View allAll Photos Tagged Dissonance
Sydney’s reaction to this photo was “I don’t look like that!” The dissonance between how we perceive ourselves and what others see is mind blowing, and very funny. I get a kick out of the constant need to remind people who are modeling for me that I can see them, like, with my eyes. Sure, my vision sucks, but through scientific innovation, I’ve got glasses. Fixes that disparity right up. All assessments= 100% accurate. Which, you would think a photograph, would also do. Technology that can get an outside view of you, put it down permanently in front of you, and give you some perspective. But somehow it’s still hard to believe, and I’m deep in the belief game. Gonna keep shooting with Sydney as much as I can, see if we can’t bridge the gap between how she sees herself, and the beauty we see.
You may recall my previous upload, discussing the so-called "basement" of Chicago. Downtown Chicago is a nice enough, but turn your head the other way and get a dark sea of nothing. The nothingness can be unsettling, by unsettling is usually an enjoyable feeling for me, a door of opportunity for shooting.
In this case, thinking I'm alone at Van Buren Street, and coming across a stray commuter, no one else but us would likely stand on the Van Buren the rest of the night. But he's waiting for a northbound into the city - we're already in the "city" and the final stop is less than a half mile in the same direction. Weird. But like I said, weird is good - it gives you a lot of food for thought, and makes you appreciate the comfort of your home a lot more than usual.
Dissonance.
for ThE vEnTs "senses"
Had the idea weeks ago,but instead it was me standing in a hallway of
glass,it shattering all around me in a sharp waterfall.
So ... yeah,i made changes,and i like how it makes me feel.
Title #
Mail.
( iPhone 13 Pro shot )
Motosuka Beach. Kujukuri Beach. Sanmu City. Chiba Prefecture. Japan. 2024. … 1 / 1
(Photo of the day. Unpublished.)
Images:
The Weeknd … Niagara Fall 【和訳】
youtu.be/hz-GZub_9rw?si=5yimkNvIoidXGPlA
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My new novel
B♭ (B Flat)
Volume 15 😄
The following is still in its draft stage and will be revised further.
Key parts are not disclosed.
The order of the content shown here is mixed.
(Of course, this is not the final version.)
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My new novel
B♭ (B Flat)
The summer light of Manhattan afternoons flared against the glass facades of the high-rises, and each time the heat of the asphalt wavered through the alleys, the massive building of the FBI’s New York Field Office seemed to draw in the clamor of the city, holding a grave and immovable stillness, while within its walls a taut tension and vigilance seeped forth. Beyond the thick iron doors set into its corner, the countless eyes of surveillance cameras interlaced with the motions of guards, proclaiming an order unshaken by the heat waves or the murmur of the crowd outside.
Special Agent Veronica Reeves, carrying the weight of long years of experience yet with a gaze still honed to an unerring edge, sat at the long desk by the window, quietly deciphering the thick bundle of reports spread before her—accounts of what had unfolded thus far. The shafts of heat-laden sunlight pressed through the glass, warping the air, and against that trembling her thoughts held fast, focusing upon the minutiae, drawing out, in three dimensions, the possibilities of the case and the breadth of its consequences.
The figures and map symbols inscribed upon the documents she reassembled in her mind, as though enfolding the arteries of the overheated city itself—the courses of traffic, the currents of people, the compression of the skyline—ordering the incident’s first movements with a hand imbued with a quiet, frigid certainty. The sterile white light of the ceiling LEDs cast swaying shadows upon the papers, and even those faint tremors at the edges of her sight seemed to enter her calculus, like unknown variables absorbed into the mesh of her analysis.
Her fingertip traced a single point upon the map, and in that gesture she drew together the city’s flows, the density of its crowds, the thicket of its structures, conjuring within her mind a three-dimensional rendering of the ground. The clash of red and blue signals at intersections, the exhaust drifting at corners, the tempo of footsteps, the shadows of cars idling at the curb—all converged upon the figures and symbols of the page, lifting before her the living geometry of New York.
