There is a popular advice that one should not pay too much attention to other peoples’ opinions when pursuing something you are passionate about or even when going about your daily life. The idea is that there is a danger that external criticism might suffocate your individuality. Some go as far as to suggest that we should ignore pretty much everything that anybody else has to say about us, the things that we do and the way we are doing them, being unique snowflakes as we are. I think that this trend might be an over-reaction to what’s on the opposite end of the spectrum, namely, the idea that it’s nearly always better to learn from someone else’s mistakes than our own.
On that note, I recently came across an article called “100 tips for a better life“, and despite a clickbaitish title, found it to be surprisingly good. Fittingly, the first tip is specifically related to searching out other people’s opinions, in that case about a product (googling reddit). This is supposed to take you directly to the discussions by real people, rather than search-engine-optimized marketing hype. I must say that your milage will vary on this one, because for some product categories there is so much marketing hype out there that it’s difficult to cut through it even if you try, as I found out while looking at stationary exercise bikes. On the other hand, the reddit search yields some useful discussions if you are looking to upgrade a violin bow.
I used to like building and painting plastic scale models, mostly historic military figurines and WWII armour. Now, I am getting back into the hobby with my daughter. She is interested in anime, and so I find myself switching genres – our current project is the Freedom Gundam mobile suite. Our particular master grade (1:1000 scale) kit is made by Bandai, and in terms of details and build quality it’s way ahead of the Tamiya kits that I built in the past. And I must say that the Tamiya models are excellent in their own right, but one thing that Impresses me quite a bit with Bandai is that the parts snap together without any adhesive. I am not sure if the whole Gunpla (from Gundam Plastic models) sub-universe has always been ahead of the rest of the model types, or perhaps I am just easily impressed, but the ability to fully assemble the model and then to partially take it apart for painting is a huge positive factor for me. With the models that need to be glued together, I’ve tried painting every single part before assembling them. This resulted in a lot of wasted effort, as some of the parts are structurally necessary, but almost invisible in the finished model. Conversely, leaving painting until the model is fully built made it difficult to access certain parts.
I think the technological leap from the plastic models of WWII tanks that I built in my youth to the modern kit of the sci-fi mobile suite is incidentally reflecting the difference in the technologies that these models represent. Maybe, the comparison is not quite fair, considering that there are no real flying mobile suits yet, while the tanks have been around for a while. Then again, a moving life-size Gundam sculpture has been built recently…
My nine-year-old daughter received a Lava lamp as a New Year’s present. The initial start-up takes a long time. I comment that the lamp’s design dates back to the 1960s.
“That’s why it takes so long to load!” she remarks.
As I’ve been working on my video-making skills during the COVID-forced remote teaching terms, I’ve noticed that photo- and videography offer very different experiences both from the creator’s and the viewer’s standpoint. I tried to analyze why this is the case, and came to the following hypothesis.
A still image creates a synthetic experience for the viewer. All the information in the picture is presented at once, so the viewer can make up their own version of the story. This doesn’t mean that it’s a synthetic experience for the creator, though. Actually, it takes a series of distinct, sequential steps to create a still image. For example, in the photography context, it could mean setting up the lighting, taking the photo and post-processing it. The sequential nature of still image-creation is even more apparent in classical painting, which involves sketching, mixing colours and painting multiple layers to render the form to various degrees of detail in the different parts of the image. The the finished painting is presented to the viewer, they see it all at once: the entirety of the shapes, colours and all the paint layers. It is then the job for the viewer’s brain to synthesize this information and formulate a story.
A movie, on the other hand, is an actual story. The viewer cannot ingest it all at once. The information has to be consumed as a sequence that was deliberately laid out by the author. Ironically, the process of creating a video is, in a sense, synthetic in that the author needs to have the entire process in their head, from how the footage needs to be shot to how it is going to be edited. Of course, post-processing is a big part of still photography too, but when I shoot photos, I am generally not making specific plans of how I am going to process them. With video, though, I am constantly re-evaluating how the footage I am capturing would be spliced together in the final product.
