Opportunity and Cost: An Anniversary

I am still me.

It feels weird to say that. Or rather, it feels weird to have doubted that. But I guess that's what this past year has been: doubts about assumptions that used to come naturally.

Let's rewind: 1 year and 1 week ago, I strained my hamstring at pole vault practice. Again. And I decided it was time for a change. Two days later, I sat down at a friend's table with a box of tissues and wrote "Leaving Love Behind." A few days later, I sketched out some ideas in my composition book, went to the photo studio, and took a self-portrait that felt like it fit the gravity of that moment.

I wrote at the time that "I don't really know what the future will hold," but I figured that I would figure things out in time. There's no way I could have imagined the changes that were in store, for all of us, but I was dedicated to making the best of an unfamiliar situation, and I'm pretty happy with how the last year has gone.

[Doc Diaries] Place and Time

It's one thing to say it. That infrastructure is a product of its place and its time. But it's something else to travel somewhere new, and to see combinations that you haven't seen before. To see familiar pieces of infrastructure that are accomplished in completely unfamiliar ways, or just as interesting, to see modes of infrastructure that don't feel familiar at all.

A few months ago, I took a trip to Singapore, and so much of what I noticed were the things overhead and under foot. The ones that are built once, and then gradually fade into the unremarkable march of everyday life.

Doc Diaries: Experiments in Motion

One of my main photographic goals is to tell the story of the motion that happens in the world. I often use a number of common techniques (such as panning), and those typically get me to a pretty reasonable result.

But sometimes, I want to shoot for unreasonable. Sometimes I want to try something that seems almost impossible, just to see if it could work out. Sometimes I want to see not just what motion does look like, but what motion could look like.

The opening image was the result of one such rumination. "How do you take a picture that focuses on the sense of drawing a bow across the strings?" I love what I came up with, but it turns out that the key wasn't to plan, or do lots of math, or to have any kind of a controlled setup. The key was to notice my friend playing her cello, and to just give it a shot. I tried to get the focus where it needed to be, the camera handled the exposure, and I hit the shutter when I felt like the moment was right.

I think one point here is that some experiments are really simple, if you're the right person to run that particular experiment. It often pays to just give something a shot without overcomplicating things.

Drought Conditions

I was driving northbound on US-101 when I saw smoke emanating from something burning in the distance. As I approached, I realized it was an untended brush fire, burning the vegetation on the side of the road. I stopped. The easiest way to keep a small fire from turning into a big fire is to take care of it when it's still small. So I dialed 9-1-1.

Busy signal.

I dialed again. Busy signal. That was when my hands started to shake.

To be sure, I have panicked before. I panicked when the ceiling of my dorm collapsed under a flood of hot water. And then I dialed the emergency number that was listed on my room phone, and then I got out. But it's different when you're panicking, and the obvious next step turns into a dead end, and suddenly you have to figure out what you're gonna do about it. The adrenaline clouds your thinking either way, but the reason that 9-1-1 is repeated everywhere, all the time, is so that you don't need to think; you just do. That was no longer an option.

So, okay. Calm down. Think. What do we do? Fire extinguisher? No, way too big for a fire extinguisher. I don't have one anyway. It looks like it's not really moving very fast. I guess we just sit and wait…

After what was likely under a minute, though my perception of time was completely unreliable by that point, another motorist stopped, and I got him to call. Emergency services were already on their way. He took off, and a little bit later, a Foster City water truck showed up, followed in short order by a CHP squad car.

*Phew*. I took a couple pictures and left.

Runnin' on Empty

On my way up to the 25 Hours of Thunderhill back in November, I took an arbitrary exit to take a break and stretch my legs, and ended up in Arbuckle, CA. It was an early Saturday morning, and I stopped at a closed gas station right off the freeway.

Except it was more than closed; it was vacant. Empty. Barren. It was as if I had happened on the still-recognizable bones of a gas station that had fallen by the wayside untold ages ago.

