View allAll Photos Tagged scintillation
A frame from my timelapse of the Lahaina Noon/September Equinox solar phenomenon in Jurong West at midday on 23 September 2018! This is probably as close as you can get to having the sun directly centred in the frame for this composition, since there's only two times in the year where it'll be directly overhead, thus giving the world around you a very surreal atmosphere with extremely harsh but evenly-lit light, and yet with minimal shadows. Thank goodness for extremely clear skies!
Because of this special solar position, tall objects like lamp-posts and bollards will take on an almost 3D-rendered outlook to them, as shadows casted will be directly below any object since the sun is directly above. Buildings and other structures are evenly-lit with harsh sunlight on all sides, making them feel as if they've been 'greenscreened' into your surroundings.
Corrected for distortion and flare removal. Buildings and sun positions are untouched.
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The first of what would probably be a whole slew of New Zealand imagery. Just got back from my getaway but already missing the countryside, but my backlog will indeed keep me busy!
Haida 6-stops Nanopro, Nikon 14-24mm
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Bishan Park, Singapore
Three-tile panorama with the Haida 3-stop Nanopro ND filter.
Check out my review of the Haida filter system here!
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Marina Bay, Singapore
Long exposure stitched panorama with the Haida 10-stop Nanopro ND filter on the Nikon 14-24mm
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Had a friend bring me into his residence at this iconic building, so I spent half a day photographing the interior. Light did not disappoint; except for the occasional clouds blocking the sun, I had pretty much directional light the whole afternoon and evening.
Nikon 14-24mm, Haida 10-stop Nanopro ND filter
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Marina Bay, Singapore
Kodak Ektachrome EPP
Schneider 58mm Super-Angulon, Gaoersi 4x5
Tetenal Colortec E6
Epson v700 Perfection
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NDP Fireworks 2017, Singapore
I usually don't shoot fireworks on the actual day because the crowd at Marina Bay will be insane, but thanks to Ys Photography's tip on a very cool telephoto location, I had to check out this scene since the fireworks happen to fit just nicely in the 'lobang' (hole) along the skyline.
Who knows when the space will be filled up with a new building, but for now it's a really unique fireworks location. The fact that it had air-con, good food (cheese platter, omg), drinks, a live telecast, free wifi (if you happen to be a student/alumni) and warm staff is really icing on the cake!
Yeah, I do have a version with clear fireworks, but I've always felt the thick smoke after every fireworks session makes for unique scenes as well.
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.....Last I became
A little glancing globe of cold
That slid and sparkled on the slow-pulsed swell.
And then my fragile, scintillating frame
Dissolved in ecstasy
Of many coloured light,
And I breathed up my soul into the air
And merged forever in the all-solvent sea.
From The Iceberg by Charles G.D. Roberts
A piece of a glacier, broken off Breiðamerkurjökull glacier, on the shores of Breiðamerkursandur, S-Iceland.
Fujisan Lawson
Apparently this is quite a famous Lawson outlet in the Kawaguchiko area, and it's easy to see why! The clear afternoon skies with a snow-capped Mt Fuji as the backdrop really makes this location seem like it's cut straight out of a TV commercial. 👌
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Double exposure blend to clean up foreground, slight pastel processing with Pro Neg Standard on my GFX100S with the GF45-100mm. HnY circular polariser from Photosphere.SG.
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This Park is a tribute to the mighty volcanic forces that created and sculpted this archipelago in the middle of the Pacific. Featuring ancient lava tubes snaking through verdant tropical jungles as well as rough undulating black masses of freshly solidified lava with still-smouldering vents, this Park contains enough features to satiate the appetite of budding and mature vulcanologists alike. But perhaps what captivated me most was staring at the orange glow from the gaping maw of the active volcano: it was a chilling reminder of the geological forces that was responsible for these and many other volcanic islands, and of how quickly it can change the landscape around.
I returned back to the park that evening to see the scintillating night sky framing the rising smoke from the volcano, a memory I will never forget of the first volcano I had ever visited.
Hawaii Volcanoes National Park
HI USA
Since I love the red Hibiscus when I saw this the other day in my neighborhood I had to take a photo. Framing is by flickrtoys
Mount Cook Aoraki National Park, New Zealand
Stumbled upon this patch of grass within Tasman Valley when we ventured off-track to explore.