I think this difference in how the still and moving images are created and consumed is the reason that the emergence of mainstream video production did not result in extinction of still photography. The two genres are simply too different.
I realized a while ago that sketching is a good exercise for developing observation skills and, more generally, memory. It requires full concentration, because the subject is usually not standing still, and one needs to be able to consciously think about which features of the subject are essential and which are superficial. The deliberate thinking is important, because it is the mechanism that allows committing the visual information to long(er)-term memory. The short-term memory (the one in which information lives for a couple of seconds) is not sufficient for preserving the visual details until they can be captured on paper.
Lately, I’ve been recording video highlights to supplement lectures in my Advanced Fluid Mechanics course, and one of those is about the importance of being able to make conceptual sketches of flow features for understanding of the underlying physics. Incidentally, one of the forefathers of studies of fluid mechanics was Leonardo da Vinci, whose approach was based on (some would say it entirely consisted of) observation and sketching of the natural phenomena. We are not aiming at Leonardo’s level of artistry in my fluids course, but observation is an important skill for a scientist and an engineer, and sketching is way to develop it.
The book I am recommending in the video is “Boundary-Layer Theory” by Herrmann Schichting. It is one of the first technical books I bought as a grad student, because I knew that it would remain a classic.
We’ve had seriously smoky air in Victoria over the past few days because of the forest fires in the neighbouring Washington state. The level of pollution varies a bit day-to-day, depending on the wind direction and speed. On the first day of my daughters school year, we went outside to take obligatory back-to-school photo, and the light was beautiful. The wind blew some more smoke in over the day, and the children were moved indoors during the recess. This didn’t dampen my daughter’s enthusiasm about being re-united with her friends after six months consisting of the the Coronavirus lockdown in March followed by a rather socially isolated summer holiday.
IQAir screenshot
Today, I took our dog for a walk earlier than usual, hoping that the mist rising off the soccer pitch where we usually go would trap the smoke particles. The air did seem quite fresh at first, but as it warmed up, the fog disappeared, and the smoke came in, so we didn’t stay out for long. A teacher in me made a mental note to use this as an example of psychrometrics in the thermodynamics class that I am going to teach (yet again remotely) next term.
They say the Earth is healing because of COVID-induced slowdown of human activity. Naturally, there are good things about forest fires too,.. once we look back at them as things of the past.
So I think the my daughter’s smoky first school day photo represents our mood in this crazy year quite well – we are still well and somehow remain positive despite being continually reminded that what’s going on in the outside world is utterly beyond our control.
I have just finished sorting through a bunch of video footage that my wife, daughter and I shot while watching a salmon run at Goldstream Park, which is just outside Victoria along Highway 1. Checking the date stamps of the files, I found that we went there almost exactly on the same day of the year – on November 11 and 12 in 2017 and 2018. It’s a good time of year to see the salmon run. Although the timing of this mysterious natural event varies from year to year, early November gives you a reasonable chance to see a lot of fish while not being nauseated by the smell of their decaying corpses. That would be the unavoidable scene later in the season, typically sometime in December.
I first saw a salmon run at the exact same place, in Goldstream Park, when we moved to Victoria. It had a tremendous affect on me. In fact, the second blog post I’ve ever written was about the salmon run. I felt like I was in the middle of some incredibly important event, and yet, I didn’t know what it was, exactly. It was so significant that thousands of animals were single-mindedly participating in it, paying no attention to the humans with their pathetic efforts to explain what was happening as a purely zoological phenomenon. Biology aside, what these powerful fish demonstrated was an unmistakable and tremendous sense of collective purpose. Perhaps unconscious, but a powerful will nonetheless. And I could only stand there and marvel at it, realizing that I was given a glimpse into something mysterious and so primal that thousands of animals move like a single organism to die for it.
Since then, we try to see the salmon run every year, and every time it moves me emotionally.
