Paul Lester Photo

Earl, of Meandering Passage, reminded me of something really important. He doesn’t realize that he did, so I’ll tell him how. I was reading this entry of his blog, which talks about being in the moment. It explains how he sat down on the edge of the bank and just watched.

I’ve been looking to capture the flow of the evening, but it has eluded me, mainly because I wanted to find it, rather than letting it find me. I’m certainly a morning person. I understand it. I feel it. I’m patient with it. I love to watch the day awaken.

In the evening, I’m tired, impatient, and the weather is hot and humid. I’m not really interested in watching things develop. I want some air conditioning and windows to keep the insects away. The other day, I went to Ashely River again and took a few pictures. I thought that this one was very appropriate: Slow to no wake. That’s the approach I need to take.

I went out again this evening. I left work at 5:30 and the traffic was terrible, so I went in the opposite direction … to the beach. I hung out there for about 90 minutes and enjoyed the warm and humid breezes, and tried to get a feel for the evening. I’m not there yet, but I certainly felt better about being out.

One thing is for sure, you certainly meet some interesting people out in the evening. In the morning, I usually only see people out walking their dogs! When I saw this couple, I just had to take a picture of them. As they walked by, I said loudly: “All hail the queen!”. The lady got a kick out that and gave me a high-five! The guy, well he just smiled. What could he say?!

I heard about Photowalk 2008 when I attended the Charleston photographers user group on August 13th and subsequently forgot about it by the time I had exited the building where we had the meeting. Friday evening, as I was cruising the web, I ran across it again and saw that the walks were scheduled for Saturday.

Unfortunately, there was not a walk scheduled for Charlotte, nor was there one scheduled for Charleston. The nearest walk was Columbia, SC, some two hours south of here and Cary, NC, about 2.5 hours away to the north. Having just driven from Charleston to Charlotte, 3.5 hours, I was not interested in driving more than, say 35 or 45 minutes!!! Oh well. I guess that there was not anyone who wanted to organize this event here in Charlotte. I have an excuse! I stay in Charleston!!!

So, if they had one in/near your area, did you attend? If so, how was it?

Fridays
Memory is a fickle thing. Sure, we can remember things such as phone numbers, addresses, different pieces of facts, etc.; however, when it comes to remembering events, well, sometimes memory is not so accurate. This really hit home after a visit back to my old neighborhood in Akron, Ohio. Although I had grown up there and stayed in the same house until I was nearly 22, my memory had played tricks on me. I still believed that the houses had yards as large as football fields, when in reality, they were more like 30 yards deep, rather than 100 yards! My memory was colored with lots emotional content and feelings.

This is, I think, the same thing that happens when we come home with what we are sure are some ‘winners’ and are frequently disappointed. We had the emotions of the moment adding color, dimension, and depth to our memories.

I’ve started taking my D40 with me everywhere, again. My daily experiences are that it rains most every day; I spend a small amount of time in traffic; I drive past a paper mill that looks like it’s doing its very best to pollute the entire world with its emissions and malodorous vapors that it emits. On my morning walks, I walk past the same fire station, share a wave with the fireman, say hello to the same fellow walkers each morning; I see a group of 5 ladies who walk through the Publix parking lot on their morning walk, etc. I want to capture these moments. The walking part, I don’t know. It’s kind of dark at that time and I don’t want to lug my camera around, but the rest, certainly.

I’m at the end of my third week of this South Carolina journey. This week I began thinking about how to document it in a form where I can look back upon it and trigger some of the memories that I am creating. As an example, the picture above represents Friday to me. It’s the day when I hit the road. It’s the only day that I make up my bed because I want to have a nice clean place to return to on Sunday.

In all honesty, I’m having a good time. It’s not as bad as I thought that it would be. Mind you, I miss my family a lot, but it’s nice not having any responsibilities. On the other side, there is no rest on the weekends as I spend 7 hours (round trip) on the road each weekend and end up back at the apartment on Sunday evening in time to do a little grocery shopping and sleep so as to be ready to go on Monday. Somehow, I want to try to capture this.

Has it been done before? I’m sure that it has, but it’s something that I’d like make my own, just a little slice of my life that I’d like to remember a little more accurately.

Slightly over a year ago, I wrote this post. It mentioned Doug Stockdale’s work formerly known as, Bad Trip – Sad Trip, now entitled, In Passing. The images from the work can be found here. Doug’s work was recently published in Lenswork in the January/February 2008 edition.

I watched with some interest as he put the series together. There were times when he didn’t know which direction to head, fretted over the way to tone the images, or perhaps the way to display them in their final forms. Certainly, at least not for me, these are not images that you hang upon your wall, or perhaps they are. They are not shall we say, home decoration.

My initial reaction to them was that it was a study of death. Not directly, but indirectly; however, as is the case with art, what you first think is not always what the artist intended, nor is it what you will think later. I never delved very deeply to find out his intent, instead, I preferred to derive my own meaning. I think that I found it.

On Friday morning, August 15, 2008, I was going for my morning walk along Old Trolly Road in Summerville, SC. My usual walk takes me 2 miles north on the eastern side of the street and then 2 miles south on the same side; however, on Friday, for a change of pace, I decided to walk on the western side of the street. I came to the corner of Beverly and Old Trolly Road. At this corner, there was a marker, pictured above, similar to the types that Doug had photographed. Formerly, I probably would have kept on going, but the combination of Doug’s work and this marker gave me a pause. It also started a train of thoughts that seemed to have its own locomotion.

I began to wonder: Who was Beverly? Also, this memorial marker at the corner of Beverly and Old Trolly Road, was this a cruel twist of fate? A horrible irony that this person should die at this intersection bearing her namesake? Perhaps the street was so named after the incident, whatever it was. I really know nothing. I can assume, because of the name, that this person was a female. Further, she would have been someone’s daughter, perhaps someone’s sister, niece, aunt, mother, grandmother, etc. Perhaps I knew her. I’ve only known one Beverly in my life, and the odds are astoundingly low that this is she, but we never know. I don’t know what role she played in life. I only know that someone cared enough to memorialize her at this intersection.

So, I continue to be impressed by this body of work. It has touched me in ways that I couldn’t have imagined. Now, each time that I pass one of these markers on a highway, and there are plenty of markers to see, I think about those people and about Doug’s work. I think about the fragility and seeming randomness of life. I think about enjoying what I have right now and appreciating that fact that I have no roadside markers showing the locations of my family members. I now think that this project was a study of life, of those left behind to remember.

Great work, Doug!