Camera Settings Post

Black & White Photos

Abstract

Abstract

Landscape

Landscape

Portrait

Portrait

Texture

Texture

Ansel Adams

I chose this photo because I love the contrast and the textures. It kinda feels like I'm sitting by this tree in the middle of the night, just watching it all.

     Ansel Adams was the only son of a wealthy businessman and his wife. He grew up in San Francisco in the early 1900's and his family lost their fortune in 1907, when he was five. He switched schools a lot at first because he couldn't fit in. Eventually his parents gave up on the schools and started home-schooling him for a while. He went back to school and received the equivalent of an eighth grade education. When Ansel was twelve, he taught himself how to play the piano, which he played for about twelve years and he wanted it to be a career for him.
      Before Ansel became a photographer, he was an environmentalist with the Sierra Club and he continued this while he was a photographer. As Ansel grew up, he started taking an interest in photography. He began taking photos with the Sierra Club and that is when he shot his first fully visualized photo, "The Face of Half Dome" in 1927.

Panorama Post

Creative

Portrait

Inside

Landscape

Found Panoramic Photos

I really like this photo because of he vibrant color on the Golden Gate bridge. It's also just a really peaceful shot

This photo is really interesting and creative. I love the way the tree looks so big and everything else is tiny.

Found Faces Story

        My name is more famous than my face. Do you know how that feels? Let me tell you. Not good. That's how it feels. So I'm putting this out there so you will remember me. My name is Mozart. I composed all those masterpieces, not that weird guy with the wig. He's the reason I have trust issues. Anyway, my story is very different than his. My only job and purpose in the world is being a piano. It's sort of a full-time occupation. Good thing I like it, right? Otherwise I'd totally be bitter like that famous fraud who stole my glory. And I'm not even close to that. I don't have a family, although I did dream once that I married a Bosendorfer. We were happy. But alas, it was not so. Instead, some woodworker built me and sanded me until I looked like this. Then he left me, his prized masterpiece, in the center of the shop until that fake who claimed my fame bought me with his mother's money. Then it was my duty to compose something beautiful on the spot while he pounded on my poor keys, his fingers slipping and playing chords that are never supposed to happen. Oddly enough, those were my glory days. I thrived under the pressure that buffoon put me under. If something went wrong, he blamed me. I was out of tune or my frame was bent, or my pedals weren't releasing properly. Things haven't been the same since though. Sometimes I miss that poor guy. He really was trying.

Found Faces