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This bodypainting was executed with khidab. Khidab is a Gall ink which is employed in Yemen mainly in the mountainous regions around the capital Sanaa instead of henna. For an account how it is made you can download an article:
Yemeni Women’s Body Painting with Black Gall Ink Khidab, Production Methods,
from my colleage Dr. Hanne Schönig at www.henna-und-mehr.de/pdf/Khidabartikel_eu.pdf; (Englisch)
or www.henna-und-mehr.de/pdf/schoenig_deutsch.pdf (German)
If you like to see original Yeminite bodypaintings with this ink visit: www.henna-und-mehr.de/de/khidabslide.html (German) or
Cavendish Mews is a smart set of flats in Mayfair where flapper and modern woman, the Honourable Lettice Chetwynd has set up home after coming of age and gaining her allowance. To supplement her already generous allowance, and to break away from dependence upon her family, Lettice has established herself as a society interior designer, so her flat is decorated with a mixture of elegant antique Georgian pieces and modern Art Deco furnishings, using it as a showroom for what she can offer to her well heeled clients.
Tonight however, we are at Simpson’s-in-the-Strand*, near Covent Garden and the theatre district of London’s West End. Here, amidst the thoroughly English surrounds of wooden panelling, beautifully executed watercolours of British landscapes and floral arrangements in muted colours, men in white waistcoats and women a-glitter with jewels are ushered into the dining room where they are seated in high backed chairs around tables dressed in crisp white tablecloths and set with sparkling silver and gilt china. The large room is very heavily populated with theatre patrons enjoying a meal before a show and therefore it is full of vociferous conversation, boisterous laughter, the clink of glasses and the scrape of cutlery against crockery as the diners enjoy the traditional English repast that Simpson’s is famous for. Seated at a table for two along the periphery of the main dining room, Lettice and Selwyn are served their roast beef dinner by a carver. Lettice is being taken to dinner by Selwyn to celebrate the successful completion of his very first architectural commission: a modest house built in the northern London suburb of Highgate built for a merchant and his wife. Lettice has her own reason to celebrate too, but has yet to elaborate upon it with Selwyn.
“I do so like Simpson’s.” Lettice remarks as the carver places a plate of steaming roast beef and vegetables in front of her. Glancing around her, she admires the two watercolours on the wall behind her and the jolly arrangement of yellow asters and purple and yellow pansies on the small console to her right.
“I’m glad you approve.” Selwyn laughs, smiling at his companion.
“I’m always put in mind of Mr. Wilcox whenever it’s mentioned, or I come here.”
“Who is Mr. Wilcox?” Selwyn asks, his handsome features showing the signs of deep thought.
“Oh,” Lettice laughs and flaps her hand, the jewels on her fingers winking gaily in the light. “No-one. Well, no one real, that is.” she clarifies. “Mr. Wilcox is a character in E. M. Forster’s novel, ‘Howard’s End’**, who thoroughly approves of Simpson’s because it is so thoroughly English and respectable, just like him.”
“I can’t say I’ve read that novel, or anything by him.” Selwyn admits as the carver places his serving of roast beef and vegetables before him. “My head has been too buried in books on architecture.” Selwyn reaches into the breast pocket of his white dinner vest and takes out a few coins which he slips discreetly to the man in the crisp white uniform and chef’s hat.
“Thank you, Your Grace,” the carver says, tapping the brim of his hat in deference to the Duke of Walmsford’s son before placing the roast beef, selection of vegetables in tureens and gravy onto the crisp white linen tabletop, and then wheeling his carving trolley away.
Lettice giggles as she picks up the gravy boat and pours steaming thick and rich dark reddish brown gravy over her dinner.
“Well, what’s so funny, my Angel?” Selwyn asks with a querying look as he accepts the gravy boat from Lettice’s outstretched hands and pours some on his own meal.
“Oh you are just like Mr. Wilcox.”
“You know,” He picks up his silver cutlery. “And please pardon me for saying this, but I didn’t take you for reading much more than romance novels.”
“Oh!” Lettice laughs in mild outrage. “Thank you very much, Selwyn!”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Selwyn defends himself, dropping his knife and fork with a clatter onto the fluted gilt edged white dinner plate.
“Then what do you mean?” Lettice asks, trying to remain serious as she looks into the worried face of her dinner companion, which makes her want to reach out and stroke his cheek affectionately and smile.
“I… I merely meant that most ladies of your background have had very little education, or inclination to want to read anything more than romance novels.”
“Well,” Lettice admits. “I must confess that I do quite enjoy romance novels, and I wouldn’t be as well read if it weren’t for Margot.”
“Aha!” Selwyn laughs, popping some carrots smeared in gravy into his mouth.
“But,” Lettice quickly adds in her defence. “I’ll have you know that my father is a great believer in the education of ladies, and so was my grandfather, and I applied myself when I studied, and I enjoyed it.”
“It shows my Angel,” Selwyn assures her. “You are far more interesting than any other lady I’ve met in polite society, most of whom haven’t an original thought in their heads.”
“I take after my Aunt Egg, who learned Greek amongst other languages, which served her well when she decided to go there to study ancient art. Although Mater insisted that I not go to a girl’s school, so I would not become a bluestocking*** and thereby spoil my marriage prospects by demonstrating…”
“That’s what I was implying,” Selwyn interrupts in desperate defence of his incorrect assumptions about Lettice. “Most girls I have met either feign a lack of intelligence, or more often genuinely are dim witted. Admittedly, it’s not really their fault. With mothers like yours, who believe that the only position for a girl of good breeding is that of marriage, they seldom get educated well, and their brains sit idle.”
“Well, I have a brain, and I know how to use it. Pater and Aunt Egg drummed into me the importance of intelligence as well as good manners and looks in women of society.”
“Well, there are a great many ladies whom I have met who could take a leaf out of your book. I know you have a mind of your own, my Angel,” Selwyn purrs. “And that’s one of the many attributes about you that I like. Having a conversation with you about art, or my passion of architecture, is so refreshing in comparison to speaking about floral arrangements or the weather, as I shall soon have to when I start escorting my cousin Pamela for the London Season.”
Lettice cannot help but shudder silently at the mention of Selwyn’s cousin, Pamela Fox-Chavers, for she is immediately reminded of what Sir John Nettleford-Hughes said to her at the society wedding of her friend Priscilla Kitson-Fahey to American Georgie Carter in November. He pointed out to her that Selwyn’s mother, Lady Zinnia, plans to match Selwyn and Pamela. From his point of view, it was already a fait accompli.
“I like my cousin,” Selwyn carries on, not noticing the bristle pulsating through Lettice. “But like so many of the other debutantes of 1923, she is lacking interests beyond the marriage market and social gossip and intrigues. You, on the other hand, my Angel, are well informed, and have your own opinions.”
“Well, you can thank Pater for instilling that in me. He hired some very intelligent governesses to school my sister and I in far more than embroidery, floral arranging and polite conversation.”
“And I’m jolly glad of it, my darling.”
“And Aunt Egg told me that I should never be afraid to express my opinion, however different, so long as it is artfully couched.”
“I like the sound of your Aunt Egg.”
“I don’t think your mother would approve of her, nor of me having a brain, Selwyn. Would she? I’m sure she would prefer you to marry one of those twittering and decorous debutantes.” She tries her luck. “Like your cousin Pamela, perhaps?”
“Oh, come now, Lettice darling!” Selwyn replies. If she has thrown a bone, he isn’t taking it as he rests the heels of his hands on the edge of the white linen tablecloth, clutching his cutlery. He chews his mouthful of roast beef before continuing. “That isn’t fair, even to Zinnia. She’s a very intelligent woman herself, with quite a capacity for witty conversation about all manner of topics, and she reads voraciously on many subjects.”
