Well this is going to be a combo of (perhaps) "nice pictures" and a bit of a plug for Snapseed (or perhaps just where I'm at with it). For those not interested in the discussion, just sit back and look at the pictures :-)
First lets look at the straight out of the phone picture:
not bad ... but somehow feeling a bit lifeless.
One could fiddle about on the spot with this or that setting, but I prefer just to capture the RAW data from the sensor and move on. If I like it I can come back and fiddle with it later. Besides (not that anyone was with me) who wants to hang about with a photographer fiddling with a camera (even it it is a phone).
So, I fiddled when I had time later (people may think I was just looking at my phone, so you blend in)
rather than make this "garish" I tried to be a bit subtle (yes, I know) and to emphasise the snow falls and give a subtle glow to the middle of the ship and emphasize the difference between the snow fall on the water on the ice and just water on the ice (showing the subtle thermal differences)
Details on the ship seem more clear, but not "whack you in the eyes"
This is why I persist with Snapseed and RAW because it just allows me to pull something more interesting (which is why I looked at it anyway) from what the camera turned into bleak.
Lets just look at a few others without me blithering on:
Hope you enjoyed the walk in the sleeting day around the riverside with me ... :-)
Tuesday, 22 November 2016
Thursday, 17 November 2016
Looking at the Peal of a Bell (the resonances of Grief)
The single peal of a bell is a strong and evocative sound. Its also rich in accoustic textures and multiple harmonic resonances (as the wave travels around the bells curve and encounters different resonance frequencies).
A single peal of a bell is perhaps also made clear by looking at the sound levels in a recording:
The recording starts with calm silence that is immediately broken by the sharp rise of the sound of that strong "dong" from the bell.
Then the sound resonates around and slowly fades.
People often think of sound as waves, and this is true ... just like waves on the ocean. But when we zoom in tightly to the bell sound we see complexity:
There is a clear repeating wave of great amplitude and lots of smaller ones embedded within it. These are the various resonances. Taking more than a first glance you'll see that no two cycles of up and down are quite the same, as the various resonances happen at different times to each other.
This not only produces the rich textured sound of a bell, but is a good metaphor for what happens in Grief.
We have our UP's and our DOWNs (all relative to a base line of calm). Sometimes on the way up a resonance can bring us momentarily down again, and sometimes on the way down a resonance can take us briefly back up again.
Over time this "disturbance" to the bells reaction to being struck reduces as the sound gradually fades and the bells surface stops shaking (vibrating).
Of course we all know that bells seldom peal only once, and often the bell is struck many times barely getting to any sort of equilibrium before being shaken once again.
This is how it is for the griever ... the interactions with others, the places and things which are reminders of memories of the one you've lost keep ringing your bell and taking your feelings on that roller coaster ride that the bells surface has.
Eventually though, we do find that we can put our own hand on the rim of our internal bell and quell those strikes of resonance with memory.
We eventually find that we can experience recollection without the severity of the ups and downs (as the bells toll diminishes too). For each of us the steadying hand to muffle those peals is different. But we do need to reach out somehow and grasp that rim to steady it. At first I know its tempting to just withdraw, but the striker will come again.
For me, I found that the effects were diminishing over time (years) and have also learned to put my fingers on the rim of my internal bell to quell the vibrations sooner.
It takes time and strength, but I hope that knowing that it will be something within your grasp makes the shaking you are suffering now more tolerable.
A single peal of a bell is perhaps also made clear by looking at the sound levels in a recording:
The recording starts with calm silence that is immediately broken by the sharp rise of the sound of that strong "dong" from the bell.
Then the sound resonates around and slowly fades.
People often think of sound as waves, and this is true ... just like waves on the ocean. But when we zoom in tightly to the bell sound we see complexity:
There is a clear repeating wave of great amplitude and lots of smaller ones embedded within it. These are the various resonances. Taking more than a first glance you'll see that no two cycles of up and down are quite the same, as the various resonances happen at different times to each other.
This not only produces the rich textured sound of a bell, but is a good metaphor for what happens in Grief.
We have our UP's and our DOWNs (all relative to a base line of calm). Sometimes on the way up a resonance can bring us momentarily down again, and sometimes on the way down a resonance can take us briefly back up again.
Over time this "disturbance" to the bells reaction to being struck reduces as the sound gradually fades and the bells surface stops shaking (vibrating).
Of course we all know that bells seldom peal only once, and often the bell is struck many times barely getting to any sort of equilibrium before being shaken once again.
This is how it is for the griever ... the interactions with others, the places and things which are reminders of memories of the one you've lost keep ringing your bell and taking your feelings on that roller coaster ride that the bells surface has.
Eventually though, we do find that we can put our own hand on the rim of our internal bell and quell those strikes of resonance with memory.
We eventually find that we can experience recollection without the severity of the ups and downs (as the bells toll diminishes too). For each of us the steadying hand to muffle those peals is different. But we do need to reach out somehow and grasp that rim to steady it. At first I know its tempting to just withdraw, but the striker will come again.
For me, I found that the effects were diminishing over time (years) and have also learned to put my fingers on the rim of my internal bell to quell the vibrations sooner.
It takes time and strength, but I hope that knowing that it will be something within your grasp makes the shaking you are suffering now more tolerable.
Friday, 11 November 2016
Unorthodox orthodox
I have always been find of the local orthodox church, so I thought I'd give it a bit of a 'treatment' photograph ... as somehow it just looks less "impressionistic" when its plain.
We had some snow last night, so I went for a wee walk in the am to see what I saw.
Hope you enjoyed it
We had some snow last night, so I went for a wee walk in the am to see what I saw.
Hope you enjoyed it
Thursday, 10 November 2016
Reworked
I thought I'd rework this RAW image I took the other day in the way back from picking up the car.
The original was pretty flat, but then I knew the dynamic range would be too much for the phone.
Pretty happy with the RAW post processing
The original was pretty flat, but then I knew the dynamic range would be too much for the phone.
Pretty happy with the RAW post processing
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