A Tree Grows in Crystal City?

A Tree Grows in Crystal City?

Architecture, historic sites and Pop Art murals are some of my favorite subjects to shoot when traveling. There is a plethora of fun and funky pop art, murals and interior design all around you and especially in our cities that you have more to photograph that you can imagine.

I also love to photograph red subjects (as you can see from much of my work) and this is especially so in art and design, thus the attraction to this particular art wall in Crystal City. The subject is an exterior wall mural of an authentic design sketch and that’s pretty interesting in itself but what fascinated my photographic/HDR eyes as I passed by was the tree shadow on the wall art.  What a contrast from the art, concrete and buildings of hard surfaces to the soft shadowy live wind-blown tree growing up in the city making its own art reflection. Thus, this was a “must-do” addition for my HDR Pop Art on Canvas Collection. If you are looking for interesting art/artists for HDR application, check out the links below and your city, town or country for great places to photograph this art subject.

Anne Marchand

DC Murals

Photography Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2019 All Rights Reserved

Advertisements

Art Loves Infrared Lakes

INFRARED LAKES

BLUE, limpid, mighty, restless lakes,
God’s mirrors underneath the sky,
Low rimmed in woods and mists, where wakes,
Through murk and moon, the marsh bird’s cry.
Where ever on, through drive and drift,

Neath blue and grey, through hush and moan,
Your ceaseless waters ebb and lift,
Past shores of century-crumbling stone.
And under ever-changing skies,
Swell, throb, and break on kindling beach;

Where fires of dawn responsive rise,
In answer to your mystic speech.
Past lonely haunts of gull and loon,
Past solitude of land-locked bays,
Whose bosoms rise to meet the moon,

Where fires of dawn responsive rise,
In answer to your mystic speech.
Past lonely haunts of gull and loon,
Past solitude of land-locked bays,
Whose bosoms rise to meet the moon,

Beneath their silvered film of haze,
Where mists and fogs in ghostly bands,
Vague, dim, moon-clothed in spectral light;
Drift in from far-off haunted lands,
Across the silences of night.
__________________
To The Lakes
William Wilfred Campbell

Photography: Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2013-2019 All Rights Reserved No Reblogs Please. Thanks







An Infrared Winter’s Tale

YESTERDAY the fields were only grey with scattered snow,
And now the longest grass-leaves hardly emerge;
Yet her deep footsteps mark the snow, and go
On towards the pines at the hills’ white verge.

I cannot see her, since the mist’s white scarf
Obscures the dark wood and the dull orange sky;
But she’s waiting, I know, impatient and cold, half
Sobs struggling into her frosty sigh.

Why does she come so promptly, when she must know
That she’s only the nearer to the inevitable farewell;
The hill is steep, on the snow my steps are slow—

Why does she come, when she knows what I have to tell?

______________________
D.H. Lawrence, Amores. 1916

Photography: Copyright, JayJacy Photography ©2013-2019 All Rights Reserved
No Reblogs Please. Thanks