Cicadas (January 22-23, 2010)

These pictures were taken at Old Macdonald's Farm, near the Abel Tasman National Park in Marahau, South Island, New Zealand. I was thinking of this place the other day, because I was listening to a music track that had faint cicada sounds in the background, and the cicadas in this particular place were incredibly loud.



I really miss the cicadas' collective song, how it always seemed to thicken the air like humidity, as if it were a part of the heat itself--one of the elements of summer. I took the video below so I would be able to remind myself of it later, at a distance.



I remember as a child I'd lie on the front lawn, almost feeling the pulse of their sound, like a current that moves through flesh.

And if you listened for a while, you could hear patterns picking themselves out in the massive thrum--every now and then the little waves of sound would fall into sync, one wave amplifying another, you could hear them merging into each other and then, as part of the same pattern they became syncopated again, sawing new tense patterns, moving between conflict and concert, a "movement" itself formed entirely from impressions that emerged from the grand, cumulative throb of their song.



They must have been roosting on the trees here by the thousand. Walking along the dirt driveway formed into a tree-lined avenue, we were enveloped by the sound of this mass of tiny animals that remained almost completely unseen.



Above: Another insect we found nearby--unidentified as yet (and as far as I know--not a cicada), but interesting-looking!

Sun Rises, Sun Sets (Hamilton, November 1st-10th, 2011)

Sunset, Gage Park. November 1st, 2011.
Taken at the Pumpkin Parade, the day after Hallowe'en. When I took this picture I was facing north and looking towards Main Street; the sky was very clear and as the sun set slowly, the glowing pumpkins looked more ghostly and festive.



Sunrise, downtown. November 2nd, 2011.
On the way to an early-morning swim, I took this picture on Jackson Street.



Sunset, Main Street East. November 2nd, 2011.
Walking to the supermarket, I stopped to take a picture of the stunning sky. I love this rare intensity of colour, the way even the deep blue is overlaid by the orange glow of the sun.



Sunrise, back porch. November 10th, 2011.
I love the view of the sky from the back deck at my place. I am usually awake early in the morning and especially in winter, I get to see some beautiful sunrises (the window faces directly east). This one looks like a fire being smothered by its own smoke.

Far North Field (January 19, 2010)

Taken on the drive north to Cape Reinga, through the bus window.

Security Guard (October 31, 1997)

I took this Hallowe'en shot in the entrance at the Nova Scotia College of Art and Design (NSCAD), in Halifax. The costume was simple, yet effective...

The Alley (November 11, 2011)

I took this picture the other day when I was walking back to my apartment after an early-morning swim. We've been having some delicious autumn skies recently, beautiful direct sunlight that isn't cut through by summer's leftover haze, nor does it feel crisper than glass like the clear sky in full-on winter weather. It's the kind of sunlight that makes you want to turn your face towards it and close your eyes, drinking it in. The colour of the leaves against the sky has been particularly lovely lately as well, though it seems most of the leaves have dropped off over the past weekend (typical sudden changes of season).

Still Leaf (November 5, 2011)

Dusk Walk (Toronto; July 24, 2008)

These pictures were taking during a walk from Parkdale to Christie Street, on a summer evening in Toronto. I love taking pictures of cities at sunset or in the early evening. There's a moment between light and dark where the effects of shadows are less predictable, almost eerie.



I've always thought that cities look like very different, almost fantastical places when photographed at that time, even scenes that might normally seem mundane can reveal a kind of luminescence, or alternately being shrouded in semi-darkness they take on an air of mystery that might otherwise be lacking. In the picture above, the paved alleyway looks darkly surreal compared to the still-light sky overhead, which in turn is reflected in the water pooled on the ground.



Sometimes the camera behaves differently in these lighting conditions as well. In the picture above this shows in the way the building is slightly blurred, and the reflection in the window is doubled up. It's actually hard to tell whether that's a trick of the camera or something happening with the light. You can see the same thing going on in this picture I posted previously, which was also taken during that evening walk.



This isn't the first or last photo I've taken of a corner shop at night. I'm often drawn to the low-light effect that makes windows--and lamps--glow in an unusual way. Below, the same effect is at work in this photo of a bank at the corner of Christie Street and Dupont. Because of the ambient, leftover daylight, the whole scene isn't as dark as it would be at night, so you can see the details in the building as well as the orb of light already being carved out by the parking lot lamp.



Below: Christie Street. This is one of my favourite pictures of Toronto. Again with the streetlamps, I love how they glow like little planets or stars, how you can't see what suspends them in the darkness, partly because of the contrasts between light and dark that turn the trees into sold black shadows against the still-fading sky.



Below: Davenport Road, as the sun's almost completely set. One of the things I like about this picture is the way the power lines form a shape that seems somehow analogous to the lines along the two sides of the road. Because of the strange semi-darkness the one brightest streetlight looks like either the sun or the moon (or both).

Generation Gap (Hamilton, Ontario, August 2011)

Katydid (August 7, 2011)

Spotted outside last night on a window ledge: a charming leaf-like insect. The larger family is Tettigoniidae, and a bit of digging brought up the specific sub-family, which looks to be Copiphorinae, "cone-headed meadow katydid".

Stazione di Milano Centrale (May 17, 2007)

Milan's central train station, or Stazione di Milano Centrale, was a project that began in the early 1900s but was continued and expanded over a long period, particularly by Benito Mussolini (Italy's Fascist leader from 1925 to 1943).

I didn't manage to get a picture of the outside of the station, but here is one I found online. The facade looks more like an over-sized Baroque/Classical mash-up done in poor taste by a 20th century Napoleon, which actually comes close to the truth since the pseudo-regal structure works well as a kind of visual metonym for Mussolini's public works schemes (including transportation systems). It was Mussolini who was said to have "made the trains run on time"--a dubious statement, of course.



I don't know if Mussolini, a fan of extreme efficiency, would have been too keen on the apparent chaos of Stazione Centrale. It seemed to be functioning, but any order that was there looked more like an emergent property than an obvious arrangement.

Like at Heathrow airport in London, they didn't announce there the trains would leave from until fairly close to the departure time. The area around the platforms was a current of human motion, torrents of tourists and commuters flowing towards the next train as its platform number appeared on the information screen, rivulets swirling into eddies of conversation in the bustle of travellers trying to reach the right departure place before all the seats were taken.

And I still remember it was apparently OK to smoke cigarettes inside the station.