I encountered this tree branch on a short hike on a rainy day while Deb and I were sailing in the Virgin Islands. I’m not sure if the caterpillars were seeking shelter from the rain on the underside of the branch or if they were up to something else. Though what caterpillars might be “up to” is a bit beyond me, not that I would attempt to pass judgement on the purpose of a caterpillar’s life. . .
In honor of a predicted afternoon temperature of -15 F today*, I have left the tropics to return to a subject I started a few days ago: window frost. This time, I’ve created another triptych.** And even though I was amazed the first time I studied these macro photos, I am just amazed today.
If those of us in the Great Plains need a reason to feel good about our weather, people in the tropics never get to see beautiful, frosty windows.
*That’s -26 for the Celsius fans.
**Thanks again Dennis Newman for the inspiration.
Canon 5DIII 1/125s f/5.0 ISO100 100mm
I have written about the “countless unseen details” that artists concentrate in their attempt to approach the “sublime” in their creations. In the case of this composite photo of brain coral, my title refers to Nature as the creator, not me. Frankly, all I did was record and compile the detail in this coral. But, as macro photography often does, you are being allowed to look at coral in a way you may not have done before. And there is amazing detail here that often goes unseen.
Brain coral evokes a powerful childhood memory in me, incidentally. My grandma, who lived next door to us in Sioux Fall, SD, had a perfect piece of brain coral on her front porch. I was fascinated by it largely because my older brother told me it was a petrified human brain. That was so cool. But why did Ida have a petrified human brain on her front porch, I wondered? Oh, to be a child again. . . .
My title for this post isn’t so much about the fact that we don’t see rain, or rain-drenched leaves in our normal experiences. Though most people rarely stop to study a leaf as closely as I’m asking you to do it here.
What I mean is that the camera “sees” things very differently than humans do, including color, contrast and focus. And for sure the human eye can’t see unfocused areas* as the lens does because when we look at another point in a scene, our eyes automatically focus there.
And discovering the unexpected is one of the reasons I find so much joy in making a photo.
And speaking of joy, welcome to 2014! I will be celebrating five years of “A Photo A Day” soon and I do appreciate you, the viewers, who certainly provide another source of joy for me.
*The unfocused areas are called bokeh. In this photo, the blurred circles in the background are other rain drops hanging on other leaves like the one you see in focus here.
Canon 5DIII 1/100s f/4.0 ISO400 102mm
When you look closely at the amazing details of a frosty window it’s not hard to understand why someone chose to personify the creator under the name of Jack Frost. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been fascinated by the seemingly random yet ordered patterns of the kind seen in this photo.
Unfortunately, due to improved window glazing, this kind of window frost is less often seen. But fortunately my son and his family live in a venerable older home in St. Paul, MN. They may not appreciate the heating bills but I appreciate the beauty of Jack Frost’s art.
If you would like to see more of this series (8 more photos) click here.
Canon 5DIII 1/60s f/5.6 ISO100 100mm
We arrived back in Minneapolis last night from a week in Mexico. The temperature was a balmy 27 degrees F. But in Watertown, SD, it is -14.
And so I thought it was appropriate (and maybe even good for the soul) that I should post a photo of a tropical plant covered with rain drops that I saw yesterday morning at the resort we were staying at. But in spite of the 94 degree temperature difference, I am happy to be on the way home.
Yesterday I went to Minneapolis and Saint Paul with a few of the second year LATI photo/media students. This photo was taken on our last stop at the Como Park Conservatory, which is a great place to visit on a cold December day in part because it is warm and humid inside and in part because the color green abounds. And, as I’ve mentioned, in winter here in South Dakota, I seem to be drawn to green things.
So I like green and yet I’ve stripped the color out of this fern. Why? As a photographer I sometimes like lines, texture and tonality and sometime color distracts us from those things. Over the next few days I will posting a few of my favorites from the Conservatory and from the Minneaplis Institute of Art, where we also stopped for a while. If you want a sneak peak, I’ve posted a few more photos here. (click)
Canon 5DIII 1/50s f/6.3 ISO500 100mm
Why take a perfectly good colored, fall foliage photo and turn it into an antique-looking sepia-toned print? I guess I was playing. And I am more interested in having you see the incredible symmetry of nature than I am about have you see the bright color.
Canon 5DIII 1/200s f/3.5 ISO400 100mm
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It’s hard not to get caught up in the amazing symmetry of humble sea shells like these. And when you move in close, as I did here, you are seeing details that many fail to notice.
This photo, incidentally, was taken at a state park near Gulf Shores, Alabama. The sand is some of the purest powdery sand I’ve ever seen. When you walk on it, it squeaks. And in October the beach is nearly empty.
Canon 5DIII 1/3200s f/2.8 ISO100 100mm
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The Lake Area Technical Institute Photo/Media class took its annual field trip to Sica Hollow, near Sisseton, South Dakota yesterday. Finding a perfect day near mid October in South Dakota is difficult but we got lucky. With little wind, blue skies and temperatures in the low 70s, it’s hard not to think that life is good.
We don’t get a riot of color in the fall as some states that I’ve been to do, but if you look, you can find good examples of the flamboyance of fall. I guess these leaves are in the throes of death. But they are going out in style.
Canon 5DIII 1/400s f/2.8 ISO400 100mm
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