HDR Photography
From San Francisco’s Embarcadero, looking south a sunset, the water provides a gentle palette. (At least compared with the jagged edges of the office buildings against the smooth gradient of the almost-night sky.) My only regret is that the water could not have been a flawless, glassy mirror. Perhaps next time, I’ll settle for a longer exposure.
The use of space, the precision and repeated arches with their perfect alignment, makes the Cathedral of Learning pretty intimidating (but also even more beautiful.)
(The title, by the way, was borrowed from a piece by one of my favorite composers, John Adams, who in turn borrowed it from a William Blake poem.)
The Cathedral of Learning, like most Neo-Gothic buildings, is mostly an exercise in symmetry. I’m all the more fascinated, then, by the little nooks and crannies that eschew this symmetry in favor of their own localized logic. This little bench-and-fireplace alcove, with its overlooking balconies and hexagonal lights, sets itself apart. I can’t help but think it’d look drastically more inviting and charming with a couple of big, woode benches pulled up to the fire. Perhaps they were missing because this was June, and nobody needs a fireplace in Pittsburgh in June.
Spending an afternoon wandering the labyrinthine corridors of the Cathedral of Learning renders me literally impressed–feeling the weight of knowledge and Neo-Gothic architecture on my mind. The symmetry, detail, and even the height all produce an overwhelming impression. Evidently, the effect was a bit more pronounced in the case of the gentleman at lower left. Is there anything more quintessential of the current age than slouching and checking a cell phone in the presence of such beauty?
The Cathedral of learning is just as dramatic on the outside as the inside. The Neo-Gothic lines and the oppressive cloud cover of an oncoming thunderstorm make for a feeling of significant foreboding. I can’t help but imagine that the building was designed for some sinister, supernatural purpose, and that we might need to call in some experts to fix it.
The night is normally an amber-bathed fry-cooker for my mind. On this particular night last fall, however, high temperatures and a local power outage changed the hues of the world to the red-and-blue-and-white of emergency lights.
Having moved away from Berkeley, certain details of life in the quasi-city become more and more unbelievable. This particular abode seems to have been plucked from the pages of a fairy tale.
The University of Pittsburgh’s Cathedral of Learning is overwhelming. Huge, Neo-Gothic ceilings, intricate lights, and arrays of tables decorated with busy students. I’m so amazed by this building because it’s not a library; in essence, it’s just an amazing general-use and administration building. Among these hallways are rooms decorated in the historical styles of dozens of world nations. In essence, picking a random room only contributes to the Hogwarts feeling.
Looking down over an intersection in the dead of night reminds me of staring at a moment without time. No cars, no one rushing in and out of the coffee shop. Everything is still. The perfect subject, then, for a photograph.
The enchanting lights and old quasi-industrial look of SOMA under the Bay Bridge capture the feel of San Francisco to me: the relationship with the bay, the sense of history-but-not-quite, and the constant crush of traffic just beneath it.
I had the chance to wander UC Berkeley’s Memorial Stadium when it was nearly empty one Saturday afternoon. The texture of the weathered concrete is so rough and irregular compared with the smooth, almost-glossy metal of the stands themselves. When free of student mass, it makes for a lovely study in perspective.
The beautiful, shiny, new Energy Biosciences Building in downtown Berkeley is a truly fantastic place to do science. Not only does it have some of the most gorgeous labs I’ve ever seen (with lots of great natural light), it also has meeting/lunch areas like these that do a ton to support the collaborative mindset that is so critical to good science. I wanted to do a multi-shot post today, descending from this glossy surface with its view of the Berkeley skyline (such as it is) down into the bowels of the center.
For many of the biologists working here, the real science is happening down in the basement. Here, mutant and wildtype plants are growing in this incubator to a size where they can be cheerful participants in biofuel experiments.
And the really cool shot from just around the corner: seeds that have just sprouted, growing to a size that they can be planted in soil. From what my charming guide told me, many of these are randomly mutated seeds, and they’re being screened in this media to determine if any have the correct mutation for further experimentation. Behind this example, you can see numerous other sets, merrily growing away. (Or not, if they have this particular mutation.)
As shot from Pier 14, Coit Tower stands atop Telegraph Hill. Its white surface, in conjunction with colored lights, make it absolutely stunning to see at night. Such surreal objects can lack a suitable sense of scale when photographed. This photograph satisfies me so in large part because the homes clustering the hill provide that scale, and a sense of the familiar to match the alien.
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.
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.
Decaseconds 