Night at the Dali: Architecture as Teacher

In 2013, Greg Urbano’s photography evolved, particularly with architecture and HDR techniques. His night photograph of the Dalí Museum in St. Petersburg showcases his technical growth and artistic maturity. Through careful exposure settings and HDR processing, he captures dramatic contrasts, reflecting his continuous exploration and adaptability in night photography.

Architecture in HDR 2013, Night at the Dali
2013 was a breakout year for my photography. I started shooting more architecture and post processing in HDR. Here is a photograph taken at night of the extremely cool Dali Museum at night. Highlighting its geodesic window panes. This place was only a short walk from where I lived in downtown St Petersburg Florida along the waterfront.. Shot with a Nikon D7100.

In this 2013 photograph of St. Petersburg’s Dalí Museum, Greg Urbano captures far more than an architectural landmark—he documents a photographer in the act of discovery, using his camera to decode the visual language of light, structure, and time. The image stands as a testament to what the Chapter 1 — Beginnings theme celebrates: the transformative power of experimentation and the artistic maturity that emerges from technical curiosity.

The composition immediately announces ambition. Shot with a 14mm ultra-wide lens, the perspective tilts upward to embrace the museum’s extraordinary geodesic glass bubble, that surrealist flourish erupting from an otherwise rectilinear concrete structure. The ultra-wide focal length creates dramatic spatial distortion—the glass sphere appears to swell toward the viewer while the building’s mass recedes at impossible angles. This is deliberate visual exaggeration, the photographer using optical characteristics as expressive tools rather than merely recording what stands before him.

Urbano’s fifteen-second exposure at ƒ/11 reveals careful consideration of night photography’s particular demands. The narrow aperture ensures front-to-back sharpness across the complex geometric planes, while the extended shutter speed gathers sufficient light to render both the illuminated interior spaces and the textured concrete exterior. At ISO 250, he maintained image quality while managing the sensor’s heat buildup during long exposures—a technical balancing act that night photography ruthlessly exposes when miscalculated.

The HDR processing, which Urbano identifies as a focus of his 2013 work, serves the subject’s inherent drama without overwhelming it. High Dynamic Range imaging compresses the vast tonal range between the glowing glass panels and the deep purple-gray twilight sky into a single viewable image. Here, the technique preserves detail in both the brightest interior lights and the shadowed architectural framework—the black steel triangles that form the geodesic pattern remain visible and textured rather than silhouetted into flat darkness.

What distinguishes this image within the Beginnings chapter is its transparency about process. The HDR treatment shows characteristic traces of learning—slight luminous halos around high-contrast edges, enhanced local contrast that gives surfaces an almost tactile presence, color saturation pushed just beyond naturalism. These are not flaws but evidence of active experimentation, a photographer testing the boundaries of technique to understand where effectiveness ends and excess begins.

The photograph’s context enriches its meaning considerably. This museum stood a brief walk from the photographer’s residence, close enough for repeated visits, for returning under different conditions, for the kind of sustained engagement that transforms casual documentation into genuine study. This proximity allowed Urbano to approach the subject with evolving sophistication, each attempt building on lessons from the previous one.

The wet pavement in the foreground adds an unexpected grace note—evidence of recent rain creating reflective surfaces that double the architectural lighting, adding visual complexity without cluttering the composition. Whether intentional or opportunistic, this detail demonstrates the photographer’s developing awareness of how environmental conditions can enhance rather than merely complicate a scene.

Viewed within the arc of artistic development, this photograph captures a crucial transition point: technical capability catching up with visual ambition, the gap between conception and execution narrowing with each frame. It is the work of a photographer actively becoming, embracing complexity as the necessary path toward mastery.

Alioto’s on Fisherman’s Wharf: A Study in Nocturnal Americana

Greg Urbano’s 2010 black and white photograph of Alioto’s restaurant in San Francisco is a significant early work, capturing the intersection of technical skill and artistic vision. It explores familiar scenes through a developing photographic perspective, revealing how ordinary moments can become extraordinary. The image emphasizes light, structure, and context, marking a pivotal discovery in Urbano’s artistic journey.

Aliotos on Fishermans Wharf 2010
An early photograph from 2010. Taken on vacation in San Francisco a black and white image of the iconic Aliotos restaurant at night on Fishermans Wharf. Shot with my Samsung NX100.

Alioto’s on Fisherman’s Wharf: A Study in Nocturnal Americana

Greg Urbano’s 2010 photograph of Alioto’s restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf stands as a pivotal work from Chapter One of his Top 100 Journey—a collection dedicated to early beginnings and the formative images that taught him how to see. This photograph represents more than just a vacation snapshot; it captures the moment when technical skill and artistic vision began to converge.

This image works on multiple levels simultaneously. On the surface, it presents a straightforward night photograph of a famous San Francisco landmark. But closer examination reveals a developing understanding of tonal relationships and compositional balance. The black and white treatment isn’t merely aesthetic—it’s revelatory. By stripping away color, the photographer forces viewers to see the architecture of light itself. The neon signs become sculptural elements, the illuminated storefronts transform into glowing boxes of human activity, and the darkness above presses down with an almost palpable weight.

What makes this photograph particularly significant as an early work is its democratic vision. He doesn’t attempt to elevate Alioto’s to fine art by isolating it or abstracting it beyond recognition. Instead, he presents the entire commercial ecosystem: the neighboring Sabella LaTorre sign, the smaller vendor stalls with their utilitarian lighting, the people moving through the frame as gentle blurs. This is tourism and commerce as theater, captured without cynicism or sentimentality—a mature perspective for someone still discovering their photographic voice.

The technical execution demonstrates the learning curve inherent in Chapter One. Shot with a Samsung NX100—not a professional camera by any measure—this image proves that vision was developing faster than equipment acquisition. The exposure is carefully controlled, holding detail in both the bright signage and the darker architectural elements. The vantage point shows deliberate thought: low enough to emphasize the vertical drama of the building, yet far enough back to include context. That giant illuminated fish and the number “8” become almost sculptural forms against the night sky.

As an early capture, this photograph reveals an artist already grasping something fundamental: great photographs often lie not in exotic locations but in how we see the familiar. Fisherman’s Wharf has been photographed millions of times, yet this image feels both specific and universal. It could only be this place, yet it speaks to every similar waterfront tourist district in America. This understanding—that the ordinary can become extraordinary through careful observation—marks a crucial lesson in any photographer’s development.

The inclusion of this work in the Top 100 Journey reflects its role as a foundational piece. It’s not about perfection; it’s about the spark of discovery. The photograph represents a moment when the camera revealed something the artist was only beginning to articulate—an ability to see light as structure, to recognize the poetry in commercial spaces, to trust in straightforward documentation over manipulation.

The photograph has aged beautifully, which speaks to the instincts already present in these early days. In an era of digital saturation and Instagram filters, there’s something refreshing about this honest image. It doesn’t try too hard. It simply observes, with emerging intelligence and care.

When displayed as part of Chapter One: Beginnings, this image invites viewers to consider the photographer’s journey. It rewards examination not just for its formal qualities—the geometry, the light, the tonal range—but for what it represents: a lesson learned, a moment of clarity, a step toward understanding how to translate vision into image. This is where the journey truly began.