HDR Photography
When I’m in the first row, inches from the action of St. Lawrence’s DIV I women’s hockey, there’s no better lens than my 35 mm prime. That lens let me capture this Last-Supper-esque shot of six players all chasing the puck; they’re all roughly equidistant from me, making the shot slightly flat and surreal, like a splash page in a comic book.
This picture comes with added good new: the women’s team won their first playoff game this weekend!
Glaze ice entombs the branches of trees in the courtyard of St. Lawrence University’s Johnson Hall of Science in the aftermath of last weeks. The view out my office window is much improved.
The regular ice hockey season has ended (and the playoffs are ahead!), but it went out on a great note: St. Lawrence crushed Brown 3–0. The very similar nature of the school colors helped the aesthetics. Then there was the actual play: the three Brown players against one St. Lawrence player about measured the balance of power. It made for some odd and dynamic hockey.
An ice storm has transformed campus; I’ve never seen it this beautiful. For the folks in admissions (like the tour guide and family in this photograph), that must be a boon!
St. Lawrence’s campus becomes extra strange and ski-resort-esque when a fresh layer of snow is cleared by night. When morning arrives, paths are “magically” clear.
Real winter arrived with a horrible stillness. When the temperature is -25ºF, nothing moves and nothing melts and every bit of solid water stays just where you leave it. Even the tiny twigs and branches were stuck in its embrace.
I wanted to look back briefly on the structures of St. Lawrence University’s campus under lockdown from heavy snow. The oldest buildings, like Herring-Cole Hall, are naturals.
This little shed is in odd scale with the buildings around it, but its little puddle of light fits perfectly with the evening.
I’ve always grown to love the mid-twentieth-century buildings like the ODY Library. The lights, snow, and scaffolding among the trees put me in mind of Soviet science fiction.
Here is another example from around the same time period, Bewkes Science Hall. In my mind, authors of speculative fiction must be hiding behind the drawn blinds and imagining snowy, cyberpunk futures of the late 1990s.
Beyond Sather Tower’s bars and columns is Telegraph Ave. and the city of Oakland. I never forget that view, but I do somehow always forget the red tiles at the top of the campanile. I guess my brain abstracts away the details, even when they’re a major part of the scene.
In this image, my entire walk to work during graduate school is captured and arrayed. The go-to-work route of my co-editor is also hidden in the farther reaches of this picture (with the far-off Albany Hill marking its start). That hill is interesting in part because it used to have several similar siblings in the area that ere dynamited down to make room for more housing. Being a primarily landscape photographer, I’ve always liked the relationship between physical spaces and memories—and the ways the two can shift together over time. The connection of photography and memory, and the effect of going back to old photos, has been a growing interest of mine. (I articulated my general feelings in this post from 2014.)
This cowboy of the sky is complete with mustache, wide-brimmed hat, and rugged gloves. This sunny September afternoon was the perfect time for aeronautics; today, not so much.
Snow levels and re-makes the world, if only for a short time. My sense of scale decouples slightly from reality; though I know that the chapel is far taller than any form, man-made or otherwise, on St. Lawrence’s campus, I can’t help but imagine these trees stretching to impossible heights.
At the far end of Johnson Hall, a tower of windows overlook the very pleasing shape of the circle in the setting sun. Leaning back in the chair, feet up, a glass of hot chocolate in hand: what better way to watch the day end?
When the time came to make the really big prints in Prof. Melissa Schulenberg’s Advanced Printmaking course at St. Lawrence University, only a steam roller had significant- and even-enough pressure to produce the best result. The breezy afternoon, the green foliage, and the bright yellow steam roller on a placid college campus makes for one serious juxtaposition in the middle of winter.
St. Lawrence University’s Herring-Cole Grove (a.k.a. the “Enchanted Forest”) in autumn is flush with golden leaves that carpet the ground and frame the sky; this makes the perfect compliment to the Gunnison Memorial Chapel from which these two just exited. I can’t help but be grandiose when remembering a day like this one.
St. Lawrence University’s Enchanted Forest has a tree planted by each graduating class (though they’ve run out of space!), and amongst the bright yellow leaves and the gnarled bark is Herring-Cole Hall (they say it’s haunted!). The narrow depth of field (I was photographing a wedding!) completes the 3-D feel of standing between the trees.
This photograph of the newly restored steeple of St. Lawrence’s Gunnison Chapel captures the Lazarus effect of seeing it return. I swung the camera to the setting sun, and I really like the way it cast a range of hues and structures over the image.
Decaseconds 
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