iPhoneography Mission #11: Meet an Imaginary Friend.

I don't remember him, but my imaginary friend as a child was "Flintstone." He had his own place set for him at the table and beware to anyone who dared sit in his chair. I was around four years old.

This week's iPhoneography mission was a return to that time in our lives when what we imagine, to us, is what is real.

I had so many ideas as I approached this mission. Rigging up crayons to look like they were being held by invisible hands. Shadows of fairy creatures along the floor.

But then two things happened.

1. The work week reared its ugly head and I barely had time to breathe...let alone create the necessary contraptions for my musings.

2. I took this picture:

Will You Play With Me?

My little guy just sort of squatted down and stayed there for a couple minutes, like he was having a private conversation with someone only visible to his eyes. That's when a different inspiration struck. Rather than create a world of imaginary imaginary friends, I would capture his world.

Now, working with a three-year-old? It's a lesson in patience, creativity, and serendipity. In other words, he wasn't at all cooperative when it came to trying to get him to pose for the tableaus in my head. So I did end up relying very, very heavily upon serendipity to get through this mission...

Private Jokes

Like all things, even our childhood's imaginings have to come to an end. Eventually, my friend, Flintstone, gave way other other friends and pursuits. It's an inevitable rite of passage.

Must You Go?

It's all rather bittersweet...

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Sometimes, You Just Have to Keep It...

The other day, I posted about my Creation Station.

At the core of this station is the sewing desk that my grandfather built for my grandmother. He built it specifically to house her White sewing machine. The top of the desk has a lid and is a flat surface. When you lift the lid, through a series of hinges and wires, the sewing machine rises from the center of the desk until it is in front of you and ready for use. When you're done sewing, you could tuck the machine away and use the top of the desk as a workspace.

Time to Sew

As I was setting up, I thought about what I was going to do with the sewing machine. I have never used it. It needs a new plug. I don't have the pedal to run it...at least, I don't think I do. It's probably rusted through on all the moving parts.

And as I started moving the desk in place, I thought of all the wonderful uses for that space below the lid. I could use it for extra storage. I could convert it to an easel that pops out when you open the lid. All sorts of cool uses!

But then I looked at my grandmother's sewing machine. I had started to remove it. And I stopped. I can't do it. I can't get rid of it. It simply has to stay. It's the heart of my workspace, and who am I to remove it?