Urban Symmetry

This image was taken in central Barcelona from the rooftop of the Grand Central Hotel. At first glance, you'll notice symmetry in the picture. That's because I've mirrored the image, and then painstakingly altered it so that the equality is incomplete. In effect, I've taken something that was perfectly reflected and added randomness. There are plenty of mirrored artifacts, but depending on how you look at it, it might play tricks on you. Our brains quickly suspect its a mirror, and then our eyes begin looking for proof. Depending on where in the image you look, it may not confirm your first impression. The photo is an exercise in abstraction and deception. It's a time-consuming exercise to produce, but it's fun at the same time. My purpose is to hint at one thing while throwing you off the trail and forcing you to figure it out. I hope you don't mind a little harmless deception in the name of fun.

Myakka Canopy Road

Here is a scenic section of road through Myakka State Park. It's not too far from the campground, so it's not uncommon to see cyclists and hikers. Spanish moss hangs from the oaks all around this region. Where I live, we have oaks draped with it. Squirrels and bird use it for nests, and after a storm, enormous loads of it get blown to the ground. There are several roads like this in the vicinity. I think they're called canopy roads. There is one just outside the park that I've taken photos of a couple of times. I've tried taking pictures of the oaks and moss near my home, but there are too many houses in the background, it's not the same. So when I'm out and about in this area, I'm always on the lookout for these types of scenes.

One Last One

When I'm racing against the clock to get as many pictures as I can, there's always a point when I know I should finish, but can't help getting one last one. That explains what happened here; the light was almost gone, I was walking back to the car, and noticed this one last composition. In a recent post, I mentioned there is an attractive aesthetic about the lifeguard stands on the beach. Maybe it's the idea of a structure positioned before the ocean. I suppose it could be almost anything, not just a lifeguard stand. But I digress. When I'm taking photos, no matter how many or how few I make, I ALWAYS end up with more than I need. However, on this night my ratio of hits to misses was remarkably slim. I was lucky, had the right timing, or a combination of the two. Regardless, I was on a roll, and I'm glad I got this one last one.

Key Biscayne Layers

This image was a bit of a project to create. I stood on the South Pointe Pier facing Key Biscayne in South Beach. I took three pictures, each focused on a different point. The first was the railing, the next was the jetty and finally Key Biscayne off in the distance. I combined the images into a composite using a technique known as focus stacking. After that, I kept working on it until ending up with an abstract rendering that is neither real or imagined; it's somewhere in-between. I could say something smart about layers, like how they are metaphors for something, but not today. The result is the product of a study in technique and abstraction. I had an idea when I took the shots, and I practiced various methods to get the image I wanted. Perhaps that's the best way to describe it.

Bok Tower Gardens

This photo was taken a few minutes after a thunderstorm. I emerged from under a shelter to capture the scene, ears still ringing from the lightning strike on the tower. All in all, a typical summer afternoon in Florida. There are shelters throughout the gardens, and it was nice to just sit there with my fellow visitors through the rain; there are worst places to be stuck. As gardens go, Bok Tower Gardens draw a good size crowd. Only a couple of minutes after I took this, the paths re-filled with people. I recently posted a photo of the golden door at the base of the tower, and now you can see it in the context of the full tower. I'm not a garden person per se. I don't often get my hands dirty working with plants. But I know it's richly satisfying to many people. I'm the other half of the population that likes to come around after the hard work to admire and take photos. That should count for something, right?

Limpkin Kin

The other day I was at Myakka River State Park to try out some experimental gear. I didn't have a plan other than to line up a few landscape shots. As I sat on a bench working with the apparatus, a mama and baby Limpkin strolled by. They were eating snails and clams. The snails were easy enough to catch and eat. The clams they would batter with their beaks to break open the shells. I was no more than six feet away and what I found surprising was that, as long as I remained still, they tolerated my presence. There's nothing better than to observe wild animals in their natural habitat. The baby Limkin was more wary of me, but the mother seemed to decide that it was more important to eat than worry about me. Or maybe she did both. Whatever the case, it was a rare privilege I'll not soon forget.

