I liked how this picture turned out, the darker rock in the forground, the striations in the rock, and the sunset sky. Taken in Middlesex Falls Reservation, last weekend.
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March 29th, 2009 March 28th, 2009
I spent the entire morning hiking near the city with Shanti-dog. Atop many of the hills that grace the park, one gets beautful glances of the city. Today, however, the skyline seemed to be floating, above the first wisps of gray octopus arm clouds slithering into the city from the sea. By the time I got back into Cambridge, the temperature had dropped about forty degrees, and there was thick fog over the river. I love taking pictures in the fog, I like the way it hides, obscures, and depersonalizes objects. I love the low contrast of a foggy scene. So, after crossing the Mass Ave bridge, I found a place to park, grabbed the dog, walked on the bridge and started to shoot. The winds were so strong they would almost knock over the small dinghy-type sailboats. To keep from flipping, the sailors would get up and shift their weight counter the direction the wind was pushing the sail. It does seem to work: there weren’t any accidents while I was watching. March 25th, 2009
March 24th, 2009
“Well, that I may, but at least I’m not missing my lower as you appear to be.” “My lower has gone missing? Completely? You don’t say. I suppose you’ll tell me next that I don’t have a head either.” “It’s certainly possible.” “My word.” “Say, do you think that with your upper, and my lower, we might be able to make a whole?” “I’m afraid not, we’re not cut in the same places.” “That’s a shame, but I suppose that even if our parts matched, we’d still be short a head.” “Well, I don’t see why that matters…” March 23rd, 2009
One way of looking at this picture, and understanding a restaurant (Cafe Kiraz, located here) is to think of it as a black box that takes in phone calls, performs some unknown transfer function, and finally outputs greasy exhaust. Yum. March 22nd, 2009
At the end of one of the prettiest, most picturesque stretchs of pure white sand you can imagine, lies an decrepit, rusting M4 Sherman Tank, the primary tank used by the United States to win WWII. I would imagine that the US has abandoned such tanks on beaches the world over. In this case, the island of Culebra was used by the US Navy to practice their bombing, and I assume the tank was placed to give pilots something to aim at, much the same way that the little fly is painted into a urinal to give men something to aim at. The bombing was halted in the 70′s, but apparently the Navy didn’t bother cleaning up after themselves. It’s a good place to sit and wonder about the use, and misuse of American military might around the world. March 21st, 2009
I like pictures that tell stories. The story: I can’t even remember why the brothers were out cutting wet wood in the first place; I seem to remember that there was an exhortation to work, and a creative interpretation of that call. In any case, the first chainsaw proved not up to the task, and his brother chainsaw insisted on going in after him. I’m quite happy to report that the operation was successful, and that all the brothers emerged heroic, victorious, and intact. March 19th, 2009
When I am stressed, it helps me to look at a picture of a calming place that I’ve taken: it reminds me that I was once there, in that wonderful place of calm, and grace willing, I’ll be back someplace like it sometime soon. The picture above is of Culebra, from my most recent travels. Today, this picture has helped me not think so much about CSS, HTML and how little I know of either. Powerful tools in the right hands, dim cudgels in mine. But I do have a website with (part) of my portfolio up and this blog, and I think I am actually pleased with the way it looks. |
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