Nikon 14-24mm, Haida filter holder, Haida 6-stop Nanopro ND filter, Lee 0.9 soft grad
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Toh Guan, Singapore
I don't always post processed photos right after I shoot them, but I really can't help but share this multiple-exposure, time-blended composite photo of the lightning storm over Toh Guan (actually it was technically over Jurong Island in the south according to the weather radar).
Initially I wanted to head out to shoot the sunset after work, but had to put off my plans due to the heavy monsoon rain, so I headed back home instead. While having dinner, I noticed an intense lightning storm that was taking place around my area. Since I've shot the sunset over Toh Guan from the nearby Bukit Batok Skyline, I thought I'd give lightning photography a try.
Really glad that I did, because not only was the sky clear enough for the lightning to be captured on camera (usually the clouds tend to obscure the lightning, resulting in the rainclouds being lit up instead), the storm lasted for a good hour and stretched across the sky with multiple bolts for this composite to be a success.
I'll post the shots that I used for this blended photo, but here are some processing details for now: 31-shot blend over a period of about an hour, shot with a Nikon D850 and a Sigma 12-24mm Art lens, cloned away the ceiling and lens flare in the frame and cropped down to size.
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A mix of Springtime greens ... well, some things I love to shoot. One of my small notebooks, together with ribbons and a glass abstract!
Happy Sliders Sunday! ;o)
I'll be away from Flickr most of this week - working on my website. My site (www.theliddells.com) has been floating, adrift and empty, like the Mary Celeste for many years. I used to design and run assorted websites way back in the day - when you needed to build your own! Things have moved on, and I've been looking for ways to get it active again. I had hoped that Facebook might work for me, but I confess to hating it. I recently came across WordPress, and it looks like a good way to go - so I am in learning mode. So far there is a front page (well, you have to start somewhere!) and Mike has plans for literary articles, and I've book-marked photography .... so the site is no longer an abandoned mystery in the internet ocean, but, hopefully, will soon be populated with scintillating ideas .... well, that's the plan ;o)
My Sliders Sunday set is here: Here
Post-processing set: Here
Rauðisandur (Red Beach) is a 10 kilometer stretch of a beach on the south coast of the West Fjords (Vestfirðir) in Iceland. And, yes, the sand is red, at least in certain conditions. On sunny days, it is quite a sight to see as it scintillates like a shoreline covered in diamonds.
January, 2nd day of the New Year. Sauna... Minus 24 outdoors...
Captured by Canon SX50 HS in Kaltai village near Tomsk, Western Siberia, Russia. Jan 2016
9.4.09
The flight arrived on time; and the twelve hours while on board passed quickly and without incident. To be sure, the quality of the Cathay Pacific service was exemplary once again.
Heathrow reminds me of Newark International. The décor comes straight out of the sterile 80's and is less an eyesore than an insipid background to the rhythm of human activity, such hustle and bustle, at the fore. There certainly are faces from all races present, creating a rich mosaic of humanity which is refreshing if not completely revitalizing after swimming for so long in a sea of Chinese faces in Hong Kong.
Internet access is sealed in England, it seems. Nothing is free; everything is egregiously monetized from the wireless hotspots down to the desktop terminals. I guess Hong Kong has spoiled me with its abundant, free access to the information superhighway.
11.4.09
Despite staying in a room with five other backpackers, I have been sleeping well. The mattress and pillow are firm; my earplugs keep the noise out; and the sleeping quarters are as dark as a cave when the lights are out, and only as bright as, perhaps, a dreary rainy day when on. All in all, St. Paul's is a excellent place to stay for the gregarious, adventurous, and penurious city explorer - couchsurfing may be a tenable alternative; I'll test for next time.
