Curve

Curve, a photo by meagan.porter on Flickr.

Taken on Hwy K in Reedsburg, Wisconsin, May 2011.

I went out a few weeks ago to take pictures of the ongoing construction work on the North Side sewer in Reedsburg. They never made it in the Indy, but I liked the results.

I parked on the corner of 19th Street and K in Reedsburg and walked down K. I realized later that I could have parked much closer and spared myself much of that painful high-heeled walked up and down the highway, but I would have missed some fantastic shots. I loved seeing all of those huge sewer pieces up close, particularly the manhole covers. I felt like a little kid, fascinated by the big machines displacing so, so much earth.

I have never been keen on getting to close to anything while taking pictures for the Indy. I try to reassure myself, saying that my photos come out more from the perspective of a casual observer than an insider, but mostly, I'm just scared. As I took pictures of the worksite from across the street, I thought about getting closer. Images of my untimely death flashed across my brain, "Search called off for reporter who fell into center of Earth." I decided I was just fine across the street, thank you.

Despite my reluctance to get too close, I have always appreciated the access my job gives me. I can only name a handful of times in the last three years that I've been hassled while taking pictures, and usually no one questions me. I had that same feeling on my excursion this day, sauntering through barricades that said, "Roads Closed" thinking, yes, I am supposed to be here.

Grede

Grede, a photo by meagan.porter on Flickr.

Scene from Grede Foundry, Reedsburg, Wisconsin. Taken today, May 9, 2011.

How do you explain something you've done a million times? I found myself struggling for words today  trying to explain how to use a dSLR - something I once had to learn as well but has, in the last three years, become second nature to me. I ended up taking crappy photos of crappy scenes that I immediately knew I wasn't happy with. It was that kind of day - tired, rainy.

I was aimlessly driving around town later when I stumbled on the scene above. I've always been fascinated by Grede Foundry; it stood out on the backdrop of my childhood, smoke stacks rising in the distance. There is a yard next to it that must be some kind of metal yard; through the fence you can catch glimpses of metal mountains glinting in the sun. And I've always wondered, why blue?

My uncle was at work at Grede that day in 2003 when a boiler exploded at Foremost Farms nextdoor, sending tremors through the whole area. He later said when the Foremost boiler exploded, Grede shook, and he looked up and watched the dust come unsettled and waft down like ashen snow. When I remember the chaos of that December morning, picturing that scene calms me. I'm not sure why.

I was driving by earlier for no reason, that dull blue metal blending in with the steely, dull blue sky, when those boxes caught my eye. I pulled over and thought for awhile about what to do; I wanted a photo of those boxes, but I didn't want to get too close to them. I planned the shot in my head, left the keys in the ignition, ran up, took four photos, and ran back. The photo above was the first one I took.

I need to learn to trust myself. Maybe I know more than I think I know.