garrison beau scott

More than a few wise people have told me that life is about balance. Some have gone even so far as to say it’s a balancing act, but that has connotations of a high-wire, a long pole, unicycle, and bowling pins perched precariously on a nose. My doctor says it’s about moderation, and there’s probably the reason college students don’t go see the doctor.

The Chinese, I think, describe this as the Yin and Yang, which is fitting as it was Winnie the Pooh who taught me the way of the Tao. Something heavy, something light. Is it any wonder just about everyone likes sweet and sour shrimp? Well, any way, here’s a little Tao for you.

I’ve been avoiding this post for some time now. As soon as I got the news, I knew that the next time I wrote in my blog, that I’d have to address this thing, this horrible thing.

A very wonderful person lost his life earlier this month because some drunken asshole not worth the alcohol coursing through his veins decided to get into his car and launch himself the wrong way down the turnpike. Unfortunately this pile of shit walked away unharmed, but left in his wake, tragic death and loss.

Death in the form of Joseph Conway, loss in the form of anyone who knew him, from his loving family, all the way to my four year old daughter who delighted in playing with Joe, and who Joe treated in the short time he knew her, as one of his own.

I met Joe through Kurt Kolok. Kurt represents my work here in Massachusetts and Joe was Kurt’s partner, in life, love and at the gallery. When Kurt opened his home for me to stay during a photo trip, it was Joe who offered me his time to guide me to places I’d never have found on my own. When Kurt and I were discussing the particulars of an upcoming exhibition, it was Joe who gathered all the colored markers and a few scraps of paper and kept my daughter entertained for a few hours, playing on the floor with her, engaging in her realm of make-believe. On opening nights, it was Joe who made sure everyone was taken care of, it was Joe who took all the group pictures.

In short, it was Joe whose life should not have ended September 3rd. I can’t believe he’s gone, and I can’t believe the anguish those who knew him a lot longer than I have are going through knowing this very special person is gone to them. I especially feel for Kurt. His pain is unimaginable.

I’ve thought about an image to display and have gone back and forth from showing nothing, or a black square, but have decided that I’ll do what I can, feebly and inadequately, to put a small piece of beauty in the very large void Joe’s death has left. He was with me when I took it.

I have just returned from a glorious weekend celebrating the wedding of one of my brothers. We spent an amazing few days in the Rhinebeck Valley in upstate New York and it couldn’t have been any more blissful. Seeing old friends and joining them in passing on our dear boy to the girl of his dreams was truly an incredible way of basking in the glow of the days.

So I come home to find that I’ve been “published” by f/stop magazine in their current online issue devoted to lo*fi photography. There was also a competition for a featured portfolio which, alas I didn’t win, but I did make honorable mention. Maybe the only time I’ve been honorable. And they went ahead and used nine of my Holga snaps.

All in all it was a pretty decent past few days. Here’s one of the nine I submitted that I’ve yet to post here.

Having a guide when out taking photos can be a duel edged sword. Especially for someone like myself who likes to shoot in a particular way, discovering things on more of a karmic pace as opposed to the “You gotta see this place…” type of discovery. I once lugged a studio 4×5 up a mountain on the assurances of one such guide that the photography would be stunning. I didn’t shoot one sheet of film, not even a polaroid.

When I visited North Adams on a picture taking trip, and my host and his partner volunteered to take me around based on descriptions of what I was looking for, I was at first very hesitant, but I accepted the kind offer. I told Joe the things I was hoping to photograph and off we went in search of them.

My fears were quickly put to rest within the first minutes even though our initial destination was the town dump. And then every stop thereafter Joe delivered a great location for taking snaps.

It was our last stop however, that yielded this image. Joe had suggested an old factory and drove us across town so I could see it. I’m sure it would have been great had it not been for the fence and razor wire. But across the street from the factory was this scene. The arch over the river (for lack of a better term) was what caught my eye, and everything else just kind of fell in place.

The thing about walking around with a Holga at dusk, sans tripod, is that if you want to get a shot off, you’re pretty much left with two options. Hand held, or under-exposed.

Well, there’s a third option, and that’s the one I usually go with. Cross your fingers and hope for the best. I feel that’s what I got here. Had I properly exposed this, I think some of the drama would have been missed, and the headlights from the cars would have been blurred. Normally I try to compose the lights out of the shot, or wait for them to disappear completely. Here I tried to compose them out, but with the Holga and the parallax error built in, what I thought I was getting and what I actually got, were two different things.

I think the lights make the shot, and had I a tri-pod, a better sense of what was going to be on film, or anything different than what I had when I tripped the shutter, this shot would have come out much different. Chalk another one up to a lucky break.