Yesterday Connie and I gorged ourselves at the borough market where there were all sorts of delectable, savory victuals. There was definitely a European flavor to the food fair: simmering sausages were to be found everywhere; and much as the meat was plentiful, and genuine, so were the dairy delicacies, in the form of myriad rounds of cheese, stacked high behind checkered tabletops. Of course, we washed these tasty morsels down with copious amounts of alcohol that flowed from cups as though amber waterfalls. For the first time I tried mulled wine, which tasted like warm, rancid fruit punch - the ideal tonic for a drizzling London day, I suppose. We later killed the afternoon at the pub, shooting the breeze while imbibing several diminutive half-pints in the process. Getting smashed at four in the afternoon doesn't seem like such a bad thing anymore, especially when you are having fun in the company of friends; I can more appreciate why the English do it so much!
Earlier in the day, we visited the Tate Modern. Its turbine room lived up to its prominent billing what with a giant spider, complete with bulbous egg sac, anchoring the retrospective exhibit. The permanent galleries, too, were a delight upon which to feast one's eyes. Picasso, Warhol and Pollock ruled the chambers of the upper floors with the products of their lithe wrists; and I ended up becoming a huge fan of cubism, while developing a disdain for abstract art and its vacuous images, which, I feel, are devoid of both motivation and emotion.
My first trip yesterday morning was to Emirates Stadium, home of the Arsenal Gunners. It towers imperiously over the surrounding neighborhood; yet for all its majesty, the place sure was quiet! Business did pick up later, however, once the armory shop opened, and dozens of fans descended on it like bees to a hive. I, too, swooped in on a gift-buying mission, and wound up purchasing a book for Godfrey, a scarf for a student, and a jersey - on sale, of course - for good measure.
I'm sitting in the Westminster Abbey Museum now, resting my weary legs and burdened back. So far, I've been verily impressed with what I've seen, such a confluence of splendor and history before me that it would require days to absorb it all, when regretfully I can spare only a few hours. My favorite part of the abbey is the poets corner where no less a literary luminary than Samuel Johnson rests in peace - his bust confirms his homely presence, which was so vividly captured in his biography.
For lunch I had a steak and ale pie, served with mash, taken alongside a Guinness, extra cold - 2 degrees centigrade colder, the bartender explained. It went down well, like all the other delicious meals I've had in England; and no doubt by now I have grown accustomed to inebriation at half past two. Besides, Liverpool were playing inspired football against Blackburn; and my lunch was complete.
Having had my fill of football, I decided to skip my ticket scalping endeavor at Stamford Bridge and instead wandered over to the British Museum to inspect their extensive collections. Along the way, my eye caught a theater, its doors wide open and admitting customers. With much rapidity, I subsequently checked the show times, saw that a performance was set to begin, and at last rushed to the box office to purchase a discounted ticket - if you call a 40 pound ticket a deal, that is. That's how I grabbed a seat to watch Hairspray in the West End.
The show was worth forty pounds. The music was addictive; and the stage design and effects were not so much kitschy as delightfully stimulating - the pulsating background lights were at once scintillating and penetrating. The actors as well were vivacious, oozing charisma while they danced and delivered lines dripping in humor. Hairspray is a quality production and most definitely recommended.
12.4.09
At breakfast I sat across from a man who asked me to which country Hong Kong had been returned - China or Japan. That was pretty funny. Then he started spitting on my food as he spoke, completely oblivious to my breakfast becoming the receptacle in which the fruit of his inner churl was being placed. I guess I understand the convention nowadays of covering one's mouth whilst speaking and masticating at the same time!
We actually conversed on London life in general, and I praised London for its racial integration, the act of which is a prodigious leap of faith for any society, trying to be inclusive, accepting all sorts of people. It wasn't as though the Brits were trying in vain to be all things to all men, using Spanish with the visitors from Spain, German with the Germans and, even, Hindi with the Indians, regardless of whether or not Hindi was their native language; not even considering the absurd idea of encouraging the international adoption of their language; thereby completely keeping English in English hands and allowing its proud polyglots to "practice" their languages. Indeed, the attempt of the Londoners to avail themselves of the rich mosaic of ethnic knowledge, and to seek a common understanding with a ubiquitous English accent is an exemplar, and the bedrock for any world city.
