HDR Photography
Trinity College Dublin’s campanile was the subject of my last post, but today I’ll bring it back to one I know a bit better. This photograph is another from my series of Berkeley pictures that I’m only now able to reveal with improvements in noise reduction technology. The effect of seeing this “lost” image recovered has me wondering what other moments—
I’ll soon be starting work at Trinity, but it doesn’t have a campanile. I went to grad school at Berkeley, which has a campanile. Only at the Trinity College in Dublin, Ireland, however, did I find a Trinity that has a campanile of its own.
For the past decade (nearly, anyway), I’ve been bringing you pictures from St. Lawrence University in Canton, New York. With my move to Trinity, I’m running through my final stock of my favorite images. I suspect these will be the last images of St. Lawrence I post (no promises), so it seems fitting that they capture the campus at its most St.-Lawrence-y: crisp autumn evening, foliage lit up by campus fixtures, with a big North Country sunset on the horizon.
This weekend, my wife and I celebrated our sixth wedding anniversary alongside Trinity College‘s bicentennial. Given that we met at college, the symmetry felt impactful. Though the fireworks might not have been intended to be exclusively for us, they felt just a little extra special.
The move to Hartford has offered me the opportunity to capture this time sequence (like the ones I took in Kentucky and the North Country) with a dramatic view of Travelers Tower over the course of a day. If the image appeals, it’s also available as a dynamic wallpaper for macOS that will change your desktop with the time of day.
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See that little camper, beneath the streetlight, near the center of the image? Though I know it’s most likely the headquarters for a construction project, I like to imagine it’s the kind of “humble abode with dramatic view” that serves as the home of some loner protagonist (see TRON: Legacy and Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood.)
After a teaser from the climb up on Friday, here is the full view from the top of Mohonk’s Skytop. This high-resolution panorama is definitely worth clicking through to Flickr for the full-sized version. There’s a lot here: the hotel and its namesake lake, but also the trails and conserved forest space around it. The water retention pond in the foreground is the semi-secret reason for Mohonk’s continued existence: though there were a variety of all-wood structures like Mohonk in the past, most have burned down over the years. This is the water source for the Mountain House’s fire suppression system, which was installed early and has preserved the structure through tribulations.
If that picture of Skytop from last week sparked the question, “What does the view look like from the top?” I’ll meet you halfway; this is the view from the climb up. (The rest of the view will come Monday.)
That cliff face exploding from the trees is part of the Shawangunk Range of mountains, home of Mohonk Mountain House.
Light trails from (a) vehicles leaving a concert at Equus Run Vineyards and (b) cruising along the nearby highway might imply some connection between the two, but years of renting the summer cottage at the left side of this picture has taught us the truth: it’s a surprisingly long drive down back-country roads to reach that interstate.
Why save RAW camera outputs from (in this case) six years ago? Digital photography is a rapidly advancing field, and the advent of machine-learning-based noise reduction techniques has completely changed what sorts of images are salvageable. This lovely shot of Berkeley’s fire trails and tall (but invasive) eucalyptus trees stayed in the “unusable” pile for half a decade because I took it freehand, just after sunset, before I deployed my tripod—resulting in an ISO 4500 image from my old D7000 that was just too noisy. Topaz’s latest filters solved that and now this photo can take me back to my California sabbatical.
Moving to downtown Hartford, Connecticut placed this view just outside my window. I used to look across the city to Travelers Tower (the illuminated building at right) from my dorm room at Trinity College; 15 years later, I realize it shone like a beacon because it was being actively lit from nearby rooftops. Perhaps that’s a good lesson for life: the achievements that stand out don’t do so by accident, but because of conscious effort.
Reviewing my street photography from last November’s trip to Dublin, I was interested to find this set of three otherwise-unrelated images in which the sense of perspective above a busy crowd induced an element of symmetry and order.
Interstates may seem a natural part of the American landscape, but the drone’s-eye view reveals the truth of how highways were laid atop the earlier landscape. I like the convergence of the headlights along both the country road and I-64, like two different eras running to a shared future.
Skytop overlooks Mohonk Mountain House. Though built as a stone replacement for a wooden forest fire watch tower that (ironically) burned down, today it mostly serves as an end-point for a relaxing afternoon hike. As any good landscape photographer will tell you, human figures it your shot helps to provide a sense of scale. Do those figures look tiny enough?
Last Wednesday, I showed you the light trails of concertgoers leaving Equus Run Vineyards. Today, I bring you a bird’s eye view of the same moments. In the distance, Margaux is quiet for the evening; in the midground, car headlights bounce off the grapes; in the foreground, light trails highlight the bridge and the road through the trees.
Decaseconds 