View allAll Photos Tagged Adaptive
This very very old window is held together with steel wires.Took the photo in Louth Lincolnshire uk.Used Lumix G9 with an adapted 50mm jupiter 8 f2 manual focus prime lens.
There are so many quirky buildings dotted about the shingle covered landscape at Dungeness. Most of which have now been converted into a home, including this little shack. I love how they have kept the old concrete fence posts in place. It really is another world there.
Rice and lentils didn’t restrict me piersey.com/rice-lentils-fat-loss-routine/ they freed me. This post explains how eating simply gave me clarity, control, and comfort around food — and why I’m continuing with this approach.
Meet Budaru, one of two Koalas on loan from the San Diego Zoo. These marsupials spend up to 20 hours each day sleeping. Budaru is named after a place in Australia and was born in April 2004. Photographed at the Calgary Zoo
I had to fall for the hype and have my "historical" (or is it hysterical?) photograph of the supermoon too; I opted for a bit of nature...
adapted Duo-Tamron (Twin-Tele) 135mm f4.5
BTW: that is 1/50sec on a 270mm equivalent lens... just saying
Adapt vintage lenses like this Canon FD 28mm to your mirrorless camera with Fotodiox lens adapters! Learn more: fotodioxpro.com/collections/lens-mount-adapters
This cat is a very happy boy. He is living his best life. He always has a smile on his face. Here he's just watching the birds in the backyard.
Shot using a Konica Hexanon AR 57mm/f1.4 @f2
Arrow Heads, a mounding shrub plant life form, have managed to live on the floor of the Death Valley. A field of this has an unfortunate name of "Devil's Cornfield" alongside silly reviews on the internet about there not being "much to see". it is amazing how people miss the wonder in front of their own eyes!
To see the surrounding area of Chiang Mai, we rented a motorcycle and decided to drive up Doi Inthanon National park. Although riding a motorcycle in Thailand is not like riding at home, the roads were (mostly) good and as long as you adapt to the traffic, all goes well. Most Thai are very courteous and polite so any form of road-rage would be rare.
Higher up in the hills, the air was fresh and cooler. The site of two monuments, build for the king and queen were beautiful.
It was quite a ride from and to Chiang Mai, and I wasn't looking forward to riding at night but I couldn't resist an other amazing sunset.
Returning from the elation of the leaden flycatcher nest, the mood was more about retracing our steps and just moving through the bush. My egg lady has better eyes and spotted this beauty right out on the reach of this lens.
Don't ask me to play cricket or tennis, even to throw a ball over arm or side arm. My right shoulder has seen, I was going to say better, but I mean too many days. Holding that weight up and keeping it steady is a thing of the past; if I'm honest. Already encumbered by binoculars and kilograms of camera, the thing I need but don't want in the bush is a tripod; not even a monopod.
A tree will have to do. In fact, my decent-sized tree choice not only gave me something to brace on, but an amount of cover from an already intensely occupied Kookaburra. I came here to celebrate that bird. But in the end, this might really be an ode to tree hugging!
Adapted: Canon FD 50mm 1:1.4 S.S.C
Camera Preset: b/w+R
Crop, lighten & darken: Photos.app
Adjustments: Luminar.app
Projector lenses are quite fun to use, but with no focusing part, they are a bit difficult to handle.
My lens (a Liesegang Sankar 85mm f/2.5) has a nice long flange distance, which gives me some room betweeen the lens body and the camera mount to place an M42-E adapter, the lens is niclely fitted in a M42-flat ring (then screwed on the adapter). That M42-E adapter includes a focusing helicoid wich makes focusing then possible ! I can still add extension tubes if the minimal flange distance is still too short (I actually have one here).
It goes without saying that using a mirrorless camera makes everything a lot simpler because you have a short flange distance to begin with, much shorter than most of the 35mm film projector lenses (except if their body extends far behind the actual rear element...).
Picture taken with my Sony A68 / Carl Zeiss Jena Pancolar 50mm f/1.8
adapted vintage manual lens from Pentax-110 miniature SLR system: 50mm f2.8
I shielded the lens from the direct sun and my hand created an interesting vignette effect.
Lomo T-43 lens from Smena camera placed into the outer body of an Industar 26 lens. LTM/LM converter screwed on.
I added the LM (Leica bayonet) adapter because I have an LM-Fuji adapter which has a helicoid built in and I wanted to enjoy the closer focusing that this provides.
