chester county

At last, in early 1991 I had a dark room. I had been doing my printing at Bob and Nancys’ a couple I had met at the Owens Valley Workshop. I lived in a studio apartment in Venice. I blacked out the glass, the only air into the apt. was a small bathroom window. I loaded the studio up with darkroom equipment, leaving barely enough room for my bed. Since that time I have moved this equipment five times across the country. At the end of summer, 1992 I felt a need to leave Venice. George and I had our adventures out in the South West the summer before, and life had been a struggle since. My truck had been stolen in late winter, work was slow, my on again off again was off again, I was feeling beat up. Thankfully, in late May I was able to get back to the reservation. A spot had opened at another workshop and I was given a car, the “Drive By” a 1984. Ford Granada 4-door to get me there. I camped on Johnson Jon’s land, the Navajo man George and I had met the year before. This was a good break from the beach, but in coming back, to Venice it was clear to me that it was time to leave. ————————————————– I emptied my studio apartment, trashing most of what I had. All that was important at the time was that I would be able to set up and continue working with my photography. I stuffed the “Drive By” full with all my gear,said good bye to old friends, and drove out of town. I had so much weight in that Old Ford that I worried about the climb through the Rockies. The worst was that in the trunk I had my dry mount press. I’d rather had this somewhere more to the middle of the car, as it caused the rear to ride very low. Driving over the Cajon pass, that old 6 cylinder. Pulled the load. This is a tough grade, a good indication of how this trip would go. The steering was a little hairy, slow and steady was the name of the game. I headed for Park City Utah. I can remember in 6th grade, my teacher, Mr.Barbor saying that one could climb into a barrel on the Eastern face of the Rockies and roll all the way to the Mississippi. I had some good friends in Park City. Bob and Nancy had finley sold their house in Manhattan Beach after burying St.Joseph. I thought it best for me to have a destination, the climb would be all but over and it was all down hill from there. I had zero problems with the car and was confident this would continue. I hung out in utah for a couple days. I changed my oil as well as perform some other maintenance on the “Drive By”. ————————————————–From Park City my move was smooth. I had never been in Nebraska, but had always heard the drive was very boring. Now I don’t know if living in Venice, where you can wake up on a Saturday morning with a 100,000 people in your backyard, had anything to do with it,but I loved Nebraska. All of this open space soothed my soul. As I approached Terre Haute I was reminded of moving east, about 8 years before on my motorcycle. I had pulled into a Denny’s at about 5am, after riding much too fast from St. Louis. When I came out of the restaurant my rear tire was flat, and I knew I had been very lucky! The Granada had been flawless on the entire trip,not so much a burp. When I crossed into Pennsylvania I knew I was close,over a couple of these small mountains and I’d be home. No one knew I was coming, you know its’ always best to keep em guessing. I moved into an old farm house way out in the country. All that was there were some horse farms and Amish farmers. Believe me when I tell you that you drive to the middle of no where, turn left, and continue for another 20 miles. Quickly I set up my darkroom, settled in, and went to work. This was beautiful country. The road I lived on would get some traffic, 2 or 3 horse drawn carriages a day. This took some getting used to having come from Venice,but hey, change isn’t always bad!