Value

I often have a vision - usually when I have a problem - of 'zooming out' from my position on Earth so that the virtual camera that governs my view sits at such a height to encompass the whole of the UK at once. Rarely does my camera go any further but sometimes continues further into space to fit the in the whole of the Earth.  The view is always during daylight hours.  Zooming out helps me put things into perspective - it reminds me that everything that we do is of little significance in the grand scheme of things, unless what we're doing is inventing the next h-bomb.  Closest I've gotten to that is a pretty feisty c-bomb.  Without wanting to get into an existential discussion, 'zooming' leads me onto the concept of value.

What do I value?  There are overarching notions such as fruitful relationships, family and happiness but also smaller, arguably insignificant things like making sure files are well organised on my mac or keeping my camera gear in the same place.  There's an element of practicality about those habits but keeping things organised and backed-up makes me feel good.

And so to the garage.  Man's Land.

My wife was born in France and lived there until she was 21 after which time she moved to New York where we met.  Her parents still live in France in the same house that saw her through childhood and adolescence.  The house is a typical French cottage - converted stables in fact - with an in-keeping garage extension added to one side(in-keeping except for the corrugated tin roof).  During my annual summer visit in 2010 I took my camera into the garage to record, what I think, is the crystallisation of what her uncle considers valuable.

In this space everything is kept meticulously organised.  We didn't have a garage when I grew up and neither did the majority of my friends so typically when I imagine a garage space my mind's eye is led by scenes with old televisions, white-veneered partly dismantled drawers, sometimes the typical overflow of the kitchen such as a fridge or dryer, and a series of forgotten toys and a bike.  Usually you can't move for injuring yourself on a rake/pedal.  I totally believe that anyone can, and will, fill a room with junk if there is floor area free.

Karen's uncle's garage has more clear space than occupied.  For the majority of the time there is no car but a sacred area is left untouched for those rare moments that one needs protection.  Guess it saves moving gear out of the way.

Tools are positioned at sensible heights so as to keep them out of the reach of children (though Karen recounts many episodes as a child squashing all manner of things in the vice) and are clearly visible.  Karen and I have a perpetual discussion about how I think I'm tidy whilst she's clean and neither of us are the other - her retort is always that 'it's always the same with you, out of sight, out of mind'.  I have a sat-nav in my sock-drawer.  I think of the arrangement of tools like a window into her uncle's mind - logical and sensible.  If you knew the man you'd know how inaccurate a view that window gives.