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  1. Galleries
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  2. Portrait and Fashion
    3. » Wooden men

 
Wooden men...

Bianco e Nero1

View gallery (21 photos)

Wooden men sent on April 11, 2014 (7:23) by Fulvio Gioria. 55 comments, 3361 views.

Nikon D3100,
Nikon D3100
Nikon AF-S DX 18-105mm f/3.5-5.6 G ED VR
Nikon AF-S DX 18-105mm f/3.5-5.6 G ED VR
, 1/125 f/6.3, ISO 200, hand held.

Si fanno sempre più rari i momenti di vita come questo, immortalato una domenica mattina all'alba, nei boschi dell'infanzia. La visione di una anima che accarezza il legno e gli parla come fosse suo figlio, oramai fa parte solo dei ricordi più intimi. Una volta, dalle mie parti, succedeva sovente che i vecchi boscaioli guardassero il legno come una bella donna. Perché erano ben consapevoli del suo valore. E, come il maiale, di una pianta non si getta via nulla, nemmeno le foglie secche! L'uomo dell'immagine ha sempre avuto una passione innata per gli alberi e, come le formiche instancabili lavoratrici, non perde tempo a racimolare la propria legna dai boschi vicino a casa, perché sa che le stagioni muoiono in fretta ed, inesorabile, arriva improvviso un nuovo inverno. Da più di venticinque anni ha appeso la tuta di meccanico al chiodo, ed è ritornato lesto a ciò che più gli dà soddisfazione, e forse anche un certo benessere fisico, seppure sia un lavoro impegnativo, spossante e molte volte pericoloso. Grazie all'estrosità innata, ha applicato l'abilità meccanica ai preziosi marchingegni che gli facilitano il lavoro di boscaiolo. E la prudenza, acquisita con l'esperienza e l'età, per fortuna lo ha preservato dai pericoli incombenti, almeno fino ad ora! Non c'è stato albero che lo abbia imbrogliato, e, prima o poi, ogni castagno o faggio che sia ha terminato la sua lunga esistenza nell'ampia termocucina che possiede e che lo riscalda durante i lunghi inverni di quassù! Fino a poco tempo fa vi erano sistemate almeno due o tre teleferiche che gli permettevano di trasportare veloce, anche da parecchio lontano, il legname tagliato, fino in prossimità della propria abitazione. Ma la stanchezza del suo tempo lo ha spinto a riavvolgere per sempre i cavi d'acciaio. Ora sfrutta un nuovo argano, messo a punto nella propria officina e che trasporta col fedele trattore. Da qui sopra, come un vecchio lupo di mare, governa il legno a suo piacimento, grazie a pulegge di rinvio, collocate in punti vitali e che farebbero invidia anche a Leonardo. Carrucole che sottraggono da qualsiasi luogo del bosco i pesanti tronchi, posti anche a più di cento metri di distanza. Inesorabile, il potente argano muove a strascico il legno, che, legato, si dimena, si rigira, rantola, urla vendetta. Tenaci i tentativi del tronco di avvinghiarsi alla propria terra, ma ben poco si può fare di fronte al machiavellico ingegno del boscaiolo. L'argano a motore sbuffa, le pulegge girano lente ma spietate, l'occhio vigila il moto e la tensione del cavo, intorno il bosco piange sommesso, finché il legno si rassegna sfinito ai piedi del vecchio capitano. Un altro pezzo che verrà tagliato e spaccato, poi il trattore farà il resto, fino alla legnaia, dove seghe circolari e il prezioso spaccalegna pneumatico vengono in soccorso al vecchio boscaiolo. Fatica tanta, le imprecazioni non si contano, soddisfazioni... quel poco per tirare avanti. Il dottore gli ha suggerito di calmarsi perché il fisico è quello che è, il cuore altrettanto, il lavoro pesante contamina lo spirito, gli occhi cominciano a tradirlo. Ma è proprio dura rassegnarsi dopo una vita passata quassù, tra questi soldati di legno, tra queste anime silenziose che, con la loro morte, ti aiutano a campare. Tanti anni fa c'erano dei veri amici che lo aiutavano, e alla fine del lavoro si dividevano le fatiche e la legna. Ora tutti riposano nei camposanti delle nostre valli. E' rimasto soltanto il silenzio, rotto da rami scheletrici che stramazzano a terra con l'ultima neve. Si fa presto rimanere soli con i propri sogni, ritrovarsi anziani, e forse un po' indeboliti. Ma un altro inverno giunge lesto, finché c'è vita c'è speranza, e si va avanti. A maggio sono ottantuno. Ci sono più candele da spegnere che alberi da tagliare. Questo uomo di legno è, e per sempre sarà, mio padre.






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avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (7:31) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

An image that I waited a long time. A photograph dedicated to the one who makes a virtue of the wood. In this photo I used two temperatures dverse for B & W. A warmer for some subjects and the rest much colder. He gave me a strange sense and particular components, I hope you like it too to You And I also hope that the story will send something good ... A big hello to all of you!

