HDR Photography
Muir Woods astonishes and tempers with its beauty, but I had trouble avoiding the feeling that it was all a bit manicured and controlled by man. At first, that disappointed me. When I thought back to some of the gorgeous Zen gardens I’ve visited, however, I realized that curated natural beauty can be just as spectacular and authentic as true wilderness. The gentle drizzle between sequoias and down into the creek is the American version of the Zen garden.
The beautiful, shiny, new Energy Biosciences Building in downtown Berkeley is a truly fantastic place to do science. Not only does it have some of the most gorgeous labs I’ve ever seen (with lots of great natural light), it also has meeting/lunch areas like these that do a ton to support the collaborative mindset that is so critical to good science. I wanted to do a multi-shot post today, descending from this glossy surface with its view of the Berkeley skyline (such as it is) down into the bowels of the center.
For many of the biologists working here, the real science is happening down in the basement. Here, mutant and wildtype plants are growing in this incubator to a size where they can be cheerful participants in biofuel experiments.
And the really cool shot from just around the corner: seeds that have just sprouted, growing to a size that they can be planted in soil. From what my charming guide told me, many of these are randomly mutated seeds, and they’re being screened in this media to determine if any have the correct mutation for further experimentation. Behind this example, you can see numerous other sets, merrily growing away. (Or not, if they have this particular mutation.)
Not far from Muir Woods, the Pacific coast cliffs of California are a starker, steeper, and foggier place than I expected. The nearly sheer cliff face, the scraggly trees hanging on for dear life, and the weather- (and person-) beaten railings make the whole place feel mythical. The fog density hit just the right soupiness on this particular day; we could just barely see and hear the waves crashing on the rocks below.
Today’s guest post comes courtesy of Zack Mensinger.
After spending the afternoon in the Mariposa Grove, the plan was to head back to the valley for the evening, but after rounding the first bend offering a view of the valley, it was perfectly clear that the right choice would be to stay at Tunnel View and watch the sunset. The conditions with the fog alone were incredible, but the clouds promised beautiful sunset color as well. Nature delivered on this promise and the scene was unforgettable. This photo is from a single RAW exposure, with levels adjusted to better balance the valley and sky. My only real wish was that the foreground clouds would catch some color too, but they were too low and were in the shade of the mountains already. A little patience paid amazing returns in this case!
On a jet high over central Brazil, the cropped, divided, and cultivated land has a strange organge and purple color to it. Some fields are the broad circles of modern irrigation equipment, while others are odd heptagons nestled next to rivers and streams. From above, the landscape is alien. As an awesome side-note on Brazilian airlines: checking luggage is free and encouraged (so the overhead bins are empty), the airlines serve ham and cheese sandwiches instead of pretzels, and no one speaks a word of English.
Up here in the Berkeley Hills, the entire Bay Area stretches out on a clear day. In the distance is Piedmont and the Oakland Airport, but I particularly engage with the sense of scale that the preposterously-steep fire trail adds to the image. There’s a space for humans in the sprawl of the East Bay.
Another in my ongoing series of sand castle photographs (see I, II, and III), this shot comes from the gorgeous coast of southern Brazil. While everyone else is off playing in the surf, these two boys stayed behind on the beach to construct this complex of truly epic sand castles. (That sand castles are as wondrous and short-lived as childhood is perhaps too trite a metaphor for me to acknowledge in any way beyond the parenthetical.) I just love the universality of building sand castles on the beach–from the east coast to the west, and the from the northern hemisphere to the south, it’s a worldwide past time.
Early in the morning, Muir Woods is still quiet as the first hikers gear up. This picture really conveys the difference in scale between the people and the enormous sequoias of the park. (I liked it so much, I had to sneak it up on a Saturday.)
A barn in the Northeast is a place of shelter and respite from frost and storms and snow. In the gorgeous Southwest, on the other hand, the barn is a gorgeous, open place with palm trees and big stalls.
As a child, I held on to the fantasy of discovering a secret island all my own–one stocked with secret forts and pirate treasure and relaxing fishing spots. During our trip to Brazil last fall, I was entranced by the rocky but just-the-right-sized islands off the coast of Florianopolis. If I could have only gotten out there, I know pirate treasure awaited me.
Standing at the bottom of this small grove in the Sequoia sempervirens of Muir Woods, I have no trouble understanding the origins of the Deists’ beliefs. Rain and gentle sunlight drop between the branches of the redwoods and grace the tinier plants on the forest floor. The shape and order of it please the eye.
As shot from Pier 14, Coit Tower stands atop Telegraph Hill. Its white surface, in conjunction with colored lights, make it absolutely stunning to see at night. Such surreal objects can lack a suitable sense of scale when photographed. This photograph satisfies me so in large part because the homes clustering the hill provide that scale, and a sense of the familiar to match the alien.
Early in the morning, before another human has arisen, in the fog and rain and the sound of crashing California surf, the cliffs of Marin are strange and alien and haunting. They stagger out of the fog, all stunted shrubs and jagged rocks and decaying 20th century gun emplacements. I’ve always rather fancied the idea that America kept expanding until they reached the end of the continent, where the cliffs and the alien landscape drove us all a bit mad.
Today’s post comes courtesy of Piper J. Klemm:
Two-time US Olympic Gold Medalist McLain Ward and Antares F jump in the AIG Million Dollar Grand Prix in Thermal, California on March 17, 2013. Ward and Antares F won the Million Dollar Grand Prix in Saugerties, NY in September 2012.
Far along the beach, the Atlantic waves crash against Brazilian stone. The Sun has just dropped behind the horizon, and I’m standing on these steps beyond a strange little pseudo-bridge and this odd sculpture. To this day, I’m still not sure whether it’s functional, or purely decorative.
Decaseconds 