It seems each time I visit Vancouver I’m drawn to the spectacle of the commercial port. Probably because it’s right on the eastern edge of town and it’s hard to miss. Maybe also the child in me likes all the multicolored containers, boats and cranes. Nevertheless I look for new ways to frame it and in this case the sunrise provided a backdrop. This morning was the first break in the clouds after a week of steady rain.
I took this from Canada Place which is empty of people first thing in the morning save for the occasional jogger or photographer. The perspective from here is deceiving, the port appears smaller than it is. The last time I was in Vancouver I took a seaplane and flew over the port. To my surprise it was many times larger than I thought. I had only ever seen it from this perspective.
I have always wondered about the number of ships sitting at sea just outside port, it’s a part of the Vancouver seascape. You grow accustomed to it but the first time I saw them I thought it unusual. After a while they blend into the fabric of the city and you hardly notice. At the appointed time each will pass under the Lionsgate Bridge and dock here.
I think it all goes unnoticed by the majority of people, but for some unknown reason I find all of this fascinating, spending more time than I should thinking about the ships, the docks and the whole bloody operation.
This picture makes me think of the fine line we walk every day. It might even be a metaphor for how we are evolving. We can be filled with distractions so that we miss what is around us. Constant thoughts, reminders, threads of conversations, it can be hard to disconnect. This kind of challenge will only continue to grow.
I think we are morphing into another type of human. In a hundred years we will be even more merged with our technology and a global source of knowledge. The question is, how will we change? I’m not worried, eventually we’ll do the right thing. We’ll evolve and make good decisions. I believe that.
In the mean time we will walk along the shore and share the experience with our friends thousands of miles away. We’ll surf our twitter feed even as the surf is pounding at our feet. We will walk a fine line, but in the end we will get it right.
These thoughts are not about photography per se, but , through photography I am thinking them. By creating this image it leads to an idea and that is the enjoyment I get out of it. One thing leads to another and before you know it I’m predicting the future of humanity. Such are the wanderings of my mind.
As far as I can tell this boat has been here for years and is sailing nowhere. One morning I headed over by the water to take pictures of the sunrise. There is a mooring field between two bridges and it’s a place to watch the sunrise or sunset depending on which way you’re facing. My theory is that this is an abandoned boat because it’s been here for years and never seems to move. Before I moved to Florida it never occurred to me but apparently there are abandoned boats out there. From a purely aesthetic point of view, they make for good picture taking.
I doubt that removing the vessels is high on any municipal agenda. Eventually a hurricane come along and sink the craft and then mother nature begins her slow process of reclaiming it.
I showed up early to take this and to my surprise, someone else was there at the same time taking pictures as well. To be honest I was a little surprised. I live in a small town and rarely is anyone other than myself taking photos in the morning. In a big city or a national landmark yes, of course, I would expect all manner of photographers. But Palmetto? Well, anyway we both took some photos of that lovely morning and then went our separate ways.
On Saturday night I was walking back to my hotel in Vancouver and had to stop and do a double take when I passed what appeared to be preferred parking. It’s adjacent to a nightclub and what caught my eye was the modes of transport, i.e. German engineering. I have no idea which club this is but just after I took the shot I saw another couple arriving in a Porsche from Washington State. I guess the club is worth the two-hour drive up. If I had one of these cars I’d park here as well. Surely the valet attendant is well tipped.
At the time I was walking around looking for street scenes to photograph. My Sony camera is so good at night photography that its something I look forward to doing whenever I’m in a big city.
It’s been about six months since I was in Vancouver and the one difference I noticed was the amount of people smoking weed in the open. I’d say it was more than in Amsterdam, and if you’ve ever been to Amsterdam that’s saying something. Maybe because it was a Saturday night, but I’m not sure.
I remember taking this one morning across the river. I recently posted a similar shot from the same morning. This is a long exposure of about three minutes so that everything appears smooth and serene. That’s a theme with me, gravitating toward images that convey still and calm; that’s probably a response to living in a frenetic world.
Often when I come here in the morning to shoot a sunrise the joggers and walkers will remark to me about what a nice shot I’m getting. They have that subtle pride of ownership in their voice as though they are sharing something of theirs with me. They are here every day and I’m not a regular. So perhaps in their eyes they are sharing “their” sunrise view with me. If I think about it, it begins to make a little sense.
I relate to the sensibility because as I reflect I realize that I do the same thing. When guests come to visit us in Florida I “share” beautiful locations with them, and almost subconsciously do it in a way that indicates it’s something I own. Of course nothing can be further from the truth, a person cannot own a view or scene. Nonetheless, something inside of us feels the need to impart ownership of a thing we cannot own. Funny, eh?
This is part of the Contemporary Jewish Museum in San Francisco. Naturally the design caught my eye and is another example of art in architecture. As unusual a shape as it is, the wide angle lens accentuates the effect. The surrounding buildings seem to bend into its gravitational pull.
