HDR Photography
When St. Lawrence University began in 1856, the whole school—classrooms and dorms and dining hall and offices—were all crammed into this one building: Richardson Hall. Since that time, a lot has changed about the school. Yesterday marked commencement for the Class of 2020 (virtually), left me thinking about the the history and future of the university.
Trinity College’s “concrete jungle” of dorms have some surprisingly cool architecture for utilitarian dorm buildings.
Though much of Trinity College’s campus has switched to white LED lights, this section still has the orange sodium lights I remember from my days as a student.
Jarvis B was my dormitory during my freshman year at Trinity College. Before it was renovated into quads, it was once a block-long hallway of architectural weirdness.
Trinity College’s Long Walk was my home for four years, and I still find its warm evening glow to be comforting.
At the northern end of Trinity College’s Long Walk is the Dean’s Office. On a warm summer evening ‘neath the elms, however, it’s less an intimidation and more a charmer alongside the rest of the red stone structure.
Trinity College’s Chemistry Department, site of the invention of cyanoacrylate adhesives, still resides in the neo-gothic Clement Hall. During our time there in the early 2000s, the Harry-Potter-esque design combined with the “magical” reactions we ran made it easy to view the building as precisely the place real-world wizards would work.
The admissions building at Trinity College is now more than ten years old, but its stark stone structures still look mostly new. There’s a timeless Avalon quality to the setting, and the addition of a round table completes the picture.
Continuing on the juxtaposition theme from my last post, here we have the “BIGGEST MUSIC CLUB IN CENTRAL EUROPE” jammed into a tiny corner between buildings along Prague’s Vltava River.
The absolute enormity of Manhattan’s buildings is sometimes inaccurately portrayed by their steep, vertical faces. The great wings of Westfield World Trade Center leave little doubt in the mind. Look at those two tiny people at the bottom of the image.
When spring shades into summer and the students go home for break, the campus is oddly empty for the best weather it ever sees. The empty dorms feel a bit like the result of a very tidy zombie apocalypse.
I’ve been capturing images of Johnson Hall of six years, and though the building itself stays the same, the trees outside have shifted and grown (and some died) over time. Time marches on.
Though the difference in color temperature between sunlight and indoor lighting may be intuitively understood common knowledge, I’ve rarely seen a picture that so dramatically illustrates the color contrast.
Though the Musée d’Orsay seems from outside like a fine, upstanding member of Paris’s “traditional architecture” club, its interior reveals some more unconventional aesthetic choices.
On this bright Sunday morning, I finally photographed the mighty Manhattan skyline from high above its (mostly) rectilinear grid. This is my favorite kind of photograph: The expanse of cloud-dappled space stretches all the way to tree-covered hills at the horizon and the cityscape seems to offer infinite detail down at the level of individual windows.
Decaseconds 