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (7:35) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

Congratulations ... nice picture and story moving.
Hello Sonia

avatarjunior
sent on April 11, 2014 (7:36) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

Dear Fulvio what to say ... just a general good would poco.Le beautiful words against your father explain the full meaning of this ..
Technically I do not dare to make unnecessary comments ....:-D:-D

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (7:40) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

Thank you Sonia. Ben happy and good day! :-P ;-)

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (7:42) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

Gianluca! Great! Delighted tally and a thousand thanks! :-D:-D ;-)

avatarjunior
sent on April 11, 2014 (8:01) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

Beautiful photos, enchanted by the story.
It 's the heart that speaks, and feels. Compliments.

Henry

avatarjunior
sent on April 11, 2014 (8:17) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

I have the chills, really! The story is worth a premium. Lacks feel the sting of the morning air and the smell of wood and ... I am there. Picture: you can not comment because it is a great feeling your. Bravissimo. Hello.

avatarsupporter
sent on April 11, 2014 (8:52)

What a caption... I got a tear in my eye when I read the last sentence... I am speechless... wonderful...

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (9:23) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

hello Fulvio
movingly touching sensitive ... deep ... deep and intimate tale of love for their father and his dedication to the work and effort!
read your words and take the picture was a wonderful moment!
thanks

compliments
Flavio

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (11:07) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

Dear Fulvio, seeing your picture and reading your story, I had a lump in my throat, I know my father would go for firewood, but unfortunately now he is no longer with us. I must say though that in your story are identified with me, as the description fully reflects what is the life of those who, for passion, burning in the woods, with all its hardships but rewarding. Poetic and this particular your "The winch motor snorts, pulleys run slow but relentless, the eye monitors the motion and the tension of the cable around the forest crying softly, until the wood is resigned exhausted at the foot of the old captain" .
Congratulations to all.
Helium.

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (11:40) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

"There are more candles to blow out which trees to cut. This wooden man is, and always will be, my father."

Your avatar is in the eye of all this. Bravo. Exciting, in pictures and words. Hello, Gio

avatarsupporter
sent on April 11, 2014 (11:59) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

Are you Fulvio great, you took the picture of your life and read the story of a unique sensibility moved me.
Thanks for sharing.

Greetings, Lully :-) :-)

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (12:19) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

The photo captured me, the story touched me. Once again demonstrating sensitivity and greatness of soul. You have my admiration.
Clara

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (12:39) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

poetry of images, memories, emotions ... poetry "pure pure state"!
Fulvio with great admiration I salute you, Mark

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (12:41) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

Ye are excited about the picture and written especially for him, but I really am touched by your comments. I do not quote every single name, but I embrace you all together, my dear friends, because sharing some of my thoughts with those who appreciate them makes me happy and a little 'more optimistic! Thank you all and I'll tell you from the heart! Hello! :-P:-P ;-)

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (13:13) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

if I did for one day his work ...... and oh maybe the ambulance would not be enough to bring me back to life ....:-D
when I go to the mountains and sometimes I see them ultra seventies with deep wrinkles and black as the rocks, hands whose skin shows the veins like roots, well I think they can teach us to live in perfect harmony with the world.
what about now are almost like ghosts because the mountain is now more and more empty and poor.
your a beautiful story, hello ;-)

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (13:21) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

:-D:-D:-D You made me just laugh and you're absolutely right. The relationship between man and nature goes to hell more and more with each passing day!: Fconfuso: Anyway you a hug for this wonderful comment! Hello! :-P ;-)

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (13:36) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

“ makes me happy and a little 'more optimistic „
:-) :-) ;-) Like all of us, thank you.

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (14:17) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

Fulvio your umpteenth .. Difficult to comment on this poem, written in light, written with words. 'Cause you're this, a poet who writes through the camera with the light, and through the pen writes with words. An explosive mixture, which passes first of all your infinite sensitivity 'mood! This goes beyond the photograph, and that 'the Photograph, and this' art! No pretty pictures, but pictures that speak and live.

I've moved ..

Are you good at your job, precise and meticulous, but let me say that you wasted the factory! And that makes me angry, 'cause people like you deserve to be able to achieve their dreams with greater ease' .. and instead the road and 'always impervious! And the dreams always too far away ..

I do not want to add more. A big hugFulvio dear friend!

gabri

avatarsenior
sent on April 11, 2014 (22:11) | This comment has been automatically translated (show/hide original)

Gabry ... and I find it extremely difficult ricommentare your comment! :-|:-D So I'll stop here with a tear, looking from the bottom this difficult road that only has ups and downs ... nothing only hope at every turn to find another world! For now reciprocate the hug, my dear! F. And say hello! :-P:-P ;-)




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