Amongst the Thousand Islands, scattered between New York and Ontario, this island of fields and wind turbines seems to be astride the past and the future.
The “Beaver Moon” is the last full moon in November—the last time in the season, supposedly, when beaver traps could be set at night. How fitting that my first visit to Toronto, Canada occurred on just such a night. The city has a character that seems to be a mix of Vancouver-style modernism and Chicago-style Old City; it was a great reminder of the kinds of HDR shots that first attracted me to the technique to begin with.
The composition and content of the photographs brought to mind the works of early/mid-twentieth century naturalists, and I tried to envision what their take on Piper’s work would have been:
Today’s guest post comes from Dr. Piper Klemm, publisher of The Plaid Horse. Piper is traveling the northern land of Alberta, Canada for the Calgary Stampede. She stopped by Lake Louise, near the border with British Columbia, and home to some incredible views (more to come). This particular moment, with sunlight peaking through the clouds to illuminate a lakeside cabin and the canoes on the right of the image, was too perfect to resist posting.
Visiting nearby Canada means looking at a mirror-version of the United States, reflected across the border. Like looking in a mirror, everything is still recognizable. Up is still up. Down is still down. But the brands and the metric units and the nationalism is different. Does looking in the reflection of Ottawa in the Shaw Centre reverse the transformation?
An added bonus: this is technically a self-portrait, with my tiny self down in the foreground.
Visiting Ottawa often means a visit to the surreal and somewhat overwhelming Château Laurier. The outside of the hotel, I’ve noted previously, is pretty impressive; the interior doesn’t disappoint, either. For all the polished-floor touches and deep wood paneling, I find the most charming (and perhaps old-school Canadian) feature of the scene is the portrait of Winston Churchill.
Dotting the road to Ogdensburg’s bridge to Canada are tiny, abandoned houses like this one. It’s rather charming, and just a bit sad, but mostly it reminds me of Neal Stephenson’s Anathem, and the obversations that a society can retreat from the frontiers and back into the cities over time. Sprawl and civilization are not inevitable.
Wandering around Ottawa’s Parliament Hill, I kept waiting to find a security checkpoint and guards with assault rifles; I guess I never got far enough before I had to swing back to my chemistry conference. The combination of Gothic architecture with the modern buildings of Ottawa’s skyline, and with the tiny technotouches of modern security systems, made for a delightful combination. This is our science-fiction present, I suppose.
The heart of Ottawa clusters Neo-Gothic architecture around Parliament Hill and the canal. Whether hosting a Lupin-III-esque heist or serving as the perfect setting for a James-Bondian escape scene, it’s hard to shake the imagined adventures of speed boats and thugs on motorcycles negotiating the steps of the lock system