Fuel Only

by Steve Lockwood

Canvas Print

$65

Framed Print

$84

Art Print

$23

Poster

$23

Metal Print

$71

Acrylic Print

$79

Wood Print

$51

Tapestry

$39

Throw Pillow

$25

Fleece Blanket

$48

Duvet Cover

$97

Shower Curtain

$66

Bath Towel

$34

Jigsaw Puzzle

$38

Tote Bag

$25

Weekender Tote Bag

$43

Zip Pouch

$24

Portable Battery Charger

$46

Yoga Mat

$60

Greeting Card

$4.65

Spiral Notebook

$14

iPhone Case

$27

Beach Towel

$34

Round Beach Towel

$70

Weekender Tote Bag

$43

Coffee Mug

$14

Men's Clothing

$25

Women's Clothing

$25

Youth Clothing

$21

Toddler Clothing

$19

Baby Clothing

$23

Original - Not For Sale

Price

Not Specified

Dimensions

11.000 x 16.000 inches

This piece is not for sale. Please feel free to contact the artist directly regarding this or other pieces.

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Title

Fuel Only

Artist

Steve Lockwood

Medium

Photograph - Photo Illustration

Description

I make photos into stories. There are over fifty separate images in this photo story. And what is the story? There are many. Here's just one...
. . . .

What is it that fuels a heart's longings? Memories. And memories of a lost love are the most combustible.

It was her eyes that first unlocked his. Peering through the bangs of her sunset hair, she enticed him, invited him to her without saying a word. For the first time he saw beyond himself.

Once again, he fanned the flames of those memories with thoughts of their brief but wonderfully mysterious time together those many years ago. Memories of those few but fully-lived months with her in St. Louis, her flower child peace beads, her melodic laughter, and her childlike inquisitive nature that forced him to expose his soul. But the most powerful were the memories that flooded his mind of the last sensual night with her, passionately sharing themselves in the cab of his grandfather's pickup behind the dilapidated shed on the family farm, all those many years ago. And afterwards, when she said she needed to take care of things but she would return to him, for him. "Just wait for me. I just need time. Meet me here, in one year, on this day, at this hour. I...love you." Then, with one last embrace, she merged into the sunrise that painted the morning clouds pink and blue.

And so, every year since, on the anniversary of their last night together, at that now ancient, time-rusted truck, he would leave a dozen roses and a letter, penned by his heart, to ultimately be read only by wind and rain. He also left remnants of their togetherness, no, proof of their fleeting but wonderful encounter: the earring she left behind, the poster she loved and had to buy, the carved wooden box he gave her for keepsakes, and his photos...photos of this woman with the piercingly demanding eyes.

Unknowingly, this weed-blanketed truck became a shrine. A shrine to memories of her. A shrine to fuel only.

. . . .

Look closely. what story do you see?