An Unlikely Intersection

Most days I drive the two miles to work. I like to say that it is because I am often called upon to run errands for which an automobile is needed and that would be mostly true. But I could walk or ride a bike which I am occasionally inclined to do. But this really isn’t about my commute to work. It’s about how things come together and it’s about inspiration.

If you have lived here long enough, then you know that there is a place called Marine Stadium (constructed, if I understand correctly, for  certain water related events of some former Olympics). At the end of Marine Stadium where it meets the rest of the bay the Long Beach Rowing Association maintains a rowing center. Nearly every day, for as long as I can remember, I have seen rowers, singly and in numbers, operating their skittering craft over the placid waters of the bay.

I happened to be on foot one day, on my way to work, sauntering up the Naples side of the Davies Bridge, headed towards PCH. The sun had cleared Saddleback and the clouds wore the golden hue of a new day. On my left, over towards Mother’s Beach, a solitary figure was rowing towards the bridge. On my right, the golden sunlight was reflecting off the wind-dappled water and I knew, I KNEW, a picture was going to happen. I took off my backpack and got my camera out and waited, waited.

For what can't have been more than twenty or thirty seconds, the lone sculler, emerged from beneath the bridge and paddled across the goldenmost spot in the water. And I was ready and was able to capture an image I used for my art business. The image you see here. I think about how things come together, the lonely rower, the golden light on the water, the man with the camera on foot that day, not in his car.

And while part of getting the picture was, as Ansel Adams proferred, knowing where to stand, then the other part was inspiration, that is, anticipating that a picture was possible, and  looking for and finding it.

We are always in motion, a round little photographer afoot on a busy bridge of work-a-day commuters, a lone woman rowing on a quiet, golden bay, a newborn sun arching through the cotton sky. On this surprising morning, we agree to meet at an unlikely intersection.

Tim Bulone is an ardent observer of life on the swirling blue marble. He works at Davis Group Consulting and creates fine art and canvas prints which he likes to sell from time to time at http://www.MyFamilyArt.com He is an early morning pedestrian in Belmont Shore, where he resides with his wife and a variety of pets.