The equilibrium has been punctuated. Photography provides us all with a rich petri dish for artistic and scientific experimentation. With any discipline that encourages multidisciplinary tinkering, evolutionary principles are at work. We can see examples of how biology, industry, language, and more evolve, and this template for change also holds domain over photography.
The eleemosynary nature of the Internet and the artist has driven the evolution of photography forward faster than ever before. Artists love to share their work with others. As the economy evolves, it can be argued that attention is the new currency. Not since the Salons of Paris during the Impressionist movement have artists been able to engage in a global competition and cooperation in the endless quest to define the beautiful.
Is it possible to look at the world of photography from another vantage point, perhaps from another order of magnitude? We get caught up in the daily logistics of just getting through our lives and can miss major trends that are right under our noses. As we move throughout the frenetic Brownian motion of distraction of our immediate world, the human sense of near-term memory has trouble seeing much beyond the status quo. We stand in the middle of a confluence of the rich experimentation in the artistic side of photography with the ever-increasing advancement of the hardware. If we can learn to navigate these waters, we can use the rich tapestry of photography’s past to create the incredible possibilities of the future.
Evolution is often a series of small improvements interrupted with major events that can be seen, in perspective, as punctuated equilibrium. A good example known worldwide is the evolution of music. Culture, as well as biology and technology, are subject to these Darwinian forces. Previous centuries and decades had shown steady changes in music. Once Elvis appeared on the scene and introduced a super genre that came to be known as Rock & Roll, the entire music industry was transformed. People did not even know they had a taste for this new style of music until it magically appeared. Since then thousands of bands (pick your favorite) have taken the roots of these artistic rhythms into a broad array of new subspecies of music.
In a biological example, simple organisms had tubes (a series, if you will) and muscles. At one point, a muscle lay across a tube, electrically fired, and sent blood flowing downstream. This was the creation of the heart, and it enabled a broad new range of central-circulation species that were remarkably more efficient at growing complex bodies that needed blood and nutrients to be delivered to remote parts of the organism. It’s hard to imagine the diaspora of wonderful creatures on the planet without this watershed event.
I asked Matt Ridley, the best-selling science writer and clever connector of disparate disciplines, for another unexpected evolution. He gave the visually stunning example of birds of paradise, which perhaps you have seen on Planet Earth or another documentary where vainglorious birds prance about in the forests of Papua New Guinea. The color, shape, and texture of the plumage in the male bird that gets exaggerated are completely random. The female, who prefers extravagant ornaments, then selects from those males. Ridley continues, “Rerun the tape of evolution and you would never get the Raggiana Bird of Paradise again, but you would get something just as bizarre (like Elvis!).”
Photography is going through its most violent evolutionary cycle ever. Note that I am not talking about the evolution of hardware. Yes, cameras get more megapixels, better light sensitivity, more features, and the like. But I am referring to the evolution of photography.
For about 100 years, we have come to know photography through the coincidental mechanisms that have coalesced to create the “state of the art.” Shutter speed, ISO, aperture, and such were the accidental apparatus of photography. The beginning of photography could have started in a much different way. It could have started with backlit plates or stereo dioramas, or perhaps even camera obscuras could have been the main trunk of evolution. However, none of that matters because today we have a photography industry that is fundamentally tied to the mechanical operations of shutters, apertures, ISO, and the like.
Marching into the second decade of the 2000s, the question is, why are we still holding up this Da Vinci-esque mechanical device to our eye to capture the world around us?
In my humble opinion, after sharing HDR photography with a wide variety of photographers and photography lovers from various cultures all around the world, I am sure that the HDR style of visualization will constitute a major step forward in evolution. Remember that the evolution of a new species does not mean the previous iteration will die out. There will be competition for resources, as in any ecosystem, but the market will expand to enable older and newer forms of photography to coexist peacefully.
An important point to you, the reader, is the fundamental concept that you are helping to drive this evolution forward. HDR will splinter into over a dozen subspecies, each with its own style for a variety of tastes. Do not look at the existing state of photography and assume there is no room for you to develop your unique style. There will always be room for something new, and the rapid change in the industry will help give you the tools you need to take your photography in whatever direction you desire. Think of The Beatles, The Go-Go’s, or The Eagles: They took what Elvis made popular into wonderful and unexpected new directions.
