HDR Photography
Today’s post comes courtesy of Colin Hill.
This is a shot of Stockbridge Bowl in the town of Stockbridge, Massachusetts. It was a relatively warm day, but the lake was still frozen over. I love the details in this picture: the huge cracks forming on the lake’s surface, the snow covered houses nestled into the hillside, the hills rolling off into the distance, all watched by the two tall pines in the foreground.
Last week, the grandeur and [somewhat ostentatious] glory of the Trinity College Chapel from afar was the subject. This picture comes from the wings of the same structure, but from a much smaller, quieter place. The same gracefully imposing style is painted in the hues of sodium lamps and setting sun.
This brook runs behind my childhood home; today, I present it to you as I remember it. Smooth currents of dark, freezing water (even in the summer), and the entrancing mishmash of old stones and roots encrusted with snow. No video game tops the pleasure of watching a leaf drift downstream.
Trinity College’s massive Neo-Gothic chapel is enormous and imposing and an utter masterpiece. Though the school has no official religious affiliation, the campus centers on the building both geographically and conceptually. In these final moments of the day, as the sun sets and paints lovely golden shadows on the structure, I appreciate how the building achieves this.
The water practically glows with reflected light. The buildings tower over the scene. The long exposure captures the trails of aircraft in the night sky. San Francisco’s waterfront along the Embarcadero may not have the most enormous and prestigious structures, but nights like this make that irrelevant. The scene makes “enigmatic” and “cyberpunky” into something almost friendly. (Or at least inviting.)
High atop it all is that fascinating golden penthouse structure. The visual similarity to a treasure chest must be more than coincidence.
The quintessential New England home, decorated for the holidays and accessorized with a light dusting of snow. I can imagine Calvin and Hobbes wandering around in the backyard forest, having adventures and causing trouble before they’re called in for dinner.
The days just after Thanksgiving hold still, quiet moments; the early morning fog was thick, viscous, and sinister as the fairy tale stuff. The poisonous-looking red berries, the gnarled tree limbs, and the mysterious lamposts all seem plucked from the forests of Fillory. The somewhat shallow depth of field makes it particularly surreal.
Today’s post comes courtesy of Colin Hill.
While driving around Berkshire county testing out my new camera (which is in fact my brother’s old camera), I took a wrong turn and wound up on a small road sporting a recycling center and this small logging operation. In the background of this shot you can see train tracks which run parallel to the road and the edges of the October Mountain State Forest towering in the distance. In the foreground you can see lots of snow and logs stacked up like firewood for a giant’s furnace.
The bus is inherently uncomfortable: the seats are too hard, the surfaces feel like too many other people have touched them, and the other passengers come with a side of freaky west coast aggression. All of that misery is forgotten late at night; an empty bus ferrying me home is such a calm respite from the sodium-lamp misery of the outside world.
Lake Wononskopomuc in the northwestern corner of Connecticut bustles with boaters and swimmers during the warmer months. When the temperature drops in the winter, the lake freezes to a skater’s paradise. On the particular day, as winter crept into New England, the lake wasn’t frozen but the snow was falling, and the bare trees and rocks at the Grove hold the promise of fun to come.
Back to lovely, bucolic central Oregon. Something about an active field, with the pines and the farmhouse in the distance, mixes with the moon above to convey a sense of “a hard day’s work.” If it were a painting, I’d call it “Western Art.”
Trinity College’s Long Walk (of which Northam Hall here is only a part) impresses with just a glance. Living in this Harry-Potter-esque tower delivered a college experience that was more literally epic than I ever expected. The wind blasted through the ancient windows and the walls were two feet thick and the path to actually get to my dorm room was labyrinthine.
This week, a massive snow and ice storm smashed the Northeast. As night fell, so did the snow. Across the street, with the wind blasting the fresh snow into weird drifts, this home looked particularly inviting.
Sunset over New York’s Duchess County (as seen from the northwestern edge of Connecticut) glazed the land with an epic but bucolic light. The fields stretched out under a dusting of snow and Christmas lights glinted in the distant houses. The icing on the cake was the smell of woodsmoke on the evening air.
This is what New England is all about.
Christmas time is here again, and Decaseconds is over a year old now. Looking back on the Christmas tree from a year ago, this year’s is off to a good start. The Charlie Brown Christmas Special Soundtrack was playing, the lights were turned down low, and we had just gotten the first strings of lights on the tree when I snapped this shot.
Decaseconds 