HDR Photography
I captured this shot on the way up to Laurel Falls on a stretch of the AT near the Tri-Cities region of East Tennessee. Along the way there were a bunch of camp sites near the creek, and all I could think was how great it would be to wake up to this scene. I will definitely be going back.
These images are from the Genessee Country Village and Museum, which recreates some of the aspects of nineteenth-century American life. I thought that a bit of black and white photography (with an HDR touch) could be the perfect tool to convey the moment-out-of-time aspect. Here, a balloon is ready for launch.
The old buildings have a smallness to them that I appreciated: the distance between stories was not so large, and they feel on more of a human scale.
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?
My American town always reminds me of Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town,” and I think his comment about the play also applies to life in the North Country: “[It] should be performed without sentimentality or ponderousness–simply, dryly, and sincerely.”
Early spring is a great time to be in the North Country—all of the nature, none of the mosquitoes. The latter half of that equation has shifted as we enter July.
The Roan highlands are a great place for a day hike!
Camp Canaras has a central lodge, a merry place of varnished wood and Scotch served neat. Late at night, long after the campers are tucked in, the place takes on a ghostly, abandoned vibe.
Inside, the minor remnants of the party still remain, along with the major remnants of large animals.
Camp Canaras has some remarkable views during day and night, but especially in the morning. There’s a weird collision of action-movie-preparation scene with rustic vibe to a boathouse; the scene captures the sense of possibility for the rest of the day.
Florida doesn’t have a monopoly on white beaches, tropical plants, and dramatic sunsets, but it certainly knows how to do a classic beach scene.
Advertisements for luxury products have a heavy dose of the preposterous. “When would I possibly find myself driving my Range Rover through a recreated Civil War campground, complete with observation balloon, on my way home from a Hunter Derby?” What a juxtaposition!
I also rather like the idea that lots of luxurious products (like Range Rovers and hot air balloons) are the descendants of military-issue equipment (like this observation balloon, or the original Land Rover—a vehicle heavily inspired by the Willys Jeep.)
The waters of the Racquette River were high and fast when we hiked Stone Valley. There was no clambering around on this day—just standing in the refreshing spray.
I spent the early part of this week at St. Lawrence University’s Camp Canaras (like Saranac Lake spelled backwards) for a retreat. Cold and rain tamped down expectations of canoeing; instead, I had an early morning hike in the sound-dampened world of fog.
At night, the camp took on the otherworldly quiet of the Adirondacks after dark.
Is there any sight more quintessentially Canadian than folks politely queuing for BeaverTails in sub-zero temperatures?
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.
NCAA Div III Track and Field Nationals were held at St. Lawrence this weekend; this was a big deal for a town of fewer than 10,000 people. Extra seating was brought to the field, the whole thing was fenced off, and tons of extra staff were on-hand. This particular event, the last in the decathlon, was particularly amusing. The all-arounders who are decathletes are so much larger than the average track star that the event makes for an interesting comparison.
Decaseconds 