Duomo terraces in Milan

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Milan’s Duomo is an incredibly imposing Gothic cathedral. It took nearly six centuries to build, but the result is stunning. What impressed me the most is probably the attention to detail, even the details that would not be normally visible to the public.

I bought a two-day ticket, which allowed admission to various sites, including the terraces on the rooftop of the cathedral. From there, one can see small statues nested int the niches of the spires that face away from the streets below.

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I climbed to the terraces on my first day in Milan, because the weather was nice, and I did not want to miss the opportunity to shoot the skyline through the lace of the Gothic stonework. In retrospect, it was a good decision not to postpone the climb. Every evening afterwards, it rained during the hours with the best light.

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Aquarium: focus on people

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The reception at my conference in Genoa was held in the Aquarium, one of the largest in Europe. At that time, I realized that the most interesting photos of aquaria are actually images of the visitors, not the actual exhibits of fish, reptiles, etc. While the panorama of Genoa at sunset that I shot from the rooftop of the aquarium was impressive, I did not find many photogenic subject inside the exhibit itself.

A couple of weeks after, when we visited a much lower-profile “oceanarium” in Voronezh with my family, I shot almost exclusively my daughter enjoying the site, and the opportunities for interesting (from my, very subjective, perspective) shots were numerous.

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From the technical standpoint, flash photography is usually not allowed in aquaria, so a fast lens is a must. I used my Canon EF 35mm f/1.4L USM exclusively. It is wide enough to allow some flexibility for cropping, but does not distort the image as much as wider lenses do. In addition, it is light, compact, and has great bokeh, which makes it my favourite walk-around lens.

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Eurasia

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Walking through the streets of Voronezh, I have been trying to place my impression of this Russian city between those from my recent trips to China and Italy. I think that this town is, literally, in between China and Western Europe, not only geographically, but also culturally.

Some of the street corners in the neighbourhood where I grew up look as if they were taken out of Milan, with a notable exception of many advertising signs and billboards, all in loud, conflicting colours. Right next to these neighbourhoods are new construction cites and Soviet-style architecture that are characteristic of China.

I think it would be interesting to find images that would highlight the connection with both the East and the West that exists in Russia.

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Professionalism: a matter of size

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I find that many rules in Italy (including some traffic laws) are either ignored or can be overruled as the need arises. One great example of this are the regulations regarding photography in Sforza Castle in Milan.

The sign at the entrance showed a camera in a red circle, crossed with a red line. Suspecting that in this case “no” does not necessarily mean “no”, I asked a lady at the ticket office to confirm, and she said that photography without a flash is allowed. Then she saw my camera (I had a Canon 1D X with a 24-105mm f/4 lens, which happened to be extended to its longest focal length) and said that I cannot use it, because it was “professional.” As I was thinking about what to say, I turned the zoom to 24 mm, which made the lens shorter by about 50%. Seeing this, the lady said, pointing at the camera, “This is Ok. You can use that.”

So, I found that my level of professionalism can be instantly adjusted (at least in the range of 24 to 105 mm.)

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Colours of Genova

More photos here: https://flic.kr/s/aHskbNyVyE

Genova often does not make the list of top destinations in Italy. A friend of mine recently joked that he would write a blog post entitled “Top Ten Things To Do In Genova,” which would list only three items. Genova definitely has fascinating history (it was the dominant naval power at one point, it is the birthplace of Columbus, etc.), but there are no high-profile tourist attractions, large museums or famous frescoes that many other Italian cities have in abundance. However, after spending four full days here, I start to notice the neat features of Genova that make it unique.

I think Genova’s uniqueness is in its architecture. Specifically, it is in the contrast of the old town, with it’s maze of narrow alleys (“corrugi”), and the modern structures around the waterfront. There is also a noticeable contrast between the dark, dirty, graffiti-covered old town and the bright, sunny, romantic suburb of Boccadasse, which looks very similar to the nearby five villages known as Cinque Terre that are famous for their unique charm.

The colours of Genova’s old buildings are also unique. They are of various shades of red and orange. I heard that this particular shade of red is called “Genova rosso,” just like the typical orange colour of Siena’s buildings is known simply as “siena” to the artists.

More photos here: https://flic.kr/s/aHskbNyVyE

First impressions of Genova: night and day

More photos here: https://flic.kr/s/aHskbNyVyE

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I got a little bit lost in the narrow streets of Genova, when I went for a walk through the city after dinner on my day of arrival. I like to think that my sense of direction is reasonably good, so I wrote this off to being tired after the long trip. The next morning, I went to the Spianada di Castelletto, a lookout point with a panoramic view of the town. It quickly became apparent that the maze of alleys (I learned that “vico” means “alley”, not “street” in Italian.)

