2. I took this photo in January 2014 in Portsmouth, New Hampshire at Prescott Park.
3. Cold
4. In this picture, the sun is setting, leaving the chill of winter to take over for the night. The ice covered pier juts out over the dark, swift, and frigid water. As the sun goes down, you can feel the wind pick up and the temperature drop.
1. 3:30 AM, March 9th, 2013 Calkins Quad
2. The moonlight, helped by a single white spotlight, stretches out across the quad.
3. My friend and I decided to go for a walk late at night because we felt like being spontaneous. We wanted to go on an adventure. A journey. We found ourselves walking along south side campus, nothing out of the ordinary until we reached Calkins Quad. Finally, the moment we had been waiting for was right in front of us. Discovery. Although we both knew the effect was caused by a light frost and the moonlight, the quad looked as though a billion stars had fallen from the sky and landed on the ground. It was enchanting. We slowly walked step by step to the center of the abyss of stars. Looking around we saw millions of little prisms of light flickering like glitter. It was magical, as if we had walked into a fairy forest. Standing in the quad, in the early hours of the morning, we were filled with the joy and excitement one gets while on a journey. Although, we were no Harry Potter or Frodo Baggins, looking at the sight of our surroundings, you would have thought we were in an enchanted forest.
http://s1.favim.com/orig/9/cold-light-outside-sky-snow-Favim.com-171414.jpg
Cold
This photo gave me the feeling of cold due to the heavy shadows in the picture yet the source of light is not visible You can see the snow still untouched on the ground and on the trees so you can tell the snow was recent so it must still be cold despite there being sunlight.
1) Monday, 2/11/13, 7:15 P.M. Walking out of Emily Lowe.
2) Having rained all day and snowed the day before, a light fog caked the air. Looking across toward the Playhouse I could only see the piercing light of the lamp posts as balls floating above the ground. Looking down, the snow had a faint sheen from the reflection of these lights.
3) Walking out into the cold night air and not being able to see was a quick shock to my system. I thought, “Better walk quickly, or I’ll freeze in place.” But there was a problem. I couldn’t see. At least not much. Fog obscured my vision except for spheres of light in the distance. I imagined that must be how a sailer might have felt. At sea for months, only the churning waves to keep the monotony at bay. The cool salty sea water sprays up from the sides of the ship and drenches the crew and their cloths. Soggy and cold they work on, waiting and waiting for that one beacon of hope. And there. At last it comes. At first they think it’s imagination. But it’s not. The lighthouse signals to them through the dark night that land is near. It guides them home. Their spirits restored, the crew works hard for the last stretch of their journey, desperate to get home. The light calls to them and they answer.
2. shutterstock.com, by: Elena Blokhina
3. Spring
4. The beginning of spring makes outside come alive, be it ready or not, especially where I come from thus the flowers coming out of the snow. Despite the subject of this photo, spring lighting always seems so bright cause its reflecting colors that our eyes have been missing since the fall. Everything is simply brighter, almost blinding. It can be warm and inviting as the flowers reach upwards craving the life giving sun.
2. I do not know where I originally discovered the picture, but it is from National Georgraphic Travel, and can be found at
http://travel.nationalgeographic.com/exposure/nirvana/image/image/48208_0_1208x1005.jpg
I could not find the photographer or where the photo is featured on their website, only the direct link to the image itself.
3. Theme: Sunsets or Sunrises
4.
I have an affinity for broken and abandoned structures. Ghost towns in the California desert. Empty amusement parks in New Orleans. Pripyat. Detroit. There is a presence in these places, a sad emptiness where memories linger, a feeling of lives lived, left unfinished. Broken memories of what was. Churches have an even stronger presence about them, as well as an even greater sadness. Large or small, simple or ornate, They are buildings built to be beautiful, built to have a presence, making their deterioration and degradation even more despairing. This building is dying. It is winter, the trees and ground are devoid of life. The roof is weak and falling in—it won’t be long before it collapses in on itself.
The light though. When one calls to mind a sunset, color is one of the first things evoked. Brilliant golds and reds, shifting patterns across clouds and rocks as the light bends through the atmosphere in its last moments. There is little color here, however. With little light left to hit this side of the building, the church is in deep shadow, and at some places pure silhouette. The sun is a dull yellow, probably not very different from how it was the entire day. For this one moment, though, just before it disappears, it cuts through the grey of the winter air, streaming through the open windows. It would be easy to compare this light with reverence, with holy radiance and divinity. The radiance of God is one of the most common motifs of God or Jesus throughout Christian doctrine—yet this is not enough. This is not what makes the picture for me.
The reason these motifs exist is because of the universal connection between light and life. This is life entering this building again. The light spilling out of the windows reveals details in the paneling of the walls, if only for a moment. In the next moment, the sun will sing a little lower and the light will no longer be streaming from these windows. The glow of the sunset may remain a little longer, but the church will be reduced to a silhouette, then swallowed into the darkness as the earth turns and last of the light disappears into the night.
1.) Wednesday Mar. 23 2011, 9:05 P.M. Outside Emily Lowe Hall.
2.) Light reflecting off the falling snow.
3.) It was nighttime, made even darker by the thunderclouds that were overhead, when I got out of my thesis team meeting. When we stepped outside, what limited light there was was reflecting off of the large snowflakes, making them the only clearly illuminated thing on the quad. The result was a blinding effect, a kind of white-out, in which it took me a long time to focus on the rest of my surroundings. The movement of the snowflakes was disorienting. Also, the orange-tinted street lights provided an orange fill light, making the snow look unnatural. The whole scene made me feel anxious.
1) Sunday Feb 20th, maybe around 2 am, in my dorm
2) Streetlight coming through the blinds in my window
3) As I was about to fall asleep, I noticed that it had begun to snow that night. I could see a very orange, foggy, light coming in from the lights in the parking lot. The blinds made the light look striped creating an interesting pattern. The light lit the snow falling closer to my window from behind, silhouetting it, while the snow falling on the other side of the light was a pale orange-white. This was in interesting contrast. Snow had also started to gather on the tree limbs outside the window. The whole scene was mostly peaceful and serene, but the feeling was offset by the strange orange glow of the light. The orange color added an element of suspense and a sort of eerie anxiety to the situation.
Taken by Philip Schaffer
COLD
DESCRIPTION:
The lighting of this picture is the blue that the sky takes on right before night. Furthermore, the grey tones in the picture, both in the light coming from the sky and the colors of the light and snow together, are the the colors the sky takes on on a snowy, or rainy day. This purple, grey, light reminds me of the snow day it was taken on; the sky was the same color that whole day, until it began to fade. This picture is the moment right before it faded; before the final source of non-electric warmth besides jackets and body heat disappeared.
1. January 31st. 2AM. Outside of Vander Poel Hall.
2. The light comes from a bright street lamp that is shining down at an angle. It is bright orange. Light spreads wide, in all directions.
3. The light is shining on to the the branches of the tree beneath it, causing the shadows to be projected against the snow. Due to the angle of the light, the shadows stretch towards me. From my room, on the 6th floor, I can look down and see the rain only when I look towards the light, otherwise, it is invisible. The whiteness of the snow and ice against the ground is shining the light of the lamp back towards me, creating an intense orange glow which combats the knowledge I have of how cold it actually is out there.
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