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Mural by Brett Rosepiler aka @brettrosepilerart and Anthony Ortega aka @anthony_n_ortega, seen at 1225 South Main Street in the Las Vegas Art District of Las Vegas, Nevada.
Drone photo by James aka @urbanmuralhunter on that other photo site.
Edit by Teee.
Lugar Citadino
[Más allá de la Ciudad] // {Beyond the city}
Photography + Fotografía = 2.888
The P L A C E
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C e l e s t i a l {C L O U D S}
A beautiful Flush and Sunset over western Santiago Metro Area
Over the mountains near Curacaví and Maipú
(Seen from my house)
District of La Florida
City of Santiago
Metropolitan region, Chile
{N U B E S} c e l e s t i a l e s
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Un bellísimo Arrebol y Atardecer sobre la zona poniente del Gran Santiago
Sobre las montañas cercanas a Curacaví y Maipú
(Visto desde mi Casa)
Comuna de La Florida
Ciudad de Santiago
Región Metropolitana, Chile
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Lugar.Citadino
Creado en Enero de 2009 por:
Created in January, 2009 By:
Felipe Burgos Álvarez
Published on | Publicado en
October, 2023 + Octubre de 2023
All Rights Reserved. Partial or Total Image Reproduction is Forbidden.
Todos Los Derechos Reservados. Se Prohíbe Reproducción Total o Parcial de la Imagen
Holly Blue | Celastrina argiolus | Lycaenidae
Samsung NX1 & Kiron 105mm f/2.8 Macro
Wide Open | Manual Focus | Available Light | Handheld
All Rights Reserved. © Nick Cowling 2018.
The lovely Celestial falls on the white river in north central Oregon. I just love this hidden yet very easily accessible spot, with White river falls in the background there are seemingly endless compositions to choose from.
He wasn't looking to change the world, he only wanted to change himself so that the world no longer recognized him.
We've been getting some truly spectacular Dawns here this month. Have a look in Large. Click on the photograph. Have a good week everybody.
Handheld shots of the night sky, using 12x optical zoom, and up to 4x digital zoom. No edit other than crop.
6:31. A brief glance at my watch told me we were still playing, a minute beyond the usual time. But the group that usually comes on after us was nowhere to be seen, and when this happens we often just keep on going until somebody decides they need to be somewhere else. Not me by the way. I’ve never been the most gifted football player, but I’ve always been the one who wants to play the most, so the rest of the gang were more than a little bit surprised when at 6:32 I announced that I was off. T minus forty-four minutes. I jumped in the car and took the shortcut towards Portreath and along the North Cliffs Road. The moment I finally managed to squeeze past the three cyclists in front of the long tailback and make progress towards Basset’s Cove, I knew I’d made a huge mistake in coming out to the coast. Cars squeezed into every layby, with people sitting in camping chairs, all of them wearing the little cardboard framed dark glasses and gazing into the sun.
I’d been mulling over where to go at various times throughout the day. Or even whether to go at all. I wasn’t really that bothered. It’s been a tricky few months and I haven’t even touched any of my cameras since returning from Norway in late April. To quote my old mucker Lee, I just haven’t got my photography head on at the moment, and trying something beyond the usual realms of seascape comfort seemed even more of a faff. I’m not one for taking shots of the cosmos. Like many of us, I did a few star trails in the early days, but the novelty soon wore thin. But this was a once in a generation opportunity that won’t come around again unless I’m somehow still kicking a football around well into my twelfth decade. That seems unlikely. There are some guys in their late eighties still playing badminton at the leisure centre every Wednesday. Maybe I’ll have joined them by 2080. So was I going to try and photograph the eclipse? I didn’t even really know how to. An article appeared on my phone and I clicked on the link out of curiosity. They wanted me to buy a supergalactic ND filter. The sixteen stop would have to suffice - if I could find it, that was. It’s not the one I reach for each time I delve into the pouch. The article went on to say that photographers might want to take two cameras with them - one to telephoto into the eclipse itself, the other to take a landscape shot and give the moment some context.
Of course I’d picked the wrong location. I could have stayed near the leisure centre and scrambled up the slopes of Carn Brea. I might have chosen the old tin mine at Wheal Peevor East. I could have simply gone home and stood in the garden, or the field next door if the sun was getting too close to the trees. But no, I’d wanted that landscape shot to include the sea. When I arrived at the entrance to the long bumpy track towards Basset’s Cove, empty cars were spilling out onto the road. In fact most of the North Cliffs Road was a car park by now. 6:52, and nowhere to stop. If I wasn’t setting up within the next twenty minutes at the absolute most, then I was going to miss the show completely. Cornwall in August at any time is bad enough. This was even worse than when the leaders of the free world met for the G7 summit here five years earlier.
