“...what thrills me about trains is not their size or their equipment but the fact that they are moving, that they embody a connection between unseen places.”
― Marianne Wiggins
Last December I woke up one day and decided it was time to photograph the Cincinnati railyards you can see off the Western viaduct. I had glimpsed this scene every time I went to Tiger Lily printmaking studio on the west side and always had in the back of my head that I would stop one day to take photos.
I wasn't sure where we would be able to park, or even if it would be possible to walk out onto the bridge. For those of you that don't live in Cincinnati, the viaduct is a very distinctive double-decked bridge built in the 1930's that spans the Mill Creek and connects the west side to I-75 and downtown. According to this website, "At 3,500ft. in length it is twice as long as any of the Ohio River bridges and has as much character as several of them put together." But it was not the viaduct I was interested in...I was more interested in the view of the railyards and the cityscape.
So George and I parked at an abandoned-looking building on the west side and made our way towards the bridge. There were stairs that led up to the bridge and then we found a decent-sized sidewalk at the top. But the cars whizzing by still felt too close and it made me want to get my photos as quickly as possible and get back to the car. It was kind of thrilling, but scary. Below you can see a short video of the green train approaching the viaduct.
Living in Cincinnati you can almost always hear the low, moaning bellows of trains in the distance...especially at night. For some reason I find this sound comforting.
I am also reminded of a story that Rick Archer recounts on the Buddha at the Gaspump podcast I listen to. He tells the story of a man who was rushing to catch a train. The man had to hustle, carrying his baggage and barely made it up the steps and into the train compartment. Once the train left the station, the man stood in the aisle, hands clenched tightly holding onto his luggage. Someone approached the man and said, "You know, you can put your luggage down. The train will carry it for you."
Something about this story really resonated with me. Whenever I find myself tense and trying to tightly control this ride we are on, I try and remind myself that it is safe to relax and put my worries down. Life will carry both me and my baggage.
So George and I parked at an abandoned-looking building on the west side and made our way towards the bridge. There were stairs that led up to the bridge and then we found a decent-sized sidewalk at the top. But the cars whizzing by still felt too close and it made me want to get my photos as quickly as possible and get back to the car. It was kind of thrilling, but scary. Below you can see a short video of the green train approaching the viaduct.
It is hard to see online, but there is a lone person visible in the sketch. I zoomed in below so you could see him.
Here is the sketch before I watercolored it.
“...the restlessness and the longing, like the longing that is in the whistle of a faraway train. Except that the longing isn't really in the whistle—it is in you.”
― Meindert DeJong, The Little Cow and the Turtle
Living in Cincinnati you can almost always hear the low, moaning bellows of trains in the distance...especially at night. For some reason I find this sound comforting.
I am also reminded of a story that Rick Archer recounts on the Buddha at the Gaspump podcast I listen to. He tells the story of a man who was rushing to catch a train. The man had to hustle, carrying his baggage and barely made it up the steps and into the train compartment. Once the train left the station, the man stood in the aisle, hands clenched tightly holding onto his luggage. Someone approached the man and said, "You know, you can put your luggage down. The train will carry it for you."
Something about this story really resonated with me. Whenever I find myself tense and trying to tightly control this ride we are on, I try and remind myself that it is safe to relax and put my worries down. Life will carry both me and my baggage.
