HDR Photography
What I really liked about this shot taken on the California coast (you may recognize the creek from previous postings) is the contrast of the reds in the rock with the green of the shrubs hanging on for dear life. The erosion of the rocks is also particularly pleasing.
La Jolla Shores is one of my favorite beaches in the country (as I’ve posted before) in large part due to the incredible variety it presents. The northern end of the beach abuts Scripps and all manner of salt-encrusted concrete constructions; the southern end is home to the La Jolla Shores Hotel, and often has beach weddings. On the beach itself, swimmers stay on the southern end, while surfers dominate the northern half. Behind all of this is a little park, lined by palms, and if you go there in the evening, the smell of families barbequing is absolutely intoxicating.
Here’s the exciting secret of photographing the Golden Gate Bridge: because of the cruel nature of geography, there is exactly one bluff from which to get reasonable pictures of the bridge. Greater than 80% of all Golden Gate Bridge photographs in existence are from the same place (with another 10% coming from the city side.) On any given evening, you’ll see dozens of photographers clustered in the Marin Headlands, set apart only by small differences in compositional preference.
The most interesting thing I discovered in taking pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge, however, was that there is an enormous fence corralling the area. Just as most pictures use a similar angle to incorporate most of the bridge, most pictures also carefully crop away this fence. There are also myriad holes in the fence where rebellious souls have cut spots to poke their lenses through. I was most interested by the interplay of the curving fence links with the solid, glowing form of the bridge. In a way, I think today’s shot paints a truer picture of the sometimes compromised (but always gorgeous) experience of photographing the Golden Gate Bridge.
During a brief jaunt through Berkeley Marina on a gorgeous Saturday afternoon I was able to catch this shot of an intrepid crew setting sail out into the San Francisco Bay and beyond.
We’ve all seen desire paths before, but it wasn’t until recently that I knew their name. They occur in places where the constructed landscaping and walkways don’t reflect the routes people actually want to take. It might be a result of my background as an academic, but I’ve found them to be most ubiquitous at colleges and universities, where designers aren’t always cognizant of the hurry and crowding that results when thousands of students all attempt to change classes simultaneously. (I should probably be proud that a redesign of one of the quads at my alma mater is actually taking previously-developed desire paths into account in its new geometry.)
Today’s shot comes from outside the Valley Life Sciences Building at UC Berkeley; at each corner of the building, the name of one of the life sciences appears in the stonework. I didn’t plan it this way, but was happy to see that the “Psychology” corner was visible over the desire paths: the cause hovering over the effect.
On a recent trip up to Sonoma I was lead into this valley just off of Sonoma Plaza.We didn’t taste here but I couldn’t help grabbing a shot or two while I was there.
Berkeley really does have some truly gorgeous vignettes, both on- and off-campus. This shot of a tree on Hearst Ave. last fall is so conveniently lit to accentuate the broad reach of its branches and their solidity relative to the leaves in the stiff breeze.
(Or perhaps I should call it the Crushinator?) You may recognize today’s shot from Campbell Hall’s time as a mummy, but yesterday the reaper finally came for the building. I have to admit to my own exhilaration as I watched them slice and tear through the acres of rebar; of course, everyone in the crowd was watching through their cell phones as they snapped pictures. There’s something hypnotic in watching the end of something that seemed to permanent.
Beaches are wonderful, no? The surf is so majestic.
Ah, the mighty queen of all ponies, a.k.a. Posey, a.k.a. Brighton Boast-a-Bit. While I was in Woodside, I had a chance to shoot a portrait of her highness in her stall, relaxing and having brunch (mostly carrots.) I’m finding a real attraction to doing HDR of animals; the tones and textures that are hiding in their fur and hair really jump out.
This fire station is right across the street from the beach down in Half Moon Bay. It really adds to the small town vibe, and makes you forget for a second that this place is a destination.
I shot another horse show this weekend, which meant a trip to gorgeous Woodside, California. I’d been to nearby Menlo park before, but I was still unprepared by the amount of trees and topography I found. Having a longer lens on to shoot the horses worked really well to compress the series of hills and valleys leading up to the bay. Coming from the East Bay, it was still astonishing to see houses tucked in among the trees. (It almost looks like something from the east coast.)
Berkeley’s machine shop really is one of my favorite places–so much so that I keep posting on it. It’s so unlike the world of modern consumer technology, and simultaneously so integral to accomplishing much of my scientific work, that I can’t help but feel an attachment.
Today’s shot features one of the enormous lathes that take up the majority of the space in the shop. Every control is manual, mechanical, and enormously satisfying to actuate. Once it’s up and running, the amount of kinetic energy is pretty intimidating.
Another shot from our recent excursion to the beach at Half Moon Bay. We were hardly the only folks around but it was still peaceful. Sometimes you just have to enjoy the view.
I’ve already posted a few shots from inside the Westgate Hotel, but very few of the view outside. The civic center area of downtown San Diego has a strange claustrophobia to it that I’ve not felt in cities like Chicago or New York, despite their narrower streets. As the morning light first started to battle past the towers, I was feeling this constriction most poignantly.
Decaseconds 