T.G.I.F.: This must be what paradise is like…

Oh this must be what it’s all about
This must be what paradise is like
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here
So quiet in here, so peaceful in here

~ From Van Morrison’s “So Quiet in Here” (Hit link to listen to greatest tune ever…)


Photo: DK, Daybreak. October 14, 2020. 6:48 am. 48° F. Cloud Cover: 2%. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT

I’ll take the sea with me, deep in my bones, its tides making their way through my soul.


Notes:

Breakfast

Breakfast. Bird catches Fish. Crab holding on to the fish tail. Double Jeopardy! September 12, 2020. 5:35 & 5:45 am. 60° F. Winds: Gusty. The Cove, Stamford, CT

Saturday Morning


Daybreak. September 5, 2020. 5:57 to 6:49 am. 63° F. Humidity: 73%. Wind: 7 mph. Gusts: 13 mph. Cloud Cover: 13%. The Cove, Stamford, CT

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call


Notes:

  • Daybreak. August 31, 2020. 5:59 to 6:08 am. 60° F. Humidity 70%. Wind: 6 mph. Gusts: 7 mph. Cloud Cover: 32%. The Cove, Stamford, CT
  • Inspired (again) by Helen Macdonald: “I kept trying to find the right words to describe certain experiences and failing. My secular lexicon didn’t capture what they were like. You’ve probably had such experiences yourself – times in which the world stutters, turns and fills with unexpected meaning. When rapturousness claims a moment and transfigures it. The deep hush before an oncoming storm; the clapping of wings as a flock of doves rises to wheel against low sun; a briar stem in the sun glittering with blades of hoarfrost. Love, beauty, mystery. Epiphanies, I suppose. Occasions of grace. — Helen Macdonald, Vesper Flights (Grove Press, August 25, 2020)

Sunday Morning

 


Daybreak. August 30, 2020. 5:55 to 6:15 am. 66° F. Humidity 76%. Wind: 11 mph. Gusts: 28 mph. Cloud Cover: 3%. The Cove, Stamford, CT

Monday Morning (Epilogue)

Yesterday’s post, yesterday’s comments. Loved them. Link here.

The ask was: “Two different cameras, shot taken 1 minute apart, two different perspectives. What’s your favorite?” Same photos above.  Here’s my take.

  1. I didn’t really See them until I was at my desk, at home. Wow. What a difference!
  2. One taken with a camera that had dials for aperture, for shutter speed, for exposure compensation.  So it had to be better.
  3. One had a separate, expensive zoom lens. So, it had to be better.
  4. One camera was so much bigger than the other. And was made for still photography. And was so much more expensive then the other. So it had to be better.

Photo 1: Came from an iPhone, zoomed 2x. No other alterations.

Photo 2: Came from a Fuji X-T4 with a 50mm x 140mm zoom lens. No alterations.

I stared at the iPhone photo.  I wasn’t there. Not with this scene. Not with these vibrant colors. Yet, I was drawn to this photo. “Warmer” (Beth, Darlene, Jnana, Michael, yes.) “Better composition with light and dark contrast.” (Jnana, Lori, yes.) “Bright, depicts the awakening of life…under the kiss of blush” (Christie, Louise.  Yes.)

No. No. But it just can’t be.  It had to be an aberration.

So I did it all over again this morning. Except this time, I took 20 shots with each camera.

Result: Same.

Can’t be the camera. Can’t be. Has to be the Operator. What an amateur.  Can’t be the camera. Not with the money sunk into this device.

I’m standing under a hot shower a few minutes later, thinking about the photos.

I think I need a Canon.


Inspired by Jnana Hodson‘s review of my shots —  some day I hope to see and be 50% as good Jnana.

“The top one, though I would try to level the water to flat horizontal rather than its current slight tilt. It’s warmer and speaks of sunrise. The bottom photo is tonally too muddy. There’s no light detail and no distinctly dark contrast. Also, the right side of the shot lacks the compositional closure the bit of land gives the top shot, balancing the land on the other side, even though the power lines are a bit of clutter. That detail invites the eye out into the bay beyond before returning to the heron or egret in the foreground.”

Monday Morning

Two different cameras, shot taken 1 minute apart, two different perspectives. What’s your favorite?

Daybreak. August 17, 2020. 5:59 am to 6:01.  63° F. Humidity 92%. Wind: 7 mph. Gusts: 12 mph. Cloud Cover: 11%. The Cove, Stamford, CT

Credit to Jim Borden for the request.

Walking. In Twilight.

75 minutes before sunrise, I start out in darkness, and slide into Twilight.

90 consecutive days, same loop, 5 miles, Cove Island Park and back.

I had to Google it, because I didn’t know what it was called, the in-between time between night and sunrise.

Twilight: “the soft glowing light from the sky when the sun is below the horizon, caused by the refraction and scattering of the sun’s rays from the atmosphere.”

I have no clue what all that means —  and no interest in learning more.

I’m deep into Kate Zambreno’s new book: Drifts: A Novel. My kind of book. She describes it as “Prose, little things, I stammer out.” (I wish I could stammer, spit and cough out anything close to this.)

Her words: “A shock of color out of nowhere.” And that’s exactly what it was. Look at it. The photo above, taken @ 5:24 a.m. 24 minutes before sunrise. 24 minutes before sunrise. Where does this light, this ‘shock of color’ come from?

In a different time, a different scene, she goes on to talk about “the light of Vermeer’s paintings. Their silence and mystery…So often the painting seems to be of the same room, at the same picture window… whether the sun floods in directly or diffusely.”

And so here we are. 90 consecutive days on this same walk. The same room, the same picture window, a new Vermeer each morning.

I tuck my camera into my bag, and head home. I twist in my earbuds and listen to Audible pumping in the narration.  She closes out her book on an Albrecht Durer quote, back in the 1500’s (before the internet, before digital cameras):

What beauty is, I know not, though it adheres to many things.”

And so it does Albrecht, so it does.


Notes:

  • Photo: 5:20 a.m. The Cove, Stamford, CT. July 30, 2020.
  • Inspired by: “The universe is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.” ~ Eden Phillpotts, from “A Shadow Passes
  • Book Review of Kate Zambreno’s book “Drifts: A Novel”: “Locked in a Creative Struggle, With Rilke as Her Guide” by Catherine Lacey, NY Times.
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