I will be using this only on my Fuji X cameras.
The Silken whisper of Flickering Desires
A Chronicle
Adapted from the Final Entry Entitled:
Their Regal Gambit
Subtitled:
While Sherlock Holmes vacationed
The first score had been made, now for the Coup de Grace! So far their little operation had gone as smooth as silk, or in this case, satin. Now just to make sure the husband of the silken gowned brunette displaying the jewels in question was still safely out of the picture! Then Mollie would let her husband know that with the coast clear, freeing him to stage his approach of the lady in the long swishing satin gown he had been keeping an eye on all evening. The one who was wearing the exquisite necklace of fiery flickering diamonds, just daring someone to expertly slip it away the throat of its unsuspecting owner.
And therein lay the rub, She happily thought….
As Mollie made her way down the quiet corridor to the gentlemen’s smoking lounge, she lovingly played through her mind the series of unfortunate ( or fortunate?) events that had led her and her husband to this place. It had all began with an innocent one named Tabitha…….
Mollies’ Flash back
They had first come across Tabitha at a resort casino deep in the Catskills. Mollie and her husband had been there about three days, scoping out the grounds, and its wealthy clientele. At the casino they both spotted Tabitha at the same time. She was seated at a baccarat table, really standing out in an elegant dress of gold and black striped silk and velvet Her well-toned body displayed numerous pieces of expensive jewelry. A fat little purse dangled, unheeded by her side. Tabitha had held Mollie’s attention mainly due to the strong resemblance she had to herself. Tabitha’s jewelry, a flashy diamond journey style necklace, matching earrings, wide diamond tennis bracelet, and multiple gem encrusted rings, had held Mollies pickpocket husbands’.
Mollie went on to the bar and watched as her husband waited for the seat next to Tabitha to become vacant. Then he sat, asking for chips, while unobtrusively eyeing Tabitha’s bracelet. He began striking up a conversation with Tabitha, finding her to be an easy mark. He soon learned from the chatty girl that she was a divorced, upper executive for a well-known digital arts company servicing the movie industry. It was during this conversation that Tabitha babbled about the upscale, invitation only(you know), black tie formal ball she would be attending in England the next month. Now, as her husband was keeping Tabitha occupied Mollie had walked by the pair, ‘tripping’ into her husband, who palmed off to her , the diamond bracelet which had been ever so subtly slipped from around the unwary Tabatha’s’ wrist. Walking away with the bracelet secured in her purse, Mollie made her way to their small bungalow. Her husband did not break in his conversation with Tabitha; a mark would seldom suspect a friendly person of stealing from her.
Later that evening, Mollie wore the pricy bracelet while mutually admiring it over a bottle of merlot with her husband. They discussed the high-class affair Tabitha had been bragging about. Wistfully, Mollie admitted it was a shame they had not received an invite. Her husband smiled, and pulled a thickly embossed and crested envelope from his pocket. Easily adopting a British accent, he said “The silly little twit was carrying this in her purse!” The envelope revealed a pair of invitations to the Princess’s Jubilee Royal Ball. As the pair continued to empty the bottle of fine merlot, what had started as speculation, turned towards reality, and soon plans had been laid.
As they lay in bed later that night, Mollie turned to her husband, just think about the jewels that will be worn at the English Ball, she shivered with the delightful thoughts. Do you remember the last time we were in England? Mollie looked at her husband slyly, you remember, the Wriggling Whelp Whispering Wisk! She stated teasingly. Mollie knew the quickest way to get her husband’s goat was coming up with silly phrases to describe his more outlandish endeavors. Such phrases like The Tingling Touch Ice Melt, The Slippery Slick Taffeta Pull, The Glossy Gowned Dangling Peel, or her personal favorite, The Ticklish Wedge Clam Dip, never failed to get a response. In this case the response was a brief pillow fight leading into a romantic interlude, ending up with them in bed as they reminisced about the last time they had “visited” England a few years back…..
It had proven a fairly profitable venture with the jewelry alone netting almost 100,000 pounds. It all had culminated quite nicely at one of the posh events they had crashed that final weekend. Their final score had come about from a rambunctious doe eyed Fourteen year old in a shiny dress who had been oblivious to the valuably delicious gold pendent studded with small rubies and emeralds that sparkled ever so invitingly as it swung from her throat. A pair of matching dangling earrings dripped from her ears as she has run around unminded by her elders. Mollie had indignantly stated to her husband that the antique trinkets were simply just too expensive for a child so squirminly young to be trusted with. Her husband then went about the task to prove his wife correct in her statement.