After another stop-start couple of miles I arrived at another narrow side road I often use to get to Gwithian via Hell’s Mouth, which was also rammed from one end to the other with cars squeezed onto the verge and leaving just enough space for others to get through. 6:58. Less than twenty minutes to go. I squeezed my car into the end of the long line of abandoned vehicles and reached into the boot for the bag that was stuffed out of shape with two cameras, and the two tripods, before marching off down the road and clambering over a gate into a field where I’d never stood before, with a barbed wire fence preventing me from reaching the coast path. 7:07. No time to try and squeeze through the barbed wire as some others were doing, and any hopes of using the second camera I’d brought along for the landscape shot were quickly abandoned.
And so I stood in the middle of a tinder dry field that I probably wasn’t supposed to be standing in, still wearing my football kit, surrounded by people from far and wide across the land, pointing a camera mounted with a telephoto lens and a sixteen stop filter towards the sun, peering in confusion at the screen and wondering what on earth I was supposed to be doing, or what my photos should even look like. Too late to re-read the article. 7:16. The sky darkened as if the sunset had arrived early, and the gulls stopped shrieking. But the world didn’t descend into silence. Not when the entire North Cliffs road had been turned into a temporary car park. 7:20 and the sky began to brighten again. A lot of chatter filled the air with a few “Was that it?” kind of comments from the dissenting masses. It wasn’t like this last time, in 1999, when we stared hopefully at a typically overcast Cornish August sky. That was in the days before we started importing our summers from the Mediterranean and the fields were still green in the middle of August. At this rate we’ll be lucky if there’s anyone left to see the next big show in 2080. Ever resourceful, Ali messaged me to say she’d stayed at home and viewed the event through a colander, which she’d reflected onto a white shirt of mine to see a hundred mini-eclipses of her own. I replied and said I’d be home as soon as the car park was no longer a car park and resembled a road once again.
The next day my brother told me he’d been turned back from Carn Marth, one of the highest lumps of land in the area, due to a wildfire that had taken hold up there. In the event, along with his wife and the youngest of their three sons, they walked up the lane from their cottage, scrambled over a different gate into a place they’ve nicknamed “Mordor,” and viewed the event from the top of an overgrown disused waste tip. At least they watched it in peace I suppose.
On World Photography Day, it is befitting, I present you my best effort at this type of photography or any type I have had the good fortune of trying so far.
The Perseid meteor shower peaked overnight on Aug. 11 and 12 as Earth passed through the long trail left by Comet Swift-Tuttle, wowing night-owl skywatchers lucky enough to have good weather and clear, dark skies This year, instead of seeing about 80 Perseids per hour, the rate was predicted to top 150 and even approach 200 meteors per hour. (check space.com for more details)
Thanks to my partner in crime and budding photography enthusiast, my 12 year old daughter, I made the 2.5 hour drive to Cranfills Gap in Central Texas where the St. Olaf Kirke fondly called the Old Rock Church is located. Thanks to mostly clear skies and perhaps being a week day night, my daughter and I had the entire church premises to ourselves. I am thankful that the Church authorities allowed me access to the church grounds that is normally locked at night.
Starting around midnight to about 4:30am I shot hundreds of pictures of which I narrowed down about sixty 20 second exposures from which the brightest and biggest meteors that flew over Texas that night made it to this composite. There were hundreds of meteors that were too faint to be shown here that were culled from the final picture.
The best of these was the one on the top right which exploded like a July 4 fireworks display and slowly expanding into an expanding circular cloud of smoke.
If you ever get a chance to view one of these celestial events, do not miss it, for it is really an out of the world experience and you get to watch the very end of a 4.6 billion year journey by what is really star dust from the farthest reaches of the Solar System.
Revisiting an old favorite image. Taken in North Vietnam.
Texture by AaronDesign on DeviantArt.
Creative Commons License
Some rights reserved. The texture is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
70 minutes of star trails, Monument Valley, Arizona, USA.
This is a copyrighted image with all rights reserved. Please don't use this image on websites, blogs, facebook, or other media without my explicit permission. I will stop posting again if these images turn up in places I did not allow them to. See profile page for information on prints and licensing.
Bản quyền hình ảnh. Không sử dụng mà không được phép.
Авторское изображение. Не используйте без разрешения.
受版权保护的图像。未经许可，请勿使用。
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Taken a little closer (35mm lens) than the previous upload on a very special morning out in the Peak District.
First I was planning for the full moon to rise behind this gorgeous mountain but then I realized I had to wait few months for it to be in the right position so I went for this one instead. Let me know if you like it!
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Canon EOS 6D
Canon 70-200 f2.8 IS II USM L
185mm | ƒ9 | 0.4s | ISO 100
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