El Cerrito to the Campanile

In this image, my entire walk to work during graduate school is captured and arrayed. The go-to-work route of my co-editor is also hidden in the farther reaches of this picture (with the far-off Albany Hill marking its start). That hill is interesting in part because it used to have several similar siblings in the area that ere dynamited down to make room for more housing. Being a primarily landscape photographer, I’ve always liked the relationship between physical spaces and memories—and the ways the two can shift together over time. The connection of photography and memory, and the effect of going back to old photos, has been a growing interest of mine. (I articulated my general feelings in this post from 2014.)

El Cerrito to the Campanile

Golden Flare Over Lombard Street

The golden flares of sunset in San Francisco amp up the unreal qualities of the place. That wacky Lombard Street is only the third or fourth most interesting thing about the picture speaks to the profound weirdness. I hope the homogenizing influence of extreme wealth doesn’t change it too much.

Golden Flare Over Lombard Street

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

Come On, Street!

Having been outside the crazy-sphere of city life for a year now, I like looking back on the outrageous geometries that San Francisco calls reasonable. (I’m guessing the number of patches are repairs to that very steep street is a testament that road crews are just as uninterested in climbing it as the average pedestrian.) It’s really not surprising that so many classic movies take place in San Francisco: drama and strangeness is built right into its structure.

Come On, Street!

Span Aside

This photograph is a double-case of finding interesting details by looking away from the obvious. On one hand, this subtler image was captured opposite an intense sunset over San Francisco. The color palette is heavy with pastels, but accented with a few harsh reds from Oakland in the distance. In the image itself, there’s a tiny building under the right-hand span of the bridge. Seeing something so (let’s say) adorably sized next to something so dominant and enormous makes for a charming contrast.

Span Aside

Two Trails

I present to you a pair of photographs:

The first is from Muir Woods on the Marin Peninsula of California. That morning was rainy and the colors are rich and dark and the setting is some natural/romantic variety of Baroque. Practically overwhelming.

Rain on Endor

The second is from Stone Valley this weekend, dry and crunchy with snow, the river mostly frozen at the surface, with currents of dark water beneath. More minimal, more quiet, more subdued. But is this trail any less beautiful than the first?

Another Winter Hike

Graduate Student Workspace

When all of “my space” meant a tiny Berkeley apartment and a tiny grad student desk, things that were important to me and integral to my daily life accrued only in those places. This desk might appear messy, but it’s also stuffed full of books and tables and notes. There are parts of my bike and parts for the laser and parts for making things in the machine shop. There are drawings and computer equipment, and there are cups for coffee and cups for beer. What more does a graduate student need?

Graduate Student Workspace

The Corner Booth in Aki

Aki is a tiny Japanese restaurant just north of the University of California’s campus, and it was my regular Friday lunch spot with my Decaseconds co-author, Brendan. That corner booth in the back (the one drenched in noontime sunshine) was the very place that the idea and name for Decaseconds were born. Over a steaming dish of katsudon, we hashed out the idea. When I began photography, I captured moments very much in the present, but in looking back to this image (and giving it a processing tweak here and there), I’m exploring my new ability to travel back through time to places and experiences past. That warm corner is one of contemplative nostalgia. The Corner Booth in Aki's