After talking a bit about the English Girls parents reaction to the unsolved disappearance of their daughters ultra-pricey pendent , Mollie came back to the present and asked if the lady in the maroon silk that her husband pointed out the previous evening would be wearing the same jewels to the dance tomorrow night? Or better her husband replied sleepily, good Mollie pronounced, I did like her emeralds.
In Merry Ole England
They had arrived in England several weeks before the Royal Ball and began the preparations.
In an irony of fate, the profit they had realized from poor Tabitha’s bracelet had paid for a large chunk of their little excursion. Keeping his accent, and adding a trim beard, Mollies husband looked radically different from the man Tabitha had encountered. During the weeks following their arrival, the pair had practiced like they always did before undertaking a new venture. But this time it was with a more daring edge, they quite simply could not afford being caught red handed in a foreign country. Mollie assumed her practice the role. That of the richly dressed, well jeweled quarry. Her husband would stalk and attempt to relieve her of a piece of her jewelry as she went about her business, shopping! The idea being that, If he was able to do so without being caught by an obviously aware Mollie, than he should have no problem at the Royal Ball. As it usually happened when they practiced in this manner, her husband did incredibly well. Mollie had had several pieces of jewelry vanish from her person during the week, without her noticing how or when.
The final night of practice Mollie decided to dress to kill. Looking quite devastating in a glossy gold halter and a long brown velvet skirt with gold stiletto heels clicking as she moved. A diamond heart pendant hung down from her neck, swaying provocatively out from between her breasts. A bracelet, similar to Tabitha’s purloined diamonds, was wrapped around her wrist.
She left their penthouse and made her way to the street outside. Some type of festival was going on as she waded through the crowded streets to the nightclub. Her rings sparkled as they kept rhythm with her swaying diamond waterfall earrings. Just daring her husband to make a move for any of them.
Mollie drank and danced the night away with no hide or hair of her husband until she returned late that evening to their apartment. She found him in the hot tub, smirking. She undressed and joined him. Okay, how did u do it she demanded? I felt nothing, no one bumped or brushed against me all evening that I was not aware of. He opened his fist, allowing her heart diamond pendant to dangle freely in front of her. A magician never reveals his tricks my little cat, he purred, as the pendant swayed in a sparkling arch.
Cat was short for “Cat Lady”, a moniker he had placed upon her when she had broken into a sleeping woman’s room and removed the jewels from her gold case, and even managed to slip off a ring she was wearing. The fact that she was passed out in a drunken stupor, still dressed in her long party gown, didn’t count , or so her husband teased.
You should have been a surgeon! , my dear, Mollie exclaimed with pride. Then she leaned towards him, her green eyes gleaming in earnest, time for a real practice run Mon Cherie, she said in dead seriousness. Then Her eyes opened wide, I got it she exclaimed, I’ll call it The Slinking Sneaky Shearing Snag she pronounced joyfully, getting a face full of water in reply to her effort. Okay Cat, let’s get down to business he retorted, I know just the affair. Mollie listened intensively as her Husband described their next plans, derived while eavesdropping on a couple of ladies shopping in a jewelers.
The next weekend (two weeks to the evening before the Royal Ball) Mollie found herself at a quaint upscale wedding reception held in the large gardens of a country church. She was attired in the same bewitching ensemble that she had been wearing on the final night of practice. Her only jewels were a recently acquired pair of sparkly cascading earrings set with emeralds and diamonds. The affair of the plump piqued peacock plucking she had mused while getting dressed. The only other exception was that the long fiery red hair she had inherited from her Irish namesake grandmother had been cut and dyed blond. Blue contacts had also been added to the disguise to hide her vivid green eyes.
They soon targeted an older jewel laden snob at the reception. An older lady , well jeweled, of the arrogant know it all, obey me totally type whom everyone tries to avoid. While Mollie engaged the mark in a mostly one sided conversation(the older ladies) the lady had become so deeply engrossed about talking about herself and her ties with royalty, that she never detected being relieved of a heirloom antique gold chain and jeweled pendent by Mollies husband who had approached her unnoticed from behind.
It was all Mollie could do no to bring attention to it by looking at the wickedly expensive piece as it was slipped up and away from the Dowager’s ruffled heavy satin blouse.
