Tag Archives: Market Street Bridge

Night Moves

Posted by dkrashb on

The Hunter Museum’s modern addition and the switchbacks of the riverwalk
Picking my camera up during a long exposure netted this fun set of swirls
This one almost looks planned
Playing some more with urban structures and sky
Playing with sky and the underside of an overpass
Between two bridges
More traditional point of view of the water cannons at Coolidge Landing
A different point of view on the water cannons at Coolidge Landing
Sculpture lit with a flashlight
The modern end of the Hunter Museum
Zooming during a long exposure
The heartbeat of the historical section of the Hunter Museum
Ghost of me taken by Stephen Sweat–supposedly there actually is a ghost at the Hunter Museum.

Friday evening I was running late. I needed to finish photographing some guitars for Coop Guitars before I could head out the door. Isn’t that great? “Oh, I’m sorry I’m late. I had to finish up some shooting before I could call it quits tonight.” (I wonder if someone who’s been a full-time pro photographer for a couple of decades would find it amusing to have this as an excuse for tardiness: “Oh, I’m sorry I’m late, I had to finish up a conference call.”)

Even better, what I was running late for was another shoot! A group of adults got together on the riverfront to play with their very expensive toys–or, as I like to think of them, our boxes of crayons.

We met at 7:45 and shot through sunset and twilight and then really went nuts after dark.

Do you remember summer nights when you were a kid when all the neighborhood kids would get together and play hide-and-seek when it finally got dark? We would swear we’d only been playing for a few minutes when parents would suddenly appear out of the dark saying things like “Where have you been that you couldn’t hear me calling you for the past 10 minutes?”

Friday night, no parents showed up to tell us it was getting late. By the time people started realizing they needed to leave, it was after 10PM. Several of us shot on. “Just one more shot” we said to our internal parents reminding us we had other responsibilities.

We swapped tips on getting night time effects. We threw around words like “high-speed sync,” “hyper-focal distance,” “aberrations,” and “stopping down” and we understood each other. We zoomed our lenses at bright bridge lights during long exposures and giggled at the results. We got out flashlights and created ghosts and swirls just for the fun of it.

Suddenly, without warning, it was 11:30PM. I realized I was cold, I’d had no dinner, I’d had nothing to drink for at least 5 hours, and I’d told my husband I’d get home before 11PM. Yet, I still had to convince myself that those were strong enough reasons to pack it up for the night–there were so many more ideas I wanted to try!

Oh, there was also the fact that I needed to get up at 6AM the next morning to teach a workshop.

But feeling that creative spark and losing myself to it for a few hours was a great reminder of what I love best about photography–and life. Getting out and shooting with a bunch of people had the added benefits of both learning from each other and getting to socialize with people with a similar vocabulary.

Bridge and Heron

Posted by dkrashb on
Not nearly as exciting as when the bridge was fully open

Not nearly as exciting as when the bridge was fully open

About a week or so ago, I was out walking both Tisen and Twiggy when I missed a once-a-year shot.  Walking Tisen and Twiggy together gets a little tricky at times.  Twiggy likes to lead.  Not just Tisen, but me, too.  She likes to decide where we’re going and when we’re going there.  When we disagree with where she wants to go, her claws extend much like a cat’s, except that she possesses some superpower that allows her to drive them into concrete.  She then leans with her body at what is often a 45 degree angle against her harness and demands that everyone goes the direction she wants to go.

Tisen is somewhat oblivious to her demands.  If he catches a scent in the opposite direction, he goes towards it without regard for me, Twiggy, or the fact that he’s got a collar pulling against his neck.  I sometimes worry that he would strangle himself before he would realize he was the one causing it.

The gap is no longer even visible

The gap is no longer even visible

When Twiggy goes one way and Tisen goes another, the human who happens to be in the middle ends up doing what could be called the “Scarecrow,” but with very straight arms.  On days when both dogs are particularly adamant about the direction they want to go, it’s more like being on a medieval rack.

I have been working with the dogs to try to prevent this problem.  I’ve gotten Tisen to return to me when I make a certain sound and Twiggy to understand that we’re going to turn when I want to turn unless there’s something particularly tempting in the direction she’s determined to go.

But on this particular morning, as we made our way through the park, I suddenly got a view of the Market Street bridge and realized it was fully open.  It’s a rare type of draw bridge that’s opened and closed by a counter-weight system.  I don’t recall what it’s called, but it’s pretty cool.  It’s opened about once a year for inspection, but this was the first time I’d ever seen it fully open.

Shooting with my iPhone doesn't allow for close-ups, but you can see the Heron just right of 12 o'clock at the top of the tree

Shooting with my iPhone doesn’t allow for close-ups, but you can see the Heron just right of 12 o’clock at the top of the tree

Unfortunately, as I wrestled my iPhone out of my pocket and juggled it and two leashes to get my password entered, Twiggy spotted another dog in a different direction.  At the same time, Tisen spotted the same dog and decided he wanted to stay bolted to the spot he was currently standing on.

I cajoled and whistled and made my “come to me” noise to no avail.  Finally, the other dog moved far enough away that Twiggy and Tisen would listen to me again.  I got them down the path to where I could get a decent shot (although not all the way to my destination) just in time to catch the last few feet of the bridge closing.

I was not a happy dog walker.  When I turned, a Great Blue Heron was perched at the very top of a nearby tree.  I’m certain he was laughing at me.

Look carefully--you can see the heron laughing at me

Look carefully–you can see the heron laughing at me