Over Vancouver

This image I took from a seaplane over Vancouver BC. It was a sightseeing trip, and I happened to be the only customer. Rather than sit up front with the pilot, I opted for the back so I could slide from side to side taking pictures. Small aircraft is the best way to get pictures of a city. It's also the most expensive so, if your objective is to take photos, it helps to have a plan of attack. For me, that means using shutter priority to compensate for the vibration of the motor. We flew out over the water and then over a bunch of islands that surround Vancouver. Until that time I never realized how many isles existed nearby. Months later when I returned for a cruise, we sailed past many of them as we headed towards Alaska. This flight lasted about an hour and, the whole time I was snapping away non-stop. I got a lot of pictures from the islands, but my favorite were those like this one right over the city.

Regatta Pointe Marina

I took this image from the dock at Regatta Pointe Marina in my hometown of Palmetto. The marina is a few miles up from the gulf on the Manatee River. It has a restaurant that does good business on account of the views. I'm not a boater or sailor so, when I come, it's to have a meal or take photos, or both. I have sailed out of here once and also out of the marina on the opposite side of the river. Both were charters, and both times it was a great experience. You bring cheese and wine, sit topside and enjoy the views and breeze. That's my idea of a good time. I came here because the colors in the sky were shaping up and this was only a few minutes away. When I feel the urge to capture a sunset without planning, I'll rush to the river and point west. Here at the marina, there were plenty of people walking along the dock. A few were diners, a few were boaters, but just about everyone stopped to watch at the view.

Miami Beach

The lifeguard stands at Miami Beach are these funny cartoon-like structures. Whoever designed them has a brilliant sense of humor; each one is cut out from an active imagination and looks like something from a Disney movie. When I was here a couple of months ago, they had started rebuilding each stand. There was an area roped off in Lummus Park where new stands were under construction. Perhaps they replace them every five or ten years. With the storms in summer, they need to be extra sturdy. If you look close, you can see a couple more of these down the beach; each is unique with a different color and shape. Living near the beach lifeguard stands are a common subject for me; they are like little houses. I romanticize them in my pictures, but I think they provide only the barest of necessities for the lifeguards that sit inside all day long keeping a keen eye out for trouble.

Old Barn

Lately, I've been taking drives into the country looking for interesting things to shoot. For some reason, I find this old broken down barn interesting. I'm not sure if its a barn, it could be an old house. I go alone on these trips because my driving would terrify any sane person. When I see something, I quickly check behind me and then decelerate while pulling over to the side of the road. It's enough to give a passenger white knuckles. Often I'll back-up to get a better look. If it looks promising, I'll get out and compose a few shots then move on. Anyway, I saw this out of the corner of my eye and then pulled over about a hundred yards down the road. Maybe it reminds me of something in the past, or perhaps it has character. Whatever the case, I was intrigued enough to stop.

Lower Midtown

Here is a cityscape of Manhattan that I took from One World Observatory. High-resolution cityscapes are a way for me to explore the details in the quiet of my own home. There is no way to take it all in when you are there taking the photo. This frame is only a small section of the city and having so much crammed together is one thing that makes New York so compelling. You could live your whole life in one part and never see it all. But maybe that's true for most places, we never really see everything. Perhaps a cab driver does, but most of us limit our movements. Whenever I'm up high like this, I like to take photos of the expanse. It's a natural desire because scenes like this are so foreign to our earth-bound eyes. I make these photos with the knowledge that I'll look more closely during post-processing. Post-processing can take an hour or more, and during that time I am emersed in the details, as though I was right back at the scene. It's like Deja-vu all over again.

Little Dunes

When I hear the word dune, I think of the desert, but these along the Florida beach are a different variety. Unlike the shifting sands of the Sahara, these are covered with plants and are meant to hold their shape in a storm. They are what keeps us from being washed away completely. If you look carefully through the top of the dune, you'll see orange tape marking a sea turtle nest. Scores of volunteers comb the beach for nests, erect barriers, and take careful notes over the incubation period. Once hatched, they'll dash for the water so as not to be eaten by birds. Only a few survive to adulthood; it's a rough start to what will hopefully become a long life in the sea. Nothing is permanent, yet everything is trying to hold on. The dunes and turtles are both pitted against the forces of nature. Perhaps the tension in the environment is what produces the beauty on earth. It seems that elemental pressures are a creative force. Without them, we'd all be washed away and overrun with too many sea turtles. On second thought, you can never have too many sea turtles.

