Lately, I’ve spent more of my time writing than I have working as a photographer. I enjoy both, it’s just seemed like writing has taken precedence. I’ve been working hard on the next novel, a new children’s story and some other things as well. And most of the time, when I pull my camera out, I prefer to photograph people. I enjoy the expressions, the emotions and the connections a photograph makes.
But occasionally, an inanimate object catches my eye. There is an old bridge in Elkview, crossing the Elk River, that I find fascinating. I’m not sure of the history of the bridge or even its name. I would guess it was constructed in the 40s, but I’ll have to dig around some more and see. There was a heavily-rusted plaque on one end, up high on the steel structure, but I couldn’t read it. It has a wooden deck and would barely be wide enough for one car if it were open to the public. Today, it is officially closed, but it still carries the occasional pedestrian.
Some morning when I’m motivated, I want to go see that bridge when the fog is rising off the river. I’m sure it looks mysterious and imposing. As I walked across it this morning, it still felt solid; no sway or bounce. At the same time, it is showing the signs of decay and neglect of a bridge that has been metaphorically put out to pasture. It stands silent and lonely beside its replacement, carrying cars, trucks and buses speeding by with barely a glance from the passengers. I’m sure most people never even notice the old thing anymore. That is the fun part about coming home, I guess. I see the old things again as new to me.
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| I did manage to photograph one person… |
I am both rediscovering my past, and the past of my home, and excited about the future. I’m always amazed at how re-energizing it is to go “be creative”. I need to remember to drag my camera out more often and capture the mundane directly in front of me. And who knows, I might just stumble across something that will show up in my next book or short story.
Just because a bridge is closed, doesn’t mean it can’t open the imagination, I guess.
