HDR Photography
This little town on the shores of the Salton Sea is only a few blocks in each direction, a sort of echo of what might have been in a different ecological timeline. My favorite detail of the image, though, are the other lights away on the far shore of the Sea, just beneath the mountains, suggesting another world still out there.
Bushnell Tower was originally intended to have a twin rising next to it. Though the cost of the first tower ultimately scuttled plants for the second, echoes of the goal remain in the design. It wouldn’t have done to have windows looking directly into one’s neighbors, so the side of the building originally designed to face its partner was constructed with very few windows. My personal stance is to enjoy the little bit of strangeness in a world that threatens to become a bit more smoothed-down and homogenous.
As I noted last week, the gradual evaporation of the Salton Sea has left Bombay Beach with more and more of its namesake. The outlines of the town show where the earthen sea wall was constructed to protect it from flooding that now seems less and less likely; the comparatively more green-hued beach shows the areas that were more recently submerged.
Rain at sunset leaves behind a Hartford looking exactly like I always hoped my city-home would. The smaller buildings in the foreground and the taller structures in the distance have a perfect coincidence to make layer after layer of space vanishing into the golden sky.
A huge facade of reflective glass is just the thing to amplify the pink clouds of a perfect evening in Hartford, Connecticut.
As we reach the vernal equinox at the precise moment this post goes up, I’m taking a moment to reflect on the end of a long, cold winter in Hartford with some of the images I captured of the experience.
Cool Rayleigh-scattered blue light, warm also-Rayleigh-scattered sunset light, clean white LEDs reflecting off of snow, deep orange sodium lights—there’s every option visible from above Trinity College’s campus.
Like most infrastructure, a roof is something one generally ignores so long as it is functioning as expected. A heavy melt of snow, however, might call all of that into question. At least the view is good from up here.
Golden light, golden buildings, green colors in the park. Flying a drone can unveil a new perspective from an altitude that wouldn’t be accessible otherwise, but it can also just give a boat’s-eye view with a lot less paddling.
In the center of downtown Hartford is the settlement’s first burial ground; the centuries-old gravestones beside modern steel-and-glass buildings is the perfect start to October spookiness.
Calder’s “Stegosaurus” peaks out from the trees between the Wadsworth Atheneum and Hartford City Hall.
Though the laws of optics may prevent me from ever reaching the literal end of a rainbow, this double (nearly triple) rainbow over Hartford certainly captures the emotional content of my central-Connecticut experiences.
“Skyline” might be applied more frequently to grand cityscapes, but the sight of Northam Hall and the Chapel standing out amount the Connecticut hillsides is as nostalgic a view as Manhattan to me.
Bushnell Theater and the Connecticut State Office Building across the street look warm and inviting in the dusk light—friendly in a way I wouldn’t otherwise associate with massive facades.
Legend has it that the southern face of Bushnell Tower is nearly windowless because it was meant to closely face a mirror twin of the building (never constructed); now it remains a mysterious facade that adds character to the historic structure.
Decaseconds 