Fragments of reports crackled from radios and telephones, slipping into her net of thought and fixed into the coordinates of time and place. At what moment, in what place, had the current of the crowd shifted? Who might have slipped within which building? The jam of traffic, the swell of onlookers, the frameworks of the structures—these she aligned, reducing error to its smallest margin, until the hidden contours of the scene emerged.
Her eyes remained calm, but the faint tightening of the muscles around them betrayed the sense of danger running beneath. With her finger pressing upon a point on the map, she drew upon the memory of old cases, of the city’s blueprints, calculating risk along each imagined path. The city’s shape, the crowd’s density, the placing of exits—all she set upon a grid of logic, hypothesizing every possible turn the future might take.
Her gaze halted upon a photograph in the file, parsing the expressions of the crowd, the disposition of guards, the position of obstacles. Cold though her eyes remained, they missed no dissonance, no trace of the unnatural, intent upon catching every variable within the net of reason, undistracted by the fever of the summer city.
In the office, where the cool of the air conditioning crossed with the heat outside, her thoughts gathered speed—silent, assured, relentless. What would unfold next? Which routes were safe, which led into peril? Each decision, measured in the span of a heartbeat, bore upon the safety of the crowd, upon the life of the candidate. Her logic did not waver, its threads weaving together in her hand like cords unraveling the complexity of the city.
Before her stood not only the files, but also the glow of monitors, the static of radios. Each was but a source of fragments, meaningless until passed through the filter of her thought. To bind data to the streets, images to reality, was the task at hand, advancing cold and quiet even as the heat of summer pressed against the glass.
The sweltering air outside rattled the windows; the distant sirens and the rumble of the city did not shatter her focus, but rather deepened her mental simulation, lending depth to the field she constructed within. Figures on the page fused with the living breath of the streets, reason drawing them together into clarity, and she readied herself to strike upon the next move.
Each sweep of her fingertip across the map made the city’s avenues rise in relief within her mind: the density of buildings, the movement of passersby, the gaze of cameras, the stations of guards. All chained together, cold and inexorable, suggesting the next action. Veronica drew a long breath, and with her exhale, wove the scattered variables into a single fabric, fixing her gaze upon the heart of the incident. In that moment, the distant sirens, the horns, the shuffling of feet at a crosswalk—all dissolved into her reasoning, each sound settling into place like a piece of a puzzle within the flow of logic. The city shimmered in heat, light and shadow in feverish scatter, but her mind cut through the glare, quietly tracing the full outline of the unfolding event.
At last, Veronica lifted the receiver of the internal line, feeling the cold resin beneath her fingers, and summoned Deputy Special Agent Elliot.
“Put me through to Jack Vance, Secret Service.”
“Understood.”
The black Ford SUV cut through the summer heat, racing down the streets. At the wheel, Jack’s profile was set with strain, while in the backseat Ana leaned forward, arms stretched protectively over the children, shouting in desperation.
“Keep your eyes ahead, Jack!”
The children, jolted by the car’s violent tremors, cried out with voices that wavered between cheers and screams, unable to discern the line between fear and thrill. Beside them, Mika bit her lip, struck dumb, staring in mute shock.
Behind them, the pursuing car roared, bullets sparking off the asphalt and leaving the acrid tang of gunpowder in the air. Jack twisted the wheel, his Ford scraping sparks along a wall of concrete, gunfire rattling through the city’s very skin. Ignoring lights and crowds alike, he veered the SUV up onto the sidewalk, plunging forward as screams scattered into the air, driving on as if to outpace the terror that pursued them.
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My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Title.
Mail.
