On a clear summer night, with the campus quiet and mostly studentless, St. Lawrence’s Japanese zen garden reaches its most silent and, well, zen.
Author: adohertyh
North to College
Coming to St. Lawrence, I was not prepared for the amount of forest space on the school’s 1000-acre campus. Flying above the Grasse River, campus looks wild and vaguely Nordic. I’ve never run into a frost giant on the way to work, but now I’m sort of wondering whether I need to prepare for that, too.
California Coast II
Looking back on some of my earliest shots of the California coastline this evening: Light-leaked soft blues and golds are the colors. Is the soundtrack the jangle of surf music guitars or just the crashing of waves?
Friday Night Lights in the North Country
The roars and gasps of the crowd could be heard all over town: Friday night football in the North Country of New York. St. Lawrence’s Saints dominated Morrisville to the tune of 28–0. From quadcopter, the action on the field is just a bit out of range. One of the recurring themes of my work is the civilization gradient between densely human areas and wilderness; I view this picture as another interpretation of that theme. There’s perhaps no urban center in Canton, but there are quaint homes and university buildings giving way to farmland and, eventually, the foothills of the Adirondacks in the distance where the Earth begins to curve.
Two Views of the Hudson
Structures along the Hudson River mark eras of American practicality and industrial life. There’s a great combination of aesthetics and practicality.
The mid-century (1955) Tappan Zee Bridge is from a different era from the lighthouse above, but it also represents this aesthetic/industrial impact on the Hudson River.
Last Light and First
Night-flying for long-exposure photography seems to rely a lot on luck: How’s the wind? How’s the weather? That’s a lot to consider, but the superhuman perspective (even if it is occasionally a bit blurry) is worth it. I love the times of day when the brightness of building lights and the brightness of the setting sun match each other in intensity.
North Country Annealed
Heating up and then slowly cooling a material anneals it, softening the material by allowing the crystal structure to reform to an optimal geometry. Annealing at the correct temperature for a metal produces a characteristic color—often a dull, cherry red like the edges of this sunset. After baking in the hot sun all day, the St. Lawrence University and the North Country are probably feeling lower in energy and ready to relax their geometries, too.
Views of Lake Louise
Piper‘s trip to Alberta, Canada led to some incredible images of Lake Louise. The scale of the setting is almost incomprehensible—except for the tiny canoes by the shoreline.
The composition and content of the photographs brought to mind the works of early/mid-twentieth century naturalists, and I tried to envision what their take on Piper’s work would have been:
Sundown Zen
I’ve shown you St. Lawrence University’s zen garden in the past, but never from above. Down in the middle of Sykes Hall, in front of the clock tower, you can see a hint of raked gravel and carefully cut grass. I’m not sure I ever appreciated how many trees we have until I started flying.
Night Above
After playing at low altitudes, I upgraded to a DJI Phantom 3 Advanced last week. This quadcopter can stay stationary in the night sky—like, “long exposures look good” stationary. I’m looking forward to exploring what the little flying robot can do.
Rail Yard
New York’s is a collision of infrastructure from past, present, and future. That’s a cliché by now, but I still enjoy experiencing it firsthand. Here are all three eras connected in one image:
- The Past: Standing on the High Line, a park built on the remains of a freight rail line.
- The Present: The subway rail yard.
- The Future: The Hudson Yards construction site.
Real-World Zen Garden
Oldest and Newest
Captured in one image: St. Lawrence’s oldest building, Richardson Hall, and its newest, Kirk Douglas Hall.
“Secret” Island “Fort”
An almost-island was hiding in the background of this photograph of Stone Valley. Most of my childhood adventures involved sorties from some kind of tree-based fortress; this formation silhouetted against the setting sun reminded me of those adventures. Or maybe just the fort from a particular film. (Even it’s neither truly secret, nor a fort.)
Small Town Traffic Jam
Since moving from places like Hartford and Oakland to Small Town America, I will admit that I’ve become a bit spoiled when it comes to traffic. Anything less than an open road now feels like a traffic jam. The reality turns out to be just a little different.
Decaseconds 