Public art can evoke imagination transporting the thoughts of any who take the time to notice. I believe it subconsciously stimulates our inner worlds one individual at a time.
We all need art in our lives. Many of us live, move and age in a world without acknowledgment of art. We ignore it. I am no exception, racing at the feet of another god, unmindful of my surroundings. But eventually we tire of being disconnected from deeper meaning. Art is a portal to the place it was created. That’s an opaque way of saying it leads back to creative energy, because it’s the product of a creative.
I have never considered myself a creative. But I’ve come to appreciate creatives and their art. And through the practice of the craft of photography I begin to recognize creative similarities in my own and different mediums. If I, of all people, can become aware of the value of art, then there’s hope indeed.
I headed over here for a walk and do some people watching along the beach. I’m glad I did on account of the scenery and the spectacle people that where there to watch the sunset. I’ve mentioned before on the blog about how these crowds of people come to watch the sunset, but I still find it fascinating. Most of the people shown here are from out of town and just the thought of standing by the water watching a sunset is like a dream. Maybe even a dream come true.
Its fun to take random shots of crowds. I didn’t particularly know everything that was going on around me as I worked with my camera. Nevertheless I find it interesting to go back and look closer at the scene. There is no way to take it all in when there, everything changes from one minute to the next. We can see what each person is doing. An interesting study, so many lives and the only thing in common is the location.
Anyway, it was an experience to remember because the next day I was on a plane for Vancouver where its pretty much the opposite of this; cold, dark and rainy. Even so there are a lot of cool things to see in Vancouver and the change of scenery provides contrast. It also reminds me of how fortunate I am to live where I can go to the beach in the middle of winter.
I took this on Architectural Appreciation day. That’s a joke, there’s no such thing, at least that I’m aware of.
This building is in central Amsterdam. It struck me as a statement of architecture. It was cold and I had competing thoughts that there wasn’t anything worth taking a picture of. That’s how my mind works, it’s always looking for an out when the weather is not good. I looked straight up and decided I better setup despite the protestations of my body and complaining mind.
I think that if I lived in Europe I’d shoot a lot of architecture. Even so there are opportunities closer to home. I know its cliche but it really is a matter of perspective. The idea with architecture photography is to reduce some design to a simple box. Sometimes when we look at things we see too much to appreciate the details. Architecture photography is about appreciating details. Focussing the lens on a single aspect of a building is, believe it or not, an act of appreciation. Think about it, the person who designed this building has surely considered this perspective in his or her mind many times. However most of use walk right by, never looking up to notice. Now imagine you are that architect and you see and read this post. You might smile and think someone actually noticed and appreciated it.
I took this from the baths at Point Lobos in San Francisco. There were so many things to take pictures of that day, it was a lot of fun. As I write this I’m on a flight to the west coast again. I’m doing the West coast thing. I’m leaving the West coast of Florida to the West coast of Canada. Then I’ll travel to the West coast of the United States. I think whomever said go west young man, must have had me in mind.
Growing up in California I was steeped in west coast sensibilities. New age, new thought, new ways of doing things. Of course I didn’t know any of this until I moved away and got a little perspective, I just took it all for granted. That sensibility is in my blood. I’m not particularly concerned with which west coast, just as long as it a coast and the sun sets that way. If the earth spun in the other direction then maybe I’d be an east coast guy. I’m fortunate because in Florida I can watch the sunrise over the Atlantic on the East Coast and then drive to the West coast and watch it set over the gulf.
It’s not just me; most people are like this. We are attracted to the arc of the sun. That’s a geeky way of saying we are attracted to light and it’s our natural tendency to follow it. If you look at a picture or painting our eyes go to the brightest areas. It’s something primal, or spiritual, or both. If nothing else, its something to think about, perhaps we can figure out the whys and wherefores another day.
The view west from Redington Shores is, well, the best. Recently I posted shots facing north, then south, and so finally this is towards the setting sun. It was a good day and the clouds were perfect. I used a wide angle 12mm lens which makes the sun appear as a small dot on the horizon.
Wide angle lenses have a tendency to make things appear to converge on the horizon. For reasons of physics, mathematics and optics, all of which are beyond me, most wide angle lenses will cause the horizon line to bow. The wide angle lens I used is unique because it doesn’t distort the horizon. It’s the Laowa 12mm f/2.8 Zero-D, the first of its kind and the company Venus Lens is making waves. They did a Kickstarter and I’m glad I supported it. I wasn’t sure how much I would like it but the lens is turning out to be a real winner.
As this is the West coast of Florida you’ll notice that the waves are small. That’s the nature of this coast, calm clear water. And there are no rocky shores like those in California. Certainly the waves get dramatic during a storm, but other than that, the waves and horizon line are pretty boring and flat. However in this case, that’s a good thing.