Imagination is at the heart of contemplation

My reflection begins with the observation that someone, likely a man with dirty hands, placed this wrench on an oil drum inside a mushroom farm in Loveland, Ohio. But where was it before that? Might it have been used in a factory, a gas station or railroad yard? Did it hang on a pegboard above someone’s basement workbench? Was it cherished? Was it even used? Had it sat in a metal or wooden drawer filled with other wrenches? Had it been dropped in the dirt and rained upon? Not this wrench. There’s no of sign of rust. With each of these possibilities I imagine the environment, what the users would be wearing, the grease on their hands, dirt under their fingernails—the calendar on the wall, the smell of oil and gasoline, the sound of a baseball announcer coming from an cheap plastic radio and the voices of workmen talking, perhaps yelling, sounds absorbed and held in this object’s metallic memory cells. Yes, these are stereotypical images. But flights of imagination, like pieces of a puzzle, contribute to the picture of human evolution, the strengths and vulnerabilities that spark appreciation and evoke compassion.

My imagination shifts to when the wrench was new, when it looked its best, gleaming bright steel with the manufacturer’s name engraved on it. Was it on display in a window? Or was it one of the many that were wrapped in brown paper and put in a box with a drawing or photo on top, specifications and serial numbers on the side? There are no right or wrong imaginings in contemplation. Each and every reflection contributes to the unfolding development of self and the perception of reality. Imagining is at the heart of contemplation. As well as enabling the exploration of times, places, events and abstractions that we could not otherwise experience physically, and sidestepping everyday thinking, imagination inspires creativity and fuels our appreciation of what was and is, as it is.

Back to the wrench. I think back to the manufacturing process. I see minerals being scooped from the ground by giant, loud and smoke-belching diggers. They’re crushed and dumped into a crucible where rock transforms into molten, smoking and fiery liquid. Sparks fly. Gloved men with black goggles handle the controls in a dark factory with a dirt floor. The cars parked outside are vintage 1930’s. Men in the office wear double-breasted, three button suits, starched collars and ties with finger-length clips to hold them in place. Their office managers wear suits, and secretaries wear dresses with nylons that have seams down the back.

Further back, I see a gray haired man sitting at a drafting table wearing spectacles. He wears a tie, but his sleeves are rolled up and he smokes unfiltered cigarettes. With fine-pointed pencil in hand he transposes a sketch with notes on dimension and weight into a blueprint that will be used to create the model and mold for this wrench.

Much farther back is the visionary (or visionaries) who met the challenge of a connection problem. How does a man connect two pieces of metal in a way that they will almost never come apart without purposefully being separated? Trial and error. After many attempts and failures, someone (innovation more often begins with an individual rather than a group) imagines a threaded bolt with flat sides and a tool with a handle that would turn it. Tighten and untighten. Brilliant!

Descending the historical ladder even further, where did the iron ore for this particular wrench come from? China most likely. Other possibilities include Australia, Brazil, India, Russia, South Africa, Minnesota and Michigan. And whose idea was the making of a molten soup consisting of iron oxide, magnetite, hematite, goethite, limonite and siderite, particularly when these minerals are scattered around the world? I think about motivation, the need for a material harder than any rock, the desire to build things that would last—and win wars. Motivation leading to innovation.

I can see this wrench new, old or ancient. I can see it whole or as a conglomerate of parts. I can think about it as a solid or liquid, even as fields within fields of quantum energies. Perception is a choice we make. What is the consequences of our perceptions? There’s beauty in the eye of the beholder, and so much more when we trace anything to its beginning.

There is nothing in all the world that is not God’s manifest glory and essence.

Kabbalah: A Jewish mystical discipline that explores the nature of God and the universe 

______________________________

My other sites—

Love And Light greetings.com: A twice-weekly blog featuring wisdom quotes and perspectives in science and spirituality intended to inspire and empower

David L. Smith Photography Portfolio.com: Black and white and color photography

Ancient Maya Cultural Traits.com: Weekly blog featuring the traits that made this civilization unique 

smithdl@fuse.net

About This Image

Wrench

Theme: History And Perception

Negative #: 516-C2

Fred’s Mushroom Farm

Lebanon, Ohio

September, 1978

I was riding country backroads looking for something to photograph when I saw a sign that read Fred’s Mushroom Farm. The place intrigued me, so I went in and told the manager I was a photographer; would he mind if I photographed his facility. Not only did he grant permission, he gave me a tour and described the process of growing mushrooms. He introduced me to his employees and displayed great patience while I photographed anything that caught my eye.

I shot about six rolls of 120 film in that facility, all by available light. Of the images I printed, not one was of mushrooms. In passing from one room to another, I saw this wrench sitting on an oil drum. I composed the shot and made one hand-held exposure. The light level was very low, so I was not surprised when the slow shutter-speed resulted in an image with shortened depth of field and slight blur. I didn’t print the negative. Years later I was paging through my contact sheets and decided that, because of the simplicity and graded light, the image might have possibilities. Now, it peaks my imagination ever time I see it.

Besides being exhibited and published, I used this among other images in my Visual Communication classes to illustrate a comment made to a reporter when he asked one of the masters of street photography, Henri Cartier-Bresson, the secret of his success. His response: “Be there and f8.”

© Copyright, David L. Smith, 2014. The images and the associated contemplations on this site are protected against any and all commercial and promotional use without the permission of  the author. However, permission is granted for individuals to download the images and print them for private, non-commercial, non-promotional use.