I later returned to the same lookout to photograph the panorama at sunset, and saw, this time from above, how sparsely illuminated the town was. Actually, some of the alleys are so narrow, that the sunlight does not reach into them even during the day.

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Travel companions

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A woman in front of me in the security check line at the airport had a tiny dog, who was picking his head out of a special carrier bag, but had to be taken out and carried through the metal scanner. The dog did not complain, and all the security personnel seemed to be genuinely entertained (I suppose, any diversion is welcome in that kind of job.)

This dog reminded me about the time when my wife and I travelled with our pet, an african grey parrot named Zorro, on several planes across America. Zorro was not bothered by travel at all, but crossing the US-Canada border with him at the peak of a bird flu scare was a long process, to say the least, even though Zorro travelled with a stack of documents (vet checks, etc.) twice as thick as me and my wife.

I find it curious that most people, myself included, like travel stories, but put little effort in capturing the little details that make them vivid later. Perhaps, we like the stories because even a shortest trip implies a break from daily routine and a possibility of adventure. At the time of travel, though, we are too focused on the destination, making sure that everything goes according to plan. In other words, we want to avoid an adventure if at all possible, unless it happens on our terms (a paragliding lesson, a guided SCUBA dive, etc.)

It would have been fun to take photos of Zorro at the airports, when he was surrounded by children, or even to snap a picture of that tiny dog in the carrier, but often I find myself too lazy busy to stop and get the camera out of the backpack.

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Change of environment

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While packing for a relatively long trip to Europe that will involve conferences, research visits, visits with family and sightseeing, I catch myself trying to bring along everything that would enable me to replicate my everyday activities. Of course, the very fact that I am going to be doing many things that do not happen at home will ensure that my daily routine will change drastically, which is a good thing.

It is curious, though, that the mindset is relatively slow to adapt to the change in environment. In fact, this naturally-occurring change of the mindset is one of the main benefits of travelling, according to Rolf Potts’ “Vagabonding.” Potts says that an important factor in facilitating the transition into the travel mode is limiting the amount of information consumed in familiar, day-to-day ways (e.g. email, social media, etc.) A vivid image of what can happen otherwise is a tourist sitting in a street-side cafe, checking her Facebook feed, as if she has never left her living room.

I suppose, the key concept to avoiding this pitfall is presence. Needless to say, cultivating it is not easy, and like any worthwhile skill, it requires a lot of practice.

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Back to Italy

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Some of my most vivid travel impressions are from the trip to Italy that my wife and I took six years ago. Now, I am planning a short research-related trip to Genova and Milan, where I have never been before. This time, I will go without my family, though, so the dynamics of the trip will be very different. I will have only a couple of days off work for some sightseeing, so I do not have a detailed photography agenda. It would be nice to balance photography with the actual experience of being in the foreign place.

Photography requires a certain amount of focus, which can detract from the travel experience. On the other hand, I find that visual memories, frozen in photographs, largely shape the overall retrospective impression from the trip. I am curious to see how my photos from this year’s trip to Italy would be different from those taken six years ago.

Vernazza at night

Telling a story through small details

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Although a picture is worth a thousand words, sometimes a subject of a photo shoot is so vast that it is difficult to decide what to start with. This is often the case with travel photography, as every country’s story can be told in many different ways: through its architecture, food, people, arts, etc.

To overcome the initial block created by the vastness of the subject, I find it productive to pick a specific element, such as an iconic building or even and try to cover it deeply. The term “study” that is sometime used to describe some of the classical works of art ( e.g. “a study in scarlet”) comes to mind. When I start my photography in a new place with a study of a small element of that location, I free up the bandwidth of my mind from the necessity of making decisions about the subjects of the photos (i.e. what to shoot, at what time of day, etc.) This is very valuable at the initial stage, as I can focus on learning more about the particular subject I have already chosen. It might not be the single most perfect subject representing the country or location, but it always offers opportunities for learning about its larger context, so the other subjects for follow-up photo shoots emerge naturally.

Josh Waitzkin, an international-level chess player and a martial artist, who studies learning processes, refers to this strategy of focussing on small details as “creating small circles.” Interestingly enough, his inspiration for this approach came from the book that I am currently reading – Robert Pirsig’s “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Inquiry Into Values.” In this book, there is a scene where the main character helps a student to overcome a creative block by changing her assignment from writing about a town to writing about a detail of a building in that town: “Narrow it down to the front of one building on the main street of Bozeman. The Opera House. Start with the upper left-hand brick.”

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