Been goin’ kinda nutso on Instagram lately. I’d had the app on my iPhone for ages, but never really used it until recently because we’re upping our involvement with it at work. Now I’ve finally signed on, I’ve been subjecting whatever usable photos I have to Lo-Fi, Hefe, Valencia, and other filters while I get the hang of it.
After some experimenting, I decided to lay the Kelvin filter over the original image, which has a much cooler (and what one friend called a “magical”) quality. I like that the sunlight in the windows glows blue both before and after.
The unfinished brushstroke-like quality of Kelvin’s frame is appealing, but the filter itself is often too yellow for the pics I have. However, it worked wonders with the bluish St. Peter’s photo above and this photo below of sunset on the Isle of Skye, Scotland, taken years ago with a Kodak Advantix and scanned from a print. The original resolution wasn’t great, but that’s what I’m finding makes the softer filters so handy. Plus it transformed a pretty great sunset into a spectacular one, all flame and lavender.
The Nashville filter softened up this next shot of me eyeing a rhinoceros beetle munching on sugarcane in Costa Rica. The contact-sheet quality of the frame is fun. And of course, um, I like what the filter does for my complexion.
That is one big bug.
Sierra’s an apt filter for a wildlife shot, especially a bright morning one
with contrasting shadows. The pictured brush rabbit (aka bush bunny)
paused just long enough for me to capture the image before it
scampered away on this Bay Area hiking trail.
Sierra also turned this tonnarelli cacio e pepe at Salumeria Roscioli
in Rome into a drool-worthy memory.
So far, though, nothing beats Lo-Fi for its ability to juice up colors and play up contrast. Makes its images almost hyper-real. Exhibit A sans frame, with iPhone close-up (no zoom):
Tsukemen, Shoki Ramen House, Sacramento.
Noodles that are chewy without being pasty, and a clear broth.
Thanks to Lo-Fi, with frame this time, the colors of the following painting just pop. (Pun intended. I couldn’t help myself.)