Simply a digital manipulation of the town of Gauley Bridge Christmas Tree.
Category: digital art
The Beacon part 6
After getting his bearings the young man and the caretaker went about their routine. The young man took his turn in the bed and fell asleep quickly. Sometime during the night however he woke up in a cold sweat. The room was spinning and he felt very weak. He tried to get to the door but his knees buckled and he collapsed before reaching the door. He felt himself being lifted up and placed back into the bed. A cool cloth was placed on his forehead. The last thing he saw before passing out again was the caretaker’s face. He spoke in a soft reassuring tone to the young man. The next time he came around the bedroom door was open and the young man could see the caretaker sitting at the table in front of the empty chess board. He could hear the same soft tones as the caretaker rested his elbows on the table and bowed his head in prayer.
Outside the storm was raging. Harder than before and in the middle of the day which was unusual for the island. The young man’s eyes closed once more. Again he woke up and this time the caretaker was sitting on the edge of the bed with a cup of broth. As the young man sipped from the cup he could taste the medicinal herbs in the infusion. It was bitter but the treatment was working.
Afterwards, the young man managed to stay awake. The caretaker came into his room and checked his fever. He gave the young man a pat on the shoulder and a thumbs up. Then he went back out of the room and started to work in the kitchen. The young man rose from his bed and sat down in front of the fire. He wondered how long he had been sick but really didn’t know how to ask. The caretaker looked at him from across the room and held up three fingers. Then pointed to three days on the calendar. The young man counted his blessings. He could have been on his one man vessel when the sickness struck. He would have been at the mercy of the sea.
The Beacon part 4
The young man was just putting away the last of his recovered belongings when the caretaker emerged from the bedroom. Determined to not be a burden the young man had already prepared the next meal from his supplies. It was early afternoon and dark clouds were already gathering to engulf the small island. At the first flash of lightning they began to count the seconds between the flash and the sound of thunder. This would let them know how many miles away the edge of the storm was. The second flash was a few seconds shorter between flash and crash. This one was coming in fast. The caretaker drops his spoon into the bowl with a splash and starts for the supply room . The young man catches him by the shoulder and motions towards the spiral staircase. The caretaker understands, the young man had already prepared the next round of oil in the lamp. They made their way to the top of the lighthouse and once more the beacon began it’s nightly battle with the darkness. They returned to the meal and stoked the fire. The little cottage had few creature comforts but the fireplace and generous supply of cordwood was one of them. It was while sitting by the fireplace that the caretaker noticed the small stack of personal items recovered from the wreckage. On top was an oilskin wrapped around a book. The caretaker gestured for the younger man to show him what was in the bundle. The young man handed him the oilskin and the caretaker removed a Bible. The leather cover was very worn and pages were falling out but it was all there. A certain look came over the caretaker’s face and a small tear formed in corner of one eye. The caretaker seemed to caress the book as he held it. Without lifting the cover he began to speak. It didn’t take long for the younger man to recognise that the caretaker was quoting scriptures verbatim in his own native tongue. After reciting a few passages the caretaker returned the sacred book to its oilskin and secured the closure. “It was my father’s book.” The young man said as he returned it to the small stack. “He was lost at sea when I was a child. It’s all I have left.” The caretaker placed a hand gently on the younger man shoulder as he spoke. After a few minutes of silence the caretaker motioned him to move back to the table and sit down. He disappeared into the back of the supply room and returned with a bottle of wine and a box. The caretaker pours each of them a proper glass of wine and opens the box. Inside was a chess board and pieces carved from shells gathered from the beach. They passed the evening with a few rounds of chess until it was time for the caretaker to focus on the maintaining the lamp and watching the rocks for the signs of ship in trouble.
The next morning the storm seemed to break early. The young man ventured into kitchen and greeted the caretaker. They had one more round of chess and the caretaker disappeared into the bedroom.
The Birth of Steam
Winter in West Virginia can be kinda tough for photography. Nothing much is in bloom. We get more rain than snow most years and it gets dark really early due to angle of the sun to the mountains. With the opportunities growing scarce I like to mix photos in with different shapes and backgrounds. This image is a composit of rain on glass, ink poured into plastic plate and a digital mist from one of the apps I’ve got. Color was changed and images twisted and remixed. The process was already making me think of a blacksmith heating steel, shaping it and folding it over and over again. Then that moment when he quenches the hot metal and the steam rises from his pail.
The Beacon..part 2
This is second render of the lighthouse. For this version I used the same lighthouse base image. I added rain drops from the windshield of my truck. I also wanted a brighter feeling to this one as if the storm was almost gone.
The younger person draws the blanket around himself like a robe. His hands are heavily calloused from the time spent at sea. His jet black hair hung coarse strands from being wet. The fire reflected in his dark eyes as he gazes at the flames. The shock of his experience weighs on his very soul. The old caretaker sets a thick earthenware mug of hot coffee on the table and slides it to him. There’s no need for words. They only understand a few words of each other’s languages anyway. They are brothers of the sea. As they communicate with the few words and gestures the dawn breaks and the storm retreats. The new day brings peace and with it new future.
The story above is an excerpt from one of the many stories that I have in progress. Inspection seems to come in spurts. I will add more to the story as time and inspiration allow.
LLOYD'S LENS PHOTOGRAPHY LLC 