How long do those bones take to go away? I don't know, but it felt like the gas station's destiny, if you could call it that, was only to answer a similar question.

Once I started walking around, the thing that struck me was how lonely it felt. The same way that a graveyard feels lonely when there's no one else in sight. I started to explore, trying to figure out why it felt so desolate, and that's when I started noticing the cobwebs. They were everywhere. On everything. Fewer of them in exposed areas, more in the secluded ones, but there nonetheless.

I also felt a tinge of… chagrin? at the realization that the brand of hoses was "Futura," but now that the future had actually arrived, that they remained stuck in the past. The hoses mirrored the antiquated… well really, the plain tired feel of much of the remaining equipment. As if they all had been standing guard, ready to be put back into service, but with the creeping suspicion that their days were numbered.

For instance, the spring on the support reel for this hose had given up at some point, letting the hose droop down in what can only be a trend toward ever-increasing levels of disrepair.

As my investigation continued, I began to discover more quantitative signs of the passing time. What had once been a windshield washing fluid reservoir had turned into little more than a convoluted core sample of the area, showing the rainy periods as well as the dry spells. But how long does it take to grow that many rings?

At last I happened on an actual date. 2007. That was the last year that Colusa County Agriculture Commissioner Harry Krug had verified and certified the calibration of the pumps. Moreover, the dilapidated condition of the seals illustrated the station's years of desertedness more clearly than the condition of the equipment, even without upkeep. Clearly, that stuff was built to last.

And finally, a glance inside of the station building. Surrounded by the unmistakeable aura of abandonment, the sign displays an optimism that simply didn't stand the test of time.

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the NEX-6

After a long wait, I finally replaced my X100 with Sony's NEX-7 back in March of this year. I paired it with the 16mm f/2.8 pancake, and despite its lousy low-light performance, it trounced the Fuji X100 in actual usability — it felt like I no longer had to worry about my gear unexpectedly letting me down, which was a big relief. Over time, I came to realize three main gaps in that setup: the low-light performance was mediocre, the lens itself wasn't very sharp, and the lens was simply too wide for the subjects I tend to shoot. I had really liked the 24mm (35mm-equiv) on the X100, but I still wanted a compact package, which is what kept me with the 16mm.

So fast-forward half-a-year to September, when Sony announced the NEX-6 along with its kit lens, the 16–50mm f/3.5–5.6 pancake zoom. Though nowhere near the size of pancake zooms for other systems, it is as far as I know the second-shortest AF lens for E-mount, period, after the 16. And the body promised better low-light performance (having only a 16MP sensor) as well as improved AF performance. I pre-ordered the kit that same day.

The kit arrived a few weeks ago, and I was immediately disappointed. I had my fingers crossed for a way to move AF off of the shutter release, but that wasn't the possible. For me, that means I treat it like a manual-focus-only body, which means I can't benefit from the AF performance improvements. Beyond that, the 16–50 isn't a good manual-focus lens, and the aperture would negate at least some of the low light improvements from the sensor.

So I swapped lenses, which helped some. I got extra reach and framing control while walking around with the NEX-7 during the daytime, and I could switch to the NEX-6 for low-light shooting. I still had to live with the downsides of the 16, but at least I had low-light performance that was a bit better than the NEX-7.

On a whim, I bought the Sigma 19mm f/2.8 prime on a $150 Cyber Monday sale. I finally got it on my camera Thursday evening, and in the 3 days since then, it has completely changed my impression of the camera. The 19mm is sharp, the focus ring speed is really well-tuned, and the focal length is just a lot easier for me to work with. Moreover, because a given subject is now larger in the viewfinder, it's a lot faster and easier for me to achieve critical focus.