This Chapter includes the first third of the HDR portfolio, complete with descriptions, tips, and various thoughts about science, philosophy, and art.
My goal is to get your right brain to release and start thinking differently about the “state of the art,” a term that bristles with ever-new sensations in today’s world.
Ultimately, I believe we are traversing the most exciting period in the history of photography. The use of emerging visualization tools combined with your creative spirit can make something that is singularly beautiful and uniquely yours.
I had a long day, waking up at 5:00 AM to take a series of subways and trains up to Shenzen for some meetings. I had a Chinese VISA, which you don’t need to get into Hong Kong, but I had to use it to cross the official Chinese border after getting off the train. I failed to realize that it was a one-time use VISA, and I was scheduled to go to Shanghai the next day. This caused a lot of problems with the Chinese officials, a body of government with which I do not enjoy causing problems.
After returning to Hong Kong from a day in Shenzen, I was hot and sweaty and in the sort of meeting clothes that aren’t great for being hot and sweaty. But everything about Hong Kong was awesome, and I had to look hard for something to complain about. The sun was setting, and I made it up to The Peak just in time for a shot.
Now that we’re getting to know one another, I might as well show you a family picture, eh? Here are my three kids in our home on a recent Christmas.
When dad is a photographer, there is a major degree of pressure to deliver photos on all the requisite holidays and celebrations! So, I decided to try and reinvent the family Christmas photo with HDR. Note that many of my inventions go down in flames, but as Winston Churchill said, “Success is the ability to go from one failure to the next with no loss of enthusiasm.”
Christmas scenes have many light levels—the lights on the tree, the deep greens within the branches, a roaring fire, lights in the room, reflections off the ornaments, and so on. It’s wild! I’m pretty sure this is why people like Christmas scenes so much—a wonderful treat for the eyes that is rich in texture and light. Traditionally, it’s been very difficult to capture so much richness in a single photo, save for a lucky and heroic combination of shutter speed, aperture, ISO, and lenses.
The tree lights made the faces of my three stunt children (who are also my real children) glow perfectly. No flash could have achieved this unless you are the kind of Rambo-flash guy who would bury one inside the tree to light their faces from the left. But let’s face it; that’s hard.
India is a beautiful and magical place. I wish I could say my journey getting to this exact vantage point was just as beautiful and magical, but it wasn’t.
I really wanted a unique viewing angle, and I was reticent to set up inside the complex with the teeming crowds. So, I talked my driver into taking me to the back side of the Taj Mahal because I had noticed a river running behind the complex on Google Maps. We started circumnavigating the place and came to an old trestle bridge. It was quite a long stretch to get across the river. The bridge was just barely standing, and everything about the dilapidated structure was sketchy. We were the only car on it, and it was hard to get around all the ox carts, donkeys, and bicycles.
Looking out the window at the rusting girders, I asked our driver, “When was this built?” He wobbled his head and said, “Eighty-three.” Well, I thought for a moment. That doesn’t sound so old. Then he turned back to me and said, “Eighteen eighty-three.”
While driving from one side of Iceland to the other in what was supposed to be winter, I spent a fair amount of time in the grassy inlands where some sort of heat inversion kept the ground green and fertile. I came across a few homes with thick, peat, grassy rooftops on the edge of a farm.
I’ve always wanted to live in a house with a grass roof. I don’t know where this desire has come from, but it remains unsated.
After a four-hour plane ride deep into the Andes, we started to get farther into the wilds of Patagonia. Perhaps I should explain that I was on this trip with a very good Russian friend named Dima, who is also a photographer. He brought four other Russian friends with him. Despite our friendship, he paired me with a non-English-speaking roommate named Yuri who never ceased to amaze. Within five minutes of dropping him off in my room, Yuri was in his underwear and I noticed his approximate overall size was that of a smallish beluga whale. This ended up propagating many other problems. For example, on the flight to El Calafate, our small plane had a bit of a hard landing because I was not sure the pilot was fully informed of Yuri’s weight.
After setting up camp in El Calafate, we went out to the edge of Lago Argentino that night to shoot the sunset and the Perito Moreno Glacier. Every few minutes you could hear giant shards of ice calve and drop into the lake below.
