The Vespa GTS 250ie still sits in the garage awaiting the rise of the Vespa mechanic. Tools are ready, parts on hand, even a sign hailing service was acquired hoping to prod the mechanic into motion. All reports indicate an unusually resistant strain of procrastination. Theories are mixed to the cause and lasso everything from cold weather to indolence. Regardless, scooter riding has ground to a halt along with a list of other creative and spiritual endeavors.
Still, some things continue on -- more from coercion than desire. These images, all made during the past week, markers along a narrow trail seeking a way out of a mental winter.
Junior insists on walks. Walk is too tame, runs, wild reckless forays involving blaze orange rubber balls that whistle and sore throwing arms. No excuses accepted and minor variations in schedule are met with snorts of frustration. Repairing the Vespa? Junior couldn't care less.
Trudging to work to meet his needs is fine as long as the balls continue to fly.
Kim saw the doll first, captured it, resolved the strangeness with her camera as the totem reached out as if to make one last horrible shake of winter stupor, laughing and cursing the actions not taken by the man with the iPhone, the Vespa, darkroom, writing, photography and a dozen other paths thick with weeds and fast disintegrating beneath the sadness of winter.
Kim always sees things first. And not just in regard to pictures.
Avoidance isn't limited to the Vespa. It's locked cameras away and transformed the needed repairs to the darkroom into a mystical task of construction known only to long gone Druids or craftsman familiar to King Solomon. With great effort and focus and days of meditation a few moments of photographic expression became possible with the iPhone using the Hipstamatic app, Tinto 1884 lens, D-Type Plate Film.
For a few moments I could pretend to be a photographer.
Two more rolls of black and white film through the Leica M6 and added to the growing collection of unprocessed images, quiet reminders of a road less traveled.
Under a bright blue sky and dreams of warm air a miracle occurred and prints were made. An excited, agitated buzz of creative energy was quickly strangled by the harsh reality of returning snow. Gordon Harkins captured this fleeting moment of hope.
A Walmart print.
After midnight, fiddling with Hipstamatic, watching Project Runway and the wild, driven antics of designers pursuing an idea. A dream.
I remember that feeling, that drive. And I realize now, for no good or bad reason, at a pace all its own, things recede, there's an ebb and flow to what the mind demands. Last night I looked at the shop manual for the Vespa again, shaking my head at the simplicity of the repair that has kept me grounded all winter. Over the weekend I looked at the sink and the minor nature of the repair.
Winter was for rest and reflection. And with the coming of spring things will change and grow. The Vespa will return to the road, the camera will fall into compulsive use and the world will be different.
Damn, I am having fun. And I didn't even know it.