“I was talking to Leslie about what his impressions of your mother were when I went down to Glynes**** for his wedding in November.”
“Were you now?” Selwyn’s eyebrows arch with surprise over his widening eyes.
“Yes,” Lettice smirks, taking a mouthful of roast potato drizzled in gravy which falls apart on her tongue. Chewing her food, she feels emboldened, and sighs contentedly as she wonders whether Sir John was just spitting sour grapes because she prefers Selwyn’s company rather than his. Finishing her mouthful she elucidates, “Leslie is a few years older than us, and of course, I only remember her as that angry woman in black who pulled you away after we’d played in the hedgerows.”
“Well, she obviously left a lasting impression on you!” Selwyn chortles.
“But it isn’t a fair one, is it?” she asks rhetorically. “So, I asked Leslie what he remembered of her from time they spent together in the drawing room whilst you and I were tucked up in bed in the nursery.”
“And what was Leslie’s impression of Zinnia?”
“That, as you say, she is a witty woman, and that she liked to hold men in her thrall with her beauty, wit and intelligence.”
“Well, he’s quite right about that.”
“But that she didn’t much like other ladies for company, especially intelligent ones who might draw the gentlemen’s attention away from her glittering orbit.”
Selwyn chews his mouthful of dinner and concentrates on his dinner plate with downcast, contemplative eyes. He swallows but remains silent for a moment longer as he mulls over his own thoughts.
After a few moments of silence, Lettice airs an unspoken thought that has been ruminating about her head ever since Selwyn mentioned her. “You know, I’d love to meet Zinnia.”
Selwyn chuckles but looks down darkly into his glass of red wine. “But you have met her, Lettice darling. You just said so yourself. She was that angry woman yelling at you as I was dragged from the hedgerows of your father’s estate.”
“I know, but that doesn’t count! We were children. No, I’ve heard of her certainly over the years, but now that I’ve become reacquainted with you as an adult, and now that we are being serious with one another.” She pauses. “We are being serious with one another, aren’t we Selwyn?”
“Of course we are, Lettice.” Selwyn replies, unable to keep his irritation at her question out of his voice. “You know we are.” Falling back into silence, he runs his tongue around the inside of his cheek as he retreats back into his own inner most thoughts.
“Then I’d so very much like to meet her. You have met my toadying mother. Why shouldn’t I meet yours?”
“Be careful what you wish for, my Angel.” he cautions.
“What do you mean, Selwyn darling?”
Selwyn doesn’t answer straight away. He absently fiddles with the silver salt shaker from the cruet set in front of him, rolling its bulbous form about in his palm, as if considering whether it will give him an answer of some kind.
“Selwyn?” Lettice asks, leaning over and putting a hand on her companion’s broad shoulder.
“Just that you may not like her when you meet her.” He shrugs. “That’s all. Toadying is certainly not a word I would associate with Zinnia on any given day, that’s for certain.”
“Or you might be implying she might not like me.” Lettice remarks downheartedly. “Is that it?”
Softening his tone, Selwyn assures her, “I like you, and I’m sure she will too. You will get to meet her soon enough, Lettice darling. I promise. But not yet.” He suddenly snaps out of his contemplations and starts to cut a piece off his roast beef, slicing into the juicy flesh with sharp jabs of his knife. “We have plenty of time for all that. Let’s just enjoy us for now, and be content with that.”
“Oh of course, Selwyn darling,” Lettice stammers. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean, now.”
“I know you didn’t may angel.” He sees the look of concern she is giving him as she stiffens and sits back in her straight backed chair, afraid that she has offended him. “I just like it being just us for now, without the complication of Zinnia.”
“Is she complicated?”
“More than you’ll ever know, my angel. Aren’t most mothers?”
“I suppose.”
“Anyway, enough about Zinnia! I don’t want this evening to be about Zinnia! I want it to be about us. So not another word about her. Alright?” When Lettice nods shallowly, he continues, “I’m here to celebrate the success of Mr. and Mrs. Musgrave of Highgate being happy with their newly completed home.”
“Oh yes! Your first architectural commission completed and received with great success!” Lettice enthuses. “Let’s raise a toast to that.” She picks up her glass of red wine, which gleams under the diffused light of the chandeliers in Simpson’s dining room. “Cheers to you Selwyn, and your ongoing success.”
Their glasses clink cheerily.
“And what of Bruton?”
“Oh, Gerald is doing very well!” Lettice assures Selwyn, returning her glass to the tabletop. “His couture business is really starting to flourish.”
“It’s a bit of rum business*****, a chap making frocks for ladies, isn’t it?” Selwyn screws up his nose in a mixture of a lack of comprehension and distaste.
“It’s what he’s good at,” Lettice tugs at the peacock blue ruched satin sleeve of her evening gown as proof, feeling proud to wear one of her friend’s designs. “And he’s hardly the first couturier who’s a man, is he, Selwyn Darling?”
“I suppose not. Zinnia does buy frocks from the house of Worth******, and he was a man.”
“Exactly.” Lettice soothes. “And who would know what suits a lady better than a man?”
“Yes, and I must say,” Selwyn says, looking his companion up and down appreciatively in her shimmering evening gown covered in matching peacock blue bugle beads. “You do look positively ravishing in his creation.”
“Thank you, Selwyn.” Lettice murmurs, her face flushing at the compliment.
“We never see him at the club any more. I think the last time I saw him was the night I met you at your parents’ Hunt Ball, and that was almost a year ago.”
“Oh well,” Lettice blusters awkwardly, thinking quickly as to what excuse she can give for her dearest friend. She knows how dire Gerald’s finances are, partially as a result of his father’s pecuniary restraints, and she suspects that this fact is likely the reason why Gerald doesn’t attend his club any longer, even if he is still a member. Even small outlays at his club could tilt him the wrong way financially. However she also knows that this is a fact not widely known, and it would embarrass him so much were it to become public knowledge, especially courtesy of her, his best friend. “Running a business, especially in its infancy like Gerald’s and mine, can take time, a great deal of time as a matter of fact.”
“But you have time, my Angel, to spend time with me.” He eyes her. “Are you covering for Bruton?”
Lettice’s face suddenly drains of colour at Selwyn’s question. “No… no, I.”
Lowering his voice again, Selwyn asks, “He hasn’t taken after his brother and found himself an unsuitable girl, has he?”
Lettice releases the breath she has held momentarily in her chest and sighs.
“I know Gerald wouldn’t go for a local publican’s daughter, like Roland did, but being artistic like he is, I could imagine him with a chorus girl, and I know if news of that ever got back to Old Man Bruton, there would be fireworks, and it would be a bloody******* time for Bruton. Poor chap!”
“No, no, Selwyn darling!” Lettice replies with genuine relief. “I can assure you,” And as she puts her hand to her thumping heart, she knows she speaks the truth. “Gerald hasn’t taken up with a chorus girl. He genuinely is busy with his couture business. Establishing oneself, as you know only too well, isn’t easy, even for a duke’s son, much less a lower member of the aristocracy without the social profile. And my business is ticking along quite nicely now, so I don’t need to put in as much effort as Gerald does.”
“But how selfish of me, my Angel!” Selwyn exclaims, putting his glass down abruptly and looking to his companion. “What a prig I’m being, aggrandising myself and bringing up Bruton, when you said that you had something to celebrate tonight too. What is it?”
“Oh, it’s nothing like you’ve done, by finishing a house for someone.” Lettice says, flapping her hand dismissively.
“Well, what is it, Lettice darling?” Selwyn insists. “Tell me!”
