S T E A D Y G E T T O W O R K G O R O L L R O L L R O L L . . .
Those transparent umbrellas.
Mix ingredients together early in the morning. Collect light, swing about and scoop it in. Try not to cause an accident. I suppose this kind of thing you take for granted if you live with it everyday, or if you’re the one pedaling to work, navigating through a rainy plastic visor. Most of these cyclists seem to be on auto pilot, their bikes listing gently through the alleys, riders half-asleep maybe or in some kind of trance. Bicycles (自転車 ) are stupendous fun, aren’t they? Yes, to ride, but I mean just look at them! All circles and lines, like stick figures, like drawings, cartoonishly scribbling their paths through blockish city blocks. They’ve got words like sprocket and spoke, for god-sakes!
Come midday, you’ll see an umbrella lying collapsed and folded at the wheels of a bicycle. They belong together, you realize. It’s all so… curvilinear – that’s the word, yeah. Kind of deviant and bent sounding. Designed to cope with reality, rolling with the punches.
All shots except the last one done at f/16 with 1/4 second exposures, panning with the movement of the cyclist. No accidents.