Pennsylvania Interlude - Rolls 145-148
Popular discourse suggests that the days between Christmas and New Year's are widely considered to be dead days, a week where time loses its meaning in a haze of food and family time. Thus it feels appropriate for me to call this trip to Pennsylvania that I took at the very end of 2023 an interlude—neither fully contiguous with the work I had made so far for What My Left Hand is Doing, nor entirely its own thing. Consistent with my goal of photographing familiar locations, my subjects were the towns I grew up in and around, especially those that I had never approached formally with my current style. At the same time, owing perhaps to my long absence from the region, I felt as though I was rediscovering these places, lending a distinct feeling to these photos that's different from my earlier pieces in the project. This trip was an interlude in more ways than one—a breathing space between the old year and the new, between phases of my work—and I am once again pleased that I made the effort to keep creating, manifesting one final burst of artistic energy as 2023 came to an end!
For a period of time during my middle and high school years, my dad and stepmom (hereafter just Linda, as she prefers) lived in the town of Conyngham, situated to the northwest of the city of Hazleton. Traveling between Conyngham and Shoemakersville as frequently as we did gave me an affinity for the towns we'd pass through on the way, and even now I enjoy driving through New Ringgold, Tamaqua, and Hometown, associated as they are in my mind with good memories. I don't often get the chance to go to these places, though, because that route to Shoey is out of my way when I visit home, and thus I hadn't driven through Conyngham since probably 2019 or so. I saw a chance to remedy this gap in my body of work when I decided to come to PA this time, and that's how I found myself at the Valley Center (everything is named Valley something in Conyngham) on a rainy December afternoon. I wasn't happy that it was raining, but it was either have wasted the time coming this way or photograph in the rain, and so I chose the latter, loading a roll of film and setting up my tripod in the wet parking lot. For my first shot I chose the Valley Center sign itself, representative as it is of the businesses in town, and with the sign for Tom's Kitchen (a local diner, where we've eaten many times) behind it for an extra point of interest. The colors of the various signs stand out nicely against the muted, overcast background, and this first photo left me more confident that I would be able to find good things to photograph despite the crappy weather.
Conyngham, Pennsylvania.
My next two photos are of Gould's, the local supermarket, another thing that feels quintessentially Pennsylvania. In the first, I was drawn to the signage above a cart return, which included for the holiday season a nativity scene. I find a fun juxtaposition between the capitalist greeting (Thank You For Shopping Gould's) and the traditional Christmas tableau, but after thinking about it more the two feel similar; both present an idealized reality, the sign plastering a smile over the necessary customer-business relationship while the creche presents a very white-looking Holy Family, far from the historical truth of those individuals. I don't necessarily think either of these portrayals are bad, though. While the sign may be hiding some aspect of the shopping experience at Gould's—perhaps it is run by dead-eyed workers, or has some other huge flaw—it also may be a sincere statement from a local business that is deeply rooted in the community, something I find worth celebrating. And yes, the real-life Joseph and Mary were Middle Eastern, but depicting them in this stylized way doesn't have to contradict the reality so much as present it in a way people connect to. Or maybe this photo simply makes me feel like I'm at home, and this discourse is just a way to justify why I like it. Either way, it's a strong photo!
Thank You For Shopping Gould's—Conyngham, Pennsylvania.
The other photo is more simple, just a big ad for a Seafood Sale happening at Gould's, which sits outside in a very reflective parking lot, slick with water from all the rain. What stands out to me about this image is that it all seems very normal, and then I think—why is a supermarket in a landlocked state having a seafood sale of all things? Yes, I know imports are a thing, and also that it's possible to fish in PA rivers, but it just seems odd to see seafood so prominently advertised in Conyngham, the last place I'd go to buy crabs or lobsters, as the graphic on the ad suggests. Maybe seafood hasn't sold well, and now they have to get rid of as much of it as possible? In any case, I am actually glad for the presence of rain in this photo, as it adds real water to the mental image conjured by the sign. Even if it's not the beach, or salt water, it indicates to me that perhaps having a seafood sale is not as ridiculous a notion as it first appeared.
Seafood Sale—Conyngham, Pennsylvania.
From here I made my way south to Shoey, keeping my eye out for more photos. Nothing in Hometown or Tamqua caught my eye (although I regret not stopping in Tamaqua, as a recent photo by Leah Frances demonstrates the great photographic potential there) and so the next place I stopped was the town of New Ringgold, notable for consisting of nothing more than a four-way stop, one restaurant, and a gas station. I parked at this gas station, interested in some political signs I had noticed on one of the buildings next to the four-way. Once more, the photo feels totally Pennsylvania-esque in its subject matter; the dilapidated building, the mass of signs supporting various conservative figures, and the lone ad for coal (6.5 miles on the left) all feel totally predictable for this part of the country. To add to this, the notable difference in elevation between myself and the road is also typical of this region, as roads cut through the winding hills in various unique ways. I love the jumble of textures throughout the composition, the crumbling brick contrasting with the grass in the foreground, as well as the colors, brown on brown with only hints of green at the edges. This is a stronger photo than I gave it credit for at first, and the results are well worth being yelled at for standing on railroad tracks to take it!*
New Ringgold, Pennsylvania.
I lied when I said that New Ringgold only consists of that intersection and the buildings around it. There is one other significant business here: the Nature and Discovery Store, a place of myth and wonder that my cousins hyped up during our childhoods, and which was, indeed, a pretty cool place to go. They specialize in those kinds of plastic animals and puzzle games that educational toy stores often carry, and when we'd visit (which was rarely, adding to the mystique) it was always a great time. Unfortunately, they were closed this time, so I wasn't able to relive the magic, but I did take a pretty good photo of their sign! My choice to subframe my subject between a street sign and a telephone pole worked out well, as did freezing the motion of a passing car—just about to break out of the left-hand side—which gives the shot a sense of action and movement. Like in the Seafood Sale photo, the wet road forms a nice parallel to the sign for River Street, suggesting that those two types of pathways are not that different. Finally, also matching other images from this day, the different shades of green throughout the scene compliment each other well, contrasting perfectly with the pops of red at the center.