Lettice looks down at her plate for a moment and then remarks rather offhandedly, “It was only that I had a telephone call from Henry Tipping******** the other day, and received confirmation that my interior for Dickie and Margot Channon’s Cornwall house ‘Chi an Treth’ will be featured in an upcoming edition of Country Life.”
“Oh may Angel!” Selwyn exclaims. “That’s wonderful!” He leans over and kisses her affectionately, albeit with the reserve that is expected between two unmarried people whilst dining in a public place, but with no less genuine delight for her. “That’s certainly more than nothing, and is something also worth celebrating!” I say, let’s raise a toast to you.” He picks up his glass of red wine again. “Cheers to you Lettice, and may the article bring you lots of recognition and new business.”
The pair clink glasses yet again and smile at one another.
*After a modest start in 1828 as a smoking room and soon afterwards as a coffee house, Simpson's-in-the-Strand achieved a dual fame, around 1850, for its traditional English food, particularly roast meats, and also as the most important venue in Britain for chess in the Nineteenth Century. Chess ceased to be a feature after Simpson's was bought by the Savoy Hotel group of companies at the end of the Nineteenth Century, but as a purveyor of traditional English food, Simpson's has remained a celebrated dining venue throughout the Twentieth Century and into the Twenty-First Century. P.G. Wodehouse called it "a restful temple of food"
**Howards End is a novel by E. M. Forster, first published in 1910, about social conventions, codes of conduct and relationships in turn-of-the-century England. Howards End is considered by many to be Forster's masterpiece. The book was conceived in June 1908 and worked on throughout the following year; it was completed in July 1910
***The term bluestocking was applied to any of a group of women who in mid Eighteenth Century England held “conversations” to which they invited men of letters and members of the aristocracy with literary interests. The word over the passing centuries has come to be applied derisively to a woman who affects literary or learned interests.
****Glynes is the grand Georgian family seat of the Chetwynds in Wiltshire, and the home of Lettice’s parents, the presiding Viscount and Countess of Wrexham and the heir, their eldest son Leslie.
*****Rum is a British slang word that means odd (in a negative way) or disreputable.
******Charles Frederick Worth was an English fashion designer who founded the House of Worth, one of the foremost fashion houses of the Nineteenth and early Twentieth centuries. He is considered by many fashion historians to be the father of haute couture. Worth is also credited with revolutionising the business of fashion. Established in Paris in 1858, his fashion salon soon attracted European royalty, and where they led monied society followed. An innovative designer, he adapted 19th-century dress to make it more suited to everyday life, with some changes said to be at the request of his most prestigious client Empress Eugénie. He was the first to replace the fashion dolls with live models in order to promote his garments to clients, and to sew branded labels into his clothing; almost all clients visited his salon for a consultation and fitting – thereby turning the House of Worth into a society meeting point. By the end of his career, his fashion house employed 1,200 people and its impact on fashion taste was far-reaching.
*******The old fashioned British term “looking bloody” was a way of indicating how dour or serious a person or occasion looks.
********Henry Tipping (1855 – 1933) was a French-born British writer on country houses and gardens, garden designer in his own right, and Architectural Editor of the British periodical Country Life for seventeen years between 1907 and 1910 and 1916 and 1933. After his appointment to that position in 1907, he became recognised as one of the leading authorities on the history, architecture, furnishings and gardens of country houses in Britain. In 1927, he became a member of the first committee of the Gardens of England and Wales Scheme, later known as the National Gardens Scheme.
Comfortable, cosy and terribly English, the interior of Simpson’s-in-the-Strand may look real to you, but it is in fact made up of pieces from my 1:12 miniatures collection, including pieces from my childhood.
The dining table is correctly set for a four course Edwardian dinner partially ended, with the first course already concluded using cutlery, from Beautifully Handmade Miniatures in Kettering in the United Kingdom. The delicious looking roast dinner on the dinner plates, the bowls of vegetables, roast potatoes, boat of gravy and Yorkshire puddings and on the tabletop have been made in England by hand from clay by former chef turned miniature artisan, Frances Knight. Her work is incredibly detailed and realistic, and she says that she draws her inspiration from her years as a chef and her imagination. The red wine glasses bought them from a miniatures stockist on E-Bay. Each glass is hand blown using real glass. The silver cruet set in the middle of the table has been made with great attention to detail, and comes from Warwick Miniatures in Ireland, who are well known for the quality and detail applied to their pieces. The silver meat cover you can just see in the background to the left of the photo also comes from Warwick Miniatures.
The table on which all these items stand is a Queen Anne lamp table which I was given for my seventh birthday. It is one of the very first miniature pieces of furniture I was ever given as a child. The Queen Anne dining chairs were all given to me as a Christmas present when I was around the same age.
The vase of flowers in the background I acquired from Kathleen Knight’s Dolls House Miniatures in the United Kingdom.
The wood panelling in the background is real, as I shot this scene on the wood panelled mantle of my drawing room. The paintings hanging from the wooden panels come from an online stockist on E-Bay.
Executed in the last years of his life, The Shadow testifies to Magritte's continuing commitment to Surrealism. Decades after giving the teasing title to his most famous painting, a Surrealist still life inscribed "this is not a pipe"
Magritte here revisits the iconography of his best-known work. The same modest, masculine identified object hovers ominously in The Shadows, inspired by what the artist would term the "logic" dreams. Trasnscending the bounds of the phenomenal world, the painter has enlarged the image of the pipe to the scale of a tree. While the latter occupies a relatively believable space within the composition, the focus of the work is the synthesis of the pipe and the tree, and the paradox of the conflicting ideas about reality they represent.
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This meticulously executed preparatory drawing documents the initial conception of a dramatic and monumental composition, now at the Louvre, that would become a seminal work in the artist’s oeuvre. Although Girodet would go on to produce numerous figurative studies, the Gallery’s recently rediscovered sheet is one of three compositional sketches for this painting and, as far as we know, the only preparatory work for A Deluge Scene outside of France.
Welcome distinguished spectators! Gather around and stick your necks out to catch a glimpse of these fine axes... and of course these fine craftsmen excelling in the art of death. They are the sharp blade of justice sending the guilty on their final journey, so we might live in peace and prosperity. And while the next sinner steps up to the chopping block, you may choose your favorite executioner to do the honor. And then step back a little... justice is a bloody business!
This image suddenly popped into my head last week and I started the process of executing it. I wanted to use real imagery as much as possible and not resort to using stock images or try to imitate the sea too much in photoshop. I began by looking for a model lighthouse, but in Windhoek that is (almost) impossible. Eventually a toy shop sold me a 3D lighthouse puzzle which I opted for. The ship is one of Marco's so I was fortunate not to have to try and look for, or purchase one.
I wanted to shoot a stormy sea with a ship in peril, so our neglected winter swimming pool proved ideal. Kiara helped me create the waves. I shot the lighthouse and ship separately. I used one of my high studio chairs and dropped it into the pool and then placed a huge flat rock onto it to form the base for the lighthouse. The lighthouse nearly sank twice but we managed to salvage it before it was gone.
I shot Kiara with the large bowl separately in the studio with some dirty pool water..
The rest was pure photoshop magic...
I have placed two of the original shots in the comments.
Please don't use any of my images on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit written permission. © All rights reserved
Have a good weekend.. and father's day if you celebrate!
At Pastor Charles Calvin's house, there is much preparation for the Thanksgiving meal. Before the guests begin arriving, Pastor Calvin seizes a moment to be alone with God, in His Word.
"The Lord lives, and blessed be my rock; And exalted be the God of my salvation, The God who executes vengeance for me, And subdues peoples under me. He delivers me from my enemies; Surely You lift me above those who rise up against me; You rescue me from the violent man. Therefore I will give thanks to You among the nations, O Lord, And I will sing praises to Your name." Psalm 18:46-49
"Lord, I thank You for Your kind protection. Here we are, about to celebrate another Thanksgiving, another day set aside to acknowledge our express gratitude to You, and You alone.
