HDR Photography
Cinestudio is the independent movie theater on the campus of Trinity College. After volunteering at this nonprofit through all four years of college, a visit back during reunion was bound to be a bit special. The new sign and new seats in the movie-palace-style setting only added to the effect.
We returned to Trinity College in Hartford, CT, for Reunion this year. It was a classic reunion setting—back ‘neath the elms, on a perfect summer night. I’ve increasingly found that, rather than being an occasion for excess nostalgia, reunions are a tonic against over-romanticizing college. It takes actually visiting to realize that the location is different from the group of people who were once assembled there.
The multistory lobby of Trinity College’s Raether Library was impressive and modern to me when I was a student, shortly after it was built… And I’m happy to report that it remains so to this day.
Following on the dorm-based nostalgia I felt last week, this image of Trinity College’s Jarvis Hall (where I lived during my first year in college) hits even deeper into the I-recently-attended-my-10-year-college-reunion space.
Outside Trinity College’s Jackson Hall stands this enormous oak tree. It was there when I was a student, and I remember looking out the window at it through the changing seasons. Though a tiny corner of campus (and perhaps unremarkable), this place holds a lot of personal meaning to me.
Summer made a perfect match of the elm leaves and Trinity College’s chapel. I wonder if the alignment looks as good with rime on the branches?
This dorm along Trinity College’s Long Walk was my home in college, and this massive oak was outside my window. On returning for my ten-year reunion, there was a degree of satisfaction in seeing the tree still standing.
Years have passed since I last stood before the central edifice of Trinity College’s Long Walk, Northam Hall (and even longer since I lived there.) Twelve years later, many things have changed about me but this building has remained remarkably static.
Thirteen years ago, I took this picture out the window of my dorm room in Trinity College’s Jarvis Hall. Over the years of renovations and upgrades between then and now, I don’t believe the room or the tree are still there. The iconic Neo-Gothic windows, however, are still there.
Summer on a college campus (with all of the energy of a reunion weekend) buzzes and burbles with the remembered excitement of perfect afternoons. On the quad of Trinity College, in the shadow of elm trees and the enormous Neo-Gothic chapel, this reaches its apex. I particularly enjoy the father and son talking on the bench in the foreground, adding a touch of the intimate to an otherwise crowded scene.
The last golden photons, their combination of diffuse and specular reflections bouncing from the windows of Trinity College’s Long Walk, are the perfect additions to the final moments of a crisp winter afternoon. This photo captures only a small section of the full stretch of Long Walk, which I still find rather astonishing.
From the crust of winter, looking back to summer and reunions and picnics on the quad brings that inner warmth.
“Lights so bright they turn night into day!” Vernon Street, home of the Greek organizations of Trinity College, is a place where the time and the activities rarely seem correlated. On a night during the summer, however, the world was quiet and empty.
My last visit to Trinity was a great chance to see all of the Harry-Potter-esque buildings on campus. Their mass and majesty can be a bit overwhelming—so impacting the senses that I wouldn’t be surprised if I perceived a boy flying past on a broomstick.
After a trip back to my alma mater, Trinity College, for reunion weekend (but not my reunion), I’ve had some time to process both my photographs and my feelings from the trip. Standard touchy/feely closure stuff—appreciating my time there, but recognizing that I’m glad I’ve moved on. (If you can call teaching at a different small liberal arts college moving on…) This image of Trinity’s awesome Neo-Gothic chapel is reflective of two things: first, of the imposing nature of the structure, and second, the way in which its white stone can take on many colors depending on the available light. Perhaps that flexibility is an overly-obvious symbol of how feelings for a place can shift with time.
Decaseconds 