HDR Photography
Weekend wind banished the last of the leaves from the trees and brought us fully into Stick Season. During this worst of all possible seasons, I appreciate looking back to the pictures I took when the world was a bit more vibrant. On the second day of this summer, the sunset hid behind the big leaves of the trees—the leaves that now coat my lawn.
The Central Railroad of New Jersey Terminal at Liberty State Park may not serve quite the role it once did, but the structure remains a lovely and imposing feature across the Hudson from downtown Manhattan.
Liberty State Park’s Empty Sky Memorial is a sobering corridor facing downtown Manhattan. Taking a moment of stillness between the walls of names, I saw some other visitors doing the same thing.
Un-fall has included a disappointing lack of brightly colored foliage and odd weather. I say: bring on winter.
From New Jersey’s Liberty State Park, the view of downtown Manhattan is unimpeded. The view extends all the way up to Midtown and landmarks like the Empire State and Chrysler Buildings. With nothing but the water’s reflections between me and the skyline, there’s an odd calmness to a multimillion-person city.
Passing into autumn, I’m already thinking ahead to the winter nights in the North Country. The hidden, semi-subterranean Buccaneer Lounge is a warm and cheeseburger-filled beacon on a cold, rainy evening.
The comfort of a cozy bedroom after a long day of traveling cannot be overrated.
I’ve taken many pictures of St. Lawrence University’s Johnson Hall, particularly at night—its sheer glass face looks particularly stunning when fully illuminated. After years at the school, I’ve realized the degree to which those pictures have aged; the trees outside no longer take the same form and the whole setting of the structure is now. After more than five years at St. Lawrence, perhaps I need to begin revisiting other structures, too.
Though we may officially have a couple more weeks, summer has practically ended when schools resume. St. Lawrence University’s campus is buzzing with students and faculty at all hours of the day and night.
Now can we please be done with the summer weather? Bring on fall.
There’s a sunset balance point when the intensity of San Francisco’s city lights precisely match the intensity of the light remaining in the sky. When those photons are in equal proportion, even a busy city can look oddly peaceful.
Arriving at the one-year anniversary of the end of my sabbatical time in Berkeley, I’ve also reached the end of processing pictures that I took while I was there—though many more will be posted in the future. Our apartment was on the second flood of this build, where the screen of the same laptop on which I’m currently typing lights up the bottom-right corner of the window and the narrow slit of dark windows were over the kitchen sink where I’d cook dinner.
At the right time of day and with the right hints of weather, San Francisco looks extra futuristic. Home to the tech industry, I think the city usually merits the descriptor.
There are no crenelations, gates, or moats; this is not a place to hold off an invading force. Nonetheless, the châteauesque architecture of Berkeley’s Normandy Village seems like it could fairly be called a castle, filtered through generations of repeating architectural patterns. With each generation, the style moves farther from the functional reasons for its original existence.
From the graffitied logs of Berkeley’s Grizzly Peak, the Bay Bridge and San Francisco make for an incredible view—when they’re visible. The dramatic high clouds of winter are replaced by an all-shrouding marine layer in the summer that often turns the peak into a cloud bank. On the lucky nights when the marine layer is delayed, the bridge and city lights have a moment to shine before the blanket falls.
Decaseconds 