An early-evening flight into Chicago puts the setting sun behind the skyline along Lake Michigan, reflecting silhouettes from the placid surface.
Rolling Adirondack foothills make for a whole array of waterfalls around the North Country. Lampson Falls looks particularly good from this “impossible” (sans drone) profile perspective, with sunset light reflecting off the pool in the foreground.
Quadcopter drones give photographers access to all kinds of new angles for shots, but also introduce challenges that did not have to previously be considered. I should have thought in more detail about the orientation of the impressive Lampson Falls—and considered that I wouldn’t be able to get the steep face of the falls and the setting sun in the same shot. I guess I’ll have to get up at dawn for the “proper” version of this picture.
Flying again in the spring means a special view of the Adirondack foothills, particularly in areas like this: Lampson Falls in Clare, New York.
I often show what I think of as the front of Johnson Hall of Science, but inspection of this image (particularly the top of the brick wing on the left) shows that the building’s name, and thus its front, are on this side. The dramatic glass structures extending between and out from the wings lend credence to the idea.
St. Lawrence University’s Saddlemire Trail (just to the right of the creek) runs through the wilder parts of our campus. A sunset stroll along it (and its twin, the Kip Trail) makes for a perfect early-June evening.
At the dawn of aviation, flight was magical. Then, it became routine. Now, after months in lockdown, a view above the clouds once again feels pretty special.
At the northern end of Trinity College’s Long Walk is the Dean’s Office. On a warm summer evening ‘neath the elms, however, it’s less an intimidation and more a charmer alongside the rest of the red stone structure.
There’s a bit of irony that a 10-year reunion, an opportunity to wander around campus and feel nostalgia, occurs during the summer—a season when I never experienced campus when actually a student.
My favorite little detail of this image is the airplane contrail just past the crescent moon.
Battling the breezes of late summer above the fallow fields of the North Country, this image might appear to be capturing the edge of a farm. In fact, this is the southeastern reach of St. Lawrence University’s rural campus. The stables, home of our IHSA riding team, are off in the distance.
After we spent an entire day exploring Prague Castle, strolling gently down the sunset-lit cobblestone streets to dinner felt exceptionally satisfying.
Though the Tom Clancy vibe of the USS Jackson may not fit with every part of Portland, Oregon’s hippy vibe, it was conveniently moored across the river from the twin towers of the Oregon Convention Center with which it shares a certain angularity
Time has transformed a random sunset shot out the window of my sabbatical apartment in Berkeley’s Normandy Village into a nostalgia-inducing pixel arrangement. Even the wood patterns in the window frames now stand out to me.
The year 2020 is here! “Cautious optimism” remains my default lens for the future, but a look back over the photography of the past decade (like this shot from the Molecular Foundry overlooking San Francisco during my sabbatical), I’m feeling a bit excited. The first major upgrade in my shooting platform is planned for 2020 (the Nikon D7000 is getting a well-deserved retirement) and I can’t imagine the improvement I’ll see when I jump an entire decade forwards in camera technology.
As frozen rain bounces off the roadways of northern New York, I’m reminded that our town works truly do battle with the elements each winter. Floating high over their facilities when spring finally arrives, I feel like I’m looking over the encampment of a victorious army.