Sunrise, New York, NY, August 17, 2010

An outtake from the assignment mentioned in the previous post.  The buildings I was photographing were behind me but this was too good to pass up.

Yonkers, I’m sure, gets a bad rap. It’s just north of New York City and in Westchester County but it isn’t the Westchester most think of. I don’t know the city other than having done one shoot there a few years ago. The kids I worked with then were great.

Beyond that Yonkers is the right angle you make going from the Sawmill River Parkway to the Cross County or vice versa. You are not really seeing Yonkers at that point but if you are moving south and driving at night, you come over a large hill and voilà - there is a valley in front of you, the near side of the ridge which overlooks the Hudson, and a multitude of lights spread before you. I don’t know how long we have been doing it but SOP as you come over the hill is to say, “Yonkers, city of lights,” knowing full well it’s no Paris.

Monday night, with a layover between two legs of an architecture assignment and a sunrise call for leg two, it made sense to spend the night. So, Yonkers it was – at a new hotel on top of the ridge, in one of those bizarre office parks which can’t seem to pick an identity.

View from my room. Yonkers, NY, August 16, 2010.

It was impossible to miss this tower at the top of the hill. Seeing it with the gas station at its feet I immediately thought of George Tice’s photo, Petit’s Mobil Station. Not wanting to copy that but drawn to the tower like Richard Dreyfuss in Close Encounters I began to plot my move. A thunderstorm then rolled in, the window in my hotel room would not open more than 4″, so I made the best of it.

I don’t know if that’s a water tower. I don’t know if the cabling is to pull up a modesty cloth so it can be painted in peace. The cabling made it reminiscent of the Parachute Jump in Coney Island. Maybe the tower, like the office park, still needs to pick an identity.

Princeton, NJ, June 22, 2010 (Click to Enlarge)

We had a brief shower followed by a balmy sunset with colors that felt more Pacific than New Jersey. I walked the dog along the same route where we had already been twice today and everyday.

Bats flitted about overhead. The dog, overdue for a haircut, was grateful for the tiny respite from the heat. There were pictures everywhere. I tried to capture the Magritte’ian feel of the light, street lamps and house lights versus the sky, but it was too much for my little point and shoot.

Darkness fell, the green glow of the street lamps took over. It was time to go home.

Bix and I; Princeton, NJ, June 22, 2010

Webb Cove, Stonington, ME, 2007.

You have to think that at some point in the past man stood on the shore and looked out across the water. Behind him was the land he knew, in front of him the water, the horizon, and the sky. Not having the ability to go to the sky, nor having the ability to travel under the water beyond one breath, he thought, I need to go across there. I need to visit the land off in the distance. I need to discover the land I cannot see. Then, having done that, having ventured across oceans and returned, the next realms were above and below.

To go to outer space, to work one mile down beneath the surface of the water, both are inhospitable environments which test the limits of our technology. Complicate each with additional risk factors, going to space with a reusable rocket like the Space Shuttle, or not only venturing one mile down but actually working there via robots and drilling for oil, and you have situations which demand great respect for planning and fail-safe backups.

The New York Times had an article recently exploring the parallels between the current Gulf situation and Melville’s Moby Dick. What has struck me though is how the oil spill in the Gulf reminds me of the two Space Shuttle disasters. Obviously, the goals in each are wildly different, science and exploration versus profit. But in each case, it was technology which brought us to the forefront of what was possible and it was human planning and decisions which determined whether it could be done safely and smartly.

The Challenger and Columbia Shuttle missions both revealed instances where corners were cut when better backup systems could have been incorporated. For Challenger, ejector seats and pressurized suits were foregone even though they had been included in test flights. For Columbia, the mission brought front and center the issues of designing a re-usable spacecraft without including a method of checking the integrity of the ship before re-entry and of not providing a way to repair simple exterior issues while in flight.

Similarly, in the Gulf of Mexico BP cut corners in its quest to turn a profit quickly and the government was lax its oversight. One would think that to drill for oil without the utmost in safeguards would be a deal breaker. While a business person might argue that the cost of that is too high, it inhibits exploration and production, what we are seeing is that the cost of not doing that is even greater.

The leading edge of technology may make things possible but it’s the human element which will always be the mitigating factor.

Memorial Day Parade:

Princeton, NJ, May 29, 2010

World’s preppiest dog:

Fireworks for Princeton University’s Reunions:

Kayaking, May 30th, enjoying the late afternoon sun:

Carnegie Lake, Princeton, NJ, May 30, 2010

Delaware & Raritan Canal, May 31st, Isabel goes solo:

Stills and video, Apple iPhone and Canon G10.

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My page at Wonderful Machine.

Wonderful Machine’s home page.

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Princeton, NJ, April 26, 2010

Cherry tree blossoms on my car, in the rain. iPhone photo x4.