The Nature And Discovery Store, New Ringgold, Pennsylvania.
After New Ringgold, I didn't stop again until I reached the tiny town of Port Clinton, which is within my normal route and only a few miles from home. It's a town that, like many of the places I stopped that day, I don't usually give any more consideration than the time it takes to pass through it. This time, however, I went out of my way and drove down one of the side streets, crossing the Schuylkill River and getting out at the local park. By now the rain had mostly stopped, but the dampness in the air remained, and clouds hung low over the surrounding mountains. The strongest photo I took here shows the overall vibe of Port Clinton well; nondescript buildings, streets, and power lines are bounded by the very close presence of a mountain rising up in the background, its upper regions disappearing into the fog. The world was totally still, a welcome reprieve from my long day of travel, and I don't think I saw even one person while I was there. I sat in a world of quiet—a moment of time divorced from everything else—which ended up being the perfect way to conclude the day's photography. I finished the roll there, happy to have done what I could and shoot some interesting things, and I headed onwards to home and my mom who was waiting for me.
Port Clinton, Pennsylvania.
I had put up with the rain and nasty weather the first day, since I didn't want to waste the time and effort that I had put into visiting the towns I did, but I would probably have been very frustrated if I had woken up to the same thing the next morning. Thankfully the weather had changed for the better, and bright sunlight replaced the dreary clouds of my trip down. As I headed out to meet up with my cousin Jared, I decided to stop at several locations along the way and see what I could photograph. I first stopped between Shoey and Mohrsville, where a towing company has displayed a Tow Mater truck outside their business for many years. Unfortunately, the best composition was also the one that doesn't show his eyes, partly defeating the point of the image, but I'm still happy with the composition, telephone poles and power lines forming a network of grids and subframes that make the photo more interesting. After this, I drove through Mohrsville and had almost left the town when I was compelled to turn around, park, and walk back to a curve in the road I had noticed, where I could look out across a picturesque landscape of fields and hills which I chose to frame behind the normal roadside apparatus of signs, grass, and of course another telephone pole/power lines combo. The lighting was delightful and the colors turned out well, and so this became another solid representation of the Pennsylvania I know intimately, cornfields and distant mountains present in equal measure while houses and farms spread out sporadically across the scene.
Gring’s Towing, Shoemakersville, Pennsylvania.
Mohrsville, Pennsylvania.
The final place I stopped at before meeting with Jared was in the town of Centerport, another small grouping of houses and businesses in the middle of farmland. I had one subject in mind, the Fork in the Road, which used to represent a restaurant (named the same) but which for many years now has stood on its own after the business closed. This subject feels like something that Stephen Shore or Joel Sternfeld would find interesting, and I was finally, after years of passing it almost daily, ready to capture it for myself. It turned out to be an easy composition; I placed the Fork and its neighboring stop sign in the middle of the frame, letting the out-of-focus houses and streets of the background meld into a pleasing tableau. The clouds, long thick strips of fluff, are very interesting as well, complimenting the scene nicely, and I feel that the weather cooperated in helping me realize my vision here. More sun might have been alright, but I like the even lighting that was present, not too bright or dark but just perfect. Having finished my first roll of the day with these photos, I happily continued on my way, and I can honestly say that I don't need to retake this photo anytime soon—I got what I wanted and more!
The Fork in the Road, Centerport, Pennsylvania.
It was great to catch up with Jared; now that we live in different states we rarely get to properly talk, and we had a good time filling each other in on our lives and what's been going on recently. I was even able to show him prints from the project, which made him one of the first people to see the photos I've shared in the blogs up to this point! After finishing our drinks (coffee for him and a smoothie for me) we took a stroll around Hamburg, the next largest town near Shoey, and I shot one more roll of film while we walked and talked. Two of these photos were strong, and as usual indicative of the types of things we see in Pennsylvania everywhere. In the first, I chose a sign for Savage Fuel as my subject, with rowhouses lined up in the background. Rowhouses like these are common throughout PA towns, and I think I made them look decently appealing here. Despite the clouds, the sun was still illuminating the scene pleasantly, and it feels warm and vibrant despite the time of year. In contrast, the last photo feels cooler, the sun reduced to brightening just a hint of the furthest mountain, while the clouds have a bit more weight to them as they hang over the town. Here the "Pennsylvania-ness" of the shot is in the way the streets slope up and down, the lines of cars crowding the sides of the road on the left, and the faded Hamburg Market Sign that has definitely seen better days. This photo feels appropriate as not just the last shot of the roll, or of the day, but of the year as well. I stood at a crossroads, with lots of effort expended and miles metaphorically traveled, but with plenty of distance to go before my vision for What My Left Hand is Doing could be realized fully. As this Pennsylvania Interlude ended, I had the choice to keep going or to stay where I was, and I am proud to say I kept going! Over the next year I tried many things and grew a lot, but for that moment I was content to be at peace in myself and in the Ordered World, one of the best places to be, and I can't ask for anything more.
Savage Fuel, Hamburg, Pennsylvania.
Hamburg, Pennsylvania.
*In fairness to the one doing the yelling, they were more concerned that I knew that the railroad tracks were active and that a train could pass by while I was there. I appreciated the warning, and made sure not to stay too long in danger's way.