marriage is not lost on me as I have watched them through the seasons grow and age.  The small details all around and my ability to see them has driven my photographic practice and how I process my life.  It started with the view camera experimentation and continues as I work digitally.  My goal has never been to travel to majesty, but rather see it all around.

Trees and powerlines in a central Pennsylvania farm fieldSearching for Meaning

There’s a thread running through most of the images I make — I’m searching for meaning or understanding.  All those “WHY” questions that some say are best left to God.  Still they echo through my head, sometimes quietly and sometimes in a howl.  While riding the journey can often be divided into two distinct categories; the quiet ride that’s a flight of physical pleasure and mental quiet. And the other, an ongoing conversation of the significance of what I’m seeing and feeling.  The camera helps manage that conversation.

Looking at this photograph I still wonder why I made a decision on that day to haul the view camera out of the truck and carry it to this location.  Years later I see a scooter ride through the central Pennsylvania landscape.  Perhaps it was a fortune telling of things to come.

empty farm field and Mount Nittany as seen from Meyer FarmPhotographic Themes

This 8×10 contact print echoes a theme that flows through much of the imagery I create and post on Scooter in the Sticks — the empty landscape devoid of people or vehicles.  The empty places I’m drawn to over and over again.

This scene is three miles from my doorstep but it’s an illusion of the place.  I’m reminded of the lies photographs tell and the warning viewers should heed of everything they see.  The photographer is a magician and the choices which render how something is seen — what’s included and excluded — affects the story.

With this photo if you stood in this place this is exactly what you would see.  Behind me at some distance is a sprawling housing development.  Just over the rise is a highway and shopping center and off to the left another highway and housing development.

My photographs reflect what I need to see.  In a busy, chaotic day, it’s nice to imagine a serene place.

Steve Williams reflected in a mirror with a Mamiya 7 camera thinking about film vs. digital photographyFilm vs. Digital

Before cellphone selfies were the pictures in the mirror, reflections of the photographer in myriad places, all made in hopes of discovering something about myself.  I see my father, the passage of time, a heart attack, a grandfather, someone who wants to ride a scooter.  I know a lot of people who only see fear in the mirror but I’ve always felt it’s a test of my ability to acknowledge the nature of the ride I’m on.

And the ride eventually ends.

Questions of film vs. digital are irrelevant — only the image matters and what I’m trying to understand or say.  It’s been a passenger on the ride for a long time and hopefully will be with me for many more miles.

Keep your camera close.

Introduction to Vespa Riding: Coffee Shops

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Vespa scooter along a rural roadSolitary Experience

Riding a scooter or motorcycle, by nature, leans toward a solitary experience.  A passenger can be included or machines can congregate in groups and technology can be added to provide communication but rider and machine make up the critical whole.  People, and riders, like many forms of animal life, tend to congregate in flocks, herds, swarms and packs.  My riding tilts toward the loner. Any introduction to Vespa riding should point out those two schools of travel.

There is ample information available in print and online regarding the technical skills and requirements for safe operation of scooters and motorcycles so I won’t attempt to add anything here.  But their are unique, though certainly not universal, riding experiences that perhaps warrant attention.

Like the coffee shop experience.

Street scene in State College, PennsylvaniaCoffee Shops in Cities and Towns Across America

I can only speak for Pennsylvania and parts of Maryland and West Virginia.  Others might weigh in on the rest of the country as I illuminate the non-moving part of a ride, the coffee shop experience.  What I refer to is that moment during a ride when you say to yourself, “I’m taking a rest”, and you find yourself sitting in a small establishment dedicated to serving hot, brown liquid along with a small array of food.

Whether one of the nearly 13 thousand Starbucks establishments in the United States or the countless other local shops I’ve found these stops holding more than just a place to eat and drink.  These places can be an adventure in themselves for the observant rider.

Making coffee at Saint's Cafe in State College, PennsylvaniaMaking Coffee

Confession — I don’t drink coffee. Ever.  But they aroma is intoxicating and the myriad processes of refinement and concoction are fascinating and at times border on magical.  I’ve watched mesmerized as a barista creates art amidst a steaming cup of coffee with a flourish of hand and liquid.  It’s a far cry from a waitress showing up with a glass pot of black coffee from a BUNN coffee system.  It’s not better, just different.

And worth noticing as all sorts of traditions and rituals are swept aside as modernized processes take their place.  Maybe coffee shops, the small ones, are a last bastion of human endeavor.

I’m probably exaggerating the point.

Man sitting in coffee shop looking out windowWatching the World

I’ve found coffee shops good places to relax and think.  Unlike the hustling energy in a restaurant a coffee shop allows a person to fade into the background.  Watching this person at Saint’s Cafe I’m reminded of my own need to collect my thoughts.

Frequently.

Riding a Vespa scooter, or a motorcycle demands a heightened level of attention to the road in order to stay safe.  Bringing those skills indoors, especially if you’re making photographs, helps you see what’s going on around you.  I’m always amazed at how much I neglect to notice.

People in a coffee shopConsuming Information

It’s increasingly rare to see someone reading a newspaper in the places I haunt. Information consumption by mobile devices has already and will continue to change the face of the information world.  There’s a price though and as I watched these people I could not help but think the newspaper reader seemed more relaxed.

