HDR Photography
Neighborhoods like Greenwich Village, Chelsea, and the Bowery are remarkably low-rise until they suddenly run into the wall that is Midtown Manhattan. The new pencil towers under construction may look out of place, but at least they don’t block the views of nature to the north.
This nineteenth-century water tower in the North Country hamlet of Heuvelton, New York is scheduled for demolition (or disassembly, really) to make way for its modern replacement. In the process of preparing the site, however, it was discovered that the original graveyard that was moved to make room for the tower was, uh, not so thoroughly moved as originally assumed. Now, biological anthropologist Prof. Mindy Pitre and her team are on site (beneath the oak tree) to properly finish the job. I joined her for an afternoon to photodocument the site and its tower before ongoing construction forever alters it.
I’ve been capturing images of Johnson Hall of six years, and though the building itself stays the same, the trees outside have shifted and grown (and some died) over time. Time marches on.
We may be deep within the glowing core of autumn in the Northeast at this moment, but I can’t escape the feeling that spring and its attendant graduation drama is fast approaching. If winter proves deep and dark, that may prove itself to be an illusion.
Days are shortening and skies are hardening and winter is coming.
Each tree in the canopy is roughly rotationally symmetrical, resulting in an anisotropic pattern. The sunlight breaks the symmetry and produces this beautiful streak of bright, cadmic yellow.
Liberty Island played such a huge role in the media I consumed as a child—the most iconic symbol of New York (far more recognizable to a child than e.g. the Empire State Building)—that seeing it from One World Observatory was surreal.
On this bright Sunday morning, I finally photographed the mighty Manhattan skyline from high above its (mostly) rectilinear grid. This is my favorite kind of photograph: The expanse of cloud-dappled space stretches all the way to tree-covered hills at the horizon and the cityscape seems to offer infinite detail down at the level of individual windows.
Visiting Governors Island (lacking that apostrophe since 1784) for the first time this weekend, I was astonished to see its historic buildings standing in such contrast to the sleekly modern shape of One World Trade Center in the distance. The island is only 800 yards off the coast of Manhattan, but seems a generation away.
Fall may have officially begun, but the warm weather seems to contradict the calendar. I’m left wondering… When will the boats be pulled out and never returned to the lakes of the Adirondacks in 2019?
Nights may have turned cold and the first leaves have lost chlorophyll to turn gold, but fields are still filled with crops today—the Autumnal Equinox.
St. Lawrence University’s campus has an “everything the sun touches is your kingdom” vibe—the school extends over almost an entire quadrant of town. Just under the setting sun is the most-frequented version of campus, but it continues to extend over the woods to this oxbow.
I cheekily posted this picture to Instagram with the caption, “Get ready for fall(s),” last weekend, but I have to admit I really am. Photographically, autumn means peak creativity for me in the North Country, including visits to places like this: Lampson Falls.
Libraries already have a capacity for bending time a bit (“I’ve been studying for how long?”), so it’s only appropriate for St. Lawrence’s most haunted building to have its space bent a bit as well (by, say, a fisheye lens).
Is there any better place to be at the end of June than the Adirondacks? A soft carpet of moss and pine needles, a smooth varnished wood bench, and a evening view of Saranac Lake makes a great combination.
Decaseconds 