( iPhone 13 pro shot )
本須賀海岸。九十九里浜。山武市。千葉県。日本。2024. … 1 / 1
(今日の写真。それは未発表です。）
Images:
The Weeknd … Niagara Fall 【和訳】
youtu.be/hz-GZub_9rw?si=5yimkNvIoidXGPlA
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
第15弾。 😄
以下は、まだ初稿の段階です。まだ推敲します。
重要な部分は公開していません。
公開している内容の順番はバラバラです。
(もちろん最終稿ではありません。)
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
マンハッタンの夏の午後の光が高層ビル群のガラスにぎらつき、アスファルトの熱気が路地を揺らすたびに、FBIニューヨーク支局の巨大な建物は都市の喧騒を吸い込み、どっしりと静けさを保ちながらも、その内部に張り詰めた警戒と緊張をにじませていた。その角に設えられた厚い鉄の扉の向こうでは、監視カメラの無数の視線と警備員の動きが絡み合い、外界の熱波や人々のざわめきにも揺るがぬ秩序を守っていることを告げていた。
ヴェロニカ・リーヴス特別捜査官は、豊富な経験を背負いながらもなお研ぎ澄まされた眼差しで、窓際の長机に広げられた、これまでに起こった報告がまとめられた資料の束を静かに読み解いていた。差し込んだ外光の熱の束が窓ガラスを透かし、空気を歪ませ、彼女の思考はそれに抗うように細部まで集中され、事件の可能性や影響範囲を論理の中に立体的に描き出していった。
書類に記された数字や地図の記号を、熱せられた街の動線や人々の流れ、ビルの密集度までを含めるかのように頭の中で再構築し、事件の初動を論理的に整理していく手つきには、冷たくも静かな確信が宿っていた。
天井のLEDの白い光が、紙面に落ちる影を揺らし、視界の隅で振れるその影さえも、未知の変数として分析に取り込まれているかのようであった。
ヴェロニカは指先で地図上の一点をなぞり、都市の動線、人の密度、建築の密集度を瞬時に組み合わせ、頭の中で現場の立体的な状況を描き出していた。信号の赤や青が交錯する交差点、街角に漂う排気ガスの匂い、通行人の歩行速度、路上に停められた車の影――それらすべてが、紙面の数字や地図上の印と結びつき、ニューヨークという巨大な都市の立体的な動線を彼女の思考に浮かび上がらせた。
無線や電話からの断片的な報告も、彼女の分析の網に吸い込まれ、時間と空間に配置される。どの瞬間に、どの場所で、人々の流れが変化したか。誰がどの建物に潜入した可能性があるか。交通の混雑状況と、観衆の動き、建築物の構造を組み合わせ、最小の推測誤差で現場の全貌を描く。
彼女の瞳は冷静そのもので、しかし微細な筋肉の緊張が、その奥に潜む危機意識を示していた。手元の地図の一点を指でなぞり、過去の事件や都市計画のデータを呼び出しながら、シナリオごとにリスクを計算する。都市の構造、観衆の密度、出口の配置――あらゆる要素を論理のグリッドに沿って並べ、想像されるすべての事態を仮定する。
ヴェロニカは資料の中の写真に目を留め、観衆の表情や警備員の配置、障害物の位置を詳細に分析した。その視線は冷徹でありながらも、微細な違和感や不自然さを見逃さず、都市の熱気に流されることなく、論理の網の中に全ての変数を捕らえようとしていた。
冷房の空気と夏の熱気が交錯するオフィス内で、彼女の思考は静かに、しかし確実に速度を上げていく。次に何が起こりうるか、どのルートが安全で、どのルートが危険か。瞬間ごとの判断が、観衆の安全と候補者の命を左右する。論理は揺るぎなく、都市の複雑さを紐解く糸のように彼女の手の中で絡まり合った。
彼女の前には資料だけでなく、コンピュータの画面や無線のディスプレイも並ぶ。それらは断片的な情報の源にすぎず、ヴェロニカの思考というフィルターを通すことで初めて意味を持つ。データと現実の光景を繋ぎ、事件の全体像を構築する作業は、夏の街の熱気の中でも冷たく静かに進行した。
外の熱気は窓ガラスを揺らし、街のざわめきや遠くで響くサイレンは、彼女の集中をかき乱すどころか、逆に現場の臨場感を補強し、頭の中のシミュレーションに奥行きを与えた。紙面の数字と街の実像が、冷たい理性の中で重なり合い、彼女は次の一手を論理的に導き出す準備を整えていった。
彼女の指先が地図をなぞるたび、都市の街路が脳内で立体的に浮かび上がり、建物の密度、通行人の流れ、監視カメラの視野、警備員の位置が、冷徹な論理の中で連鎖し、次の行動を示唆する。ヴェロニカは深く息を吸い、吐き出すと同時に、無言のうちに全ての変数を繋ぎ合わせ、事件の核心へと視線を固定した。その瞬間、遠くの街路から聞こえるサイレンの音や車のクラクション、交差点で立ち止まる人々の足音が、彼女の頭の中ではパズルのピースとなり、論理的な流れの中に溶け込んでいった。都市は暑さに揺れ、光と影が乱反射するが、ヴェロニカの思考は静かに、その熱気を透過して事件の全体像を描き出していった。
ヴェロニカは、静かに内線電話の受話器を手に取り、その冷たい樹脂の感触を指先で確かめながら、エリオット副特別捜査官を呼び出し、いった。
「シークレットサービスのジャックバンスにつないで」
「了解」
ーーーーーー
黒のSUVフォードは、夏の熱気を押し裂くように街路を駆け抜けた。ハンドルを握るジャックの横顔には焦燥が張りつき、後部座席に身を寄せたアナは、子供たちを庇うように腕を伸ばしながら、それでも必死に声を張り上げた。
「前を見て、ジャック！」
車体の振動に身を揺らしながら、子供たちは歓声とも悲鳴ともつかぬ声をあげ、恐怖と興奮の境を知らぬままに叫んでいる。その隣でミカは唇を噛み、言葉を失ったまま呆然としている。
背後では追撃の車が唸りを上げ、硝煙の匂いを残して弾丸がアスファルトを跳ねた。ハンドルを切ったジャックの車体がコンクリート壁面に火花が散らせた。都市の皮膚を削るようにして銃声が響く。ジャックのフォードは信号も人波も無視し、歩道へと飛び込み、群衆の悲鳴を振り払うように疾走した。
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
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2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
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Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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I imagine the story of a lonely woman fleeing in the middle of an urban kaleidoscope. Maybe she is being chased by someone coming from far away, climbing stairs. Citizen of a lonely city that isolates people. Maybe she is just a passenger of her own loneliness immersed in dreams of a better world. Around her, the reflections of colored glass converge on her silhouette as if materializing the colors of the dreams she carries within.