This all came to a head last night, when I spotted a car that had slid off a dark mountain road in the pouring rain. After the first rescue vehicle arrived and discovered the vehicle to be empty, I started taking photos. The setup was a joy to use in the darkness, and the small size combined with the speed with which I could adjust settings, adjust focus, and take a shot meant that the camera didn't get too soaked, in spite of the downpour. In a word, the experience felt effortless.

And when I got home, I found that I had taken photos that I would not have been able to take with any other camera I've ever owned — my favorite (saved for a forthcoming blog post) was 1/13s at f/2.8 and 3200ISO. With the X100, I wouldn't have been able to focus (especially in the darkness); with the NEX-7 or D300, 3200ISO would have been unusable. So despite my early frustrations, the NEX-6 has earned its place in my arsenal of cameras.

How to Fix a Road

I love trying to appreciate the invisible work that goes into making our day-to-day lives possible. Yesterday night, I spotted some road construction happening on El Camino Real and decided to stop and take some photos. I also learned a lot, and I'll try to share that as well.

From chatting with a couple folks, I learned that the task for last night was to fix some areas with deteriorating pavement, in preparation for repaving entire stretches of the street this (Tuesday) evening. Having frequently ridden my bicycle over at least one of the sections that they worked on last night, it was definitely it pretty rough shape.

The process starts by doing some research and marking the roadway for cut locations. The markings include sections of the road that should not be cut, such as any area with a metal cover.

A cold milling machine is the device that actually removes the old pavement. It's generally operated by two people, and the ground operator controls the cut depth, as well as fine maneuvering. Here, the ground operator checks the depth of the cut with a ruler as the machine moves away from him.

As the milling machine moves along, it leaves behind some powdered debris from the old surface. The workers used a skid loader, a backhoe with a special attachment, and shovels and rakes to collect, redistribute, and grade the powder as a kind of intermediate layer. They then steamrolled it flat.

After the intermediate layer is steamrolled, trucks bring in fresh, hot asphalt to dump into the cut area. I could feel the heat from where I was standing, 15 or 20 feet away. The backhoe grades the new asphalt with the help of a couple workers with hand tools.

Here, a worker finishes a banana while waiting for the backhoe to finish grading the new asphalt. As an onlooker, it's easy to forget that on-the-job nutrition is likely an important aspect of avoiding injury while working long hours.

Finally, the graded asphalt is steamrolled multiple times. Even so, vehicle traffic will continue to compress the new pavement well after the actual construction finishes.

As mentioned, though, this is only preparation for the next step, planned to happen this evening. Crews will take from 1 to 3 inches off of the entire width of the road surface and repave it.

Overwhelmed

I don't think of myself as a landscape photographer, but every once in awhile I'll see a stunning vista, and I somehow manage to capture not just the view, but the feeling of having been there. This is one of those images.

After departing Half Moon Bay, I was driving up through dense fog on CA92, when suddenly the fog cleared. At the ridgeline, I turned south along Skyline Boulevard and was immediately stunned by the scene to the west. It was just dim fog from below, but what I saw from above was an undulating mass of clouds, stretching as far as the eye could see.

But even more, as I stood there watching, the fog was slowly rising toward me, sloshing around like the water in an occupied bathtub. It was such a unique, unforgettable feeling, to simultaneously experience the tranquility of a beautiful sunset alongside the the excitement of a gigantic wave of moisture rising to wash over you and engulf you completely. It's like nothing I've ever experienced before.

Yet somehow, I managed to capture that mix of emotions. Perched precariously atop a guard-rail, I was able to peek over the looming, advancing clouds in the foreground to also capture a glimpse of the still-turbulent mass in the midground, all beneath a beautiful, tranquil sunset in the distance. A shadowy hint of the California shrubs and wildflowers that populate the mountain keep the image firmly anchored in reality.