Father, this old chest beside me. It has things in it that are special to us in this life and, though it is old now, it has faithfully kept the contents secure.
How much more, Father, have you protected us? Not only have you secured us for this life, but in Your salvation through Christ Jesus, for all eternity. And that is the far greater. You have protected us thus far and whatever dangers You allow to come our way in the future, and whatever may befall, I thank you that the greater has been done, and our souls are safe.
Lord, we cannot number the protections we know, and then the ways You have protected from things we do not know are greater still. Thank you, Father, for Your gracious protection on me and my family."
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Because of man’s sin and the subsequent curse that poisoned the perfection of God’s creation, the world is often a dangerous place. People suffer every day from natural disasters, crime, car accidents, poor health, and more. It’s natural to seek protection from the pain and sorrow of life. Does the Bible promise us the protection of God when we become part of His eternal family?
There are many verses in God’s Word that seem to promise God’s physical protection. For example, Psalm 121:3 says, “He will not let your foot slip—he who watches over you will not slumber.” In verse 7 the psalmist declares, “The LORD will keep you from all harm—he will watch over your life.” As Israel entered the Promised Land, God promised them that He would never leave or forsake them (Deuteronomy 31:6).
At first glance, it does seem that God promises to protect His children from harm. But if that were the case, why do so many Christians around the world struggle with persecution, illness, loss, accidents, and injuries? We all know Christians whose “foot” has “slipped.” Is God breaking His promise, or are we missing something?
First of all, we should interpret the Old Testament promises of physical safety in the context of the Mosaic Covenant. As the children of Israel were obedient to the covenant, God promised them various material and physical blessings—on their crops, livestock, children, etc. (Deuteronomy 28). The Old Covenant was very much concerned with earthly blessings, and physical protection was among them. This was the basis for Hezekiah’s prayer when he was smitten with a fatal illness (2 Kings 20:1–6). Throughout the Old Testament, we see God protecting His people in order to bring His plans to pass (e.g., Exodus 1:22—2:10; 1 Kings 17:1–6; Jonah 1).
It is important to understand that we are under the New Covenant, not the Old. God does not promise to keep believers in Christ from all physical harm. There are certainly times when He does mercifully shield us from situations where we would sustain injury or loss. Paul and Luke’s survival of the shipwreck in Acts 27 and Paul’s imperviousness to the snakebite in Acts 28 are cases in point. Today, however, God’s promises to believers usually refer to spiritual protection.
When we believe in Jesus Christ for salvation, the Holy Spirit immediately enters our lives. We are sealed for eternity and brought under God’s spiritual protection from that moment on. This means that, regardless of our future sins or the schemes of Satan, we will never lose the salvation God has granted (2 Timothy 1:12). There is nothing that can ever separate us from God’s love (Romans 8:38–39). In addition, we are given freedom from the dominion of sin—we are no longer slaves to sinful thoughts, desires, and actions, but are born into a new life of holiness (Romans 6:22).
Throughout our lives, God will continue to “guard [our] hearts and [our] minds in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:7), providing the strength, peace, and perseverance we need to make it through any test or trial. His Spirit grows in us fruit that will strengthen our Christian walk (Galatians 5:22–23), and He provides us with powerful tools with which we can fend off the enemy’s spiritual attacks (Ephesians 6:10–17).
There is nothing wrong with asking for physical protection from God, as long as we realize He does not always see fit to grant it. He knows we are strengthened by the trials that come our way, and in each physical trial, we are assured of His spiritual protection. So, rather than seeking complete physical protection from God, we can agree with James when he says, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance” (James 1:2–3).
- From the article:
"How Can I Receive The Protection of God?"
Got Questions dot Org
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Happy Thanksgiving 2022 as we at Paprihaven celebrate gratitude through God through the Psalms!
Previous Thanksgiving at Paprihaven!
2015:
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/23317280855/
2016:
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/31221411415/
2017:
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/38546538356/
2018:
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/30990317087/
2019:
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/49121920807/
2020:
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/50630434036/
2021:
shot executed by pinhole Auloma Superpanorama 6x17, Filter auloma ND4, negative scanned by Canon EOS 1100D, 120 film Kodak ektar 100
I think that trying to execute a photo and have it come out right is one of my favorite processes to photography. Just the prep work of finding a book then folding the pages (in the center of the book) and then getting all my colored lights out and trying to balance the exposure of how bright they are and then adding in composition and attempt #1 begins --shot-then replace --shoot again --move lights fix composition --re-shoot and keep setting up lights that fall and adjusting exposure and somewhere in between all of that this is what happened. Theres a lot of other patterns in this photo like how all the 5 pages almost make up a flower shape and as well if you just look at the green and blue pages its a shape of a heart as well as some of the other pages like the purple and blue ones to. So this was day 141 and i had fun setting up this image and glad it came out like how i had in my head ----Specs below
Specs and Strobist
Book was on table with the pages folded inwards and each page has colored light at the back of the page lighting from the inside, except the yellow light is actually a yellow gel held in front of my iphone flashlight and turned on for a second to get the yellow I also had a sb-800 paper towel diffused and fired that on manual mode from camera right (snooted with my hand) for a touch of normal colored fill on the book pages and after that i lit the front of the bottom of the book with another mini light.
Total exposure was 13 seconds for the red, green blu and purple lights and the yellow was an off and on fast i phone gelled light.
sooc
museumPASSmusees 2021 - Mima - Double Bill
'DRAMA', The Art Of Laurent Durieux
'Laurent Durieux's magnificent work elevates poster art to a high level. The stunningly executed images express the ideas and themes of the films he has chosen in new terms. They communicate a lot without words and are part of the wonderful tradition of illustrative art. '
Francis Ford Coppola
The exhibition presents around a hundred original posters of the Belgian artist, internationally acclaimed by moviegoers.
THE ABC OF PORN CINEMA
(Prohibited under 18 year old)
In 2013, the ABC, Brussels' last old-school adult cinema still showing 35mm films, was shut down. Its archive, meticulously built over the forty years of its existence, was salvaged by Cinema Nova, allowing the veil of a bygone era devoured by the digital revolution to be lifted.
The exhibition 'The ABC of Porn Cinema' spans four decades of activity by the aforementioned theatre, and in doing so recalls the world that surrounded it. Through numerous documents, posters, hand-painted billboards, engraved press plates and censored photos retrieved from the ABC, plus an accompanying art installation, an obscure part of our culture destined to be buried in the annals of history can once again be rediscovered and reappraised. Indeed, these historical archives are exceptional and unique, unafraid to indulge in humour or to drum up reflection and controversy.
An exhibition created by the Nova cinema and the MIMA with the participation of the Gogolplex collective
( 200 musees
Des maintenant, vous pouvez visiter tous les musees participants pendant un an. Pas une fois, mais aussi souvent que vous le souhaitez !
297 expositions
Vous pouvez egalement visiter les expositions temporaires des musees participants gratuitement ou a un tarif fortement reduit.
1 pass musees
Tout ceci avec seulement 1 pass.
"Gentleman, you are approaching the black out range on the Monolith's portals, may all luck in the universe be with you. Once you dive through those gateways, its you and your pressure suit, and you may never see another human again. Godspeed."
My build for Day 5 of vignweek, which I'm not super happy with considering the space theme was right up my alley. The original plan involved a big piece of a minifig scale dropship allowing a trooper to dive into the portals, but I couldn't execute a version I was happy with in the time frame.
