Two Views of Mohonk

Mohonk Mountain House has grown like lichen across its mountaintop, but its oldest core shapes much of the structure’s identity. Tea time happens at 4:00 PM each day, and guests sit in the array of front porch rocking chairs with their tea during the warmer months.

Original Mountain House

Just around the corner, gazebos crusted with snow dot the cliffs.

Cliff Gazebo

Brick Skeleton

Old buildings of the northeastern U.S. have been repurposed and adapted so many times that they all have odd quirks and echoes of that modification. Look at the patterns in the brick on the back of this building: the skeletons of old walls and structures where they were removed, and windows covered over where there are walls on the other side. What did the back of the American Theatre once do?

Brick Skeleton

Grasse River in Town

The North Country has rough, glacier-hewn landscapes and a culture of independence. How this area is understood and depicted is often a matter of choice on the part of the photographer. Case in point: the path of the Grasse River, on its way to the the St. Lawrence Seaway. Look at all that beautiful early-spring nature!

Grasse River in Town I

But cropping can deceive: if I pan the camera to the right, you see a much different image. The Grasse River travels through downtown Canton, past parking lots and apartment complexes. I think I might prefer the more honest juxtaposition.

Grasse River in Town II

Last Sunset of Spring 2016

Semesters mostly end in a slow burn to the end of final exams. There’s a different end date for almost every student; only seniors share a collective terminus at graduation (and they’re too conflicted about the whole thing to really enjoy it, I’ve noticed.) Last year, I used Decaseconds to document the feeling of the campus contracting, like a balloon in liquid nitrogen, at the end of the semester. This year, the sky and the sun seemed ready to provide a dramatic end to this semester’s classes.

Last Sunset of Spring 2016

Brick to Great Heights

Nearly every surface in this image is brick. From the alleyway to the retaining walls to the towers: brick, brick, brick (or pavers). I understand sheathing a structural steel building in glass or densglass or (heaven forbid) “exterior insulation finishing system,” a.k.a. Dryvit, but the kind of person-hours necessary to assemble all of that orderly brick is mind-boggling.

Brick to Great Heights

Stealthy Empire State Building

Can a building hide? Or surprise? Or sneak?

The Empire State Building, hiding at the other end of 34th St. in Manhattan, seems to support the possibility. The canonical modern New York street scene, one of luxury cars stuck in traffic and smoke from cooking street meat and old industrial buildings being converted into high-end condos, can still surprise. One step away is another scene built of different buildings and people in view.

Stealthy Empire State Building

Needle Buildings Above Central Park

There’s no better place to see the abrupt transition from the semi-“undeveloped” to the densely urban than the edge of Central Park. Trees give way directly to the new generation of “needle buildings,” these spiky skyscrapers that have attracted: (1) big money from Russian kleptocrats and (2) complaints from fans of New York’s traditional architecture. I might be sold on the futuristic spires for their sci-fi appeal.

Needle Buildings Above Central Park

Sneaking Up On the Transamerica Pyramid

The side streets of San Francisco let the sneaky photographer creep up on an unsuspecting building. The tallest building in the skyline looks oddly small in this context. I particularly like the details at street level—restaurants, people, and signs, all a world apart from the geometric perfection of the pyramid.

Sneaking Up On the Transamerica Pyramid