Arriving on the Sandia Mountain top we struck up a conversation on old Nikon’s and Harleys. The air was thin but the conversation was full, for five minutes or so we spoke of film and times from our shared memories.
August Eighteenth and Nineteenth I traveled south as a voyeur having few long conversations, just observations. Almost every home be it a trailer or shack has animals, goats, chickens, sheep, horses. Nestled between the larger farms. There was little wasted space outside the cities between Olympia and Sacramento. There were many Amish people traveling and there was an aura of peace from them, warm smiles. A family got on in Salem, mom and a couple children came down to the cafe car in traditional dress except for the Nike’s and I wondered if fashion sneaked into tradition starting at the feet? I wish I had struck up a conversation beyond greetings and smiles but I was in a watching mood my lose for sure. I as an observation found them to be the most content of all the faces I saw, no underlying stress from the world. Portland was a 1/2 hour stop with many photos [there is so much more to scan] a man and his pipe, an Amtrak employee all obliging me with conversation and portraits. Next stop Sacramento and the depth of the journey returns. Ten years ago and last August my visits to Sacramento provided me with insight into different life’s, cultures and their mirror of my own life and America.
A note on scanning, I read on another blog recently that an image isn’t a photograph till it is a print. I like that, what is the value of a pixel?
From a print life blossoms