This time it was mollies turn to keep chatting as her husband headed to the door. He had almost made it when two youths ran into him as they scurried away from a rather sullen looking tween girl they had been teasing, and now were in possession of her purse. Mollie stole a look as she saw her husband topple onto the chasing girl. He managed to extracted himself from the girls long slinky gown that she had probably been forced into by an overly conceited mother. He apologized, and left the girl to go after her antagonizes. Later, when Mollie had caught up to him she teased him about his clumsiness. He just smiled, and pulled out from his vest pocket the most exquisitely matched pearls that the youth had been openly displaying from around her throat and wrist at the reception!
They were, most definitely, ready. The fated evening could not come soon enough. But it finally did.
They had had no problem with using the fancy invitations to gain entrance. Security was heavy, as expected, but with a very lax atmosphere. Mollie was wearing the salmon coloured gown she had had especially made for such occasions, her new blond hair style and the blue contacts. In a coup foray of sorts, Mollie wore the pearls that had been taken by her husband during his run in with the sullen girl at the wedding reception. Her husband was wearing his usual tux with a hand tied bowtie. His ruffled sleeves easily moved up and down along his wrists.
Mollie and her husband split up, each spending the first few hours mingling solo, and taking it all in as they thoroughly enjoyed the Ball and all its many stimulating attractions. It had gone smooth as silk. Spending the first few hours prowling while the guests liquored up Mollie scoping out exactly the right candidates. Dangling jewels with easy clasps were everywhere!, it was surprising how the best of jewel makers skimped on the clasps required to keep the expensive pieces in place. Clothing also made a difference. Silks and satins were quiet and slipped easily. Taffeta could be whispery, more of a challenge. Velvet could easily snag as a piece was being lifted. But these were the costliest of materials, and the wearers would logically be wearing the costlier of jewelry.
Mollie and her husband regrouped several hours later, unobtrusively under the pretense of dancing. Gently discussing their plans. They settled on three likely prospects amongst the almost three hundred present. The first was an older spinster type wearing a luxurious dress of embroidered navy silk and displaying jewelry studded with diamonds and sapphires. The second was a middle aged snotty blonde wearing a shamelessly low cut green silk taffeta gown (which Mollie secretly liked)wearing a thick gold bracelet studded with vulgarly large rubies surrounded by a sea of small sparkly diamonds. She was alone, and a heavy drinker. The third was a longshot. A lanky , flighty brunette wearing immensely valuable jewels of blindingly sparkling Diamonds. Her necklace alone was in the upper hundred thousand range, with a clasp that was one of the easiest to coax open. The only problem was that she came with an obviously newlywed husband who doted on her every move. Both were heavy drinkers, and if he would only leave his wife’s side for, say about fifteen minutes, the necklace would be theirs!
They had decided that any one of the three would produce results worth a king’s ransom, appropriately enough, all things considered. The plan was for her husband to take his time selecting the easiest jewel to acquire from amongst the ones the three marks were displaying , make his move, and pass it off to Mollie who would leave forthwith, while her husband stayed a little while longer to make sure everything remained calm before making his exit stage right via the hallway.
As Mollie went to her station, she saw the Blue silken lady, along with her sapphires and diamonds, leaving with a rather unsavory looking male, eyeing her with a look Mollie knew all too well. Mollie decided to follow them, thinking to herself that some women are just prone to being victimized. Good luck with that one Mollie thought unkindly, as she stole one last look at the ladies glistening sapphires, hope he leaves her with something she sarcastically wished wickedly to the couple’s backside as they went out the exit at the end of the hall. One down and out she thought. Then she spied the husband of the newlywed pair heading down the hall towards her with an older, grey bearded man. Getting close she heard them talking about the Gentlemen’s smoking lounge. Mollie decided to give her husband a signal, but when she found him he was already in the arms of the blond. Molly immediately noticed the absence of the jeweled bracelet from his partners’ wrist. She went back to her table. Immediately she was set upon by some drunken snob asking her to dance. She allowed herself to be taken up into his arms. Spending a few unenchanting minutes with Mr. two left feet, before her husband tapped him on the shoulder cutting in. They danced, Mollie placing a hand into his pocket and feeling something cold and metal wrapped her hand around it. Looking him in the eyes she told him about the now unguarded bride, as she palmed the willowy blonde’s bracelet. They decided to go for it, and as the music ended, Mollie made her way to the hall, where she secreted the blondes bracelet safely away
One down, one more to go! An exquisite necklace of flickering diamonds waiting to be nimbly slipped away from the throat of its unsuspecting wearer. Now just to make sure the husband of the silken gowned brunette displaying the jewels in question was still safely out of the picture! Then to let her husband know that with the coast clear, he was free to stage his approach of the lady in the long swishing satin gown he had been keeping a drooling eye on all evening. The one wearing the exquisite necklace of flickering diamonds waiting to be so expertly slipped away from the throat of its unsuspecting wearer.
