HDR Photography
Across the San Francisco Bay, under the shadow of the East Bay hills, the Port of Oakland hums busily along. From far away and in the golden light of sunset, it’s easy to forget the sophisticated dance of distribution that keeps the urban tangle of the Bay Area alive.
Like Manhattan, San Francisco is largely trapped by water. Like Manhattan, the city has preserved large swaths of “natural” space (e.g. Central Park, Golden Gate Park) in that hyperdense urban mass. The Mediterranean climate, youth, and topographical preposterousness of San Francisco give it a unique (pardon the neologism) architexture. Looking west from the trees of Telegraph Hill, over Russian Hill and on to the Presidio and the Golden Gate Bridge, the cross-section of environments complement each other. My mind still struggles to see the towers of Russian Hill in the same image as the inhospitable rocks of Marin.
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.
This shot of, I believe, bridge 3 in the picturesque Muir Woods is proof that it really is the early bird that gets the worm. Early in the morning you feel almost like you’re the only person around, it is really a spectacular place which is definitely a spot to visit if you ever find yourself in the bay area. Having recently experienced it for the first time it really makes me wonder why I didn’t make it up here earlier.
Far along the beach, the Atlantic waves crash against Brazilian stone. The Sun has just dropped behind the horizon, and I’m standing on these steps beyond a strange little pseudo-bridge and this odd sculpture. To this day, I’m still not sure whether it’s functional, or purely decorative.
At the center of the Nitobe Memorial Garden lies a peaceful pool filled with Koi, and in the middle of that pool lies the “Island of Eternity,” a small island in the shape of a turtle, pictured here.
Climbing Telegraph Hill on foot means stairs. Lots and lots of stairs.
Climbing Telegraph Hill by car means loops. Lots and lots of loops.
(Though I’m sure my memory is exaggerating.) On that winding road through the trees and stones, under the watchful eyes of the wild parrots, are occasional glimpses of the Golden Gate Bridge. With the last wisps of sunlight landing on the hill, the craggily texture of the tarmac and the rocks and trees contrast so perfectly the with the far-off Platonic idealism of that bridge.
A quiet afternoon in the University of British Columbia’s Nitobe Memorial Garden: every path and blade of grass groomed to perfection, the sun wriggles between the leaves to dapple this narrow bridge over a lily pond. Dragonflies dart among the reeds, and the camera captures a perfect moment in time.
My brother stands on the bridge over the creek behind our childhood home. Inside all of those prepositions is the feeling that it used to be so much larger, grander, and more exciting when we were kids. Though we used to make whole forts under the bridge, we now barely fit.
The water practically glows with reflected light. The buildings tower over the scene. The long exposure captures the trails of aircraft in the night sky. San Francisco’s waterfront along the Embarcadero may not have the most enormous and prestigious structures, but nights like this make that irrelevant. The scene makes “enigmatic” and “cyberpunky” into something almost friendly. (Or at least inviting.)
High atop it all is that fascinating golden penthouse structure. The visual similarity to a treasure chest must be more than coincidence.
The University of British Columbia’s campus has the odd quality that many modern campuses do. The vast majority of the buildings are post-war additions, and carry the strong characteristics and visions of each of their respective architects. This particular building caught my eye for the way it integrates a Japanese-style bridge, pool, and island into the courtyard of what could otherwise be a glossy but unremarkable structure.
The combination makes me think of the entrance to some sort of futuristic dojo in a cyberpunk novel. No wonder William Gibson calls Vancouver home.
With the sun setting behind me into the Pacific, the light on the Golden Gate Bridge, the city, and the Bay Bridge beyond it (thus the sandwich effect) begins to shift from golden to deep blue. The lights came on just as the rain started to spit, and the whole scene made me wish I’d brought a thermos of hot chocolate with me.
One of my favorite views in the Bay Area from from Grizzly Hill. (You might recognize a bit of this picture from an earlier night shoot.) I love the combination of dense city in San Francisco, sylvan suburbs in Berkeley, and proper trees in Strawberry Canyon and LBNL.
I was amazed when I first saw the public fishing pier down at the Berkeley marina as it seems to go on forever. It really is astounding how far out into the bay it extends, even as you walk down there. It’s also always packed with people of all skill levels attempting to get something to bite.
There’s something about a (relatively) simple wooden bridge over a wee creek that shouts, “SUMMER!” Given that today is the “unofficial first day of summer” (pools open today in much of the country, etc.), it seemed appropriate to feature something so summer-centric.
Decaseconds 