HDR Photography
As summer has officially concluded, I wanted to look back on some images from my first one in Hartford.
Fireworks set off early on the Fourth of July quickly shrouded the area in smoke.
As the moon moves around the horizon, it aligns with different features in the skyline.
A human-made building-cliff faces a glacier-made cliff; when the sun sets, one glows and the other reflects the light.
The first weeks of school during my senior year at Trinity College, all the way back in 2007, were memorable to me for a lot of reasons; one of those was because it was just unbearably hot for a couple of weeks. Now, having returned to campus as a faculty member, I’ve apparently brought this weather back with me. The mostly-un-air-conditioned Clement Chemistry Building is once again my home—but this time, my office has a window unit.
All of the little details of place—the railings and paths, the docks and balconies—stand out in the blue hour. There’s a cozy contrast between the warm lights of Mohonk Mountain House and the cooler colors of the little gazebo atop at rock staring back at the hotel.
The two people looking over the idyllic setting of Mohonk Mountain House from a clifftop gazebo makes this an official entrant in my “the view and the viewer” (alongside this one, this one, probably this one, and definitely this one.)
Does anything say “summer” like nature and watercraft?
After a teaser from the climb up on Friday, here is the full view from the top of Mohonk’s Skytop. This high-resolution panorama is definitely worth clicking through to Flickr for the full-sized version. There’s a lot here: the hotel and its namesake lake, but also the trails and conserved forest space around it. The water retention pond in the foreground is the semi-secret reason for Mohonk’s continued existence: though there were a variety of all-wood structures like Mohonk in the past, most have burned down over the years. This is the water source for the Mountain House’s fire suppression system, which was installed early and has preserved the structure through tribulations.
If that picture of Skytop from last week sparked the question, “What does the view look like from the top?” I’ll meet you halfway; this is the view from the climb up. (The rest of the view will come Monday.)
That cliff face exploding from the trees is part of the Shawangunk Range of mountains, home of Mohonk Mountain House.
Why save RAW camera outputs from (in this case) six years ago? Digital photography is a rapidly advancing field, and the advent of machine-learning-based noise reduction techniques has completely changed what sorts of images are salvageable. This lovely shot of Berkeley’s fire trails and tall (but invasive) eucalyptus trees stayed in the “unusable” pile for half a decade because I took it freehand, just after sunset, before I deployed my tripod—resulting in an ISO 4500 image from my old D7000 that was just too noisy. Topaz’s latest filters solved that and now this photo can take me back to my California sabbatical.
Interstates may seem a natural part of the American landscape, but the drone’s-eye view reveals the truth of how highways were laid atop the earlier landscape. I like the convergence of the headlights along both the country road and I-64, like two different eras running to a shared future.
Last Wednesday, I showed you the light trails of concertgoers leaving Equus Run Vineyards. Today, I bring you a bird’s eye view of the same moments. In the distance, Margaux is quiet for the evening; in the midground, car headlights bounce off the grapes; in the foreground, light trails highlight the bridge and the road through the trees.
The line where the crown of trees around Lake Mohonk gives way to the much-farther-away trees of the valley beyond looks like the sort of trompe-l’œil that might, these days, be generated by a glitchy machine learning algorithm. In this case, however, it’s just down to the unique mountaintop-lake location of Mohonk Mountain House
Tranquil summer fields beneath a vividly hued sky make for a perfect Kentucky landscape.
On the path to Mohonk’s Skytop, this gazebo hangs into empty space. The Bob-Rossian layers to this image make the uncanny perch even more dramatic.
Far in the distance of last Friday’s post was Mohonk Mountain House’s swimming area; I thought it deserved a closer look. The glacier-formed cliffs, tall trees, and array of wooden structures reminds me (oddly enough) of a Shinto shrine—though obviously without the spiritual aspect.
Decaseconds 