HDR Photography
This image from inside Herring-Cole Hall at St. Lawrence University reminds me of the ending of 2001: A Space Odyssey: All bright white surfaces and traditional motifs, but with a shape, geometry, and brightness that doesn’t seem quite of this Earth.
The view from atop Berkeley’s Campanile is a nostalgic one, with San Francisco and Oakland popping up in the distance above the sprawl. Walking along those broad, slightly cracked, and sun-baked pathways of Berkeley’s campus never quite felt natural, though. Can a place magnified beyond human scale feel that way?
The new steeple on Gunnison Memorial Chapel is installed (remember when it arrived?) and beginning to react with the atmosphere around it. This chemistry, in which copper metal transfers electrons to non-metal atoms from the air to become an ion, is called “reduction-oxidation” chemistry—abbreviated “redox.” Seeing this reaction happen on such a large scale, and produce such an awesome array of colors, is a treat.
Information cannot move through the universe (as far as we know) any faster than the speed of light. In the hyperbolically shaped world of spacetime, all factors that could influence my current state are in the “light cone” behind me, and all factors that I can influence in the future are in the “light cone” ahead of me. This photograph, from during a particularly nasty winter storm, exhibits light cones of another variety.
As part of my continuing series documenting the end of the school year on St. Lawrence’s campus, this image was taken on the same night as this one, just before the addition of the renovated steeple to Gunnison Memorial Chapel. As students say their goodbyes and party their way out of the college lifestyle, the campus is also being polished and prepared for commencement.
Continuing my observations of the end of the year are a couple of photographs of campus buildings that have a bit of literal spirit to them. First is Sykes Hall, one of the older dorms. With the full moon by the tower and the HDR’ed light trails (a happy accident), the scene says “Halloween in May.”
ODY Library doesn’t have the same old-school creepiness, but rather that brutalist, Soviet vibe that says the ghosts must be a bit more modern.
Continuing this week of “end of the school year,” calming-of-the-campus photographs is this landscape over the quad: An ocean of light and shadow (pardon the cliché) divides the new Kirk Douglass Hall (a.k.a. “the new dorm”) from the rememberer.
The end of the school year has finally arrived (I’m proctoring a final as we speak), and that leads to a lot of complicated emotions for graduating seniors: relief, regret, nostalgia, hope, etc. In a disused utility stairwell between a loading dock and a backstage prep area, I found this charming little shrine/still life. In the context of the space and the moment, I can’t begin to imagine what kind of meaning this structure contains. There’s a lovely symmetry though, isn’t there?
When it’s a snowy Friday morning and the ski slopes are calling, who can resist the urge to cut class and get to skiing?
The last golden photons, their combination of diffuse and specular reflections bouncing from the windows of Trinity College’s Long Walk, are the perfect additions to the final moments of a crisp winter afternoon. This photo captures only a small section of the full stretch of Long Walk, which I still find rather astonishing.
The St. Lawrence University Outing Club always has something interesting set up outside their house, no matter the season. Even when they’re away on break, the frames and supports and ground-work for some crazy stunt of the future are ready. This peaceful moment seemed uncharacteristically placid and I just had to capture it.
I’ve been on a serious St. Lawrence-in-the-snow photography kick lately, but pictures like this shot of Kirk Douglas Hall (the campus’s newest dorm) really justify the trend. Framed by trees and isolated in the snow, the idyllic nature of the place is enhanced.
In case you were wondering where I get the expression that St. Lawrence University looks like “a ski resort without the ski slopes,” last weekend provided some pretty good evidence. The modern-but-slightly-Nordic buildtings, the oft-cleared pathways, and the gates with reflective tape on them all remind me of ski lodges. Perhaps the best way to describe the school during winter break is a ski lodge for cross-country skiers?
From the crust of winter, looking back to summer and reunions and picnics on the quad brings that inner warmth.
Today’s photograph is from two years ago, and what was once my mundane walk home has now become a totally alien scene of science fiction flora and architecture. The overwhelming light of the windows and the sharp geometries imposed by noise reduction algorithms really add to the effect.
Decaseconds 