Are we already living in a dystopic world? My picture tends to depict (or suggest) alienation, solitude, identity and social dissonance. Shadows and reflections as I feel paradoxically they convey a richer impression of 'reality.
Lisbon, Portugal.
"Dans l’art, tout y est harmonie, même la dissonance." de Victor Hugo
Thank you very much for your comments and for your faves.
(Please do not use without my written permission.)
Qui tacit consentire videtur
I find it interesting that some people use their position of power and privilege to silence others. Whilst at the same time allowing others to say whatever they please and maybe even use their afore-mentioned position to amplify certain voices with a specific narrative, even beyond the point when any thinking person would have seen that narrative has been debunked.
I suppose this points to natural human tendency to hypocrisy and the willingness of many to only hear what their 'team' has to say.
At a time when some people deem words to be violence many of the same people hold the mutually exclusive stance that 'silence is violence'. Trying to hold two mutually exclusive positions will result in cognitive dissonance. It is something that marketing communications experts have known about for several decades and has been taught in universities for almost as long.
It feels like politicians have been cottoning on to this recently too.
Of course cognitive dissonance does not lead to clear thinking, people feel confused and end up often holding onto positions they do not believe in. When your thoughts are not your own and you do not sufficiently own them, your actions often become inexplicable and unjustifiable though many will try do just that.
A sad result of cognitive dissonance is that those experiencing often will either follow those with shallow charisma, swallow empty words, believe in nonsense, or worse descend into confusion and apathy, allowing less scrupulous people free reign to do as they please.
In short, let people speak so they can resolve differences with words rather than any other method.
Hello there. Relevant comments welcome but please do NOT post any link(s). All my images are my own original work, under my copyright, with all rights reserved. You need my permission to use any image for ANY purpose.
Copyright infringement is theft.
Fracture State by Dominic Nahr
BORN 1983, SWITZERLAND. LIVES AND WORKS IN NAIROBI, KENYA
By gaining independence on July 9, 2011, the youngest nation of the world was born: The General Assembly of the United Nations welcomed South Sudan as 193rd member, praising it as a model for security, peace, prosperity, friendship and cooperation between peoples. Five years after independence the UN reported on the desperate situation in South Sudan: War, violence, famine, and disease have driven the East African nation into a humanitarian catastrophe. By tracing the paths of families as they crisscrossed the country in search of safety, and by spending time with men inflicting this suffering, Nahr points at the dissonance between the original concept of a peaceful, united country and the reality its people are facing.