If it seems like I'm excited about this image, that's because I am :o) If you're also excited about this image — perhaps you've tried to explain to someone just what fog can look like rolling over a mountaintop, or maybe you just want that feeling in your own home — I urge you to consider a print. An image like this is best enjoyed when it's larger than your head. After all, part of why nature is so awesome is that it's Just… So… Huge… A fantastic print can recreate that feeling in ways that go far beyond seeing a small image on a computer. Contact me at prints@doppler-photo.net

As for me, I know exactly where my own copies of "Overwhelmed" and "Fluid Dynamics" are going :o)

Classic

I was out for a drive yesterday evening, and decided to stop to shoot an amazing sunset over a sea of fog. As I was shooting, the fog rose up and engulfed me, my car, and everything around us. I walked back to my car and found this classic scene awaiting me. *click*

A Few Short Thoughts on the Fourth of July

Happy Fourth of July! Having spent the weekend with my extended family, I'd like to take a moment to acknowledge the efforts of not only the people in the armed forces, but also the folks hard at work both within and outside of our government who strive to make this country a fantastic place to live. It takes a lot of teamwork to turn this place into a home and there are a great many unrenowned people who do a little bit here and there to make it a great home. Thanks!

I spotted this flag painted on the side of a barn somewhere between Livermore and Brentwood, CA. I think it demonstrates just how much of a difference a single individual can make: finding it certainly brightened my day, and I imagine I wasn't the only one.

So if you can make a little bit of a difference, go ahead and make that difference! To cite Mahatma Gandhi, "You must be the change you wish to see in the world."

It's Wet Outside

I saw some excellent long-exposure examples about a week ago. Most of the exposures were about an order of magnitude longer than what I'm equipped to shoot, especially since I typically shoot without a tripod. Regardless, they put "take some long exposures" in the back of my mind.

The perfect opportunity finally arose as I rode home in the middle of the night last night. It was drizzling very slightly, and there was a very light fog that made things interesting. Often on my way home, I see cool-looking lights when I ride over bridges — in certain conditions, the high angle makes their light dispersion pattern obvious and picturesque.

So, after what has become months of riding past, thinking "man, I should shoot that," I finally stopped, pulled out my camera, and did what I should have done long ago. And man, was it worth it.
So here's how I got home yesterday, and some things I saw along the way.

The image above is looking to the north-west from between Central Expressway and the Caltrain tracks. I've been waiting for a long time (years) for a good opportunity to capture the smoky-backlit-silhouette effect that I enjoy so much, and I finally nabbed one.

After shooting to the west, I stood up, turned around, and this is what I saw. The bridge on the right is Shoreline Drive. These sodium vapor streetlamps are the ones that fascinate me when I glance over on my way past.

As I mentioned earlier, I really like the conical dispersion pattern of the sodium lamps, and it's neat how the middle lamp illuminates the evergreen in the background. And though it's practically invisible in this scaled-down version, the green light from the stoplight also reveals the gently falling drizzle.

Rather than follow my typical route home, I rode toward the east on Central Expressway and turned on Castro Street. There were small bunches of people everywhere — a number of clubs live on Castro — but close shots of the individuals were difficult because of the darkness, and simple shots of lines outside of clubs seemed uninteresting.

On that note, one aspect of photography that I enjoy is that it's always possible to challenge yourself. Put simply, Castro Street was incredibly boring. What I've found, though, is that "boring" doesn't mean "uninteresting;" it simply means that the interesting shots are a lot harder to find than they might be in other situations.

And after nearly half-an-hour of searching, I finally found one. Though I'm sure all the hunting made this find that much sweeter, I'm certain I would still love this image if it had been the first thing I stumbled upon. There are multitudes of details that I like about it, but at a high level, the photo is appealing, yet still manages to capture the essence of being outside on Castro Street on a damp Friday night. The colors, the long reflections, the tangible texture of the roadway, the people crossing the street in the dark. Fantastic.

With the previous image in my pocket, I walked back up Castro toward my bike (though keeping my eyes open along the way). As I was about to pack up, the textured appearance of the pole at the left of this image caught my eye.