Midnight Road Trip

A few years ago I took an all-night drive down the Pacific Coast Highway. The only rule was that I had to be back at the San Jose airport by eight in the morning. So I gassed up the rental, picked up a couple of Red Bulls, and started driving. By day, it's one of the most scenic highways. By night, it feels like another world. Once you get below Carmel, there is no light pollution, and the stars are big and bright. As it happened, the moon illuminated the road, and my eyes got used to it, was more comfortable than daytime driving. I would stop at pullouts overlooking the coast and take long exposure images like this one at ten seconds. Also, the lighthouses are fun to look at as they cast their rotating beams in the fog and low clouds. The one in the distance is Point Sur Lightstation. I made it down to San Simeon and turned the car around. It was a long drive back, but the sense of adventure (and Red Bull) kept me going. I made it back in time to grab my bags from the hotel and catch my flight home. And lucky for me, it was the pilot's turn to drive, so I slept all the way back to Florida.

South Dakota Drive

This summer we drove back and forth across South Dakota. It was part of a road trip to see the land up close. I've crossed South Dakota a hundred times by air, but there isn't much to see from up there. Except for a few small cities and towns, the landscape is wide open. For an urbanite like me, it was nice to drive for long hours without stopping because I could start to grasp the sense of scale. The entire state is a wide-open expanse. Since most people drive through South Dakota, they have some amazing rest stops. Many had grocery store cafes where you could find every snack imaginable. My favorite was the robot frappuccino makers. Some stops have advertising signs for a hundred miles or more. I took this photo at one known as 1880's Old Town and Diner, where you could fill up, grab a bite, and see a pioneer town while you're at it.

Venice Flashback

This picture is a flashback from a year ago today in Venice. The view is from the deck of a ship as we sailed into port from the Adriatic. It was a unique introduction to the city from above the rooftops. We spent the next days down in the canals, bridges and narrow walkways. For me, it's a city to get lost in; it's not so big that you can ever be truly lost, just enough to create a sense of wonder at every turn. While the central square is fun, wandering away from the crowds is where I found myself walking. It's also a convenient way to work up an appetite for an evening meal alongside the grand canal. From this height, you get a quick glimpse of the tops of buildings and apartments. Cityscapes like this are anthropological snapshots that provide clues about the inhabitants. With a hi-res photo, I find myself zooming in to discover new artifacts. Has it been a year already?

The Golden Door

This image is the golden door at the base of Bok Tower in Central Florida. I was here the other day taking pictures of the gardens and just before leaving noticed this elaborate door. Surely that is an element of some fantasy novel I haven't read yet. Florida is mainly flat, and the tower is on the tallest hill of the Florida peninsula at 295 feet above sea level. Add the tower's 205 feet on top of that, and it's easily the tallest thing around for maybe fifty or a hundred miles. While I was there, music from the tower's carillon bells resounded throughout the gardens. Perhaps someone was playing them or, maybe it was automated. I didn't take the tour to find out. A thunderstorm rolled over, and the bells abruptly stopped minutes before lightning hit the top of the tower. The tower has lightning rods, so it's perfectly safe, but I would not want to be the one striking those bells in a storm. Unless perhaps, it was part of the plot of that novel I've not yet read.

Sunrise Composition

Here I am close to home on an early Sunday morning. I was standing at the end of Emerson Point which faces west into the Gulf of Mexico. (I, of course, was facing east). This local park is one of my favorite go-to places for sunrise and sunset. It rained the night before, so I thought we'd have a beautiful display in the sky with high scattered clouds, but, that was not to be. So instead, I composed this shot which focuses on the foreground elements with the sunrise in the back. If the scene doesn't turn out how I envisioned, I try to remind myself to work with what I've got. Plans often go sideways, but there is usually another angle that's pleasing or tells a story. One other thing: because it was Sunday morning I figured I'd be alone. But there was another photographer down by the water, and when I turned around after taking this shot, there was yet another photographer with a couple doing a maternity shoot. So apparently, there was indeed an abundance of other compositions to go around.

