Takanori Aiba’s bonsai and epoxy fancies are beautiful, gnarly fairylands, full of whimsy and perfectly weird.

(Image: “Bonsai-B” and “Hôtel de Michelin” by TAKANORI AIBA, copyright TOKYO GOOD IDEA Development Institute Co, Ltd, used with permission)

This very beautiful working Stirling-engine steam-car model was made by the Germany company Böhm Stirling-Technik and sells for $500.

The stirling Car A1

(Thanks, Francesco!)

In the latest episode of The Midnight Archive, the show’s creator Ronni Thomas shares his own collection of 19th century 3D devil tissues. Also known as diableries, they’re a particularly unique species of hand-painted color stereogram depicting “Satan’s daily life in hell,” as Thomas says. “Stereoscopic Terror“

Chased by the Light

This project is a zen masterpiece. It is also a behavior-modifiying challenge for all digital photographers: Look instead of click.

In the 1990s veteran magazine photographer Jim Brandenbrug gave himself an impossible assignment: “For 90 days between the autumn equinox and winter solstice I would make only one photograph a day. There would be no second exposure, no second chance.” A single exposure, a single click per day! He was using film, and he was photographing wildlife, including elusive animals in the north woods in upper Minnesota. Film is unforgiving. For amateur and professional alike getting even an acceptable photo in these conditions with one shot requires relying on the Force. Yet Brandenburg found, or made, one beauty after another. Most mortals would need a hundred shots to get one like these. The 90 images stand strong each on their own, but the complete symphony is one of the most impressive acts of mindfulness I’ve seen.

(The full set of images were also published in a smaller format in the November 1997 issue of National Geographic.)

Besides the book, there is now an iPad app.

— KK

Chased by the Light

Jim Brandenburg

1998, 104 pages

$35

Available from Amazon

App $10

Sample Excerpts

I sensed there would be lessons learned. There were, but not always those I had imagined. Some were merely lessons remembered, recapturing things I had forgotten, such as remaining open to chance, and that, in nature, not all beauty is giant in scale. One such lesson occurred on October 15th, the twenty-third day. It was late and I despaired of capturing anything of value. The day was dark and gloomy; my mood reflected the weather. I wandered through the dripping forest all day long. Tired, hungry , and wet, I was near tears. I was mentally beating myself for having passed up several deer portraits and the chance to photograph a playful otter. None of those scenes spoke to me at the time.

But perhaps because I was patient, and perhaps because, as natives do on a vision quest, I had reached my physical limits, I became open to the possibility revealed by a single red maple leaf floating on a dark-water pond. My spirits rose the instant I saw it, and although the day was very late and what little light there had been was fleeing rapidly, I studied the scene from every angle. Finally, unsure of my choice, I made the shot anyway, thankful at least that the long day had ended. Once more I was surprised by the result. The image seems to have a lyrical quality, with a rhythm in the long grass.