57. Solitude II - July 13-19, 2014
Jerry-
Here's my solitude photo. The supermodel never showed so I made due with myself, the camera, and a little tripod. I have a second version where I'm gazing off into the distance but I like this more serious one. I also tried it in black & white but it seemed even more serious, past the idea of solitude and much more lonely. Solitude to me has a positive notion. The location was Eloise Butler Wild Flower Garden in North Minneapolis. My D5200 had the 16-85 set to 16mm, f11 at 1/50, iso 400.
Here's my solitude photo. The supermodel never showed so I made due with myself, the camera, and a little tripod. I have a second version where I'm gazing off into the distance but I like this more serious one. I also tried it in black & white but it seemed even more serious, past the idea of solitude and much more lonely. Solitude to me has a positive notion. The location was Eloise Butler Wild Flower Garden in North Minneapolis. My D5200 had the 16-85 set to 16mm, f11 at 1/50, iso 400.
Kevin-
Well I had an idea of how to approach Solitude II in a way that was different from my first Solitude photo in WPOTM 30, but circumstances kept me from pulling off the particular effort I had in mind. So I guess I’ll keep that in my pocket in case we ever do Solitude III!
I drove out west, looking for narrow, straight, solitude-like roads, which aren’t very common in the metro area, Now I would have been nice if I could have traveled further west, near the Dakotas when the land really feels more solitude-like. But that was a longer drive than I was prepared to make.
I was near Hutchinson, MN, simply photographing empty roads, when this pickup truck traveled down one of the roads I was focusing on. I thought about the solitude of the driver, on an unpaved road, covering miles of gravel surface, not sure when he might see another person or vehicle, or if he even wants to. And wondering if and when it happens will both vehicles will move over enough to allow each other to pass?
But now, it’s just the solitude of his pickup truck, the empty road and the dust cloud behind him.
Nikon D4s. 70-200mm f/2.8 zoom set to 115mm. 2X teleconverter making it 230mm effective. ISO 800. f/11 at 1/1250th of a second.
Well I had an idea of how to approach Solitude II in a way that was different from my first Solitude photo in WPOTM 30, but circumstances kept me from pulling off the particular effort I had in mind. So I guess I’ll keep that in my pocket in case we ever do Solitude III!
I drove out west, looking for narrow, straight, solitude-like roads, which aren’t very common in the metro area, Now I would have been nice if I could have traveled further west, near the Dakotas when the land really feels more solitude-like. But that was a longer drive than I was prepared to make.
I was near Hutchinson, MN, simply photographing empty roads, when this pickup truck traveled down one of the roads I was focusing on. I thought about the solitude of the driver, on an unpaved road, covering miles of gravel surface, not sure when he might see another person or vehicle, or if he even wants to. And wondering if and when it happens will both vehicles will move over enough to allow each other to pass?
But now, it’s just the solitude of his pickup truck, the empty road and the dust cloud behind him.
Nikon D4s. 70-200mm f/2.8 zoom set to 115mm. 2X teleconverter making it 230mm effective. ISO 800. f/11 at 1/1250th of a second.
Byron-
There are times when Erleen feels the pressure of having me underfoot all day so she needs a get-a-way. This photo shows Erleen in a secluded spot in picturesque Maple Grove, listening to her favorite Gwar tunes. It relaxes her.
The focal length was 135mm, f/8 at 1/200 sec
There are times when Erleen feels the pressure of having me underfoot all day so she needs a get-a-way. This photo shows Erleen in a secluded spot in picturesque Maple Grove, listening to her favorite Gwar tunes. It relaxes her.
The focal length was 135mm, f/8 at 1/200 sec
Deron-
Apparently one man's solitude is another man's suffering.
I was solo today on a rarely ridden rode called Jack Rabbit Trail, in an unincorporated area of Riverside County. While most cyclist steer clear, I love this road. Sure, it's like riding on a bombed out waffle iron, but that is what gives it its charm... I just transport myself to Belgium and imagine riding the cobblestones of the Koppenberg. The views alone are worth the pounding your body takes to make the climb... the brown and rutted Badlands are spectacular!
I knew I'd have the road to myself. I was able to take my time, set the 10-second timer on the D40, screw on the 4" tall, bendable tripod and leave it in the middle of the road, without the fear of a car coming by to flatten it.
Apparently one man's solitude is another man's suffering.
I was solo today on a rarely ridden rode called Jack Rabbit Trail, in an unincorporated area of Riverside County. While most cyclist steer clear, I love this road. Sure, it's like riding on a bombed out waffle iron, but that is what gives it its charm... I just transport myself to Belgium and imagine riding the cobblestones of the Koppenberg. The views alone are worth the pounding your body takes to make the climb... the brown and rutted Badlands are spectacular!
