Posts from the ‘Photography’ Category
Sydney sunset from west and east
It can be a little unusual to view a sunset from both west and east.
From the west looking east, the sun is behind the viewer, and the setting sun illuminates everything in front of the viewer; that’s a way to describe “front illumination.” From the east looking west, the sun is in front of the viewer, and anything in between the sun and the viewer will appear (mostly) in silhouette; this is an example of “back illumination”.
That’s all very wordy to be sure, but I have above photos of two sunsets in Sydney, one sunset seen from the west and another sunset seen from the east.
In the first case, I boarded the Parramatta River ferry and headed east towards the City as the sun set behind us on the boat. In the second case, I wandered over to Dover Heights in the eastern suburbs to watch the sunset directly in front of me.
In both cases, the Sydney Harbour Bridge is the centrepiece for the setting sun.
Addendum: this photographic experiment became a complete success two weeks after the first photo I made on 14 April …
I made the photos above on 14 and 18 April 2013. This post appears on Fotoeins Fotopress at fotoeins.com.
Alone, deep in thought at Ocean Beach
In March 2012, I visited Ocean Beach in San Francisco, Caifornia. What’s left of the Sutro Baths invite people to walk in, through, and around the ruins. A benefit to visiting, even on a very windy day, is the proximity to the water, the Pacific Ocean.
Standing a few metres away from the water, I saw a woman standing alone in front of the surf. Although it was windy and some surf was reaching the ruins, the woman stood still for minutes, looking out into the ocean.
Briefly, I feared she was contemplating a jump into the ocean. But my fears were unfounded, as she eventually walked away and back up the slope towards the parking lot.
Whatever she was thinking, I hope she found what she was looking.
I made this photo at Ocean Beach in San Francisco on 18 March 2012. This post appears on Fotoeins Fotopress at fotoeins.com.
Finding religion in Toronto’s Hockey Hall of Fame
The Hockey Hall of Fame is the “Cathedral of Hockey”, a place where fans and followers pay their respects to the “Holy Grail”, one of the most beautiful and storied trophies in North American professional sports – the Stanley Cup.
Since 1993, the Hockey Hall of Fame (HHOF) has resided in an old Bank of Montreal building at the northwest corner of Front Street and Yonge Street in downtown Toronto, Canada. To the uninitiated observer, it might be easy to dismiss the Hall of Fame as no more than a bunch of keepsakes collecting dust in an old building.
The HHOF is more, so much more.
For hockey, this place houses beautiful trophies, valued memories, and childhood dreams. Dreams of …
Street hockey …
Roller hockey …
Inline hockey …
Junior hockey …
Women’s hockey …
World hockey …
Tournament hockey …
Olympic hockey …
Hockey history with players and builders inducted into the Hall of Fame.
For hockey in North America, the annual National Hockey League (NHL) competition provides one of the most historical trophies in professional sports: the Stanley Cup. For many, it’s being able to lift the trophy on high, while skating around the ice as champions.
The Stanley Cup is named after Frederick Stanley (Earl of Derby), known also as Lord Stanley of Preston, who served as Canada’s sixth Governor-General between 1888 and 1893. Lord Stanley wrote:
“I have for some time been thinking, that it would be a good thing if there were a Challenge Cup, which should be held from year to year by the leading hockey club of the Dominion. There does not appear to be any such outward and visible sign of a championship at present, and considering the interest the hockey matches now elicit and the importance of having the games fairly played under generally recognised rules, I am willing to give a Cup that shall be annually held by the winning club.” (18 March 1892)
In England at the time, Stanley’s aide, Captain Colville, purchased a gold-lined silver bowl on an ebony base, which eventually became The Stanley Cup. In recognition of the championship trophy, Lord Stanley was inducted in 1945 into the Canadian Hockey Hall of Fame in the “Builders” category.
Any one who visits the HHOF is likely to think the same thing, when childhood memories return, of dreaming about hockey, and about winning the Stanley Cup.
