Erratic Bulldozer Event

“You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have the facts of life.”

I just spent 20 minutes on my photo site (bradplummer.com) trying to delete the link to this blog out of sheer insecurity. No luck. And then it occured to me, from such jittery places creativity springs. Not to say it’s a comfortable place to be. So, I write.

The blog insecurity is only the latest in my day’s fret-cycle. To begin with, I’ve spent 12 hours in a twist over an ongoing disaster about which I shall not whine in detail. (I lost 3000 digital photographs this morning, not sure if they are recoverable.) That alone has sent me to my cave to brood.

Add to that the emotional impact of a photoshoot I did last night with my friend K.Z. (That’s her, top of this post.) We worked until nearly 3 am — make-up, lights, trance music, the works. No real outcome envisioned beforehand other than creative experimentation. Fun, right?

A ball, actually. We started out at a beach in San Francisco just after a storm, in the mouth of a cave among the ruins of the Sutro Baths. The churning sea pounded the shore, the whole scene a cataclysm of rocks and spray and foggy darkness. Later we ended up at a warehouse space in Oakland inhabited by a community of artists. The place was a warren of post-hipster optimism, every corner piled with mutated artifacts, half-finished sculptures, paintings, lumber, all infused with the smell of pot and turpentine. K.Z.’s hosts graciously surrendered their monstrous and mirrored living space for hours of photo play.

For most of yesterday I succeeded in pushing myself to the edge of my technical and intellectual ability. Out of maybe 700 frames shot, probably 690 were trash, but what’s left is solid. The positive portions of my brain are still on spin cycle from the experience. To me that’s a recipe for a perfect day.

So, what’s that about “emotional impact”? I’ve pondered this for a couple of weeks now, why the thrill of creative leaping can lead to emotional doldrums. Treading into the unknown can turn sun to cloud, dark to night, as much as it rewards. I guess the internal supply of that kind of energy, at its ebb, leaves an emptiness into which much negativity can rush. Up implies down, that sort of thing.

So tonight, having created, I am also tasting destruction. Yesterday’s pouring out has invited today’s influx, whatever its source. Too bad it’s chosen the form it has, this computer-related meltdown. With any luck tonight’s portion of bitter will magnify tomorrow’s sweet.

Now let’s see if Adobe tech support can work miracles. (Anybody here a Lightroom expert?)

Erratic Bulldozer Event.

I ran across that description during a job-related saftey meeting, in which my boss presented a slide show that included a recent accident report. The idea was to refill our koolaid glasses with a fear of accidents through, I dunno, reminding us about the paperwork involved. Work safer, fewer forms.

The accident report flashed before me, a couple of pages detailing line by line a variety of recent incidents: back strain, slips, falls. Lurking among the more pedestrian descriptions was the simple assertion: Erratic Bulldozer Event.

Turns out there was such an event, in which a bulldozer driver diverted himself and his machine from strict adherence to an agreed upon path up and down a hill. Jackass meets Dirty Jobs sort of thing. He was fired, no one was hurt, but a report was filed.

At first I was merely amused by the language itself. Nothing new about that. Institution-speak is notoriously euphemistic. But I do wonder about the reason for describing the occurrence as an “event” rather than “incident.” To me it sounded like something much bigger… a spectacle, a happening, the likes of which might warrant an original score by John Cage, or perhaps a prelude of modern dance. There would be people in harnesses, walking up tree trunks. A Christo installation of camouflage picnic umbrellas would dot the earthen landscape. And a bulldozer, swathed in leopard print fur, would dart unpredictably in an erratic pattern.

So that brings me to this blog, where the weirdness of life shall be filtered through the lens of THAT kind of party.