I celebrated Jesus' resurrection at the St. Andrew's Street Church in Cambridge. The parishioners of this Baptist church were warm and affable, and I met several of them, including one visiting (Halliday) linguistics scholar from Zhongshan university in Guangzhou, who in fact had visited my tiny City University of Hong Kong in 2003. The service itself was more traditional and the believers fewer in number than the "progressive" services at any of the charismatic, evangelical churches in HK; yet that's what makes this part of the body of Christ unique; besides, the message was as brief as a powerpoint slide, and informative no less; the power word which spoke into my life being a question from John 21:22 - what is that to you?
Big trees; exquisite lawns; and old, pointy colleges; that's Cambridge in a nutshell. Sitting here, sipping on a half-pint of Woodforde's Wherry, I've had a leisurely, if not languorous, day so far; my sole duty consisting of walking around while absorbing the verdant environment as though a sponge, camera in tow.
I am back at the sublime beer, savoring a pint of Sharp's DoomBar before my fish and chips arrive; the drinking age is 18, but anyone whose visage even hints of youthful brilliance is likely to get carded these days, the bartender told me. The youth drinking culture here is almost as twisted as the university drinking culture in America.
My stay in Cambridge, relaxing and desultory as it may be, is about to end after this late lunch. I an not sure if there is anything left to see, save for the American graveyard which rests an impossible two miles away. I have had a wonderful time in this town; and am thankful for the access into its living history - the residents here must demonstrate remarkable patience and tolerance what with so many tourists ambling on the streets, peering - and photographing - into every nook and cranny.
13.4.09
There are no rubbish bins, yet I've seen on the streets many mixed race couples in which the men tend to be white - the women also belonging to a light colored ethnicity, usually some sort of Asian; as well saw some black dudes and Indian dudes with white chicks.
People here hold doors, even at the entrance to the toilet. Sometimes it appears as though they are going out on a limb, just waiting for the one who will take the responsibility for the door from them, at which point I rush out to relieve them of such a fortuitous burden.
I visited the British Museum this morning. The two hours I spent there did neither myself nor the exhibits any justice because there really is too much to survey, enough captivating stuff to last an entire day, I think. The bottomless well of artifacts from antiquity, drawing from sources as diverse as Korea, and Mesopotamia, is a credit to the British empire, without whose looting most of this amazing booty would be unavailable for our purview; better, I think, for these priceless treasures to be open to all in the grandest supermarket of history than away from human eyes, and worst yet, in the hands of unscrupulous collectors or in the rubbish bin, possibly.
Irene and I took in the ballet Giselle at The Royal Opera House in the afternoon. The building is a plush marvel, and a testament to this city's love for the arts. The ballet itself was satisfying, the first half being superior to the second, in which the nimble dancers demonstrated their phenomenal dexterity in, of all places, a graveyard covered in a cloak of smoke and darkness. I admit, their dance of the dead, in such a gloomy necropolis, did strike me as, strange.
Two amicable ladies from Kent convinced me to visit their hometown tomorrow, where, they told me, the authentic, "working" Leeds Castle and the mighty interesting home of Charles Darwin await.
I'm nursing a pint of Green King Ruddles and wondering about the profusion of British ales and lagers; the British have done a great deed for the world by creating an interminable line of low-alcohol session beers that can be enjoyed at breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner; and their disservice is this: besides this inexhaustible supply of cheap beer ensnaring my inner alcoholic, I feel myself putting on my freshman fifteen, almost ten years after the fact; I am going to have to run a bit harder back in Hong Kong if I want to burn all this malty fuel off.
Irene suggested I stop by the National Art Gallery since we were in the area; and it was an hour well spent. The gallery currently presents a special exhibit on Picasso, the non-ticketed section of which features several seductive renderings, including David spying on Bathsheba - repeated in clever variants - and parodies of other masters' works. Furthermore, the main gallery houses two fabulous portraits by Joshua Reynolds, who happens to be favorite of mine, he in life being a close friend of Samuel Johnson - I passed by Boswells, where its namesake first met Johnson, on my way to the opera house.
14.4.09
I prayed last night, and went through my list, lifting everyone on it up to the Lord. That felt good; that God is alive now, and ever present in my life and in the lives of my brothers and sisters.
