HDR Photography
Aging can be kind of an eerie process, and the rugged steel and green lighting of this other room beyond Woodford Reserve’s standard aging racks certainly emphasizes that. Even if the whiskey is tasty, green lighting proves to be too sinister to resist.
The Club has two jobs: one part family-friendly restaurant for the community, and one part standard bar. I’m just sad that they stopped having Newcastle on tap.
The longer I spend in small-town life, the more alien a view down the tree-lined streets of Seattle becomes. If the warm towers are a rare sight, the man crossing the street with his dog is a more normal image for me to concentrate on.
The gradient from dense, urban (and suburban) areas to rural and natural settings is one of my favorite photographic subjects—and the subject of most of my favorite photographs. In this particular aerial shot from the in-between area over Pennsylvania, the sun has mostly set, leaving shadows and a few orange reflections in the overly ordered geometry of subdivisions. Down the winding highway, beyond the hills, in the less-dense and more agrarian land, the sun still casts a warm glow.
In most of North American, a lawn of short grass has no business being near enormous, deciduous trees; this particular image matches an afternoon of improbably sunlight with that preposterous botanical mix.
The VW Bus is an icon of mid-twentieth-century America, and the surviving examples dotting the West Coast (like this one in Seattle) recall those times. (Given their current emissions issues, that’s perhaps a time for which Volkswagen is a bit nostalgic themselves.)
So much of this interior—the wheel, the gauges, the radio—look to be stock that the subtle additions stand out. The nav/cell holder suction-cupped to the windshield is pretty subtle, but the plastic demon/ghost/goober on the dash is an ethereal addition.
I couldn’t resist just one more image from the foothills of the Adirondacks in this weird, gentle fall. The bright blotches of birch branches (I couldn’t help myself) and their attendant leaves stand in contrast to the mechanical, industrial aspects of the scene.
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.
The HDR technique brings out all of the subtle textures of brick and roofing where comic book heroes dwell: on the roofs of fancy hotels. When a supervillain takes the (imaginary) party below hostage, a skylight makes a perfect entrance. Also, a great way to end The Game.
Barrels of (basically) moonshine await aging at Woodford Reserve. Do you feel the temptation to just roll one out the door and down the road?
After a Grand Prix at the Rolex Arena in Lexington, Kentucky: some very excited young riders meet a very special horse.
Fall in the North Country makes dramatic skies and shadows. What I’ll call “drivewayhenge” aligned the sun precisely with this driveway, allowing for much of the scene to be in shadow while the garage at the end is a glowing beacon. In typical North Country fashion, that garage is a Millenium Falcon of useful modifications.
Decaseconds 