Probably a bias on my part. If I’m not already addicted to my iPhone I can see it from here.

Who am I kidding.  I feel naked without it.

Carl Ector in Saint's Cafe

Friends and Acquaintances

Like the bar family in the TV show Cheers, the same thing can happen in a coffee shop.  Carl is one of the regulars I’ve come to know from my frequent visits to Saint’s Cafe and appears periodically in photographs I make.

Riding a Vespa scooter or a motorcycle transports a rider through the world.  I often hear it’s all about the ride or the journey but I’ve come to realize the destination can also play an exceptional part of the ride.  For me, a coffee shop is one of those exceptional places.

What places are you and your ride drawn to?

Photography Project

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Shadow of man on snow covered parking lotWandering to Saint’s Cafe

On my way to Saint’s Cafe with a new inkjet print in hand — a gesture toward beginning a new photography project.  Cold and snow have the Vespa scooter at home in the garage sipping electrons from a Battery Tender.

Paul Ruby pondering life at Saint's Cafe in State College, PennsylvaniaLooking at Stuff

Paul Ruby appears with a new print and an old Bausch and Lomb Tessar view camera lens mounted in an old Alphax self cocking shutter.  I’m fascinated by the engineering and mechanical manipulations surrounding old shutters and lenses for view cameras.

Our photo meetings take place in hopes we cajole, pressure or shame each other into creative motion.  Discussion usually revolves around shows, paper, books and other issues that can clog a photographers mind.

Steve Williams with new digital printInkjet Prints

My first 13×19 inch print on Epson Exhibition Fiber paper made with an Epson P800 printer.  After preparing the printing file in Photoshop CC (from a RAW image made with my Canon G15 (Now available as the Canon PowerShot G16 12.1 MP CMOS Digital Camera) I clicked the print button and a few minutes later was holding a dazzling inkjet print.

The image itself was a sleeper for me, a quick snapshot while walking out of a parking garage.  Much later while perusing images in Lightroom did I recognize the strange view as a unique part of State College, Pennsylvania.

Not sure what will come of any photography projects but at least I’m in motion.  That’s a start.

Perpetual Journey

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“I tramp a perpetual journey.”
― Walt Whitman, Song of Myself

cup of tea at Saint's CafeIf I’m on a perpetual journey there’s always a cup of tea along the way.  My life is paved with simple pleasures.  As the road winds through field and forest the sounds, sights and smells spark joy and make the journey tolerable in foul weather and thrilling in good.  It’s true for riding a Vespa and in a metaphoric application to life in general.

Journeying into the new year has brought me through a new professional landscape as I puzzle through new work and responsibilities.  The trip has forced the Vespa scooter into a quiet nursing of electric on the little black wire to a Battery Tender Junior 12V Battery Charger.  No riding this week as part of the perpetual journey.

But all is not lost…

View through the window at Saint's Cafe in State College, PennsylvaniaA familiar path to Saint’s Cafe has reopened a photographic door to a fallow creative field, one in which I’ve labored to plant with a renewed interest in photography beyond producing images for Scooter in the Sticks.  It’s been a long time since I’ve exhibited a project, or anything for that matter, and I’ve begun contemplating an exhibit of words and images involving life on a Vespa — a version of this blog which would live in a physical space.

Planning and building an exhibit is no small task considering the time involved to conceptualize a collective message, envision a visual experience and invest in the printing and presentation necessary for installation of a body of work.  On the blog it’s simple and inexpensive.  Not so much in the physical world.  And aside from framing, one of the biggest challenges is the printmaking process.

Paul Ruby at Saint's Cafe in State College, PennsylvaniaA journey can be made easier with a companion.  As I begin exploring a photographic project my friend, photographer and rider Paul Ruby has provided support and inspiration to keep moving when the road becomes steep and rocky.  Watching his ongoing photographic work along with others has led me to purchase an Epson SureColor P800 Inkjet Printer — a magnificent printer that produces amazing inkjet prints of archival quality that are worthy of hanging on a wall for others to see.  With the capacity to use 17 inch wide rolls of paper I’ll be able to make some large prints.  I’ve resisted this road for a long time and now that I’m on it I can kick myself for avoiding it for so long.

Blame my fascination for the fumes of a chemical darkroom.

Steve Williams with a Vespa photograph at Saint's Cafe in State College, PennsylvaniaJourneys start with a single step.  So it is with the Epson printer — some online training to avoid bad habits and get my head around a process that will allow me to transition an idea of a photograph onto photographic paper.  I’ve been exploring a workflow process using small prints to confirm the limitations of the digital files and hone the craft of the printer — me.

Making images to post online is seductively easy.  Not so with ink on paper where you lack the dazzling electrons blasting from a screen.  Reflective images on paper are more challenging and require forethought on everything from size to type of illumination.  I’ve stored that expertise in a box somewhere in my head and am still sorting through the mess to find it.  And almost every print until now that I’ve exhibited in public has been black and white.

Color is a different beast.

That’s where my recent journeys have taken me.  I confess to an aching desire to ride along with rejection of single digit temperature rides as my body screams “no way!”.  The days ahead promise some rain and moderating temperatures so perhaps the Vespa will wake to the road.

I can’t go long without a ride.