Jeune tristesse.
Spotted on the Embarcadero, San Francisco.
G1, kit lens @ 22mm, 1/1000, f/6.3. ISO 320.
Jeune tristesse.
Spotted on the Embarcadero, San Francisco.
G1, kit lens @ 22mm, 1/1000, f/6.3. ISO 320.
Sometimes it helps to stick out from the crowd.
In San Francisco’s business district, on Montgomery Street.
G1, kit lens @ 45mm, 1/400, f/5.6.
Front Street, San Francisco.
G1, 20mm f/1.7 Panasonic pancake lens, 1/2000, f2.2.
A street snapper amongst painters.
If you are of the persuasion that Renoir’s confections are nausea-inducing, but one step removed from the modern horrors of Thomas Kinkade, then like me you may find yourself hewing to the astringent vision of Gustave Caillebotte (1848-1894).
As Paris became the city we know, magnificently laid out with wide boulevards and mansard roofs, Caillebotte was there to record the most perfect city in the world. He had no need to paint for a living, having inherited a fortune, but as history has shown time and again, poverty is not a qualification for great painting – or photography. For every impoverished Monet I can show you a wealthy Degas. For every Doisneau struggling to make the grocery bill, there’s a Cartier-Bresson enjoying his balcony view of the Tuileries.
And both Degas and Caillebotte were very much infused with a photographic vision, the street paintings of both replete with photographic framing and decisive moments all over the place, long before HC-B saw the light of day. Caillebotte’s best known canvas is his ‘photograph’ of a rainy day in Paris in 1877:

The passerby on the right is cut off by the frame and the horse drawn carriage largely obscured at the left. Caillebotte loved the vision photography made possible but lacked access to gear with the technological prowess required for snapshots. The perspective in the painting is very much at the wide angle end of the spectrum – he was seeing through a 21mm lens.
Nor was Caillebotte’s technique less than the finest. Look at this magnificent use of backlighting and the rendition of glass worthy of the finest from the Dutch school:

Modern photographic vision thinks nothing of compositional techniques which seemed so shocking back then. The reality is that we have all learned from the French street painting masters.
In San Francisco. G1, kit lens at 18mm, 1/2500, f/5, ISO 320.
In San Francisco. G1, kit lens @ 18mm, 1/1600, f/5, ISO 320.
Times change.
Back in the days when tires were thin and drivers were not, this is what a racing car’s cockpit looked like:

By the time Michael Schumacher was winning just about everything in his Formula One Ferrari, things had become a tad more complex (from the V10 F1 era):

Both snapped on the 5D with the 100mm Macro and a ring flash.
Prints are dying.
Almost five years ago I wrote of The photo gallery of the future, which would use a large screen display to show changing art work.
A while back, wanting to add a stock quote display to my office without using precious real estate on the three Dell displays attached to the HackPro, I pulled an old MSI Barebone computer out of storage and added an inexpensive (Hyundai!) 21.5″ LCD display. More of an art work thing than anything else – it’s not like I stare at a ticker all day. The MSI had proved too slow for its intended role as a movie server and had been replaced by a MacMini. But for streaming stock quotes, a low data volume application, it proves ideal. The display, which is 1920 x 1080 and includes a pair of (awful) speakers ran me all of $150. Adding a $15 VESA mounting plate and a few minutes with a stud finder and drill and the display was up on the wall.
On the sofaback, the cheap Hyundai display.
A few moments in iPhoto and I had my collection of Renaissance art pictures converted to a slide show and moved over to the Barebone. Now, at weekends, when it’s resting, it displays Caravaggio, Raphael and Titian. What could be nicer?
The 21.5″ display on the wall.
The next one will have to be 42″, just as I expected five years ago.