She was able to see the groom in windowed room, the husband and his friend were smoking a pair of long cigars and drinking brandy in large glass snifters. Mollie passed unnoticed as she mad e her way to the ladies powder room. He was still there, only halfway through a long stogie as she passed again on her way back. Neither time was she observed. Mollie mad her way back to the Ballroom. She sat down at one side of the room, once again allowing the sights of so many bejeweled women to soak in. Her husband was dancing with a lady in a flowing red ball gown, jewels sparkling in abundance, not aware of the danger so close at hand, nor that even with her husband and his particular skill set so close to them, that at that moment nothing could be safer from his fingertips. Finally she caught her husband’s eye. Mollie innocently rubbed a finger along the side of her nose, a subtle signal that it was safe for him to precede.
Mollie was now uncharacteristically having butterflies in her stomach; it was a huge gamble, trying to get away with a pair of thefts in this inhospitable atmosphere. She kept second guessing herself, Bird in hand she kept thinking. But the lure was too great, and it was with a heavy sigh of relief when Mollie saw her husband finally kiss the hand of the young bride after their dance. Mollie could see that she was no longer sporting the thin silver necklace and its row of at least two caret diamonds that had been encircling her throat with their rippling flashy brilliance all evening. Molly stayed put, not daring to leave until her husband had brushed by her in passing and made his way out the hallway to the exit. She waited for a long fifteen minutes, then curling her hand around the necklace that had been dropped into her lap as he had passed; she gained the safety of the hallway. Just in time. For coming down the hallway was none other than the lady in the long luxurious gown and now bare throats groom and his distinguished looking friend. She passed by them, feeling the men eyeing her with roving wolfish gazes. Then she passed them, and proceeded unhindered to once again enter the ladies’ powder room where the necklace soon joined with the Blondes bracelet in its hiding spot.. Than calmly Mollie left, walking past two security Bobbies, virtually unnoticed. The Groom had been absolutely ignorant to the fact that his young Bride’s ridiculously valuable necklace had walked right past him out the door.
Mollie did not let herself really breathe until she had gained the safety of the street. She allowed herself to imagine the commotion as the news of the missing jewels were circulated around the cavernous Ballroom. There would be a flurry of activity, flashes and sparkles as the women checked themselves reassuringly that they were still in possession of their trinkets. Mollie would have loved to have stayed and watched, but obviously could not do so. She rejoined her husband at their meeting place and they drove off. They made their way to Ireland where they spent a cautious week touring before leaving for the states.
Once the profit was realized from their haul that eventful evening, including obnoxious Dowagers the jeweled antique pendent, and was added in to the modest amount they had already accumulated from previous adventures, Mollie and her husband were able to retire to Ireland and live quite an unpretentious life together in a small stone manor in the woods.
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
Namibia's desert-dwelling elephants are of high national and international conservation priority. There are only 2 groups in the world where there are these types of elephants - the other in Mali, Africa. These ones live in the Kunene Region, mostly sandy desert, rocky mountains and gravel plains in Namibia's northwest. We travelled 7 hours by bumpy road to get to Damaraland - a sandy, windy and rocky place.
The wild Bokeh of this lens is created by the 4 blades it has for its aperture. Under the right situations it can look like this or the image next to this one of the Forget-Me-Not flowers. The squares in the background are the rest of the rose bush this hip is a part of.
Shot using a adapted Mansfield Mantinar 40mm f2.8 @f11 and using a 30mm focusing helicoid to get closer to the subject.
www.flickr.com/photos/chaswg/53515258772/in/dateposted-pu...
Former Naval building adapted re-use as food court for Urban Outfitters.Philadelphia Naval Yard-35mm Olympus Stylus Epic,Ilford XP2 400
Rainy September morning black and whites.