Mecabricks: mecabricks.com/en/models/VzvMZ64qaJp
Instagram: @umbramanis
Dunstanburgh Castle was built in the second decade of the 14th century by Thomas, Earl of Lancaster (died 1322), the wealthiest nobleman in England and leader of the baronial opposition to his cousin Edward II and successive royal favourites.The castle was built on an impractically massive scale, particularly its great south gatehouse, but much of the area inside its curtain walls was always empty and unoccupied.
Earl Thomas was later executed for his role in the barons’ rebellion against Edward II and the castle’s next main building phase consisted of an intense period of modernisation in the 1380s under John of Gaunt (who died in 1399). At the end of the Middle Ages, the castle fell into disrepair and became ever more ruinous as stone was removed for use elsewhere.
Italien / Südtirol - Schloss Prösels
Prösels Castle (German: Schloss Prösels; Italian: Castello di Presule) is a castle in the Gothic style which stands on the high plain below the Schlern mountain, in South Tyrol. Prösels is a location within the municipal boundaries of the commune of Völs am Schlern (Fiè allo Sciliar).
History
The castle was first named in a document from 1279, as castrum Presil, whereas the settlement close to the castle compares in 1373 as Bresels. It is believed that the lords of Völs, feudatories of the Bishopric of Brixen, had built the castle here just by 1200. Today the central palace with a Romanesque archway are surviving parts of this first fortress.
In Italian it is sometimes called Castel Colonna, reflecting the fact that around the time of Leonhard II the Völs (Fiè) family started to add the Colonna family name to their own. The reason for this is unclear, although a number of hypotheses have been advanced. According to some the family originated as a branch of the Colonnas who came to Tyrol in the twelfth century; others believe that Leonhard II, fighting alongside Marcantonio Colonna (1535–1584) at the Battle of Lepanto, was affirming his family’s origins in the Colonnas of Tusculum. A third version speculates that Marcantonio adopted Leonhard in order to enable the latter to display his membership of the noble Roman dynasty. Most probably, perhaps, Leonhard II simply requested and obtained the right to add the name Colonna to his own.
The Gothic castle of today was built by Leonhard of Völs (born 1458). He was the administrator of the salt mines of Hall in Tirol, a highly profitable position, furthermore he was married three times to wealthy noblewomen, which enabled him to spend extravagantly on the expansion of his castle. In 1498 Leonhard, thanks to his friendship with the Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I and Archduke of Austria, became governor of the County of Tyrol. Leonhard showed his gratitude by including the emperor on one of the frescoes in the newly built arcade of his castle.
During the Peasants' War of 1525 the castle was briefly occupied by the revolting subservient farmers, who burnt all the documents in the vain hope of destroying all proof of their debts and tithes. The uprising was squashed and six leaders executed. Leonhard of Völs also instigated the burning of nine local woman for witchcraft. To deflect blame placed on him by his subjects for a high infant mortality rate, Leonhard found nine women, had them tortured and after they confessed burnt at the stake for witchcraft. Most probably the high infant mortality was due to the farmers being starved and very poor owing to Leonhard's very high taxes. The woman confessed that they had "stolen the babies and ridden on their brooms to the Schlern where they had eaten the babies together with the devil." The many local legends about the so-called Schlernhexen (Schlern witches) date back to this time.
The castle remained in the hands of the family until its last member, Felix, Freiherr von Völs, died childless in 1810. For the next 50 years the castle stood empty and nearly fell into ruins. Between 1860 and 1978 the castle changed hands no fewer than 14 times, suffering periods of decay followed by attempted restoration before finally being abandoned to its fate. However, in 1981 the Kuratorium Schloss Prösels (Prösels Castle Curatorship) was formed to restore the building; the work was completed the following year.
Visiting the castle
Guided visits are available during the summer months and during the Christmas holidays, various cultural events are held here including concerts, exhibitions and theatrical performances. Permanent displays include:
A collection of weapons and suits of armour
The "Batzenhäusl" restaurant collection of paintings (The "Batzenhäusl" being the oldest restaurant in the city of Bolzano)
A modern art collection
(Wikipedia)
Das Schloss Prösels liegt in der Gemeinde Völs am Schlern östlich von Bozen in Südtirol. Es ist die Stammburg der Herren von Völs, erstmals im Jahr 1279 urkundlich als „castrum Presil“ genannt, jedoch wahrscheinlich schon um 1200 errichtet. Ihre Blütezeit erlebte die Burg Anfang des 16. Jahrhunderts, als sie Leonhard der Ältere von Völs zu einer prunkvollen, spätgotischen Schlossanlage ausbauen ließ. Nach dem Aussterben der Herren von Völs und etlichen Besitzerwechseln wurde das Schloss im Jahr 1978 vom Kuratorium Schloss Prösels GmbH erworben. Heute finden auf dem Schlossgelände neben den traditionellen Schlossführungen auch zahlreiche kulturelle Veranstaltungen statt, wie z. B. Konzerte, Ausstellungen und Theateraufführungen.
Geographische Lage
Auf dem Weg vom im Talgrund des Eisacktals gelegenen Blumau ins mittelgebirgige Schlerngebiet befindet sich auf der rechten Seite ein markanter Felskopf, auf dem sich das alte Schloss Prösels erhebt. Es liegt in der Ortschaft Prösels, welche zur Gemeinde Völs am Schlern zählt und zwischen den beiden größeren Gemeindefraktionen Völs und Völser Aicha liegt.
Geschichte
Historische Anfänge
Erstmals wird die mittelalterliche Burg („castrum Presil“) in einer Urkunde aus dem Jahre 1279 erwähnt, während die Burgsiedlung im Jahr 1373 als „Bresels“ bezeugt ist. Laut Schneller liegt dem Namen lateinisch praesulis ‚dem Bischof gehörig‘ zugrunde. Erbaut wurde die Burg von den Herren von Völs, welche zunächst den Bischöfen von Brixen dienten. Zuerst wurde die Burg nach der dortigen Kapelle benannt, anschließend jedoch als Burg Prösels oder Burg Völs bezeichnet, da sie sich nicht weit vom Hauptdorf Völs befand. Nachdem der Machtbereich der Bischöfe von Brixen und Trient eingeschränkt wurde, erhielten die Herren von Völs als landesfürstliche Ministerialen die Burg.
Leonhard der Ältere von Völs war der bedeutendste Burgherr. Er nahm in jungen Jahren am Krieg gegen Venedig (1508–1516) teil und bekleidete von 1498 bis zu seinem Tod im Jahre 1530 das Amt des Landeshauptmannes an der Etsch und Burggrafen zu Tirol. Leonhard wirkte vor allem als Gutsverwalter und war mit dem Habsburgerkaiser Maximillian I. eng befreundet. Sein Leben war aber nicht nur durch seine administrativen Aufgaben gekennzeichnet, sondern fand auch in den Völser Hexenprozessen von 1506 und 1510 und dem Bauernaufstand von 1525 einen Höhepunkt. Leonhards größte Hinterlassenschaft stellt aber sicherlich das Schloss selbst dar, das er zum größten Teil erbauen ließ und bis heute fast gänzlich erhalten ist.
Völser Hexenprozesse
Vor 500 Jahren fanden auf Schloss Prösels Hexenprozesse statt, die für ungefähr 30 Menschen mit dem Todesurteil durch Verbrennen endeten. Nicht nur Frauen wurden der Hexerei beschuldigt, auch zwei Männer kosteten die Prozesse das Leben. Den Schuldigen warf man vor, sich dem Teufel unterworfen zu haben. Die Anklageschriften bezichtigten die Angeklagten des Mordes an den eigenen Kindern und beschuldigten sie, auf Besen durch die Luft geritten zu sein und an Teufelstänzen teilgenommen zu haben. Allerdings konnte bis heute nicht einwandfrei geklärt werden, an welcher Stelle die Hexenverbrennungen stattfanden.
