Missed Shot, Anywhere USA - 8"x20"
For every shot you see there are a hundred shots missed. From the Canyonlands of Utah to the coast of Maine there are images that simply refuse to go onto a sheet of film. Be it the wind, water (or lack of), clouds, rain, snow, did I mention wind? And the locals….flat out the best. These are but a few examples. The elements that conspire to kill a shot. So I now salute all that have at one time gotten the better of me. Here are a few of the ways my soda has been shaken over the years.
The hound dog in southern hills of West Virginia with the floppy ears, dish bowl of drool and a broken howl that would make any basset hound run for cover. The Forrest Gump of the canine world. Run Forrest, run. That poor dog was as sharp as a bag of Swiss cheese. Seems he was not too fond of my presence. All over a rusted old pcikup truck I was looking to imortalize onto film. This truck was in the middle of nowhere particular. Good thing he waited until my tripod was firmly in place to starting his bellowing. Silly dog did manage to get the better of my tripod. Not too smart of a dog as he was attempting too gnaw on the only piece of metal on the entire tripod. A wooden tripod that is. That is one dog I will not soon forget.
Then there was the majestic waterfall in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains. Perched on the top of that waterfall was a pack of drunken two legged mountain locals tossing beer cans into the water. Real nice. Problem was this was no ordinary waterfall. This was the type of waterfall that has bold disclaimers at the base of the trail. Something like “8 people have died this season climbing this waterfall so if you feel like you are destined to be number 9 please register at the rangers office so we may notify your next of kin in advance.” And that is not too easy to fit on a wooden sign. These fine pillars of the community were drinking Budweiser like raspberry Kool-Aid. Nothing good could come from this. After spending a good half hour behind my camera waiting, one of the locals yelled out…ya all want us to move so you can take a picture? Now first off was the language barrier. I was thinking that ya all was referring to at least two people. Confused I looked around. They laughed. I later learned that “ya all” is singular and “all ya all” is plural. Go figure. Next was the law of averages. Sooner or later that Budweiser would kick in and someone would aspire to the Darwin theory of drunken stupidity. No matter as after an entire hour I cut bait and headed on to the next destination. Seems the question that was shouted in my direction was merely rhetorical in nature. That waterfall experience was the pickle on the crap sandwich that made up my day.
These are but two of the many times fate chose to play for the other team. This game is seldom easy to play, yet the hard work will always overcome the elements. Or so I am told. Until life proves me wrong you just may see me on the side of the road behind my 11”x14” view camera staring down a 50 year old paint job on a wooden door. Then there will be no question or doubt why I am there.
Missed Shot, Anywhere USA - 8"x20"
