Every year I do some still life images of late autumn leaves, leaves that are past their color prime and have more of a sculptural quality in their decaying state. This project was inspired after I had read an essay by Thoreau, entitled "Autumnal Tints". My ultimate goal it to make a book of the finished project.
I am including a few of the images I took this year as part of my late autumn project. This year I used a technique of extreme depth of field to bring out a high resolution, sculptural quality to the individual leaves. To do this I took approximately 25 photos of each leaf. I racked the focus out a tiny bit for each of the 25 images until the entire scene was covered. Later I combined all the images into one super-sharp image using the program from Heliconsoft called, Helicon Focus.
It is impossible to really see the incredible sharpness that resulted from this technique from the images in this blog. So I have included a link to a larger file size. You can access it by clicking on each image.
Here is the full quote that inspired this project. It is from the essay, "Autumnal Tints" by Henry David Thoreau, and was published in 1862:
"It is pleasant to walk over the beds of these fresh, crisp, and rustling
leaves. How beautifully they go to their graves! how gently lay
themselves down and turn to mould!--painted of a thousand hues, and fit
to make the beds of us living. So they troop to their last resting
place, light and frisky. They put on no weeds, but merrily they go
scampering over the earth, selecting the spot, choosing a lot, ordering
no iron fence, whispering all through the woods about it,--some choosing
the spot where the bodies of men are mouldering beneath, and meeting
them half-way. How many flutterings before they rest quietly in their
graves! They that soared so loftily, how contentedly they return to dust
again, and are laid low, resigned to lie and decay at the foot of the
tree, and afford nourishment to new generations of their kind, as well
as to flutter on high! They teach us how to die. One wonders if the time
will ever come when men, with their boasted faith in immortality, will
lie down as gracefully and as ripe,--with such an Indian-summer serenity
will shed their bodies, as they do their hair and nails"
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