2010
Acrylic on unstretched, cut canvas
54 1/2 inches square
I came up with this drawing by first drawing a Grateful Dead bear in blackface. The synthesis of oppressive cultural imagery with an icon of an ostensibly harmonious, peaceful cultural movement was amusing in a twisted way, so I started brainstorming of what other kinds of symbols to pervert the bear with. The end product ends up resembling Buer, and I'm okay with that. It's an extra layer of hilarity.
The title was somewhat determined by the [America] theme of the show I made this piece for. Given the context of the show, the piece's reference to nazism(an oft-quoted quality of our political system according to some), nazism's concept of the Übermensch, and a shared last name, I got the random idea to reference Laurie Anderson's "United States". Specifically, I borrowed the titles from two songs from Anderson's work, "O Superman" and "Language is a Virus (from Outer Space)".
No real intended meaning aside from the humor that results from combining two extremes and then kinda cherrypicking references as they occur to me to add more layers to the initial gag. This was for art-nerd fun.
©Ashley Anderson
A little sneak preview of a brand new painting that's going up at Tasty next week for the "Fairytales & Fables" show.
I tricked my sister Roxie into modeling for me again! ♥
Consonance and Dissonance. © Copyright 2023 G Dan Mitchell.
Structural elements along the High Line Park, Manhattan
Taking a cue from the music-related title of this photograph, perhaps you have noticed that my photographs cover a wide range of subjects. When people ask me “what I photograph,” probably expecting a short answer like “landscapes” or “portraits” or street,” there is an awkward moment while I consider how to respond. I don’t photograph just one thing… any more than a composer would choose to write only, say, impromptus. There is more than one thing to express, so more than one approach is necessary. If anything, my photographs are about… how I see the world photographically.
I won’t try to explain the entire “consonance and dissonance” connection here, except to point out that these terms have multiple meanings. One very basic idea is that something is consonant in music if if “sounds nice” and “dissonant” if it doesn’t. But a more interesting idea relates to something that seems static and “settled” (consonance) versus something that seems restless and striving (dissonance). Taken one step further, the tension created by dissonance often propels us toward consonance… and consonance can resolve that tension.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” is available from Heyday Books, Amazon, and directly from G Dan Mitchell.
Camille Norment’s Rapture, a strange, tense installation that takes the piercing, resonant tones of the glass harmonica as a starting point to explore the duality of violence and peace, action and repose at the Nordic Pavilion. Featuring the otherworldly space of the pavilion prominently, the architecture is adorned with speakers playing a churning, high-pitched composition, in contrast with broken glass and debris littered across the rooms of the show.
the Oslo-based artist works with the glass armonica – an 18th-century instrument invented by Benjamin franklin that creates ethereal music from the touch of fingers on glass and water – and a chorus of 12 female voices. weaving these elements together within the pavilion itself, Norment creates an immersive, multi-sensory space, which reflects upon the history of sound, contemporary concepts of consonance and dissonance, and the water, glass and light of Venice.
‘rapture’ reflects on how the body can be defined and potentiated by sound, with the pavilion speaking of the tensions between harmony and dissonance. if, as the Norwegian experimental composer Arne Nordheim said, ‘music lives in the span between poetry and catastrophe’, the visitor to the Nordic pavilion walks into a sculptural and sonic installation torn between these two ideas, a space between a body in trauma and a body in rapture.
Dissonance: A tension or clash resulting from the combination of two disharmonious or unsuitable elements.
I was struck by the disharmony between the beautiful flower boxes, the shutters, the old-style lamp post and the graffiti on the roof.
I should clarify that while I admire and appreciate a good wall mural / urban art (and, recognizing that “good” is a subjective term) - this isn’t that! 😊
Taken in Montmartre, Paris.
New Albany, IN
I thought the dissonance of the criss-crossing cables obstructing the view of a mural advocating for mental health was curious, and worth recording.
