Placidity Amidst Raging Waves

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“Saevis Tranquillus in Undis:
Placidity Amidst Raging Waves”

— life motto of William of Orange

On the second day of my trip to The Nethelands, I visited an impressive exhibit on the history of William of Orange in his house/palace called Prinsenhof in Delft. Before that, I thought about William of Orange first of all as a rebel leader, so I was surprised by his life motto written on the wall of the exhibit hall: “Placidity amidst raging waves”. Although William was undoubtedly a rebel, he became one quite reluctantly. In fact, during the iconoclasm in Holland, he predicted that it would cause a major political and personal disaster to everyone involved. He also struggled quite a bit to reconcile his oath of allegiance to the king with his inherent loyalty to his country, ultimately represented by its people.

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Overall, I find it tremendously impressive how forward-thinking William was in his political views and in his exercise of restraint (he was nicknamed “William the Silent“). Perhaps, it is his personal trait of tolerance and progressive views that continues to manifest itself in Holland’s ability to continuously ride the wave of progress, from near-exclusive (with the exception of Portugal) trade agreement with Japan in the Middle Ages to art of the post-Renessance to technological innovations of the modern days.

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In general, the ability to remain calm in the face of external perturbations is the key to mastering skills and life situations. For example, the space before the stimulus and the reaction is crucial in kendo, which is arguably a model for everything else in life, as described by Minamoto Musashi, whose “The Book of Five Rings” has been very influential in the business world. Even in photography, I often find that it is good to take time time to observe the subject instead of immediately starting to shoot in fear of missing the opportunity. A little pause allows me to choose a better viewpoint and composition and ultimately, to learn more about the subject.

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Museums

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In many museums around the world photography is allowed, provided that no flash or tripod is used. I suspect that both restrictions are made for the convenience of other visitors rather than to prevent photographers from taking high-quality photos. I find this totally acceptable, as it would be extremely tedious to catalogue the museum’s collection anyway. Instead, I think it makes sense to capture the experience of visiting the museum, and for this task, modern cameras with their excellent low-light performance are more than adequate.

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During my visit to the Sforza castle in Milan, I did not even take my fastest lens, instead, I used Canon’s Canon 24-105mm f/4 L IS USM lens on a 1D X body, which gave me ability to zoom in on details of particularly striking exhibits and to capture candid shots of other visitors. In Stedelijk Museum in Amsterdam, I used my iPhone to take photos of tourists enjoying some of the most striking works.

I often use my camera in museums purely as a note-taking tool. I take snapshots of the works of art themselves and of the side panels that provide reference information (in the hope that some day, I will actually make time to review these notes and perhaps even make some use of them).

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Surface tension

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One of my research projects involves impact of liquid droplets on various surfaces, which causes splashes – a photogenic phenomenon dominated by surface tension effects. Many photographers approach this subject from a purely aesthetic point of view, while the inherent motivation for engineers and physicists is analytic. Fluid mechanics of droplets, soap bubbles, smoke, clouds, etc. is fascinating from both the “classic” and “romantic” perspectives, to borrow the terminology from Robert Pirsig’s “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values“.

Certainly, having water in some form as part of the image adds some an aspect of interest to the photo. This is a well-known fact in landscape photography, but I recently came across a surface-tension-related subject on a street in Amsterdam – two street performers creating giant soap bubbles using a rope dipped in soap water. Incidentally, I found that I could temporally resolve burst of the bubble using a 10 frames per second burst of my Canon EOS-1D X.

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Summer heat

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I find that our perception of air temperature is not only subjective, but also relative, i.e. it depends on what we experienced recently. My recent trip to Europe was unusually long and included stays in Italy, Russia, Netherlands, so I had an opportunity to compare summer weather in these countries. Genoa in May seemed very hot. There were a couple of days when people flocked to the beach in the neighbouring Boccadasse, a Chinque Terre-like idyllic town, and the purple-coloured fountain in the middle Genoa looked like an oasis in the hot maze of the narrow streets. IMG_2788-Edit.jpg

Eighteen degrees (Celsius) in Amsterdam felt cold after hot and humid Voronezh, and it set a stage for the 45-degree heat of Madrid to be almost shocking. The good news about Spanish heat is that the humidity is low, which makes it tolerable. Also, further South, in Nerja, the temperature was much more comfortable 35 degrees, and the breeze from the sea made for exceptionally nice warm evenings – something that I miss in Victoria.

Weather is an important aspect of photographs, but I often forget to consciously convey it in the pictures. Most of our everyday activities are weather-independent, yet weather has a strong emotional resonance – perhaps, a remnant of prehistoric times. As I work through my photos, I will try to use the photos with distinct weather elements to paint a more personal picture of the various locations. This is quite challenging, though, as our sense of temperature is inherently non-visual, so the visual clues of summer heat are often subtle and indirect (sweat on the subject’s forehead, blueish shadow in harsh light, etc.)

Perhaps, it would make an interesting project to try to show different kinds of weather, from nice to nasty to dangerous in a single series of photos.

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Amsterdam weather

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During my first visit to the Netherlands in the summer of 2011, I was caught by a tremendous thunderstorm at Kinderdijk. I was without an umbrella (which would have been useless in the strong wind anyway) and about three kilometres away from the nearest roof when the rain started. As a result, I was soaked through, miserably cold and became sick afterwards.

On my second visit, which unfortunately includes only Amsterdam (there was not much free time around the conference that I attended), the weather once again proved much colder and rainier than what I expected for the end of June. Just like the first time, though, the sky just before a thunderstorm was absolutely spectacular.

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On my first outing, I did not have my DSLR with me, but I took a couple of photos of thunderclouds over Museumplein with my iPhone . The next day, I brought a proper camera, but the sky was covered with grey clouds, which turned out to be washed out due to the huge dynamic range in just about any frame that included sky. This diffused light, however, is good for portraits and architectural closeups, so I snapped quite a few shots of tourists striking crazy poses in front and on top of the “I AMsterdam” sculpture by the Rijksmuseum.

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On motivation

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“The great doesn’t happen through impulse alone, and is a succession of little things that are brought together.”
Vincent van Gogh.

Athletes know that motivation is easy to achieve, but difficult to sustain. This is true for any activity, which requires overcoming obstacles through practice. In particular, continuing motivation is essential for an artist. For me, van Gogh exemplifies this most of all. His life has been extensively studied and documented, but he himself also wrote about this in detail in his letters to his brother Theo. In fact, the letters are the primary reference for many studies of his life.

My wife and I are making travel plans for the next summer, and I am excited that one of the stops will be Amsterdam. Although my primary reason for going there is a conference on marine engineering, I am really looking forward to going once again to the van Gogh museum. There is something special about seeing the brushstrokes, about which so much has been written and debated over the years. This is my motivation to think about colors in my photography. Also, I find it fascinating how the cycle of mutual influence between Japanese and European art was completed by van Gogh, who applied his distinct technique to re-create the works of ukio-e masters, who themselves were influenced by Western painters.

This is how easy it is to achieve motivation. Check. Now, to the hard part – to carry this initial inspiration through and transform it into some meaningful images from the upcoming trip.

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