Doubtless, then, I have felt quite wistful, as though a specter in the land of the living, being in a place where religious fervor, it seems, is a thing of the past, a trifling for many, to be hidden away in the opaque corners of centuries-old cathedrals that are more expensive tourist destinations than liberating homes of worship these days. Indeed, I have yet to see anyone pray, outside of the Easter service which I attended in Cambridge - for such an ecstatic moment in verily a grand church, would you believe that it was only attended by at most three dozen spirited ones. The people of England, and Europe in general, have, it is my hope, only locked away the Word, relegating it to the quiet vault of their hearts. May it be taken out in the sudden pause before mealtimes and in the still crisp mornings and cool, silent nights. There is still hope for a revival in this place, for faith to rise like that splendid sun every morning. God would love to rescue them, to deliver them in this day, it is certain.
I wonder what Londoners think, if anything at all, about their police state which, like a vine in the shadows, has taken root in all corners of daily life, from the terrorist notifications in the underground, which implore Londoners to report all things suspicious, to the pair of dogs which eagerly stroll through Euston. What makes this all the more incredible is the fact that even the United States, the indomitable nemesis of the fledgling, rebel order, doesn't dare bombard its citizens with such fear mongering these days, especially with Obama in office; maybe we've grown wise in these past few years to the dubious returns of surrendering civil liberties to the state, of having our bags checked everywhere - London Eye; Hairspray; and The Royal Opera House check bags in London while the museums do not; somehow, that doesn't add up for me.
I'm in a majestic bookshop on New Street in Birmingham, and certainly to confirm my suspicions, there are just as many books on the death of Christianity in Britain as there are books which attempt to murder Christianity everywhere. I did find, however, a nice biography on John Wesley by Roy Hattersley and The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I may pick up the former.
Lunch with Sally was pleasant and mirthful. We dined at a French restaurant nearby New Street - yes, Birmingham is a cultural capitol! Sally and I both tried their omelette, while her boyfriend had the fish, without chips. Conversation was light, the levity was there and so was our reminiscing about those fleeting moments during our first year in Hong Kong; it is amazing how friendships can resume so suddenly with a smile. On their recommendation, I am on my way to Warwick Castle - they also suggested that I visit Cadbury World, but they cannot take on additional visitors at the moment, the tourist office staff informed me, much to my disappointment!
Visiting Warwick Castle really made for a great day out. The castle, parts of which were established by William the Conquerer in 1068, is as much a kitschy tourist trap as a meticulous preservation of history, at times a sillier version of Ocean Park while at others a dignified dedication to a most glorious, inexorably English past. The castle caters to all visitors; and not surprisingly, that which delighted all audiences was a giant trebuchet siege engine, which for the five p.m. performance hurled a fireball high and far into the air - fantastic! Taliban beware!
15.4.09
I'm leaving on a jet plane this evening; don't know when I'll be back in England again. I'll miss this quirky, yet endearing place; and that I shall miss Irene and Tom who so generously welcomed me into their home, fed me, and suffered my use of their toilet and shower goes without saying. I'm grateful for God's many blessings on this trip.
On the itinerary today is a trip to John Wesley's home, followed by a visit to the Imperial War Museum. Already this morning I picked up a tube of Oilatum, a week late perhaps, which Teri recommended I use to treat this obstinate, dermal weakness of mine - I'm happy to report that my skin has stopped crying.
John Wesley's home is alive and well. Services are still held in the chapel everyday; and its crypt, so far from being a cellar for the dead, is a bright, spacious museum in which all things Wesley are on display - I never realized how much of an iconic figure he became in England; at the height of this idol frenzy, ironic in itself, he must have been as popular as the Beatles were at their apex. The house itself is a multi-story edifice with narrow, precipitous staircases and spacious rooms decorated in an 18th century fashion.
I found Samuel Johnson's house within a maze of red brick hidden alongside Fleet Street. To be in the home of the man who wrote the English dictionary, and whose indefatigable love for obscure words became the inspiration for my own lexical obsession, this, by far, is the climax of my visit to England! The best certainly has been saved for last.
There are a multitude of portraits hanging around the house like ornaments on a tree. Every likeness has its own story, meticulously retold on the crib sheets in each room. Celebrities abound, including David Garrick and Sir Joshua Reynolds, who painted several of the finer images in the house. I have developed a particular affinity for Oliver Goldsmith, of whom Boswell writes, "His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. It appears as though I, too, could use a more flattering description of myself!