The photo shows dark bits of ice floating in the water. Those are actually the clear bottoms that were once underwater but recently flipped over. In the midst of all this, and from out of nowhere, Yuri produced a giant bottle of cognac, which seemed to keep the Russians happy in the freezing cold. When I posted this photo on the blog and across the various social networks, many of my Facebook and Twitter friends requested a photo of Yuri. That night, while he slumbered, I endeavored to take a panorama of him. I considered the glacier as practice since it was also big, white, and cracked.
The day running around Milan never seemed to end. So much to shoot and so little daylight! It turned out that my best shot of the day had absolutely no daylight at all.
I was tired and just wanted to go back to the hotel to have a cappuccino in the bar and edit photography on my laptop. But I remembered the really pretty train station and how I wanted to get a shot with nobody around.
I went in around midnight, found the perfect spot, and then shot away.
The HDR process always takes that slick concrete and makes it extra reflective. Reflective ground is great for photography. People often think that I “colored” the lights at the top, but there is none of that going on. In fact, I never “paint” on my photos. Colors that you see in them are actually there except in the cases when I apply a texture treatment.
In Texas, we get quite spoiled by the sunsets.
I grew up here, so I’ve been able to see thousands of them. This has inadvertently resulted in the ability to predict a good sunset a few hours before it happens. Then I have no excuse not to gather my rig and go set up for some shots. In fact, I have seen so many sunsets, I have a whole secret vocabulary to describe them, so I feel like the Eskimos who have 100 types of snow, the French who have 365 kinds of cheese, or the Seattleites who have 100 curse terms for rain. I’d love to combine these into a perfect storm and be at a sunset with a light snow, sitting beside an Eskimo, talking with a Frenchman who has brought the perfect cheese for the occasion, and drinking a coffee.
This is Gulfoss, the frozen waterfall in Iceland. Dark Age theologians used to believe this was the entrance to hell, which was originally a cold place; the innermost circle of Dante’s version was frozen. True believers would come here and cast themselves down into the chasm to try to rescue souls they were told had gone to hell.
It’s hard to describe how slippery this place is. I guess I could say it’s slippery as hell. The ground is already solid ice, and then there is a fine mist from the waterfall that forms tiny little perfect spheres on top that somehow take friction into a negative physics impossibility.
I was captivated by this scene for some reason, and I spent a good deal of time thinking of how best to shoot it. On the final day of my trip to Glacier National Park, I decided on this treatment. There are many interesting details in this scene, and you can probably be thankful you were not beside me to hear me go off on a theoretic (a new Neal Stephenson word).
We enjoy beauty and puzzle over beauty at the same time. In a world of entropy, it is calming to take beauty, break it apart into what makes it so, and then piece it back together to bring order to the chaos. But I could not bring myself to work on the puzzle at all. I just drank in everything I was there to be with for the moment. I thought a little about the nature of wanting to create a puzzle, just to solve it, a notion that is meta-puzzling in itself. Other guests who come into this view no doubt sit down and work on the puzzle, possibly thinking they might finish it but with a sneaking suspicion that they are just putting a few pieces together for the next guest who comes to visit. It seemed to be sort of an altruistic long-term battle against entropy. So I chose not to mess with the puzzle and simply to focus on the beauty aspects as I held them in my mind’s eye. Puzzles tend to work themselves out on their own, which is a comforting thought, I suppose.
Shooting this photo is an exercise in frustration for traditional photography. There is just no good way to get the brilliant bright light from outside and all the warm light and textures from the inside at once. Even if you were to set up artificial flashes and lighting inside, it would be tough to get the reflections to “look” natural. See how the light streaming in casts appropriate shadows on the table, how the warm lights of the inn reflect on the column, and how other small details of light and shadows appear. Think about all we go through with fake lighting to get things to appear natural: It’s kind of crazy. The light is already there, so use it.
This is the first shot I took with my Nikon D2X. I’ve since upgraded, but I’ll never forget that camera. I was already a serious photographer, but that beast made it official.
As you can plainly see, this effect delivers a “painterly” style. I often have my work printed on canvas, which accentuates this effect even more. If you are reading this book, you are probably somewhere within the delightful sphere of “photographer,” so you understand a bit about what is going on here. This is one of the photos that hangs at galleries and always draws a lot of attention from people who have never seen HDR. They continually come over to it and start scratching the surface to figure out what the heck it is. The general public still has no idea what HDR is, and when people first see a printed canvas, they are always wonderfully perplexed as to how such a thing can exist on this mortal coil.
