The Drive Home

Sometimes the night feels good.






I infused phrases from this Cole Porter Classic into the early stanzas of this poem.

The Owl's Run

On the death of photographer, O.Winston Link

(12/16/1914 - 1/30/2001)

I had the pleasure of meeting "Link" on several occasions through my friend Judith Lawne. Link was a master photographer who not only made photographs that had perfect understanding of dark and light in balance and composition, but created that light itself, painting the locations he photographed with extensive amounts of single fire flashbulbs. His work with Steam Locomotives was not only exacting and complex to a point inconceivable to the layman but required exact planning and execution as his subjects were on their own schedule allowing him but a single opportunity for only one shot.

I remember him quipping that Ansel Adams had the luxury of sitting on a mountaintop to wait for the perfect conditions to take as many shots as needed before losing the light, needing nothing more than the sense to notice it when it presented itself. Whereas Link had to speculate on where to place light and how much to create the mood and setting while composing the scene in such a way to keep his light sources hidden from view and for only one take. 

The perfect example of this can be seen in the shot below where he lit an entire street from off camera vantage points. The wiring of the flashes required him to be in the shot. You can see him standing to the side on the street actually in the act of taking the picture. A rather elaborate, if subtle self portrait. Not only does he control the shadow and light of the entire street, but sculpts the steam plume from the train with his flashes. All in time to catch the train when its front end passes the narrow opening at the end of the street as it speeds past on it's regular run. No, that train is not sitting there waiting for him to be ready.

Here are several images referred to in my poem:

Flash bulb fired iron rolls into the night.

The train rumbles down Main Street.

Across back yard porches, 

living rooms.

Workers sit by stoves, 

past the club house pool,

Drive-in lovers drown in steam and steel.

Over the bridge past the far crossing.

midnight cows receive the behemoth

Link on left with his assistant and some of his equipment.

For more information:

Bio on Wikipedia

O. Winston Link Museum