Electricity is delivered by Train. In my Appalachian home coal culture runs deep. Almost every family has at least one family member who is a miner. The rest of us only have jobs because the miners buy our goods and services. The hours are long and even though great advances have been made the work is brutal. I don’t know if you have ever been in a darkness like the bottom of coal mine miles underneath a mountain. It’s absolutely pitch black. Or so I’m told. (I’m one who never went into a mine). As a child I grew up with men who had black spots just beneath the skin as a result of a piece of coal that fell from the roof of a mine. They all had hands that were hard and calloused. I’ve listened to stories about what it means when you feel a sudden breeze from one end of a tunnel and the the rebound hits you from the other end. It means there was a cave in somewhere in the Labyrinth underground. It’s the most terrifying experience a miner can have. People scramble to find where the roof has fallen. Miners always pack extra food because they never really know if they will be trapped or for how long. Self rescue is sometimes the only option. This is the reality behind the lights we see by, the energy that powers the microwave, the refrigerator that preserves that food and even the Hospitals that save our lives. All of it is powered by the men and women who enter the deepest part of the world and pull the light out of the darkness.
Tag: art
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.
The Beacon
Today I wanted to take a break from the black and white photos. This image is a composit of a lighthouse I photographed several years ago. It was my first excursion into photography with lens larger than 35 mm. I created the background and storm clouds by manipulating other photos in my archive.
I wanted to give you feeling of the powerful light driving back the darkness. Everyone at some point feels lost in the storm. We need a beacon of hope to bring us into shore. I can see the inside of the little cabin at the base of the lighthouse in my mind’s eye. A kindly old caretaker stokes a warm fire and offers a blanket to a young refugee who barely made it to shore. The younger person is soaked to the bone from the winter storm. As they sit together and enjoy a hardy meal the Atlantic Ocean rages outside. Waves crash against the stoney shore in vain as if Neptune himself was frustrated with the young person’s escape from the darkness. They are safe and secure within the refuge of the lighthouse.
LLOYD'S LENS PHOTOGRAPHY LLC 