“Milwaukeehenge” – Reflections on the Equinox Sunset

Absolutely gorgeous sunsets the past few nights here in Milwaukee.

At this time of year, the setting sun aligns perfectly with the east–west streets of downtown Milwaukee such that the tall buildings frame it like Stonehenge. Which, of course, has led to this equinox event being called “Milwaukeehenge.”

NYC has “Manhattanhenge,” but because Manhattan isn’t aligned with true north, theirs doesn’t match up with the September and March equinoxes. (Or would that be “equinoctes,” if we were staying true to Latin grammar?)

If only, if only . . . I’d had a camera with a longer lens.

The actual sight of sun-gilded downtown Milwaukee last night, as I headed east on State Street with the setting sun behind me, was SO AMAZING! But I would have needed to be a few blocks farther away to capture that image, and my phone just wasn’t up to the job. I couldn’t zoom in enough with my iPhone’s telephoto lens to get what I saw. And when I moved close enough to get the buildings with my phone’s camera, I lost the tall downtown buildings beyond the Aurora Sinai Medical Center skywalk/bridge.

In the photo that got away, there would have been tall buildings in the distance looming up high beyond the bridge. As I moved closer, those buildings “dropped” away because of the change in perspective.

See the top of one of those buildings below (with the arrow pointing to it)? Imagine that building raised up quite a bit higher, gleaming in the sunlight like the other buildings and the bridge in the foreground.

To get a sense of the proportionate drop, see the photo below. I merely moved a block closer. See the nearest green light in the photo above? That’s the same traffic signal as the red light in the photo below.

But just LOOK at how much that same building (the one with the arrow) has “dropped” with the change in my position relative to the bridge. Now imagine those same buildings the same distance higher than the bridge, which is where they were when I was farther away. Plus, from that more distant angle, they were brilliant with reflected sunlight.

I actually first caught sight of this dramatic reflection two nights ago, September 22. Far closer to the actual “equinox” of “Milwaukeehenge.” Last night (9/23)  the sun was already a little farther off “center” from where it had been the night before. Even if I managed to get my hands on a longer lens and tried again tonight, the angle of the sun would be even farther off, meaning more shadows from the righthand side of the street and less full-on reflection.

Sigh.

That’s the thing about photography. You win some, you lose some—often simply by being in the right/wrong place at the right/wrong time with the right/wrong gear and the right/wrong awareness that the moment is now or never.

Still, despite the fact that it’s not the ideal image that got away, I like my picture from last night well enough and thought I’d share. Hope you like it, too ❤

 

 

Sunglasses –Patterns, Textures, Reflections

No time today for uploading my Grohmann Museum atrium staircase pictures, but I did see these two photos of my sunglasses in my camera roll. Taken Monday night as I was getting stuff out of my back seat upon arriving home from work.

One landscaped . . .

Sunglasses reflecting car seat "polka dot" pattern

One portrait . . .

Sunglasses reflecting car seat "polka dot" pattern

I can’t decide which one I like best. No matter. It was fun to notice this reflection and grab the pictures at the end of a long day.

Atrium Staircase, Grohmann Museum (some photos)

My office is in the Grohmann Museum on the campus of Milwaukee School of Engineering, and many of the photos featured in my blog posts are of places in this building. When your daily routine puts you into proximity with the same locations continually over time, you begin to notice the little differences that vantage point (distance, angles, etc.) and light (time of day and angle of the sun, overcast sky and diffused light, etc.) can make in their appearance.

On a sunny day a week ago, for example, I noticed these shadows at the base of the staircase on the second floor. Took this picture at 5:34 PM on September 9, 2026.

Patterns of light and shadow cast by the sun on the floor near the atrium staircase at the Grohmann Museum

I was instantly reminded of this photo taken years ago, similar yet quite different in terms of aesthetics. I found it in my camera roll; the photo below was taken at 4:19 PM on October 5, 2016.

The time of year and time of day are fairly similar, but I like the older photo so much better. More contrast in the shadows, a more intense quality of light, and the angle of the sun is slightly lower. Even though I’m taking the picture from farther away, you can line up the darker, thicker lines of the columns (as opposed to the thin lines of the railing) to realize that the sun is lower in the sky.

Anyway, I enjoy figuring out why one photo “works” better for me than another one, especially when they are so similar.

I’ve written a few other blog posts about this, and since this is at least the fifth time I’ve felt compelled to do it and share my thoughts here, apparently that is a thing I do. There are more posts than the ones I list below, but this gives you an idea.

The real point of today’s post was supposed to be sharing some of the photo backlog that I’ve built up on my camera roll of “atrium staircase” pictures. But now I’ve run out of the time I had allotted today for updating my blog, so I’ll have to do that tomorrow.

Meanwhile, hopefully you can at least enjoy today’s two pictures and my photo-editing “diaries” of other images I’ve featured on my blog.

Which I realize might not be interesting unless you also enjoy either capturing and “making” images or thinking about creativity and why one photo “works” and another doesn’t. So apologies in advance if not 🙂

Sharing a “find” – Steve Jobs’ collected words, “Make Something Wonderful”

Make Something Wonderful is a compilation of Steve Jobs’ own words, taken from a variety of formal and informal texts, and published in “book” form on the “Steve Jobs Archive” website, which describes itself as “the authoritative home for Steve’s story and a resource for new generations eager to make their own mark.”

photo of the DavidCWG, CC BY-SA 4.0 , via Wikimedia Commons

Although the Steve Jobs Archive website has existed for a few years now (link HERE), I only just stumbled across it today as I was prepping for the new semester that starts next week.

