HDR Photography
Snow comes early to the North Country. Nothing quite justifies a cold morning more than waking up to a lovely dusting of snow and flakes in the air. The oak trees are still stubbornly holding onto their leaves, and thus there was a cozy snow-free zone (and a welcoming bench) from which to watch the snow this morning. Johnson Hall of Science looks friendly in all seasons.
On the dawn of SLU’s homecoming weekend, the sky was filled with appropriately dramatic clouds and the campus was dotted with all sorts of exotic temporary structures. (Or really only one sort: tents.) The attraction of a liberal arts campus on a crisp autumn weekend jumps from the screen.
I’ll sneak in one more unscheduled weekend post with this photograph from St. Lawrence University’s Avenue of the Elms. Some fall afternoons are so perfect that they must be shared.
The benefit of teaching early morning classes: I’m finally (routinely) up for the sunrise. Even when the morning is cold and my fingers don’t want to be operating a camera, the fall and the clouds and the trees conspire to make Johnson Hall of Science (a frequent subject) look like paradise.
St. Lawrence University celebrated Parents’ Weekend on Saturday with a gorgeous fireworks display on the south side of campus. Conveniently, this is the sky above Johnson Hall of Science. The combination of architectural textures, floral fireworks patterns, and fall foliage make for an image that would be more at home in a video game than reality.
In the quiet of Nitobe Memorial Garden, I was struck by the craftsmanship of this teahouse. Even the roof had such gorgeous structure, with the wood lit by ambient light reflected from the water and the foliage.
In the sylvan core of UBC’s (aptly named) Green College, a few random buildings hide with the trees. Some have pedestrian uses (literally—the building on the right is a stairwell), but others are more surreal: this little cottage is a shared-use kitchen. As the first rays of moonlight catch the scene, I can’t help but be reminded of some Tolkienesque elven fortress.
While I’m on the trend of remembering summers past (and mourning the end of our own summer), I’m also going to reminisce about our trip to the University of British Columbia’s Nitobe Memorial Garden last summer. Look at that lushness. Foliage everywhere. And, as I like to joking call it, the “enormous bonsai tree” framing the soft scene.
The use of space, the precision and repeated arches with their perfect alignment, makes the Cathedral of Learning pretty intimidating (but also even more beautiful.)
(The title, by the way, was borrowed from a piece by one of my favorite composers, John Adams, who in turn borrowed it from a William Blake poem.)
The Cathedral of Learning, like most Neo-Gothic buildings, is mostly an exercise in symmetry. I’m all the more fascinated, then, by the little nooks and crannies that eschew this symmetry in favor of their own localized logic. This little bench-and-fireplace alcove, with its overlooking balconies and hexagonal lights, sets itself apart. I can’t help but think it’d look drastically more inviting and charming with a couple of big, woode benches pulled up to the fire. Perhaps they were missing because this was June, and nobody needs a fireplace in Pittsburgh in June.
The University of Pittsburgh’s Cathedral of Learning is overwhelming. Huge, Neo-Gothic ceilings, intricate lights, and arrays of tables decorated with busy students. I’m so amazed by this building because it’s not a library; in essence, it’s just an amazing general-use and administration building. Among these hallways are rooms decorated in the historical styles of dozens of world nations. In essence, picking a random room only contributes to the Hogwarts feeling.
With a campus as huge and old as Berkeley’s, it’s natural to expect that there would be some odd corners here and there. This particular back door, hiding in an out-of-the-way location at the back of Bowles Hall (and surrounded by creepy fences and trees) seems like the perfect place to hold the meetings of a secret society.
The glorious Beaux-Arts Classical Revival style of the Hearst Memorial Mining Building stands out among the sometimes-utilitarian University of California, Berkeley. That the building was renovated in the past ten years (but in a way that leaves this lovely lobby unmolested) thrills me. From a crassly photographic perspective, however, I’m most in love with the golden bricks in lovely geometric patterns, and the complementary color of the ironwork.
I had the chance to wander UC Berkeley’s Memorial Stadium when it was nearly empty one Saturday afternoon. The texture of the weathered concrete is so rough and irregular compared with the smooth, almost-glossy metal of the stands themselves. When free of student mass, it makes for a lovely study in perspective.
The beautiful, shiny, new Energy Biosciences Building in downtown Berkeley is a truly fantastic place to do science. Not only does it have some of the most gorgeous labs I’ve ever seen (with lots of great natural light), it also has meeting/lunch areas like these that do a ton to support the collaborative mindset that is so critical to good science. I wanted to do a multi-shot post today, descending from this glossy surface with its view of the Berkeley skyline (such as it is) down into the bowels of the center.
For many of the biologists working here, the real science is happening down in the basement. Here, mutant and wildtype plants are growing in this incubator to a size where they can be cheerful participants in biofuel experiments.
And the really cool shot from just around the corner: seeds that have just sprouted, growing to a size that they can be planted in soil. From what my charming guide told me, many of these are randomly mutated seeds, and they’re being screened in this media to determine if any have the correct mutation for further experimentation. Behind this example, you can see numerous other sets, merrily growing away. (Or not, if they have this particular mutation.)
Decaseconds 