Lummus Park

Lummus Park runs parallel to Ocean Drive in South Beach. I was riding a bike here and taking photos in the middle of the day. I usually prefer to go out when the light is softer, but I thought to myself, what the heck. The summer sun in Miami Beach is relentless, so I saw quite a few people walking with umbrellas. As for me, I made sure I had an umbrella in my drink. I figure if I collect enough of them I can use them for the sun. For this shot, I lined it up and waited for the ladies to walk in the scene. It's an easy technique, and I use it a lot when I do street photography. I suppose this is a street photo, although part of me wants to call it a beach photo. It really doesn't matter; it's just my analytical side working overtime.

Badlands Highway 240

Here is another picture from South Dakota's Badlands National Park. Highway 240 is a road with curves and hills, perfect for touring. As usual, I pulled over every half mile or so for a shot of the roadway and scenery. The ridges are made of alternating soft and hard layers so that they erode fast, which is why they look so unusual. Here is a link to how the Badlands are formed (https://adventure.howstuffworks.com/badlands-national-park-ga2.htm). You can almost see erosion working in real time. When they get torrential rain here, the runoff carves new features and the basin floods. I would not want to be stuck out here in the rain. A few hours after we left a summer storm hit, and I suspect that things looked a little different in the morning. Along the road, we saw buffalo, mountain goats and large numbers of prairie dogs. Amongst the prairie dogs, we also saw small owls. I'm not sure what they were doing, perhaps looking to steal the young. The landscape here is both barren and full of life. It's harsh and beautiful at the same time.

Santa Cova de Montserrat

That building on the mountain is a church known as Santa Cova de Montserrat. What's impressive is that it's only accessible by trail. Also, it's very near the Abbey of Montserrat in the Catalonian region of Spain. When I took this photo, I was standing not far from the abbey on an overlook near the top of Montserrat. To get up the mountain, we had to drive a precariously steep and winding road. The landscape here is extreme and, try as I do, still can't imagine how places such as this get built. The construction must take many generations. Projects like this are not something we are likely to see again. The Abbey of Montserrat is just an hour from Barcelona, and you can see the outskirts of the city in the distance. We didn't plan it right and arrived in the afternoon which meant we only had a couple of hours to explore. But now that we know, next time we'll spend the day exploring much more of this unbelievable monastery in the mountains.

Elk Lake Geese

I took this image as I disembarked from the ferry to Victoria a few years ago. That was my first time visiting Vancouver Island, and I remember being thrilled at all the new sites. So, before arriving in town, we stopped here to walk around and take pictures of the scenery. I used my first mirrorless camera, the Sony A7R. Now, as I go back and look at old photos I haven't processed, I'm surprised at how well the images hold up, even against newer cameras. So I find myself going back to explore old RAW files with more modern tools and each time, I come away with few surprises. The trip was the beginning of a week on the island, and some of my all-time favorite images came from that trip. There are different climates all across the island, and the geography varies widely. As a result, I was pulling over all the time to take pictures. That meant it took us hours to get anywhere, but since we weren't on a schedule it wasn't a problem, until the last day when we had to be at the terminal on time for the ferry back. That's when I got a speeding ticket, but that's a story for another day.

Silent Shore

I've been avoiding it, but on Wednesday evening I went to Bradenton Beach to see the spectacle for myself. If you haven't heard, Florida is in the middle of a massive red tide. So I drove to the beach, and as expected, was greeted with the smell of fish washed up on the shore. Maybe because of the breeze, it was not as bad as I feared. After a few minutes, I relaxed and let it fade into the background. I came primarily to take pictures of the sunset because red tide or not, when the atmospheric conditions are right it's still astounding to see. However, as I walked along the beach, something seemed out of place. I struggled to put my finger on it as I continued and then it hit me. It was too quiet; there were no birds. All of the gulls, pipers, and pelicans had either succumbed or escaped, and there was not a single one on the beach. The lack of avian sounds and activity left me with an eerie feeling. That was the moment it hit home. I am heartbroken, of course. I rationalize to myself that we are moving through the worst it, but that we will make it to the other side. The conditions that allow the algae bloom will eventually cease, and the fish, birds and sea mammals will, in time, return. I'm glad I went, and now I know that I will go again because I think it's important to witness it first hand, not just from TV. People are avoiding the shore, and the beach is empty in more ways than one. As for myself, being there to hear its silence is in some way, essential.