Back in 2017, when most of this footage was shot, my then seven-year-old daughter was keen to help with the underwater filming by sticking a GoPro into the shallow stream next to the huge fish fighting for breeding grounds. That was before she discovered that she could talk into the camera, imparting to the world her opinion on every subject that enters her sphere of attention, like any good blogger should. So this is, perhaps, one of the last videos where she is mostly quiet. Enjoy.
Panoramic view of Botanical Beach. Port Renfrew, BC, Canada.
We haven’t been to Botanical Beach since 2013. My daughter was two years old then. We wanted to make it a fun outing, so I rode my motorbike, and my wife and daughter followed in a car. This time, the whole family rode in the car, including my parents. We stopped to stretch our legs in Jordan River at the appropriately-called Cold Shoulder Cafe (they had no bathrooms and no decaf coffee, which is the only kind my father can take.) Otherwise, it’s a perfectly located pit stop between Victoria and Port Renfrew, where Botanical Beach is.
The distance to Botanical Beach from our home in Victoria is 270 km (round trip.) It’s just long enough to make it a significant excursion, so we don’t go there too often. It is a famous destination for Southern Vancouver Island, and when we just moved to Victoria, we learned early on that timing is important for planning a visit there. The tide needs to be low enough (around 1.5 m or lower) to be able to fully enjoy the tidal pools – the main attraction of this unique place. If you arrive at the beach at high tide, you miss the magic of walking on the exposed oven floor and peeking into the pools that are full of marine flora and fauna. It would be just another beautiful West Coast beach – something that we get de-sensitized to by living in Victoria. The problem is that the lowest tides often occur at an inconvenient time – either too early in the morning or too late at night to fit into a single-day sightseeing itinerary. This time, on a weekend in mid-June, the timing was on our side – the (relatively) low tide was at the middle of the day, so we could take a leisurely drive to the beach.
Panoramic view of Botanical Beach. Port Renfrew, BC, Canada.
From the parking lot in Port Renfrew, we meant to take the easiest route to the ocean, worrying that it could be difficult for my parents to scramble across tree roots on the trail. Having not been there for seven years, we miscalculated and took a relatively more difficult trail. It was a lucky mistake, though, because the parents managed the walk well, and it took us directly to the most picturesque part of the beach.
My daughter was delighted by the extraordinary scenery. She spent all the time documenting her impressions on a GoPro. This is her camera of choice these days for recording footage for her soon-to-be-established vlog (a new hobby, spurred by the sharp increase of screen time during remote schooling during the COVID lockdown.) I also carried photo gear – a Sony a7RIV with two lenses (a 70-200 mm and a 24-70 mm) and another GoPro (stay tuned for some videos from inside the tide pools!) It is funny that every time I visit Botanical Beach, I feel compelled to go into photography mode, because the place is so uniquely beautiful. But sinse I go there sufficiently rarely, the technology develops so much that every time my photos are better simply because I have better gear. In a strange way, it feels both good and humbling at the same time.
A woman, a girl and their dog are looking at tidal pools at Botanical Beach. Port Renfrew, BC, Canada.
Panoramic view of Botanical Beach. Port Renfrew, BC, Canada.
Tidal pools at Botanical Beach. Port Renfrew, BC, Canada.
My current painting project is an eight-figure composition. It’s a relatively big deal for me in terms of investment of time and focus. This is partly because I am using a variation of a conventional technique, aiming at a realistic (although not a photo-realistic) result. It involves building the forms in multiple layers, often allowing them to dry between applications.
I keep reminding myself that the way to eat a proverbial elephant is one bite at a time. So I work on this painting in small chunks of time, tackling a small area of the canvas in each session. Currently, I am at a stage when I’ve eaten quite a few bites and starting to feel a bit full, but at the same time realize that what remains is still very much an elephant.
It’s curious how my head works, though. Every now and then, I want to set this picture aside (because of the lack of novelty, no doubt) and start another big painting project. That is like being quite full with the elephant you’ve been eating but dealing with it by ordering another elephant from the menu.