You can link to Wikipedia’s article on Make Something Wonderful HERE and link to the book itself HERE.

Once you click over to the book, the first thing you see is a blank rectangle that slides up onto your screen and slowly reveals itself as a 1970s-era image of Jobs as a tuxedoed young man in the form of a self-developing Polaroid-type snapshot. (Metaphor, anyone?)

Jobs’ widow, Laurene Powell Jobs, says in her “Introduction” to the book that the best way to get to know someone is through their own words, directly, unmediated by another’s framing (my paraphrase there) and that therefore, “the best way to understand Steve is to listen to what he said and wrote over the course of his life,” via speeches, inteviews, and emails.

“In these pages, Steve drafts and refines. He stumbles, grows, and changes,” Powell Jobs says.

I’ve only skimmed through the book so far, but she’s right. This is not a refined, coherent text. But that’s okay; it’s something better.

And frankly, I think the messiness is more in keeping with Jobs’ intuitive approach to life anyway. From these fragmentary textual “snapshots,” you start getting a “feel” for the context of who Jobs was and the meaning found outside the boundaries of what he actually said—kind of a gestalt understanding that transcends the facts.

Not sure I’m saying that well, but in some ways this collection of raw material is like poetry. You don’t read it for information; you read it to see things “fresh” and to feel something “true” in your bones.

Which in some ways is the point of a “self-help” text read for inspiration. Affirmations and the like help people envision a future for themselves that may not currently even be on the horizon. If you’ve never seen something before, you can’t imagine it easily. And it’s hard to keep going if you don’t believe there’s a destination waiting for you or that you have what it takes to get there.

I often think of that quote attributed to Henry Ford:

Whether you think you can, or you think you can’t—you’re right.

The Internet says (and ChatGPT confirms 🙂 ) that Ford’s words can’t be traced to an original source, except for a 1947 unsourced ascription published in Readers Digest following Ford’s death. And apparently similarly worded statements were already in circulation long before that. For our purposes, though, the actual source doesn’t really matter as much as the fact that this sentiment is so widely held. It seems self-evident because it feels so true.

Which is why I love this last sentence of Laurene Powell Jobs’  introduction:

I hope these selections ignite in you the understanding that drove him: that everything that makes up what we call life was made by people no smarter, no more capable, than we are; that our world is not fixed—and so we can change it for the better.

I can’t think of a better argument for the value of reading this collection of her husband’s words.

If life is a journey, not a destination, how do you pack?

This was a question/prompt for a writing exercise done for a meeting of my writing group in December 2022. I came across it today going through folders to organize ephemera related to some larger writing projects. Seeing it again now, I thought it had some fun associations and wordplay, just a nice little metaphor/allegory for life that might give someone a smile or a bit of inspiration, so I decided to share 🙂

Roger Cornfoot / The long and winding road, CC BY-SA 2.0

Question: If life is a journey, not a destination, how do you pack?

Answer: Well, are you traveling fast or slow? Are you staying at the Palmer House or at a Motel 6? Do you pack sandwiches to eat in the car? Stop at roadside rest and cook hamburgers and hotdogs on one of those old grills for a picnic? Drive through McDonald’s at an exit off the interstate? Or do you travel along a “Blue Highway“ and stop at a little mom-and-pop diner?

What is your mode of transportation? Are you hiking? Biking? Motorcycling? Driving? Are you taking a Greyhound bus? Are you flying? Taking the train, And if so, are you traveling coach, sleeper car, or private bedroom? Are you making a transatlantic voyage on an ocean liner?

Do you prefer traveling solo or as part of a group quest?

All of these things will influence what you need to pack. I recently saw a photo of an old steamer trunk that folded open to create a chest of drawers. Another opened out to reveal a closet full of dresses. If you were traveling first class on the Titanic, this is probably how you would pack. Except you wouldn’t have done the packing, your maid would have. That’s a very different type of journey than the one involving a backpack and a good pair of shoes along a dirt road.

Finally, even though life is a journey, not a destination, it is helpful to know where you’re going. The road to heaven looks quite different from the road to hell, for example, and you’ll need to pack accordingly.

Hell is easy. You can pack light if you’re going to hell. According to my grandmother, you won’t even need a suitcase; a handbasket will do. The road to hell is easy to traverse, as it has a “slippery slope” and is paved with “good intentions.” And it is also easy to find. Just fall in with the wrong crowd; they will take you with them.

Getting to heaven, on the other hand, can be confusing. As a popular song once told us, paradoxically, “If you wanna get to heaven, you gotta raise a little hell.”

If you want to go to Heaven, you may find a good guidebook absolutely essential. Several good ones exist—for example, the Bible, the Torah, and the Quran—but they require close reading and ongoing consultation.

One last perspective regarding the “journey” comes from this passage of literary advice from a favorite author, J. R. R. Tolkien, in which hobbit Bilbo Baggins shares his thoughts on travel with his nephew:

It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.

A scenario that pretty much upends anyone’s ability to plan or pack!