My good friend of mine was raising funds for Hospice organisation by participating in an amateur boxing game.
Before starting the game, in all the emotion and enthusiasm, this lovely girl was painting calmly in strong dissonance with the atmosphere.
I shot this one with a Tamron 28-200mm F3.8-5.6 Di A031S adapted mechanically from Minolta MAF to Sony E. That's why there is no info about focal distance and aperture. (btw, lovely lens for 20 years old)
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I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them fall away
Mildewed and smoldering. Fundamental differing.
Pure intention juxtaposed will set two lovers souls in motion
Disintegrating as it goes testing our communication
The light that fueled our fire then has burned a hole between us so
We cannot see to reach an end crippling our communication.
I know the pieces fit cuz I watched them tumble down
No fault, none to blame it doesn't mean I don't desire to
Point the finger, blame the other, watch the temple topple over.
To bring the pieces back together, rediscover communication
The poetry that comes from the squaring off between,
And the circling is worth it.
Finding beauty in the dissonance.
There was a time that the pieces fit, but I watched them fall away.
Mildewed and smoldering, strangled by our coveting
I've done the math enough to know the dangers of our second guessing
Doomed to crumble unless we grow, and strengthen our communication.
Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any
Sense of compassion
Between supposed lovers/brothers
An abandoned mission somewhere in Mexico. I once took a 3-week long road trip through the Yucatan peninsula by way of the road less travelled. This was on the way.
It is always the whole human person that interacts with the world, but when the interaction aims at knowing, we speak of the intellect. When desire stands in the foreground, we speak of the will. The intellect sifts out what is true; the will reaches out for what is good. But there is a third dimension to reality: beauty. Our whole being resonates with what is beautiful, like a crystal lampshade that reverberates every time you hit a C-sharp on the piano. Where this feeling of resonance (or, in other situations, dissonance) marks our interaction with the world, we speak of the emotions. How joyfully the emotions reverberate with the beauty of our mystical experience! The more they respond, the more we will celebrate that experience. We may remember the day and the hour and celebrate it year after year. We may go back to the garden bench where the singing of that thrush swept us off our feet. We may never hear the bird again, but a ritual has been established, a kind of pilgrimage has been undertaken to a personal holy place. Ritual, too, is an element of every religion. And every ritual in the world celebrates in one form or another belonging—pointing toward that ultimate belonging we experience in moments of mystical awareness.
-The way of silence : engaging the sacred in daily life / Brother David Steindl-Rast
What fascinates me here is the dissonance. This is a room designed to evoke the comforts of home or a high-end hotel. But the details betray the fallacy. Look at the wire under the lamp on the left, the lampshade askance on the right. There's no proud homemaker here, no housekeeper trained to turn on the musak and put a chocolate on the pillow. Whoever cleans here also takes out the bedpans. It's an institution, where maintaining a room inhabited by anxiety, hope, and the inexorable realities of sickness and death is just in a day's work. And paradoxically, that very indifference instills a certain serenity.
Nooks and crannies of the city.
I've shown you this backyard before. But the city is changing and evolving (though not always successfully).
I returned to this place to find that the space is closed by a new, white building (the old buildings, the right and left sides of the frame, are intended for renovation). Today, I feel this sight as a certain dissonance that fits perfectly into the many contrasts of my city.
Take 2 Polaroid SX-70, cut the edges with a saw, glue them together, put a cold filter and warm filter, couple the two triggers, you get a bipolaroid camera! :-)
Fisher Funeral Chapel & Cremation Services
914 Columbia St.
Lafayette IN 47901
Sean Lutes - Preserve Historic Lafayette
March 26, 2022
The Castle Cottage of Helen Gougar ⚜️⚜️⚜️
One of the Old City's few Romanesque Revival structures is also one of its most historically significant. March is Women's History Month, and what better way to celebrate it than a story of the Old City's very own suffragist and shaker mover Helen Gougar and her grand "Castle Cottage"?
Helen Gougar was born in a village in Michigan in 1843, and in 1860 she moved to Lafayette with her brothers and uncles. Lafayette in 1860 was a rapidly growing city, with layers of success built upon the river ports, canals, and now railroads, causing the Old City's population to swell from 6,000 in 1850 to nearly 10,000 by the time Helen arrived.