I found myself back in Toronto in April 2012 as part of my around-the-world journey. Since leaving in late-2001, I hadn’t been back to Toronto, a city I’d lived for 7 years. As much of a fan I was of hockey, I knew I was going back to visit the HHOF again.
The Hockey Hall of Fame is just steps away from Union Station, which provides connections to TTC metro-rail and GO Transit suburban and intercity train and bus services.
I made the photos on 9 April 2012 with a Canon EOS450D (XSi) and a 4th-generation iPodTouch. This post appears on Fotoeins Fotopress at fotoeins.com.
Eight ways to say happy birthday, Hong Kong style
April 8 is my sister’s birthday, and I wanted to mark the occasion with eight memories of my month (June 2012) with her and her husband in Hong Kong.
Why not the number four for April? Among Chinese, there is general consensus of an “unlucky” use for “four”, as the word “four” (四) sounds very much like the word for “death” (死). That’s the case in Cantonese at the very least.
On the other hand, the word “eight” (八) rhymes with “success” (發), a word which is used prominently in a New Year’s greeting to express “congratulations and be prosperous” (恭喜發財).
The following are a few photographic examples of memories representing my time in Hong Kong, and of things likely to be seen only in Hong Kong.
Happy birthday! 生日快樂,啊妹!
Except the final photo from my sister, I made the other photos above in Hong Kong between 6 and 21 June 2012. This post appears on Fotoeins Fotopress at fotoeins.com.
Shalechet (Fallen Leaves), Jewish Museum Berlin
The Jüdisches Museum (Jewish Museum) in Berlin’s Kreuzberg district is one of the most visited museums in the German capital. Over seven million people from around the world have visited the museum since its opening in late-2001.
Through the unique architectural vision and building design by Daniel Libeskind, the museum does not set aside the history of the Jewish community within Germany as being separate from the history of the country as a whole. Rather, there is conscious effort by Libeskind and the Museum to have visitors consider how the historical, cultural, art, literature, music, intellectual, scientific, and economic contributions from the Jewish community are tied inextricably with the history of Germany over the span of two millennia. These very issues and questions are now also driving discussions about the present state and evolution of the Turkish and other expatriate communities within Germany.
Within one of the vertical empty spaces of the museum resides a sculpture installation called “Shalechet”(Shalekhet) by Menashe Kadishman. The accompanying caption in English reads:
Leerstelle des Gedenkens (Memory Void):
Shalechet or Shalekhet (“Fallen Leaves”), by Menashe Kadishman (born 1932 in Tel Aviv): 1997-2001, sheet steel. Gift of Dieter and Si Rosenkranz.
The architect Daniel Libeskind created empty spaces in several parts of the building. These so-called voids extend vertically through the entire museum and represent the absence of Jews from German society. The Memory Void contains a work by the Israeli artist Menashe Kadishman, who calls his installation “Shalekhet,” or “Fallen Leaves.” He has dedicated the over ten-thousand faces covering the floor to all innocent victims of war and violence.
Visitors are encouraged to interact by walking on the exhibit itself: to see the open-mouths in terror and faces of soundless screams, and to listen to the jarring clanging sounds as thick metal pieces jostle against other sheet metal pieces.
With no other visitors here, it’s an eerie atmosphere. I also feel what is unmistakably guilt, as I walk over the “screaming” faces: am I walking over representations of living breathing people? I think these feelings are in fact necessary, that they’re there to emphasize the feelings of loss. Something important has been taken away. It’s as if the sculpture asks: “Germany is presently incomplete – will the country ever heal and be complete again?”
The following two-and-a-half minute video provides a visual and aural sample.
In Berlin, the Jüdisches Museum can be reached with the S-Bahn (S1, S2, S25) at Anhalter Bahnhof, U-Bahn (U6) at Kochstrasse, or U-Bahn (U1, U6) at Hallesches Tor.
On 19 November 2012, I made the photos above with a Canon EOS450D camera and the video above with a 4th-generation iPod Touch. This post appears on Fotoeins Fotopress at fotoeins.com.