I looked for something to put it with, and the "Sushi" sign was obvious. I like how many textures there are in this image – the rough wall; the smooth, dull metal of the awning frame above the window; the shiny, contoured shrouds of the sign lights… It also pleases me that it's practically monochromatic. People tend not to see color well in the dark, and I find delight in using long exposures to reveal colors that someone with extremely sensitive cones might experience.

Photographers are notoriously bad at judging what other people will think of their photos. I certainly have my favorites that are dear to me simply because of my own memories and experiences, rather than because of the contents of the image. Sometimes, though, even different versions of an individual image can be incredibly tough to judge.

It is in this context that I want to ask for your assistance. I have two photos. I think they're both really good. But I couldn't figure out which one I wanted to use to close this post.

So please, leave a comment (Anonymous is fine) and let me know which you prefer. The first is option "A", the second is "B". If you want, let me know why you prefer whichever you prefer (I'm definitely curious). If you find the decision as difficult as I've found it, feel free to say that too. Thanks!

To close, I recently stumbled upon an oft-quoted line from Sarah Williams' wonderful poem The Old Astronomer to his Pupil. You can read the entire poem here.
"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

What Is This Place?

I shot this while I was in northern California a couple weeks ago, going apartment-hunting. Dad and I were on the highway, and I thought this guy looked sort of interesting, so I took what turned into a reasonable portrait of him. Exposure is 1/500s at f/5.6, and the image is cropped down a bit from 18mm. After I shot this photo, he pulled a standing wheelie, at which point I forgot how to take decent photos.

I'll be moving to California in about a day, though, so I might get another chance. During the move and unpacking stages, I might be too busy freaking out about things to do posts (especially since my machine with photos on it may not be set up). That got me thinking, though. What Is This Place? What are my goals for it, and why and how do I plan on maintaining it?

First and foremost, this is a place to share and to showcase my photography. I love photography, but it's considerably less satisfying if I'm the only one looking at the end product. Shooting for The Tech was one way that I accomplished this goal at MIT, but that's done now, and photos don't really look good on newsprint anyway.

Second, this is somewhere I can practice (and force myself to practice) my communication skills. That I am the sole proprietor of this place means essentially, that I can do whatever I want. In practice, that means that I can create posts with different styles, tones, and levels of seriousness.

And, while adhering to the norms I establish for a single post, I can strive to maintain a certain level of eloquence which, ideally, will help me communicate with you. Certainly, the technical level of some posts will make them difficult to understand, but despite that, each post should, at the very least, impart some baseline understanding of my topic of discussion.

Third, it allows me to think, to remember, and to learn. For some posts, I do a lot of research to make sure the post is informative and coherent. As I've heard multiple times in the past, and as my own experience has borne out, for instance, during 9 years on IRC, one of the best ways to learn is by teaching.

As for remembering, I am an avid collector of quotes. When I see (in text communication) or hear something interesting, funny, or otherwise notable, I try to jot it down. In a manner similar to my experiences looking through photos (see last two paragraphs of Important Aspects of Photography), poring through old quotes often reminds me of the occasions when I first heard the quotes, and of the people involved.

There are likely things I've forgotten, but those are the main things. You get interesting photos; informative, well-written discussion; and hopefully a few memories along the way. I get a showcase for my photography, communication practice, some memories, and usually a few laughs as well. The only other thing I would like is some sort of feedback. Things you want me to discuss? Pictures you want to see? Quotes or quote themes you want to experience? I'd love to hear.

At long last, because I'm sort of a funny guy, here are a funny quote and a funny photo (both of which I helped create :o)

<Aria> Yeah, the strict interpretation of URI disallows UTF-8
<Aria> But it's not a useful restriction
<Aria> And so, IRIs.,
<xsdg> Aria: clearly, the US is the only country that matters, so it's not really an issue
<xsdg> Aria: I mean, do they even _have_ plumbers in other countries?
<oGMo> italy. clearly. that's where mario is from.