I regretfully couldn't stop to try the curry in England; I guess the CityU canteen's take on the dish will have to do. I did, however, have the opportune task of flirting with the cute Cathay Pacific counter staff who checked me in. She was gorgeous in red, light powder on her cheeks, with real diamond earrings, she said; and her small, delicate face, commanded by a posh British accent rendered her positively irresistible, electrifying. Not only did she grant me an aisle seat but she had the gumption to return my fawning with zest; she must be a pro at this by now.
I saw her again as she was pulling double-duty, collecting tickets prior to boarding. She remembered my quest for curry; and in the fog of infatuation, where nary a man has been made, I fumbled my words like the sloppy kid who has had too much punch. I am just an amateur, alas, an "Oliver Goldsmith" with the ladies - I got no game - booyah!
Some final, consequential bits: because of the chavs, Burberry no longer sells those fashionable baseball caps; because of the IRA, rubbish bins are no longer a commodity on the streets of London, and as a result, the streets and the Underground of the city are a soiled mess; and because of other terrorists from distant, more arid lands, going through a Western airport has taken on the tedium of perfunctory procedure that doesn't make me feel any safer from my invisible enemies.
At last, I saw so many Indians working at Heathrow that I could have easily mistaken the place for Mumbai. Their presence surprised me because their portion of the general population surely must be less than their portion of Heathrow staff, indicating some mysterious hiring bias. Regardless, they do a superb job with cursory airport checks, and in general are absurdly funny and witty when not tactless.
That's all for England!
This is Bob the swan.
A few years ago when I was shooting regularly at Loch Leven Bob and I became quite friendly. The fact that I would turn up on site with pockets full of bird treats had nothing to do with it. I’m sure he was drawn to the camera and my scintillating personality. OK maybe it was just the treats but it was good fun having a full grown swan following me around and trying to pick my pockets.
So anyway Bob got quite comfortable around me and let me take a few shots of him and his family in between my usual landscape stuff. Here is one of my combination shots of a nice sunset and a very nice swan, called Bob.
Toa Payoh, Singapore
5-frame panorama with Sony a7rii and Zeiss 16-35mm lens
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She is a stunning mystery who carried things deep inside her that is too complex to understand.
Press "L" to view on Lightbox
Style credits at jangsungyoung.com
((Selaehra Celtigar is a Second Life RP character created for Fire and Blood – a Game of Thrones RP community.))
My favorite cousin and his wife were visiting Singapore! It was amazing to reunite with them! We headed towards New Asia Bar@Swissotel The Stamford and then, it was all fun. Now, that doesn't happen to me very often (am talking about the FUN element.)
The Bar: Bolder, sleeker and ultra sexy, New Asia steals the limelight with its ritzy new vibe and dazzling attitude at altitude. Sip on exotic concoctions and savour the succulent gourmet offerings whilst overlooking the scintillating glow of the city below.
© All Rights Reserved - No Usage Allowed in Any Form Without the Written Consent of Connie Lemperle/ lemperleconnie
Sandcat
Raffles Quay, Singapore.
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With full afterburners engaged, the incredible Ukrainian Air Force Sukhoi Su-27P1M 'Flanker' 'Blue 39' sears away while providing a scintillating performance during RIAT 2019
There with a two-seater version, both from the 831st Guards Tactical Aviation Brigade they were supported by an Ilyushin
Il-76MD from the Ukrainian Air Force's 25th Transport Aviation Brigade
276A1432
Toa Payoh, Singapore
Single-exposure with Panasonic S1R and Lumix 24-105mm lens
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Decided to head out to the city since the morning light was good although it was hazy. Used the HnY 6-stop CPL for this long exposure to cut through the atmospheric haze and enhance the skies.
This is a large format film shot on a discontinued Fuji portrait film, turned out pretty okay even though I was guess-timating the exposure while accounting for reciprocity.
Fujifilm NPS 160
Schneider 75mm Super-Angulon, Horseman 45FA
HnY 6-stop CPL + Haida 6-stop filter on HnY magnetic holder
Tetenal Colortec C41
Epson v700 Perfection
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