A shattered glass window and a spray-painted brick wall
This is another small and complex street vignette, found on a wall along a street in Brooklyn, New York while walking around making photographs and looking for a place to eat. This section of wall was covered with a lot of street art, layers of contributions from a large group of people over some period of time, no doubt.
There’s not a whole lot for me to write about this one, except that the juxtaposition of broken glass, a single clean vertical line, and the abstract shapes and colors on the right caught my attention. There appears to be some piece of paper behind the fractured glass, and it looks like it may hold some message, but the meaning remains unclear.
Distorted reflections of a crane and Chicago buildings
Every so often I wonder about architects. For the most part we think of them — or at least I do — as folks who are as much about logic and structure as they are about design and form, and when they are about design they don’t usually seem to be particularly whimsical. (With notable exceptions.) Whimsical doesn’t fit the image or the expectations of the typical big business clients who might commission such towers as those found in an urban center like Chicago — these see like people who are more interested in cultivating an image of stability and wealth and power.
But then I look at the window reflections that are the inevitable result of placing plexiglas covered buildings in close proximity to one another and I have to wonder. Are these folk aware of the almost hallucinogenic shapes and forms that appear on the sides of these buildings? In fact, how many people on the streets are away of the abstract and bizarre visual show that is often going on overhead? Here, against the clean and mathematically perfect face of this building, neatly divided into equal grids of alternating shades of blue, appear bizarre visual monstrosities. A red construction crane warps upwards and leans precariously to the right as its upper elements simply fall apart into twists and curlicues. Sections of the reflected buildings are alternately minimized and expanded to gross degrees, and if you look closely at the resulting patterns you might find anything from aerial fish to faces to whatever else you want to imagine.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more. Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email
A street lamp and two windows on a building wall along a narrow street in Salzburg, Austria
I saw these interesting lamps on my first day walking around in Salzburg but didn’t think much more about them until later. They were attached to walls by what look like curved rods of iron, and were not like anything that I’m familiar with. Later, when visiting a location near but not in Salzburg, I saw the same lamps on other buildings. Now, seeing a pattern, I started looking for them, and they popped up in lots of different places in and around Salzburg.
This wall belongs to what I presume is a home or apartment along a narrow street not far from central Salzburg. In the afternoon we walked away from the busy old central city and headed toward a nearby area where we had parked, and as we did we passed through a number of these old, narrow streets. In places, the afternoon light was almost parallel to the streets, and here it glances across the rough surface of the wall, hitting one window and casting a shadow on the open upper window.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more. Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email
The desert sky is reflected in the windows of an abandoned brick building in the ghost town of Bodie, California
I have been to Bodie quite a few times, but I rarely go there anymore unless I think something interesting might happen with the weather. The place is often sun-blasted, with cloudless blue skies, and during the part of the year when it is most often visited it tends to be quite hot and dry. Don’t get me wrong – Bodie is a fascinating place and its story is even more interesting. I’ve visited a number of ghost towns and isolated abandoned structures in the outback of California, and the sheer scope of this ghost town sets it apart, as does that fact that California has worked to sustain it in a state of suspended decay.
We were wandering around the eastern side of the Sierra Nevada and points further east of that on the final day of our five-day “aspen chasing” visit this October. Most often my plans are a bit general and/or flexible, and I like to adapt to changing conditions rather than stick to a preset shooting schedule. On this day we were surprised to find it snowing when we awoke in Mammoth Lakes, and as we left town to explore in an eastward direction we stopped to photograph dawn snow flurries over the Sierra crest. Eventually, after going a good distance out toward the Nevada border, we looped back to the north and ended up in Lee Vining, where we grabbed a (very late!) breakfast at Nicely’s. The possibility of going to Bodie was somewhere on the list of options, but when we continued to see snow falling about the town and clouds to the north and east, we decided to head out there to see what we could find. In the end, there was no snow falling in Bodie – though it had fallen there earlier that day – but it was very cold and very windy and broken clouds provided interesting and changeable light. One of my main subjects as I wandered around the town making photographs turned out to be the doors and windows on the old buildings. Perhaps ironically, given my usual lack of interest in sun-blasted Bodie, I shot this scene in nearly flat front light – but it seemed appropriate for this old and weathered building and the reflection i the old windows of the very blue cloud-filled sky.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more. Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email
Photographer and visual opportunist. Daily photos since 2005, plus articles, reviews, news, and ideas.
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