Figure 1 – Bubble in my coffee cup, Natick, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

There is a long standing tradition among physicists to search for the cosmos in a coffee cup.  I don’t know if this tradition arises from the quiet contemplation that coffee produces or from generations of boring physics seminars where you have nothing else to do but look for galaxies in a swirl of cream. I had a colleague years ago, who would finish his coffee and then slowly knead the cup inside out until it looked like a sombrero. But even that speaks to the mathematics of topology that so dominate the theory of General Relativity, and it is that which ultimately governs the universe. And, of course, there is the appealing science fiction possibility that our universe is merely a vortex in the coffee cup of some titan race.

Anyway, this past Sunday I departed from my usual espresso and chose instead a more standard cafe’ Americano and as a result I spotted this little bubble on the surface of my brew and marveled at the reflections that it created. These include two images of the IPhone that I used to capture it. The double image almost certainly results from reflections off two surfaces – the convex top and concave bottom of the bubble.

Bodyless beauties, Natick, MA, (c) DE Wolf 2015.

Manikins or mannequins are our alter egos. They stand mute in our temples of commerce, utter slaves of fashion. Only in a classic and poignant episode of the Twilight Zone do they shed tears or try to love. Still I have been troubled by their dismemberment in recent years. They appear now in various states of dehumanization, faceless, headless, armless, or even as mere torsos like some grotesque lab specimen kept alive to further reproduction in Frank Herbert’s Hellstrom’s Hive. Perhaps it is all an allegory for the helplessness and despair of our times.

I found the two bodyless beauties of Figure 1 during my Sunday walk at the mall and was struck by their ambiquity. Photographed in this way, you are not quite certain at first whether these are real people. Maybe the lips of the lady on the left are a give-away.  They otherwise seem like two young women caught up in lace and costume jewellery.

Figure 1 – Shadow band, Chestnut Hill, Massachusetts. IPhone photograph, (c) DE Wolf 2015.

I was sitting with my wife at a favorite coffee spot in the late afternoon yesterday, when I realized that there was this dramatic silhouette of myself cast on the wall. Self portrait from the Outer Limits? The result was the photograph of Figure 1. Late afternoon and late fall light are the keys.

I was very intrigued by the intensity, yet delicate nature, of lines caused by dirt on the window and by the broken pattern of shadows cast by the Venetian blinds. But must of all was the appeal of the enigmatic band – originally green – that breaks the image in two.

Once again the IPhone served as the no-fuss, no-muss camera. After eliminating the color it needed very little Photoshop adjustment – just a bit of dodging here and burning there.

Figure 1 – “Razzle dazzle em’,” IPhone photograph, Natick, Massachusetts. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

“Razzle Dazzle ’em
Give ’em an act with lots of flash in it
And the reaction will be passionate
Give ’em the old hocus pocus
Bead and feather ’em
How can they see with sequins in their eyes?”

Chicago, The Musical

Yesterday morning I was having my Saturday espresso when a saw a woman walking and holding the hand of a little girl in a leopard dress and ruby princess slippers. The woman was walking. The little girl was, in fact, hopping. And I realized that we could all use a lot more of that. We all need to hop a little. The world of children is filled with magic, and this little girl, indeed all of the children, that I saw were thoroughly delighted by the magic of the mall. They are so gleeful when they emerge into it. It is a combination of having devoted parental attention and the sounds, sights, size of everything around them. We need to be less serious have a little less substance and more art in our lives.

We have spoken before about the magic of photography. Photography is intrinsically magical. It was magical to watch the image appear in the developing tray and it was magical to be handed little packages of frozen moments. You have to ask yourself whether any of that magic is lost today in the age of digital photography. I would suggest that the magic is different but still there. The image is only latent on the sensor for a very short time before it is transferred into some file format.  But magically it can be retrieved, and it can be retrieved as often as you want as well as transformed into other file formats, displayed on computer or phone screen, or even reproduced in minutes onto paper. Yep, it is all pretty magical.

So yesterday I went looking for some photographic magic at the mall.  I wanted to see the sequins in the eyes of a child. And I found it in the razzle dazzle of a window display. And just to complete the magic look closely at all of the little control circuits and the LED lights.  Therein, lies the magic of our modern technology.

Figure 1 – Bittersweet. Fresh Pond Reservation, Cambridge, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

Yesterday we had record tying temperatures in Cambridge – 73 F deg. It was delightful to be back in a summer shirt and it was no burden at all to walk along the Pond. I even resurrected my now grungy summer cap. Most of the leaves have fallen now, although not all, and it is so much fun to walk upon the path densely covered in leaves and to watch those leaves take flight in the wind. My cat has been waiting for this. For the past several weeks she has watched the leaves pile up on the patio and watched them fall from the trees. But what she really loves is watching them swirl in great numbers in the wind. A hater of the vacuum cleaner, she is a lover of the leaf blower.

The greatest display of color now are the berries, and best among these is the bittersweet. In a sense it is the transition berry, because people collect these vines and make Thanksgiving wreaths for their doors out of them. As a result, it used to be that bittersweet was beloved of New Englanders. Now to be clear there are two species Celastrus sandens the native to North American and Celastrus orbiculatus, the invasive oriental bittersweet. I believe that I have the invasive variety in Figure 1. But they are pretty much lumped together in love or hate. The point is that we are now expected, by the enforcers of political correctness, whoever they may be, to hate the bittersweet because it “chokes” other plants. So if you love the beautiful berries that explode like so much red-orange popcorn, it is best to be quiet about it.  For the New England photographer it is a last boast of autumn, foliage in a microcosm.