HDR Photography
I am a spectroscopist, and this is my laser. It’s enormous, it’s fiendishly complicated, and it takes an enormous amount of time to keep it cooperative. Nonetheless, I can learn about the basic motions of molecules with it.
The farther along I get, the more I realize that the system basically amounts to Legos for big kids.
Skyscrapers really are marvels of engineering. Just think about what it takes to erect one of these massive buildings. I captured this shot in the financial district of San Francisco on a recent outing and decided to see what I could capture by pointing my wide angle lens straight up at some buildings from the sidewalk. Looking up at the sky like this really makes you feel small.
For every bustling San Francisco street, there’s a quiet alleyway like this one. The details of the setting at sunset really jump out: the cracked concrete and lumpy pavement, the intricate fire escapes and the peeling paint. Ninja Turtles are coming out of that manhole cover at any moment.
On the same European adventure to the alpine village of Obergurgl in Tyrol, Austria, I was out for a walk when I captured this shot of a creek running near the village in the process of freezing over. The ice is interesting to look at but the semi-abandoned outbuilding on the bank. It doesn’t appear to be in active service, as evidenced by the partially ajar door, nor is there an obvious way to get down to the entrance, though perhaps without the snow and ice there’s path down the cliff face or maybe even some sort of connection to a cave in the cliff. One can only guess at what function this building does or once did serve.
In the summer, the Berkeley fire trails become dry and brown. For years, the best part of wandering along those trails is reaching this little evergreen grove on a hill above the dry grass and dirt. Mist from passing clouds leaves droplets of water throughout it, and for a moment, I imagine that I’m riding an island in that sea of grass.
Not far from the notoriously dystopian Salton Sea, the deserts of California are astonishingly alienating places. A few barren mountains etch the horizon, and other than lonely power lines and the path of a motorcycle across the dust, there are few signs of other human beings around. The intensity of the sun made me question the wisdom of being out there at all.
Out in rural Vermont, down the road from where I took this photo, is the farm of Vermont Ponies. Though they have a bit of barn space, the majority of the farm is paddocks on grassy hillsides like the one you see here. When a storm is brewing (as it was on this muggy June afternoon) or snow is fall (as it definitely wasn’t), the ponies have run-in sheds like the one on the left side of the picture, where they can find some shelter from the weather. (And of course, some food, too.)
It always amazes me how dense San Francisco’s Chinatown is. The number of store fronts on this block alone is staggering, and coupled with the number of cars parked along the sides of the street it feels very claustrophobic. At the same time it makes it seem busy, even though there are really only a handful of people in the shot. It just seems like there should be a lot going on here.
Though shots of tree branches are a bit cliche, I was really taken by the massive ginko tree on Berkeley’s campus. On a rainy day, when the leaves are turning to a bright yellow and the bark has that perfect texture, the tree looks like a panel from a Calvin and Hobbes Sunday strip.
I feel like there’s a very set picture of what San Francisco looks like to people, the skyline that is depicted is usually the financial district or something including Alcatraz and/or the Golden Gate bridge. On the other hand people sort of know that San Francisco is populated with rows of apartments with bay windows on impossibly steep hills, but they don’t get the big picture here. San Francisco is at its core a sprawling city filled with such apartments and there isn’t just one hill but several. That’s what I tried to capture here, a sunset over what I believe is Russian Hill, looking down from one hill up to another.
In between the bouts of rain, we slipped up to wine country this weekend. Autumn is in full swing, and the fields of grape vines have turned to the perfect combination of reds and golds. It’s easy to get lost in those vines, for just a moment, until I popped my head up and took this picture. Across the sea of color, you can catch the hints of other vineyards and hills dotting the countryside.
San Francisco features this incredibly rapid transition from enormous, modernist towers to older, mostly wooden structures. This transition seems to be located, at least partially, along the divides between the flat portions of the city and the truly, insanely steep bits. Today’s photograph shows the full gradient between the two zones. I particularly like the two tiny figures, sitting on the steps, in the bottom right corner of the image. This tiny detail provides a little bit of a human element to an otherwise dehumanizing scale. They seem to be silent observers, casually taking in the flow of traffic as the sun’s last photons scatter through the atmosphere.
UBC’s Green College (shown here from another angle) is almost 100 years old, but when you’re inside it, the passage of time seems to stop. The heavy, wooden columns and beams seem to have been there forever. The trees are enormous, and enigmatic towers and cottages dot the interior, like the buildings of some alternate-reality castle.
On a recent outing to San Francisco I captured this shot of the these trees in the financial district. The red color and the way the lights were strung around the trees in a swirling pattern lead to a sense of motion, as if the trees have been set on fire. Its a very interesting effect which contrasted with the cooler colors of a nearby set of trees similarly illuminated but bathed in blue, not red.
The empty, remote bits of Vermont have a strangely sinister feeling as the first rumbles of thunder pass overhead and the sky turns that almost-yellow color. The whole world is empty, with not a trace of humans but for a gravel road and the lonely power lines. In a way, it’s astonishing that power is supplied to so much of the country this way.
Decaseconds 