A curvature-of-the-Earth-matching flatness in across the Bonneville Salt Flats of Utah makes the repeating geometry of human-made structures hypnotically visible.
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Former Hall of Knowledge
It’s always interesting to see what old municipal buildings become.
Afternoon in the American West
At the edge of the Bonneville Salt Flats, rolling hills and dramatic cloud banks made for an interesting afternoon along the Interstate. Off in the distance, there might be rain rolling in—though I don’t remember any rain falling on this particular day.
25 Seconds in a Creek
I scared a pretty good sized trout to get this shot.
Above St. Lawrence’s Campus
I’ve often commented to curious colleagues that the benefit of drone photography is the ability to get images from that “impossible” space: lower than a helicopter or other light aircraft might dare fly, but higher than a photographer could reach with a cherry picker. Those are views that can only be had from building height, and so a drone let’s one (metaphorically) put a temporary building wherever they’d like, at least for photographic purposes.
I’m evidently not obeying that rule here, nearly 400 feet above St. Lawrence University’s sylvan campus. It’s from this height where the taper of from larger halls down to smaller dorms and townhouses, and then ultimately to wooded space at the eastern edge of campus, is visible.
Utah Outlier
The Bonneville Salt Flats end with the rise of hillsides, but this one geological formation stands far out beyond them. I wonder what processes led to its lonely position and tabletop structure?
Eye of the Needle
The Space Needle through “Eagle” by Alexander Calder.