Zum Gedenken an den ersten Hexenprozess im südlichen Teil Tirols haben die Gemeinden Völs und Kastelruth 2006 eine Skulptur mit Gedenktafel auf Schloss Prösels angebracht. Am 18. August 2006 wurde das historische Drama Anna Jobstin im Burghof von Schloss Prösels uraufgeführt. Anna Jobstin war die erste Angeklagte in der Hexenverfolgung von 1506.
Kuratorium Schloss Prösels
1978 erwarb das neu gebildete Kuratorium Schloss Prösels die Burg. Dieses Konsortium aus Privatpersonen und den Gemeinden des Schlerngebietes (Kastelruth, Völs) sowie der Gemeinde Tiers ist bis heute der Schlossbesitzer. Nach abgeschlossener Restaurierung der Anlage wird sie seit dem Jahr 1982 als Austragungsort von verschiedenen kulturellen Veranstaltungen und für Führungen genutzt.
Am 5. Juli 2014 trafen sich Ministerpräsident Matteo Renzi und Bundeskanzler Werner Faymann anlässlich einer Tagung auf Schloss Prösels, womit es erstmals zu einer Zusammenkunft eines italienischen und österreichischen Regierungschefs auf Südtiroler Boden kam.
Sehenswertes
Kapelle
Ebenso von Leonhard erbaut wurde die Kapelle auf Schloss Prösels, welche der Heiligen Anna geweiht ist. Durch die Form des Portals und des Netzrippengewölbes erkennt man deutlich, dass die Kapelle aus dem 3. Jahrzehnt des 16. Jahrhunderts stammt. Besonders bemerkenswert am Gebäude ist ohne Zweifel die handwerklich herausragende Ausführung der baulichen Details.
Waffensammlung
Die Waffensammlung des Franz Anton von Kofler kam nach der Restaurierung des Schlosses als Leihgabe der Südtiroler Landesregierung auf die Burg. Die meisten der ausgestellten Objekte stammen aus dem 19. Jahrhundert und kommen unter anderem von den Schlachtfeldern in Solferino und Custoza (Italienische Unabhängigkeitskriege). Aber auch Stücke aus der Zeit Leonhards sind im Waffensaal zu finden. Besonders kurios ist die Rüstung eines Samuraikämpfers aus dem fernen Orient.
Ausstellungsgalerie
Im sogenannten „Tischlerhaus“ auf Schloss Prösels finden seit dem Jahre 1982 in den Sommermonaten immer wieder Kunstausstellungen verschiedener Maler und Bildhauer statt. Jeder Künstler, der im Schloss seitdem zu Gast war, hinterließ jeweils ein Werk seiner Ausstellung. Somit bildete sich im Laufe der Jahre eine umfangreiche Bilder- und Skulpturensammlung, die im Rahmen der Schlossführungen besichtigt werden kann. In den Räumlichkeiten der Burg sind auch Kunstwerke der bekannten Künstlerin Lotte Copì zu finden. Außerdem sind im ehemaligen Wohntrakt der Herren von Völs die 98 verbliebenen Werke der berühmten Batzenhäusl-Sammlung aus Bozen zur Besichtigung ausgestellt.
Pulverturm
Etwas oberhalb von Schloss Prösels befindet sich der geschichtlich eng mit der Anlage verbundene Pulverturm, ein bergfriedartiger Wehrturm.
Kulturelle Darbietungen
Im Sommer werden im Schloss täglich Führungen angeboten. Außerdem finden kulturelle Veranstaltungen mit Musik, Kunst und Theater statt. Das Schloss kann für private Veranstaltungen, wie z. B. Hochzeiten oder sonstige Feiern, für einen Tag angemietet werden.
(Wikipedia)
Almost an optical illusion. We loved that garden.
Beautiful flowers at Reford Gardens.
Visit : www.refordgardens.com/
Ripples in water. Concentric circles in water.
MAKING CIRCLES IN THE WATER (2011)
Faire des ronds dans l'eau (2011)
Balmori Associates, New York, USA.
Visit: www.balmori.com
GROUNDED IN ECOLOGY
Balmori Associates is an international urban and landscape design firm founded by Diana Balmori. Balmori Associates is recognized across the globe for its creative interfacing of landscape and architecture and expanding the boundaries between nature and structure. As distinguished leaders in the field of urban design and the design of innovative public spaces Balmori Associates gives form to the processes of sustainability, producing ‘green infrastructures’ while revealing the constructed and natural operations of a site.
Balmori Associates strives to achieve the highest standards of environmental responsibility by rooting our work in two basic sustainable design principles: Low-Impact and Regenerative . Low-Impact to reduce potential detrimental effects of local and project-related construction, development or consumption and to minimize environmental impacts, while sustaining the health and resilience of ecological systems. Regenerative Design to integrate building systems within landscape for resource renewal and the restoration of constructed landscape.
Our diverse portfolio includes executed projects at all scales, and award-winning competitions and has garnered numerous awards for design excellence; and sustainability is a central concern in all our work. In 1998, Balmori Associates’ Master Plan won the international competition for the waterfront development of the Abandoibarra district of Bilbao, Spain. We provided design leadership on the greenroof at Silvercup Studios in Queens, New York, the largest scientifically monitored green roof in the United States. In the fall of 2012 Korean Prime Minister and several ministries moved from Seoul to Sejong, South Korea new multifunctional administrative city, a zero-waste urban plan designed by Balmori Associates. (Info from Balmori's website)
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LES JARDINS DE MÉTIS | REFORD GARDENS
Visit : www.refordgardens.com/
From Wikipedia:
Elsie Stephen Meighen - born January 22, 1872, Perth, Ontario - and Robert Wilson Reford - born in 1867, Montreal - got married on June 12, 1894.
Elsie Reford was a pioneer of Canadian horticulture, creating one of the largest private gardens in Canada on her estate, Estevan Lodge in eastern Québec. Located in Grand-Métis on the south shore of the St. Lawrence River, her gardens have been open to the public since 1962 and operate under the name Les Jardins de Métis and Reford Gardens.
Born January 22, 1872 at Perth, Ontario, Elsie Reford was the eldest of three children born to Robert Meighen and Elsie Stephen. Coming from modest backgrounds themselves, Elsie’s parents ensured that their children received a good education. After being educated in Montreal, she was sent to finishing school in Dresden and Paris, returning to Montreal fluent in both German and French, and ready to take her place in society.
She married Robert Wilson Reford on June 12, 1894. She gave birth to two sons, Bruce in 1895 and Eric in 1900. Robert and Elsie Reford were, by many accounts, an ideal couple. In 1902, they built a house on Drummond Street in Montreal. They both loved the outdoors and they spend several weeks a year in a log cabin they built at Lac Caribou, south of Rimouski. In the autumn they hunted for caribou, deer, and ducks. They returned in winter to ski and snowshoe. Elsie Reford also liked to ride. She had learned as a girl and spent many hours riding on the slopes of Mount Royal. And of course, there was salmon-fishing – a sport at which she excelled.
In her day, she was known for her civic, social, and political activism. She was engaged in philanthropic activities, particularly for the Montreal Maternity Hospital and she was also the moving force behind the creation of the Women’s Canadian Club of Montreal, the first women club in Canada. She believed it important that the women become involved in debates over the great issues of the day, « something beyond the local gossip of the hour ». Her acquaintance with Lord Grey, the Governor-General of Canada from 1904 to 1911, led to her involvement in organizing, in 1908, Québec City’s tercentennial celebrations. The event was one of many to which she devoted herself in building bridges with French-Canadian community.