Helen took up work as a teacher and quickly found success, becoming a local principal in 1863, only 3 years after arriving in the city. But this was not enough for the hungry mind of Helen, and after her marriage in 1863 to John Gougar, a successful local attorney, Helen took up the task of being his legal apprentice. She took this pursuit of knowledge so seriously that she left her position as a principal to focus entirely on this effort.
Soon she was writing columns in the Lafayette Courier, and even started her own Lafayette paper, the "Our Herald" by the 1880's. By the 1870's she took on the matter of Suffrage, extending the vote to Women. Gougar was converted to the cause of women’s suffrage upon learning about the death of a mother of four in 1878 from domestic violence. Though Gougar had been “praying away the evil,” incidents like that convinced her that it would be more effective to “vote it away." Gougar did not shy away from the injustice nor fell to the weight of discouragement such circumstances must have presented, but rather pushed forward.
She became a national figure for suffragists, and in the 1890's sued the county for her right to vote in the 1894 election, the case ultimately leading to the Indiana State Supreme Court. Though she did not win her case, she paved the way for those after her, even being admitted to the Tippecanoe Bar in 1895.
By the 1890's, Helen Gougar and her husband, John, had accumulated enough wealth to construct a new grand home in the heart of the Old City at 10th and Columbia. An old canal era wood frame house was pulled down to make way for the Romanesque Revival (a style inspired by the early Medieval architecture of Europe) edifice in 1896. The red brick and stone structure was deemed one of the finest homes in the city, and earned the nickname "Castle Cottage." The home was noted not only for its architecture, but the handsome parlor for maids and servants constructed in the rear of the home, a sign of a truly "progressive" family to treat the maids to such a dignified space.
In 1907 Helen Gougar died. Her husband John would pass many years later in 1925. Though Helen did not live to see the 19th Amendment (which gives women the right to vote) ratified, John did and could see the ultimate fruits of the labor of suffragists like Helen.
The Old City has always been a welcome home for the thinker, the philosopher, the artist, the shaker and mover. Here cognitive dissonance finds no home where the city's ancestors found solace from their relentless Muses either through the bottom of a bottle or fierce community effort, or, in many cases, both.
Shortly after the death of John, the house was sold to undertakers who converted the home into a funeral parlor. It remains a funeral parlor to this day. In recent years the owners at Fisher Funeral Home had Castle Cottage made a protected structure, and have worked diligently to maintain, restore, and care for the important landmark in our Old City so that it can continue to inspire for generations to come.
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Contributing Property - St. Mary Historic District - NRHP - 01000622
Plain and simple, we hated fellow Americans less before the advent of right-wing media.
Kaleidoscopic image of sparks flying.
Window and Wall in Summer Light. © Copyright 2021 G Dan Mitchell – all rights reserved.
High summer light falls across the walls of a building with white window frames.
There are still more of the pandemic photographs — the “postcards from pandemia” — that I have made from time to time since our world changed back in March of 2020. During that time I did a lot of urban walking in a several mile radius of my home, and I always carry a camera when I walk. On many walks the camera remained in my bag, but every so often some element of this area would catch my attention and the camera would come out, I’d make a few exposures, and then I’d continue walking.
I’m now not quite certain where this subject is, exactly. The style of construction is common in older neighborhoods around here. One thing that appeals to me about a photograph like this one is that it can be about many different things. On one hand it is a visual record of the urban architecture of a certain time and place. But it also, to me at least, also a little study in composition and forms, mainly rectangles. It also is a kind of minimalism, consisting of really only three colors — the dark windows, the blue wall, and the white window frame. There are two slightly mysterious elements that create visual dissonance for me. One is the diagonal shadow — really the only line in the scene that isn’t a perfect vertical or horizontal — that comes from some unknown and unseen source outside the frame. Another is that slightly dark and mysterious shaded area near the upper left.
G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, “California’s Fall Color: A Photographer’s Guide to Autumn in the Sierra” is available from Heyday Books, Amazon, and directly from G Dan Mitchell.