Layers and paint and removed paper create patterns on a concrete wall in Brooklyn
There isn’t really a lot to say about this photograph, but there might be a few things to ask. This was more or less a quick “grab shot,” taken while walking not far from the waterfront at the Brooklyn Bridge Park, where it isn’t uncommon to find places where various signs and billboards have been posted and then removed.
So, what you are looking at here is the result of various layers of paint and the after-effects of material that was glued to the walls and then removed. I think it is interesting to ask what you see in these patterns when you look at them. The more I look the more I see, but I won’t try to convince you that what I see is the “right” thing to notice, and I think that lots of other interpretations are possible — or that you might even choose to simply see it as a place where stuff was removed from a black and green wall!
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
Light patterns on the atrium wall at the New York Museum of Modern Art
I think I end up visiting the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA) every time I visit New York City. It may be partly out of habit, but it is also because there are always things there to see. MOMA always features photography — though the work on display this time was not quite my cup of tea. There are special exhibits, and we were especially surprised and please by the Lygia Clark show. It is always hard to resist — we inevitably fail — visiting the regular collection of famous work in the main galleries.
For me, the space itself is an interesting photographic subject. To some extent it is a good place to photograph people, and I did a bit of that in one particular gallery displaying work that did not particularly impress me — though I noticed one particular museum attendant keeping a very close eye on me. She never said a word, but it seemed like she was always watching me, to the extent that she shows up in perhaps half of the photos I made in that exhibit! The building itself is fascinating, in terms of its own architectural details, how people inhabit the space, and how light plays on its shapes and surfaces. This photograph features the central atrium, which I have photographed in the past, crisscrossed by light patterns stretching down from the roof.
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
Complex patterns in sandstone formations at Zion National Park
I’m certainly no geologist, but that doesn’t keep me from being somewhat amazed by the fantastical and convoluted shapes and conjunctions in this little detail of cross-bedded sandstone photographed in the Zion National Park high country. As I understand it, these rocks originated in sand that was laid down, perhaps as dunes, in the distant past. For a variety of reasons, layers that originally tilted one direction ended up butted up against or nudging into layers tilting in radically different directions. My untrained eyes count a number of such layers in this small bit of rock. Overlaid on this are eroding flakes, cracks, bits of vegetation, lichen, and more – and all of it on this intensely colorful Southwest rock.
I am not certain precisely where this bit of geology was photographed, beyond recalling that it was along the Mount Carmel Highway through Zion National Park and that the photograph was made in shaded and diffused light. I am not only intrigued by the disjunct lines and angles of the underlying rock here, but also by odd features such as the big curve running across the middle of the frame and the subtle differences in the coloration of the rock – in places it is quite pink, verging on redness, while in others it is almost somewhat purple.
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 dry remnants of a dead plant in recently wind-blown sand dune, Death Valley National Park
I have been visiting Death Valley regularly for perhaps fifteen years, typically photographing there for nearly a week every year for the past decade, and occasionally more. On my most recent trip, from which I returned only days ago, I was thinking about a number of thing regarding my experience with the place and how it has changed. On my first visits there was, of course, the excitement and wonder of discovering a place that was essentially completely new to me. I recall that on my first trip there I got close to the Race Track without going all the way to this location. We camped not far from that playa and I imagined this place that I had heard so much about and even envisioned it in a particular location – and when I did visit a year or two later I discovered that it was quite a bit different from what I imagined, though magical in different and perhaps more powerful ways. After a few years of visiting and photographing the best known iconic sites I began to find them less interesting, and though I continued to photograph them when the opportunity arose, I focused more on expanding the areas I knew about and on looking more closely at areas I thought I knew.
As I did this, I have to confess that portions of the Death Valley experience baffled me or even put me off a bit. While I found some of the terrain to be tremendously beautiful, there were other aspects that I just couldn’t quite relate to. As a person who has spent a lot of time in forested places with flowing water – mainly the Sierra Nevada – I found some areas of this desert to be, quite honestly, boring. I drove through or past them on my way to what I thought of as the more interesting places where I could find colors outside of the range from tan to gray and where some special object or formation might create an obvious center of interest. However, from time to time I would be surprised to find in some plain, nondescript, and even boring place an experience of stillness, immense space, and deep silence that I had rarely encountered elsewhere. More and more, I began to see this as a primary attraction of this landscape – more so in many cases that the specific features of this pinnacle or that formation or the other valley.
On this recent trip, conditions conspired to make me look more closely at some of these things that I had originally overlooked. The conditions were such that if I had experienced them a few years ago I might have simply left. (In fact, that thought did cross my mind once or twice on this trip.) The spectacular light really never came, skies were cloudy, the air was hazy, it was very hot, the winds blew strongly, and there was a dust storm. During the first couple of day, with the exception of shooting the dust storm, many of the subjects I had in mind simply didn’t work out the way I planned. A bit surprisingly, without the possibility of shooting yet another beautiful golden hour sunset image of a spectacular bit of geography (though I did do some of that still) I slowed down and looked more closely at some of those “boring” places that I had passed through more quickly in the past.
This photograph was made in one of those locations. It was not far from one of those iconic locations, but it wasn’t the iconic spot at all. An hour or so before sunset I simply wandered away from the road, past vegetation and into the sand, and started looking around. In the low spots between dunes, the world beyond was out of sight and the wind was blocked, and as the light faded I encountered again that deep and powerful and timeless silence that is so hard to find almost anywhere else.
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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