Coulonge panorama

This panorama of three stitched images gives a good view of the main drop of the Coulonge Falls during the spring runoff. This is my first attempt at a stitched image and, while I'm fairly happy with it, there are a number of things I will do differently for the next one.

For example, I can see how a panoramic head, or at least a spirit level, would be very helpful. I took the component shots on a tripod with a ball head and estimated by eye how to line up the images. I didn't do too badly, but it could have been better (as you can see from the edges of the image that I've left in place).

What else did I learn? Umm... always remember to wipe the spray off the lens between shots.

All that said, I think I may be developing a taste to do some more panoramas. Stay tuned.

Coulonge begins its fall

Given that we had a near-record snowfall in Western Quebec this year, I thought it would be a good idea to see what the spring runoff looked like at the Coulonge Falls. And why not? The falls are only 110 km from where I live, after all.

This is just one portion of the top of the falls, which are divided into three sections. The middle section is a very impressive drop, and the third is a 100m log slide that was used during the days of the lumber boom on the Coulonge and Ottawa Rivers.

I took plenty of shots, included some of my first attempts at HDR and panoramas, so I'll make an effort to get them up in the next few days.

Old buds, new sky

We're emerging from a winter with a near-record snowfall in the Ottawa Valley. The snow began at the end of October and stayed. And although there is still plenty of snow on the ground around our house, winter's back is truly broken for another year. Days are longer and warmer, streams and rivers swollen. We're seeing birds in the yard that we haven't seen for months and the ducks and muskrat have reappeared in the creek that runs through the backyard.

Spring.

Jackson Poll-rock

If the Flintstones could have Stony Curtis and Cary Granite, I can be forgiven for the title of this post.

I am always struck by the range of colours that can be found in seemingly-dull rock, tones and hues that are brought out by water and good light. Today we had both.

It was a beautiful day in the Ottawa Valley and, even though there is still plenty of snow around, it is clear that winter is losing its grip. Just as well, since many of us feared losing our grip, too.

Developing Vision and Style: a review

I've just finished reading Developing Vision and Style: A Landscape Photography Masterclass, and I'm not entirely sure what to make of it. Edited by Eddie Ephraums, the book's images are uniformly beautiful and reproduced very well, even in the paperback edition of the book I bought.

After a dozen or two images, though, all that uniformity starts to grate. It seems to me that there is a certain sameness to many of the landscapes, and it shows up right on the front cover: rocks in the foreground, dramatic sky, optional body of water. The images that don't follow this formula stand out by comparison.

This is a little odd in a book that is meant to be about developing vision and style. Although the authors and other contributors talk at length about their unique visions and styles, there isn't always a lot of uniqueness on display. I was also struck by how little insight was to be gained on the photographers' vision and style: very few were able to articulate what characterized their own work, never mind offer readers useful direction on developing theirs.

The book is beautiful and the notes on how individual images were made are often interesting. The text is not nearly as interesting, though, and the title promises more than the authors deliver. I'll open it again, but I think I'll just look at the pictures...

Window on Wellington

This is the view from an upstairs room in the St. Lawrence Market building in Toronto. I was hoping to visit the small art gallery in the building, but it was shut. Instead I poked around a bit and found this view on Wellington Street.

That all men may know His work

This is the ceiling of what used to be the main entrance to the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto. I always remember being impressed by the beauty and workmanship when I visited as a schoolchild. Now that the ROM sports a "crystal" as its entrance, this ceiling is probably seen by fewer people. The legend at the apex suggests that, whatever one's culture or religion, there is a common source to life and wisdom. The new entry is at once much flashier and much less bold: all awkward geometry and no attempt at a context for the museum's treasures.