HDR Photography
I only spent two nights in the surreal alpine mountainscape of Oregon’s Timberline Lodge. Though my previous photos were either in the dark of night or far-off scenes, I’m quite enamored of this morning shot. The mountaintop and the slopes stand in the distance, the morning light is casting long shadows, and the shiny carafes of coffee promise a sharp start.
Charcoal grill, barbecue sauce, and enormous chicken thighs. The moment we slapped those bad boys on the grill, the first bits of fat made this massive flare-up. Not the best for smooth grilling, but so gorgeous in the camera’s eye.
Basically, it’s chicken from the depths of Mordor.
Just around the corner in my neighborhood, across the parking lot of the Energy Biosciences Building, is this little slice of Downtown Berkeley neighborhood. The mixture of tacky, earthquake-proofed 1960s architecture, charming older apartment buildings, abandoned structures, and sprinkling of trees make it home.
The quiet corners of Berkeley’s campus are united by the coniferous smell that takes me back to summers in New England. Even when science won’t cooperate, no walk home disappoints me if I travel through this strange, surreal little place.
(And as a note to the geometry buffs out there–yes, I realize that the annular part of the picture is not reflective. The name was too good to pass up.)
Today’s post comes courtesy of Colin Hill.
The last hints of unseasonable spring snow grace the ground, and the gently curving roads of the Berkshires make an amateur racetrack for the teenagers of the town.
Reality has taken this title a bit too literally. UC Berkeley’s Memorial Stadium is set into the hills above campus, but the degree to which this is true doesn’t become apparent until you see the surrounding two-story homes towering over the field. There’s a charming nonlinearity to the combination of massive, epic sports arena and charming local homes.
A real, rare storm lashes the East Bay. To the south of campus, the stark concrete facades of the undergrad students’ dorms and the elaborate homes of Piedmont stand in opposition to the elements.
The heart of the High Victorian Gothic beauty of Northam Hall is supported by this gorgeous archway. The Harry-Potter-esque tower springs up several stories above it, but nothing quite grabs my eye like the last golden strings of sunlight peaking out. This was my home for a year during my time at Trinity College, and this time of day was always my favorite.
I’ve previously shown you the interior of the Hearst Memorial Mining Building from inside and out, but the most magical space is at the very top of the towering lobby. The texture and pattern of the zig-zagging bricks and painted steel have that lovely steampunk feel.
In the hills of northwestern Connecticut, little compounds dot the landscape–the remnants of centuries-old manufacturing or artists’ collectives. The dusk-laced sky and the craggy-tree skyline combine to produce a lovely picture of New England Americana.
UC Berkeley’s College of Chemistry is truly massive, occupying five interlinked buildings in a massive complex (with tendrils reaching out to half a dozen other buildings.) Even the courtyard at the center of the complex actually functions as the roof for two more floors of subterranean lab and office spaces (including my own.) From an aerial photography context, I suppose you could call this my self-portrait.
At the core of the enormous lecture halls and lab spaces that dominate UC Berkeley’s campus, buildings like the Faculty Club (on the left) and Senior Hall (on the right) perch on the edge of Strawberry Creek. The log cabin was built in 1906, and is home of the Order of the Golden Bear. It’s also the only privately-owned and -maintained building on the campus, and its darkened windows are enigmatic when evening creeps around the university.
Orange and blue may be the most overdone color combination for movie posters, but I’m more tolerant of the hues when when they spring natively from the night sky and the sodium lamps of a city. Something about the stone textures of big buildings really appeals to me.
(And if you look carefully, you can see Brendan, my fellow photographer, in the bottom of the picture.)
In the already quiet and calming Nitobe Memorial Garden, this particular corner is the quietest and most calming of them all. At the back of the garden, where few other visitors go, is this tiny fenced-off area. Though this yard is actually adjacent to the ceremonial tea house, I much prefer imagining that an elderly couple lives here, and will be out to tend the garden shortly.
I’ve previously spotlighted the gorgeous shades and cinematic landscape of southern Brazil, but in this particular photograph I feel I’ve captured the truly epic feel of the place. Rocky islands dot the coastline and comic book clouds drift through the gold-and-pink hued sky. I can’t imagine anything more gorgeous.
Decaseconds 