Fuji GFX50Sii with adapted Pentax 67 Macro-Takumar 135mm f/4 and a +2 extension tube ring
BISBITA CAMPESTRE (Anthus campestris)
Los bisbitas forman un grupo diverso de aves adaptadas a medios abiertos —muchas veces áridos— de todo el mundo. Sin embargo, las estepas ibéricas, ricas en otras aves, carecen de bisbitas nidificantes, a excepción del bisbita campestre, una especie común en las estepas continentales y parameras del norte y este de la Península, pero casi ausente en el cuadrante suroeste. De presencia estival, emite —como otros bisbitas grandes— un sencillo y repetitivo canto, integrado por dos únicas notas.
Clasificación y Identificación
Orden Passeriformes; familia Motacillidae
Longitud 17 cm. Envergadura 27 cm.
Identificación
Bisbita caracterizado por su tamaño grande, aspecto de lavandera y coloración clara y lisa. Exhibe dorso gris arenoso, débilmente rayado, y partes inferiores de tono crema y sin estrías. Posee alas redondeadas; cola larga y con plumas externas blancas; pico anaranjado por abajo y oscuro por arriba; y patas finas de color naranja amarillento. En la cabeza muestra varias líneas contrastadas: ceja clara, línea ocular oscura, bigotera blanca con borde inferior negro, y garganta blanca. Resulta singular entre nuestros bisbitas por sus tonos arenosos claros y por la ausencia de estrías en el pecho. Ambos sexos son iguales. Los jóvenes, diferentes a los adultos, recuerdan más a otros bisbitas por su dorso rayado y escamoso y, sobre todo, por el pecho intensamente estriado (dibujo 2). El patrón de la cara, sin embargo, resulta similar al de los adultos y muy útil en la identificación. Se trata de un ave territorial que suele observarse en solitario y en el suelo, pues raramente vuela y prefiere moverse andando.
Canto
El bisbita campestre emite varias llamadas y reclamos simples de una o dos notas agudas (chiip, chuuií, siip). El canto, proferido en vuelo o desde un posadero, consiste en una serie monótona de dos o tres notas (chir-li), repetidas cada pocos segundos durante un minuto o más.
Cpl. Michael Espinosa with Makerspace, 2nd Marine Logistics Group monitors 3-D printing of face masks on Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, March 30, 2020. Marines from Makerspace utilized 3-D printing to rapidly manufacture personal protective equipment to be sent to aid FEMA Region 8 and 2nd Medical Battalion in COVID-19 screening. (U.S. Marine Corps photo by Lance Cpl. Scott Jenkins)
Come now, don't be shy. A little poke at something never hurt anyone. Be brave, my friend. Be brave.
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Not even a build, just a scrap with some bley and a rubber band. If I don't upload soon, it's probably because I'm working away at my section of the F:NV Vault 3 collab. Alright?
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Well gents, I bid you farewell. Be brave.
-TLA
Trichocentrum longicalcaratum in situ, sans taches dans les pétales et les sépales. L'imagination de la nature n'a pas de limite pour s'adapter á des centaines d'habitats particuliers avec des microclimats spécífiques, créant des especes d'orchidées les plus surprenantes les unes que les autres de par leurs formes, couleurs et parfums. Colombie.
Trichocentrum longicalcaratum in situ, without dots on the petals and sepals. Imagination of nature has no limit to adapt to hundreds of particular habitats with specific microclimate, creating more astounding orchid species one than the other by their shapes, colors and fragrances. Colombia.
Trichocentrum longicalcaratum in situ, sin manchas en los pétalos y sépalos. La imaginación de la naturaleza no tiene límite para adaptarse a cientos de hábitats particulares con microclimas específicos, creando especies de orquídeas más asombrosas una que la otra por sus formas, colores y fragancias. Colombia.
Apparently, winter and snow didn't get the memo that the spring has arrived. That's TV tower on the top of mountain peak Sljeme, overlooking the city of Zagreb. Late March 2019.
Taken with Panasonic GX7 camera and adapted smc Pentax-M 200mm F4 tele-lens, through not-really-clean windows glass of my office.
Adapting a popular song from the 1970s I often find myself singing 'sometimes I want to be a woman' I do also sing the actual line 'sometimes it's hard to be a woman' too as I can relate to both sentiments. I frequently segue into the chorus line of 'stand by your man' unconsciously then a sudden awareness of what I just sang brings me to a halt! Realisation I'm not a woman crashes in and I feel a mix of regret, sadness and fear yet at the same time I feel contentment, delight and real joy.