I consider myself very lucky to have a network of great photographers worldwide. I met most of them through the Intertubes where we are constantly commenting and giving feedback on one another’s photos. This has enabled me to meet up with master photographers wherever I travel. They are wonderful people to hang out with because they already know the prettiest places and the best shots around where they live!
One of the people I was lucky to have a photo adventure with was Rebekka in Iceland. If you are not familiar with her, Google “Rebekka.” We met at a coffee shop in Reykjavik and talked about where to shoot. We jumped in her car and drove a while until we reached a fjord. Nearby were horses running around like wild beasts. They have no fear of humans, so we were able to get close to them. The horses have long hair that reminds me of the shag carpets in our house when I was growing up. I’m sure the thick layers of hair evolved from the hypercold winds whipping around the edges of the sea.
This was taken in the evening at MGM Studios in Disney World before we went to the big fireworks show. The only problem with making your family and 6-year-old son (he is now 8) stand around while you set up your tripod and take a bunch of shots is that it gives them ample opportunity to find little toys they cannot live without. I took so long to nail this shot that we ended up buying two toys that lit up in garish colors and made a lot of racket.
This is another great example of an image that was impossible to create before the evolution of HDR. I suppose the argumentative, know-it-all photographer (you know the ones at photo clubs who like to stand up and make pedantic points) could say that there was always something called “compositing” in which you take several photographs and frankenstein them together. That’s fine, but that is quite different than HDR because it does not get down to the pixel-by-pixel level of image adjustment. As you can see in this photo, a variety of light levels are under the hat, on the hat, and above the hat. Each of those areas would need hundreds of mini-compositions to look right. That would have been a near impossibility with traditional film, and it’s even still painstaking with digital. But the HDR process makes it all a heck of a lot easier.
This shot was taken one morning in Stanley Park in Vancouver, BC. Vancouver always seems to be somewhat cloudy, so the colorful trees around the park stand out nicely. A giant swan was floating nearby while I was walking around, so I took this single RAW and converted it to HDR to ensure that I’d get all the numerous colors in the trees and the various shades in the sky and water.
This has always been a special photo in my portfolio for a variety of reasons.
It’s the first HDR photo ever to hang in the Smithsonian. This made my mom very proud of course, and it resulted in her sending off more emails than the average Nigerian. It also helped to bring much notoriety to StuckInCustoms.com and did quite a bit to establish HDR as a mainstream art form.
As for the process, it was a tough night because I was up on the edge of a bridge that was rumbling as cars crossed it. I was on the edge of the bridge because I wanted to get the full vertical reflection while still capturing the scope of the lake. The evening was very windy, and there was a light driving rain flying into my lens. I had to wipe it down after every few exposures and try to cup my hands over the top during the shot.
This is the Tomb of Humayun in Delhi. I arrived during Diwali, the biggest annual festival that involves burning lots of flammable religious memorabilia. Most of the tombs, mausoleums, temples, and the like were surprisingly empty, giving me clean access to cool places like this without tourists getting in the way of sweet photography. I know, I know, we are all tourists, but we don’t really like other tourists, right? It’s a strange phenomenon. However, I can say with ontological certainty that I don’t like tourists in my photos unless it is absolutely unavoidable.
The TV news broadcasts were filled with families celebrating Diwali along with nonstop, live, on-the-scene action reporting from the grand opening of Om Shanti Om, the Bollywood film of the year starring the incomparable Shahrukh Khan. From the previews I saw, the movie seemed to involve a lot of Shahrukh with his shirt off in huge musical numbers and copious amounts of slow-mo water exploding off his coppered abs.
The air in Delhi during Diwali was covered with smoke from the festivities. There was an acrid smell of stale carbon that was not exactly like a trip to Sedona. Luckily, my hosts got me a private car so I could get out of the city and head north to clearer climates near Agra.
The French-powers-that-be erected a giant Christmas tree in front of Notre Dame. It seemed like a perfect place to be at dusk, so I made it so. This is one of those places I visit every time I am in Paris, because it always has a soothing feeling about it. I’ve always wanted to get up on the roof at sunset, but those same powers-that-be won’t let me do that. This ends up posing a bit of a problem (albeit only in my mind), because all I can think about are the shots I didn’t get.