During the First World War, she joined her two sons in England and did volunteer work at the War Office, translating documents from German into English. After the war, she was active in the Victorian Order of Nurses, the Montreal Council of Social Agencies, and the National Association of Conservative Women.
In 1925 at the age of 53 years, Elsie Reford was operated for appendicitis and during her convalescence, her doctor counselled against fishing, fearing that she did not have the strength to return to the river.”Why not take up gardening?” he said, thinking this a more suitable pastime for a convalescent woman of a certain age. That is why she began laying out the gardens and supervising their construction. The gardens would take ten years to build, and would extend over more than twenty acres.
Elsie Reford had to overcome many difficulties in bringing her garden to life. First among them were the allergies that sometimes left her bedridden for days on end. The second obstacle was the property itself. Estevan was first and foremost a fishing lodge. The site was chosen because of its proximity to a salmon river and its dramatic views – not for the quality of the soil.
To counter-act nature’s deficiencies, she created soil for each of the plants she had selected, bringing peat and sand from nearby farms. This exchange was fortuitous to the local farmers, suffering through the Great Depression. Then, as now, the gardens provided much-needed work to an area with high unemployment. Elsie Reford’s genius as a gardener was born of the knowledge she developed of the needs of plants. Over the course of her long life, she became an expert plantsman. By the end of her life, Elsie Reford was able to counsel other gardeners, writing in the journals of the Royal Horticultural Society and the North American Lily Society. Elsie Reford was not a landscape architect and had no training of any kind as a garden designer. While she collected and appreciated art, she claimed no talents as an artist.
Elsie Stephen Reford died at her Drummond Street home on November 8, 1967 in her ninety-sixth year.
In 1995, the Reford Gardens ("Jardins de Métis") in Grand-Métis were designated a National Historic Site of Canada, as being an excellent Canadian example of the English-inspired garden.(Wikipedia)
Visit : en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elsie_Reford
LES JARDINS DE MÉTIS
Créés par Elsie Reford de 1926 à 1958, ces jardins témoignent de façon remarquable de l’art paysager à l’anglaise. Disposés dans un cadre naturel, un ensemble de jardins exhibent fleurs vivaces, arbres et arbustes. Le jardin des pommetiers, les rocailles et l’Allée royale évoquent l’œuvre de cette dame passionnée d’horticulture. Agrémenté d’un ruisseau et de sentiers sinueux, ce site jouit d’un microclimat favorable à la croissance d’espèces uniques au Canada. Les pavots bleus et les lis, privilégiés par Mme Reford, y fleurissent toujours et contribuent , avec d’autres plantes exotiques et indigènes, à l’harmonie de ces lieux.
Created by Elsie Reford between 1926 and 1958, these gardens are an inspired example of the English art of the garden. Woven into a natural setting, a series of gardens display perennials, trees and shrubs. A crab-apple orchard, a rock garden, and the Long Walk are also the legacy of this dedicated horticulturist. A microclimate favours the growth of species found nowhere else in Canada, while the stream and winding paths add to the charm. Elsie Reford’s beloved blue poppies and lilies still bloom and contribute, with other exotic and indigenous plants, to the harmony of the site.
Commission des lieux et monuments historiques du Canada
Historic Sites and Monuments Board of Canada.
Gouvernement du Canada – Government of Canada
© Copyright
This photo and all those in my Photostream are protected by copyright. No one may reproduce, copy, transmit or manipulate them without my written permission.
MCAS Yuma.
4-22-22.
Photo by: Ned Harris
Note: About to execute a vertical landing. Alternative interpretation is somebody left the toilet seat up.
Studio portrait, executed with strobist technic, using two flashes and Rembrandt lighting setup. It was used one 60cm lightbox with flash in TTL mode and another flash in manual mode for background, using yellow gel.
Canon 60d
Canon EF 24-105 f/4 L IS USM
Canon 580EXII
Yongnuo YN-565EXII
Yongnuo YN-622C TX + 2 YN 622C LI
Turns out the executables are 32-bit only, but good news is that the old UE 2.5 command keybindings fully works in the remastered edition =P. Path is AppData\Roaming\BioshockHD
I didn't spend much time into the game, and this is the last screenshot from me for the next few weeks, gonna spend a while traveling in the west coast on business.
Bioshock Remastered
- 4K rendering, cropped;
- Custom ReShade setting;
- .ini keybinds for noclip. FOV and timestop.
Tapisseries exécutées par Johannes Karcher sur des cartons de Camillo Filippi et Luca Fiammingo pour la cathédrale de Ferrare.
Domenico Ghirlandaio (1449-1494) - two miracles of the Madonna - polychrome stained glass windows, executed in 1492 by Alessandro Agolanti to a design by Ghirlandaio - Tornabuoni Chapel (1485-1490) - Santa Maria Novella Florence
La cappella Tornabuoni è la cappella maggiore della basilica di Santa Maria Novella a Firenze. Contiene uno dei più vasti cicli di affreschi di tutta la città, realizzato da Domenico Ghirlandaio e bottega dal 1485 al 1490.
Gli affreschi hanno come tema le Scene della vita della Vergine e di san Giovanni Battista, inquadrate da finte architetture (pilastri con capitelli corinzi dorati e trabeazioni con dentelli, sulle tre pareti disponibili. Le scene si leggono dal basso verso l'alto, da destra a sinistra, secondo uno schema che già all'epoca doveva risultare un po' arcaico.
Le due pareti principali, a destra e a sinistra, presentano tre file di scene ciascuna, a sua volta divise in due scene rettangolari, ed una grande lunetta sulla sommità, per un totale di sette scene a parete.
The Cappella Tornabuoni is the main chapel (or chancel) in the church of Santa Maria Novella, Florence, Italy. It is famous for the extensive and well-preserved fresco cycle on its walls, one of the most complete in the city, which was created by Domenico Ghirlandaio and his workshop between 1485 and 1490.
The portraits of the members of the Tornabuoni family and of relatives, friends, allies and clients of the Medici and the Tornabuoni are included as spectators to the holy stories.
Ghirlandaio worked to the frescoes from 1485 to 1490, with the collaboration of his workshop artists, who included his brothers Davide and Benedetto, his brother-in-law Sebastiano Mainardi and, probably, the young Michelangelo Buonarroti. The windows were also executed according to Ghirlandaio's design. The complex was completed by an altarpiece portraying the Madonna del Latte in Glory with Angel and Saints, flanked by two panels with St. Catherine of Siena and St. Lawrence.
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The year is 18 BBY, 1 year since we received the orders to execute all of the Jedi for committing treason against the republic. After the purge, we were given new armour, and reassigned from being the Wampa Squad, to the Eighth Brother’s personal troopers. Since then, we have gone on countless missions to find the treasonous Jedi alongside the powerful inquisitor, the Eighth Brother.
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The eighth brother received a transmission from Vader himself, our next objective is to hunt down a Jedi master called Nirhma Moss, who survived Order 66, intel has led us to believe she is hiding in an old seperatist outpost on Devaron. We arrive at Devaron and start to find traces of life among the rocky and muddy terrain. The planet has many small cliffs topped with mud and trees, bushes flourish all over the ground and old seperatist bases can sometimes be found in the depths of Devaron. We find a small crate containing some supplies, and at the same time, the sound of a lightsaber echoes around us. I look up to see Nirhma Moss and the Eighth Brother face to face.
“Eighth Brother, we finally meet.”
“Nirhma Moss, your time has come.”
“I’ve heard stories of your kind, Inquisitors. I sensed your presence long before you went rummaging through my belongings.”
“Sir, should we fire?”
“No, I will take her myself.”
“Yes Sir!”
The two fought endlessly, using all their strength, but the Eighth Brother came out on top. We were ordered to carry her back to the ship. Another successful mission.