My relationship with my transvestism is something that fascinates me greatly and is something I really enjoy analysing and on rare occasions get to discuss, I am completely fascinated by my transgender feelings. I do often question my motives as being a transvestite brings with it a lot of emotions and satisfaction, indeed a sense of fulfilment yet it also carries for me doubt and guilt and confusion.
One of the things that causes me fear is the sheer joy I experience when I dress up as a woman, I absolutely love it and find part of me willing to assume the persona of a female with great eagerness. I really want it and to completely cross the gender line and no longer be a man. That part of me is something I feel I fight and suppress as I have fears of what it may set free. The big fear is it may well destroy my actual life with my wife, family, colleagues and work.
For me to appear, or more accurately attempt to appear as a woman is a heady powerful emotional desire that I will openly admit I am drawn to. I simply adore dressing up as a woman and trying to pass myself off as a female. Surely this is not what a man should be doing? Well, that's what society may tell us yet I live as a man and love to be a woman.
There are for me undoubted thrills that accompany the initial cross-dressing such as I may on occasion become sexually aroused by the act of transforming myself into the opposite gender. There is of course the thrill of performance and creating an illusion, in fact the act of attempting female impersonation (albeit not on stage or for theatrical entertainment) gives me a real buzz despite the fact it I only ever cross-dress in private.
I am keen to pass as a woman and to act the role convincingly. As I love female impersonation and acting I constantly challenge myself to try and become the woman I am appearing as and not let any of the man be evident. As a consequence I try to think myself into believing I am female. To try and feel and act more realistically female I create back stories for my female alter-ego and really try to become her as I find the challenge something that is incredibly adventurous.
Sometimes I almost pass out with fear when I act like I find men attractive or talk about my (imaginary) ex husband and boyfriends. The man in me is repelled by this yet the woman I am attempting to portray feels at home. I do try to get over my male fears as I do dream of one day passing convincingly in every way as a woman. I kind of believe if I want to appear realistically to be female then I need to become female in my thinking and interaction.
I have found, despite my male fears, I do feel more like a female by thinking of the camera as my boyfriend and trying to act a bit flirty. Somehow it adds an extra element of femininity to the vibe and hopefully to the photos.
I rationalise this by telling myself I am supposed to be a woman when I have gone to all of the effort to become Helene so I need to switch over into being her. My body is shaved, my genitals are tucked, I have false breasts, my face is painted in make-up, I'm wearing a wig with a female hair style and I'm wearing knickers and bra and a dress and high heels with painted nails...I am trying to look like a woman so I really should try and make the whole ensemble come together and try and fulfil those efforts in a way that makes the illusion feel convincing and real to those who see her. I want my alter-ego to pass as a woman in every way, it's an ambition I harbour as a transvestite.
My vanity, indeed I'm sure more my ego, would love to one day experience being taken out for dinner as Helene by a man. As a transvestite trying to pass as a woman that surely has to be rewarding? To be wined and dined and treated as a lady and spend the evening as a woman being admired by men is the ultimate in passing. It has nothing to do with sex, it is all to do with an inner dream of being able to pass convincingly as a female.
I feel more at ease talking abut such scenarios now as I know my own sexuality and I know I would have enjoyed working as a female impersonator and acting as a convincing looking transvestite in films when I was younger. I enjoy those films when a woman is revealed to be a man and every body is surprised as they never saw it coming. The same with female impersonation, I am in awe of men who look, sound and can behave like women yet the audience know that she is in fact a man performing as a woman. I have been ridiculed, indeed at times humiliated in the past for expressing these personal views and ambitions but as I get older I now think why not be honest about my own motivations and issues related to why I engage in transvestism.
In this photo from early June I was totally getting into being a woman and would happily have posed with a man on my arm to sell the illusion I was female. I enjoyed wearing this outfit and if I am honest felt very much at home appearing like this. The intensity of the moment was quite something to cope with, I wanted nothing more than to remain female forever. However, about four hours after this photo was taken I returned to being a man and was quite happy to do so. I think the knowledge I desire to dress up and look female and act as if I am female is something I get a buzz from. The fact I rarely get to cross-dress is probably what I find attractive about being a transvestite. If I was a woman full time I would not likely get the rewards I have emotionally and physically that I get from the occasional cross-dressing experiences. Yet, I feel there is a part of me that wishes I was female.
To be a cross-dresser is quite a mixed bag of emotions and motivations, nothing is that clear cut and I confess I rather like this often confusing exciting and worrying mix that goes on within me. I am addicted to it, I really am.