I had a long lonely weekend in Iceland, so I took a jeep out into the wild. I drove all over the country from dawn till dusk to see what I could find. The sky and landscape were an ever-changing palette of colors and clouds. The sun is so low on the horizon during the winter that you experience almost a five-hour sunrise followed by a five-hour sunset. I drove up and down one of these highways to the next, listening to all kinds of strange and eclectic music on my iPod, occasionally jumping out to take a shot of something like this: In the distance, you can see the snowy mountains that always seem to be just a few songs away.
Speaking of a long and lonely time, I both enjoy it and I don’t at the same time. I expect your reaction to being alone might be similar, since photographers tend to independently think in the same patterns. At times I really love being alone because it gives me distraction-free thought and creativity. But then again, sometimes I need people around me in order to be thoughtful and creative. I can’t decide which is best, but I’m pretty sure a mix is important.
This photo is of Wat Arun, a famous Buddhist temple in Thailand. It is surprisingly hard to get photos of these places because the city congestion blocks out all the good photo spots. I’m used to rivers having a little sidewalk on the edge that allows me to set up anywhere. But the edges of this river were packed with all kinds of warehouses and fisheries, none of which I could get into. I finally found an Italian restaurant with a second-floor balcony. I was able to sit there, order appetizers, eat, drink, and take shots every few minutes as the clouds changed. The weather was very unusual that day. You can even see the sun burning through the low-lying fog beneath the fortuitous cloud formation.
At the restaurant I met another traveler. She was from Syria and made all sorts of funny and quirky observations. While I was taking pictures, we were talking about random topics. The conversation turned to coffee, and she started analyzing why Americans are so in love with Starbucks. She said, “You Americans walk around with those Starbucks cups with tops on them. They look like sippy cups. It’s like you are a bunch of babies.”
Earlier that day, I had spent much time on the boats you can see in the water. I had the sort of boat driver who apparently had little reason to live as we flew through tiny canals at 50 mph. It was a hair-raising experience! We would pass under small bridges that were covered with dozens of Thai children. After we passed, they would all jump and cannonball into the river.
I think about all the sunsets I’ve missed. I always seem to be out and about somewhere noticing a great sunset and then realize that I am not even close to my camera and tripod. It’s just unacceptable! This day and evening I was in Yellowstone alone. I had just seen a grizzly bear and a black bear about 30 minutes before I took this shot, both of which are pretty rare to see. They went on their way, and I was left in the middle of this area with just a few elk meandering a few hundred feet from me. I tried to not get overly “sucked into” the sunset, keeping in mind that those bears were lurking about. The ground was pretty marshy, which is not the most optimal condition for running from a bear. I’m not sure there are ever optimal conditions for running from a bear, but this was certainly not it.
Akbar the Great has an amazing temple. It doesn’t have a bad angle, texture, or light condition. I wish I could send him an email and thank him for all the photographic fore-thought he put into building this place.
This temple is called Fatehpur Sikri, and it’s in the northern part of India, not too far from Nepal. Many examples of Mughal architecture are all over India, but this is one of the best.
An interesting tidbit about Akbar is that he was extremely religiously tolerant and allowed all religions to flourish for a while under his rule. This is why I found this scene so appealing. Although the architecture is Mughal in artifact, much of the influence is Hindu. Hinduism is certainly the predominant flavor in the area currently. To see this Muslim woman in her black niqab walking slowly across the chamber seemed to capture the spirit of the place. I had set up to take a shot of an empty room. But when this woman entered and started looking around, I waited until the appropriate time to capture the moment.
This is a remote Hindu temple in the Indonesian jungle. It was a horribly stormy day, and I could have easily found myself quite miserable, but I had seen this before, seen these patterns, and I knew I’d have the chance to see the sun again. Just for a few moments the sun appeared, and it was timeless. I didn’t think about the future, I just sat there, unconsciously moving around the temple and taking it all in.
I was with my best friend Will. We were completely soaking wet and smelled like wet puppies. I had a small clear plastic bag to keep my camera dry, and I gave him my extra one, which he promptly lost. For the trip he had bought a new Nikon camera and was using this place to test it out, which is not a bad place to experiment. This gave him something else to do rather than the usual thankless job of carrying my tripod. I try to tell him how many emails I get from people asking to travel with me and carry my tripod, but this falls on deaf ears. The best thing about having Will there, besides his perfect memory of movie scripts that he can quote any time, is that he can attest to the colors in the sky. It was an amazing night.
