CONTEMPORARY EXPLORER

  It’s easy to feel lost and unaccomplished in the age we live in. There seems to be billionaires everywhere, yachts float in the harbors, multiple mansions bought and $100,000 cars fly by on the road. You start to question your worth and even your view of the world, not believing what your eyes and senses are telling you. Where do I fit anymore? If its not enough to hear about the happenings of the 900 powerful billionaires in the country and a new millionaire created each day. The media and advertising are always telling us the things we should want and the way the rich live. Some have called it “the blur of the new Gilded Age.” There has never been a more important time to keep you own counsel and build faith in yourself. It’s the means by which you can survive and grow. Not to do so risks making bad decisions, more anxiety and life limitations.  There are some great books and articles on this subject including the article “How to Deal with Feeling Unaccomplished” by Chelsy...

  It’s a modern marvel that Amazon and other packages find their way to our door. Passing through numerous shipping, warehousing, handling and delivery systems. They all gather marks along the way, some intentional and others not. Everything from the smudge from the loading dock to stickers designating a sorting order or contents. Bar codes that keep it on track. There are the hands of the driver and the unseen ones of pilots in flight. They all make for colorful packages at our door each with their own travel tale. None of this would be possible or as low cost without the invent of the shipping container that allowed for the efficient handling of freight. Affording space for thousands of different packages versus the bulk shipping of the past. The container was Invented by Malcom McLean in 1951 rapidly growing to worldwide adoption. McLean only had one truck in his small freight company, but quickly gleaned on to idea of using containers when he started hauling empty tobacco barre...

Like a place people only whispered about, a Greyhound Bus Depot. A poster child of the past. A small rectangular building with a temporary lot in front, emblazoned by the Greyhound logo over the door. The Dog beckoned. There was no party slaps or small children running about. These were solo travelers all weighted down it seemed with their struggles. You could read their faces often blank just staring. Only a few words were shared mostly by a few who ventured outside for a smoke. A gold cab sat waiting for a fare, the driver leaning against the station wall. Everyone waited for the call of next arriving bus, few as they were. You wondered about the name of the city they were all going to. It did not matter, the reason probably more important. Maybe a last chance at a future, a soul that needed healing, a scrap of life. Two attendants kept the place clean and issues fare tickets. The overhead florescent lights reflected off the floor and robbed any joy to be found. You wanted to reach o...

  It’s hard to find now, wedged between the giant roads 485, 85 and 77. Once the only way to forge the Catawba, boats now only a memory. The rail line still runs here tracing its way through this hard scrabble place of stone freight boxes, giant oil tank fields and trucks. Work days are long, played with blue collar rules. They gather every noon. Hungry men take their place at the Stockyard Restaurant. Long tables, hot meals and respect shared, but no talk of the hard day…

  When you embark on a journey to peace of mind, it changes you. The world begins to look different along with your place in it. This is especially true if you are a photographer. Suddenly you find yourself taking photos of scenes and objects that just are. It may be a hint of color or pattern. They tell no story and often are not related to anything, they just exist. You find them important to your being though. Perhaps it’s that they take you away from the chaotic world, giving you a moment of calm. Thomasz in his article  “I Am Learning to Photograph Things” in Frame Magazine discusses this elegantly. The photo you take may not draw any likes or width on social media, but they mean something to you. You may not be able to put the photos into words, but you feel them and that is enough…. David Young P.s. Thanks to Maurice Lauher for sharing Thomasz article with me

  The South is dotted with small towns. Many mere shadows of the past, having been abandoned by once flourishing manufacturing. They seemingly exist on the edges of what remains with store fronts boarded up, streets empty and hopes gone.  The one remaining business is the local hardware store. Each town seems to have one. Names like China Grove Hardware, Woodman’s, Ruffs, Little Parts Hardware, Cedar Lane, Beatles Ford Ferry, Goodman. Each one is a time capsule of parts and pieces. A voyage into the past and what once was. The very reason they exist is that the town and its buildings are old. You can’t find repair parts at Walmart or home depot. Only these small stores have them. Even when foot traffic dies in a town, people still beat a path to the local hardware.  Ezells Hardware in Chester is a classic example. Deep in one of the corners of the store is a book the owner calls “The Pipe Bible.” Its actually a combination of several books documenting different pipes and ...