Photographs of Snowflakes by Alexey Kljator
Nothing better reveals the pervasiveness of underlying fractal patterns that lie beyond the scrim of our sensory perceptions than microphotography. The medium digs gold mines for fractal treasure hunters.
We claim to understand that no two snowflakes are alike. We have even calculated the parameter files of nature’s iterations. We know diversity is produced by each snowflake undergoing numerous minute alterations in temperature and humidity as it journeys from sky to ground. We realize the symmetry of snowflakes is six-sided because ice’s crystalline composition is also hexagonal.
Russian photographer Alexey Kljator created a home-made rig using old camera parts, boards, screws, glass, and tape. According to Lost in E Minor, Kljator
usually stands on his open balcony and captures snowflakes with a glass surface. He then uses an LED flashlight to illuminate the opposite side of the glass, and wool for background.
Kljator says the snowflake shots are taken right outside of his house and shot on a "dark woolly fabric" (explaining the fibers seen in some photos) in the natural light of usually (no surprise, given the subject) a cloudy day with grey sky.
As always, OT readers will witness the obvious fractal patterning in nature’s handiwork — especially its prisms, plates, dendrites, columns, and crystals.
Kljator admits on his blog that he often imports his snowflake shots into Photoshop for sharpening and noise removal. He also confesses that the originals sometimes do not look "appealing," so he occasionally adds artificial colors.
That’s the holiday spirit. Here’s hoping even the fractal purists will have a white and very post-processed Christmas.
I see months have passed since I last posted to OT. Blogging, of course, is a labor of love for both Tim and me. We write when we have the luxury of free time and the fortunate gift of an idea from the fractal muse. Orbit Trap is ads-free, which means it’s also income-free, so those pesky full lives we lead sometimes take precedence over blogging.
In my case, I started a new job with a steep learning curve last summer. I have about ten posts swimming in my head I’d love to write about but too few open time slots for creative playtime. Eventually, the dust from whirlwind change will settle, and I’ll be reporting in more regularly.