It was just past 10:00 PM and I was purposely getting lost on the streets near Sacré-Coeur. I bobbed and weaved through various little alleys, streets, and tiny bakeries (where I would just have to stop for a moment) before finding my way to this little faire. A small carousel was spinning away with petite French children screaming wonderful expressions of joy. I took four years of French in school, and I can still recall one of my first little books that had a cartoon of kids on a carousel in it. One tiny French girl was telling another to hold on: “Ayeeee! Sylvie! Agrippe toi!” (Sylvie hold on!)
It’s hard to say exactly how I knew the right shutter speed for this one, other than experience. I love the way the Nikon shutter sounds. The Canon shutter always sounds a bit weak in comparison. If you are a Nikon shooter and you hang out with someone who owns a Canon, listen to the effete shutter sound. Then you can place your camera body near your friend’s ear, fire off a serious cli-click, and rock that person’s world with your mechanical-decibel power.
I realize this is meaningless, but it’s just more fodder for the always entertaining and draining Nikon versus Canon argument.
One evening I went downtown to do some shooting around Austin and caught the capitol just as the sun was going down. The Texas capitol possesses all kinds of interesting architectural elements, like this cool underground Illuminati chamber you see in the photo. The one fact that all Texans seem to know is that our capitol is 14 feet taller than the Capitol Building in D.C. This is a source of pride for Texans along with another cool and trivial fact that we maintain in our state constitution, which is the right to secede from the Union.
The capitol is made out of pink granite, which gets pinker at night as soon as the lights are turned on, especially against the blue sky.
A good photographer friend in Iceland named Asmundur took me to the southern part of the island for a bit of shooting. One of his favorite spots was this little church that sat by itself on a hill. A small cemetery nearby was the perfect place for me to set up to take this shot.
The skies in Iceland always seem to be idyllic. The icy cloud particles often stream out in impressionist formations, and the HDR technique really helps to bring back the colors I saw and the emotions I felt when I was actually at the scene.
This image speaks to a larger idea around the notion of traveling and finding cool sights to shoot. I will normally jump on Flickr, search for tags, sort by “interestingness,” and then pick out some amazing-looking locations. Often, the first few pages of the results will show images from the same photographers repeatedly. I then contact them and ask if they would like to go on a shoot together while I am at their location. This method usually works out swimmingly because the locals know the most beautiful places that are also off the beaten track.
My wife is always worried about this tactic and is convinced after watching decades of fear-inducing news reports about the murderous ways of strangers on the Internet. I find, however, that photographers are normally kind souls. After looking at their photographs, I think you can often intuit the sort of person they might be.
Shanghai looks huge and amazing no matter what side of the river you are visiting! I must have gone back and forth eight times or so to see it from one angle and then the next as the sun was setting. An electric train goes through a tube under the water, and it is surrounded with enough flashing neon to produce seizures in the average Japanese kid. It’s all fantastic and electrifying, and both banks were covered every night with people admiring the view.
After a long hike through the mountains of Yellowstone, I came across over 40 horses sprinting from one meadow to the next. I stepped behind a tree to get out of the way and shot this scene. You can see the dead husks of the trees that still remain after the big Yellowstone fire.
This shot was taken about 20 km into our backpacking expedition in the Andes. Colorful life sprang up everywhere from the fertile soil deposited from recent glaciation, even as the valley was changing to its autumn colors. Little rivulets trickled here and there and flowed into larger streams. Fording some of these tributaries was a bit hairy when you’re carrying a bunch of expensive camera equipment, but it was always worth it. I can’t tell you how often I stopped to take photos along this hike! I’m sure the hike took about four times as long as needed, but after all, that was the point of the whole trip. If you look closely, you can spy a glowing blue glacier spilling out from between the edge of the Andes.
North of Paris in Montmartre, in the 18 arrondissement, Basilique du Sacré-Coeur sits high on a hill and is beautifully lit in the evening. This hill is the birthplace of the Jesuits back in 1534. This fact is interesting to me because I was a Jesuit student back in the day. You would think that after attending that all-boy school, having to wear a tie every day, and taking four years of Latin and four years of theology that I would be allowed to venture inside to take all the photos I wanted using a special key that everyone gets upon graduation. But I had no such key, so I was forced to remain on the perimeter with all the other heathens.
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