I knew I'd have the road to myself. I was able to take my time, set the 10-second timer on the D40, screw on the 4" tall, bendable tripod and leave it in the middle of the road, without the fear of a car coming by to flatten it.
Paul-
Solitude—a theme and goal I hardily endorse—has wound its way back again to the noble members of the WPOTM!
Anyway, I was wandering through woods and fields just outside Lincoln—enjoying my own solitude—and chanced upon a young girl gifted with beautiful hair and, seemingly, in the company of a good book. I was struck by her gamine features and the way she seemed immersed in her reading. Though I was hesitant to shatter such a striking tableau of bucolic pleasantness, I couldn’t help myself and (perhaps too brashly) asked if I might take her picture. She nodded briefly without ever diverting her eyes from the pages. This photograph is the result.
As I walked away to retrieve my camera bag, she broke the silence.
“Daddy, can we go home and have dinner now?”
(Postscript—My first thought for this week’s theme was going down to the local Barnes & Noble and shooting a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude, a novel by Colombian author Gabriel García Márquez. Márquez won the Nobel Prize for literature in the early 80’s. However, this picture was a lot more fun.)
Our Story So Far… As the final cable snapped and the back-up braking system—which had not been inspected as required 7 years earlier—failed, the elevator’s lone occupant (photographer Jeffrey Nornbik) realized his descent from the 23rd floor of the Osseo Tribune Building to the lobby would be significantly faster than usual. Ever a collector of trivial and esoteric information, Nornbik immediately recalled—as the floor indicator indifferently blinked the progress down to almost certain oblivion—that a perfectly timed jump in the air at the last possible fraction of a second just might save his life. With an uncanny combination of luck and timing, Nornbik did in fact jump at the proper instant…sustaining only a few small bruises and lacerations amid the wreckage of the elevator car. And so, he was wearing a self-satisfied grin and chucking to himself as (a few seconds later) the elevator servicing the 24th through 43rd floors on the same shaft—also having sustained the same structural failure—compacted the hapless cub reporter into something resembling Silly Putty. Later, investigators would find amid the metal and organic carnage a remarkably intact Olympus E-500 DSLR whose last image bore the follow metadata: “Olympus E500; 14-45mm zoom lens (shot at 24mm); 1/250 sec. at f9; ISO 250, scattered clouds at 5:46PM.”
Solitude—a theme and goal I hardily endorse—has wound its way back again to the noble members of the WPOTM!
Anyway, I was wandering through woods and fields just outside Lincoln—enjoying my own solitude—and chanced upon a young girl gifted with beautiful hair and, seemingly, in the company of a good book. I was struck by her gamine features and the way she seemed immersed in her reading. Though I was hesitant to shatter such a striking tableau of bucolic pleasantness, I couldn’t help myself and (perhaps too brashly) asked if I might take her picture. She nodded briefly without ever diverting her eyes from the pages. This photograph is the result.
As I walked away to retrieve my camera bag, she broke the silence.
“Daddy, can we go home and have dinner now?”
(Postscript—My first thought for this week’s theme was going down to the local Barnes & Noble and shooting a copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude, a novel by Colombian author Gabriel García Márquez. Márquez won the Nobel Prize for literature in the early 80’s. However, this picture was a lot more fun.)
Our Story So Far… As the final cable snapped and the back-up braking system—which had not been inspected as required 7 years earlier—failed, the elevator’s lone occupant (photographer Jeffrey Nornbik) realized his descent from the 23rd floor of the Osseo Tribune Building to the lobby would be significantly faster than usual. Ever a collector of trivial and esoteric information, Nornbik immediately recalled—as the floor indicator indifferently blinked the progress down to almost certain oblivion—that a perfectly timed jump in the air at the last possible fraction of a second just might save his life. With an uncanny combination of luck and timing, Nornbik did in fact jump at the proper instant…sustaining only a few small bruises and lacerations amid the wreckage of the elevator car. And so, he was wearing a self-satisfied grin and chucking to himself as (a few seconds later) the elevator servicing the 24th through 43rd floors on the same shaft—also having sustained the same structural failure—compacted the hapless cub reporter into something resembling Silly Putty. Later, investigators would find amid the metal and organic carnage a remarkably intact Olympus E-500 DSLR whose last image bore the follow metadata: “Olympus E500; 14-45mm zoom lens (shot at 24mm); 1/250 sec. at f9; ISO 250, scattered clouds at 5:46PM.”