HDR Photography
There’s a tiny (abandoned?) cabin in the woods of this scruffy, autumn-inflected island. This fall has been warm and dry, the Sun bakes the glacier-cut stones, and the water is already cold. In this environment, I can’t help but imagine escaping to a little cabin of my own.
“Downtown” has a very different meaning in a small town. I love the repeating pattern in the second-floor windows of the buildings. Bright reds and blues will soon be covered with snow, but then perhaps I’ll take this same shot again.
Altweibersommer has struck the North Country, with warm afternoons reaching shirtsleeves weather and the Sun bakes the linear forms of railroad tracks and dry branches. A local man walks his dog by the modern metal forms of feed silos.
When the Grand Prix is over and the crowds are heading for the exits, the good horses go back to the barns to sleep.
St. Lawrence University’s Enchanted Forest has a tree planted by each graduating class (though they’ve run out of space!), and amongst the bright yellow leaves and the gnarled bark is Herring-Cole Hall (they say it’s haunted!). The narrow depth of field (I was photographing a wedding!) completes the 3-D feel of standing between the trees.
Procrastinating a proposal is a great time for a quick drone flight. Though the camera quality is still around “potato,” the sight of St. Lawrence’s campus as autumn colors seep in, with foothills in the background, was too good to pass up.
If you’d like to watch the full flight (complete with overly trippy guitar music in place of screaming drone prop noise), I uploaded it to YouTube. The need for a gimbal on the camera is evident.
This domed building, poking above the trees and through a sudden rainstorm outside Columbus, Ohio, reminds me of nothing more than a mage’s tower. I bet there’s treasure at the top!
This street scene from my trip to Seattle jumped out at me because of the shift in tone: As the cars drive around the corner, they drive from the last dark, street-lit parts of the dawn into the full light of day. The passage of time is mapped onto the transition of light.
Photo nostalgia for the day: the strange, flat light of the marine layer burning off the Bay. The mix of architectural styles from the early twentieth century makes Berkeley, on a day like this one was, seem like a scale model of itself.
The streets of Seattle are almost empty, early on a Saturday morning in August. The retro lettering and style of the Louis Vuitton display and the science-fictional curve of Rainier Tower above it make me think of 1970s-era film. A car chase must be just around the corner. (I suspect I’ve thought this about a post before, but as this is apparently my 600th Decaseconds post, that should be forgivable.)
Portland’s Pearl District is colonized by construction like some sort of reverse-termites; shiny new buildings add to the skyline each day. As impressive as the reflections and the bridges and the gorgeous dawn sky is, I rather love the image of the man reading the paper in the bottom-right corner of the image. He’s literally on the edge of this dramatic image, but so thoroughly unfazed. Reading the paper and eating cereal has to happen sometime!
My co-author is the true Seattleite, and I began to understand the appeal of the place when I spent time there for a wedding this weekend. From atop the Fairmont Olympic Hotel, the view of uncanny Rainier Tower complements the wee cars in the streets below. Dawn is the time to gaze down the canyons.
The grassy, rolling, limestone-based Kentucky countryside looks too perfect. Precise fencing geometries and gently rippling ponds are just too much. I’m reminded of the famous Microsoft Windows XP default wallpaper, “Bliss.” The key to making both images work, I think, is an overall very clean image with just enough small details and imperfections at the edges to show you that it must be real.
When the water level rises in Stone Valley, the landscape gets odd, and impossible islands form where there were once minor changes in the landscape.
The water rushes through ferns and tree-roots and creates barriers in the landscape that redefine hiking for the day.
Decaseconds 