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This is my application for the Dark Times RPG, I hope you like the build and the story. I tried my hardest to write an interesting story for this build but I couldn’t seem to get something I liked. I hope I get accepted into the Dark Times :)
The Nuva archer is a skilled warrior and technological wonder. The concept was brought about by General Taka's imagination and executed by the hands of the most skilled matoran. This archer differs from traditional archer units in that he does not need to carry his ammunition on his body during battle. His "arrows" or bolts are stored, generated, and replinished within his technologically advanced left arm which coordinates with the "crossbow" or bolt thrower that he wields. The bolt thrower is one of a kind and is viewed as a breakthrough in modern weaponry. Though quite bulky, the bolt thrower allows the archer to fire single highly charged energy bolts, which have the power to penetrate light/medium armor, at a rate of 1.5 seconds. After firing 10 bolts the archer's arm requires a cool down period which lasts approximately 8 to 10 seconds. Once completed, the archer may continue raining destruction down upon the enemy. The archer's built-in optical system allows the archer to target enemy's from a greater distance than the typical archer. The Nuva archer's advanced weaponry and overal engineering give the Nuva army a great advantage on the battlefied when facing overwhelming numbers.
I hope you guys enjoy this one! Building him really inspired me to go back and revamp General Taka and the Nuva Infantry, so stay tuned for those guys in the future! Thanks for all of your support this past year! Looking forward to the next year!
Irlanda - Dublín - Prision de Kilmainham Gaol
ENGLISH:
Kilmainham Gaol is a former prison in Kilmainham, Dublin, Ireland. It is now a museum run by the Office of Public Works, an agency of the Government of Ireland. Many Irish revolutionaries, including the leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising, were imprisoned and executed in the prison by the British.
When it was first built in 1796, Kilmainham Gaol was called the "New Gaol" to distinguish it from the old prison it was intended to replace – a noisome dungeon, just a few hundred metres from the present site. It was officially called the County of Dublin Gaol, and was originally run by the Grand Jury for County Dublin.
Originally, public hangings took place at the front of the prison. However, from the 1820s onward very few hangings, public or private, took place at Kilmainham. A small hanging cell was built in the prison in 1891. It is located on the first floor, between the west wing and the east wing.
There was no segregation of prisoners; men, women and children were incarcerated up to 5 in each cell, with only a single candle for light and heat. Most of their time was spent in the cold and the dark, and each candle had to last for two weeks. Its cells were roughly 28 square metres in area.
Children were sometimes arrested for petty theft, the youngest said to be a seven-year-old child, while many of the adult prisoners were transported to Australia.
At Kilmainham the poor conditions in which women prisoners were kept provided the spur for the next stage of development. Remarkably, for an age that prided itself on a protective attitude for the "weaker sex", the conditions for women prisoners were persistently worse than for men. As early as his 1809 report the Inspector had observed that male prisoners were supplied with iron bedsteads while females 'lay on straw on the flags in the cells and common halls.' Half a century later there was little improvement. The women's section, located in the west wing, remained overcrowded. In an attempt to relieve the overcrowding 30 female cells were added to the Gaol in 1840. These improvements had not been made long before the Great Famine occurred, and Kilmainham was overwhelmed with the increase of prisoners.
Since its restoration, Kilmainham Gaol has been understood as one of the most important Irish monuments of the modern period, in relation to the narrative of the struggle for Irish independence. In the period of time extending from its opening in 1796 until its decommissioning in 1924 it has been, barring the notable exceptions of Daniel O'Connell and Michael Collins, a site of incarceration of every significant Irish nationalist leader of both the constitutional and physical force traditions. Thus, its history as an institution is intimately linked with the story of Irish nationalism. The majority of the Irish leaders in the rebellions of 1798, 1803, 1848, 1867 and 1916 were imprisoned there. It also housed prisoners during the Irish War of Independence (1919–21) and many of the anti-treaty forces during the civil war period. Charles Stewart Parnell was imprisoned in Kilmainham Gaol, along with most of his parliamentary colleagues, in 1881-82 when he signed the Kilmainham Treaty with William Gladstone.
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ESPAÑOL:
Kilmainham Gaol era una cárcel situada en Inchicore, en Dublín, reconvertida hoy en museo.
La cárcel se inauguró en 1796 denominándose New Gaol debido a que sustituía a la antigua cárcel situada unos cuantos cientos de metros de ella.
Kilmainham Gaol ha jugado un importante papel en la historia de Irlanda ya que muchos de los líderes de las revueltas de independencia de Irlanda fueron confinados y recluidos en esta prisión. Muchos de estos presos fueron además ejecutados en esta misma prisión. Las rebeliones de 1798, 1803, 1848, 1867 y 1916 acabaron con sus cabecillas en estas celdas recluidos.
El último preso de la cárcel fue Éamon de Valera que salió de la cárcel el 16 de julio de 1924.
Dentro de la cárcel no había separación de prisioneros por cuestión de sexo ni de edad, así tanto los hombres como las mujeres convivían en las mismas zonas igual que los niños.
En el año 1924 la cárcel se cerró definitivamente sufriendo una remodelación de la década de los 70.
La visita comienza en la capilla de la cárcel que es conocida por ser el lugar en el que Joseph Plunkett se casó con Grace Gifford en las horas previas a su ejecución por el pelotón de fusilamiento. Las siguientes zonas que se visitan son las celdas en las que estuvieron confinados los participantes de la revuelta de 1916. Se visita también el vestíbulo principal de la cárcel tras su remodelación que sirvió de referencia para la construcción de muchas otras cárceles sobre todo en Estados Unidos. La visita concluye en el patio dónde fueron ajusticiados, entre el 3 y el 12 de mayo, los miembros de la revuelta de 1916 y el lugar en el que se ejecutó a James Connolly diferenciado de los del resto debido a su precario estado de salud a consecuencia de las heridas recibidas durante la revuelta. Estas heridas hicieron que se le situara en las cercanías de la entrada debido a su dificultad de trasladarlo.
The island was formerly known as Ruatan and Rattan. It is approximately 77 kilometres (48 mi) long, and less than 8 kilometres (5.0 mi) across at its widest point. The island consists of two municipalities: José Santos Guardiola in the east and Roatán, including the Cayos Cochinos, further south in the west.
The island rests on an exposed ancient coral reef, rising to about 270 metres (890 ft) above sea level. Offshore reefs offer opportunities for diving. Most habitation is in the western half of the island.
The most populous town of the island is Coxen Hole, capital of Roatán municipality, located in the southwest. West of Coxen Hole are the settlements of Gravel Bay, Flowers Bay and Pensacola on the south coast, and Sandy Bay, West End and West Bay on the north coast. To the east of Coxen Hole are the settlements of Mount Pleasant, French Harbour, Parrot Tree, Jonesville and Oakridge on the south coast, and Punta Gorda on the north coast.
The easternmost quarter of the island is separated by a channel through the mangroves that is 15 metres wide on average. This section is called Helene, or Santa Elena in Spanish. Satellite islands at the eastern end are Morat, Barbareta, and Pigeon Cay. Further west between French Harbour and Coxen Hole are several cays, including Stamp Cay and Barefoot Cay.
Located near the Mesoamerican Barrier Reef, the largest barrier reef in the Caribbean Sea (second largest worldwide after Australia's Great Barrier Reef), Roatán has become an important cruise ship, scuba diving and eco-tourism destination in Honduras. Tourism is its most important economic sector, though fishing is also an important source of income for islanders. Roatán is located within 40 miles of La Ceiba. The island is served by the Juan Manuel Gálvez Roatán International Airport and the Galaxy Wave Ferry service twice a day.
The Indians of the Bay Islands are believed to have been related to either the Paya, the Maya, the Lenca or the Jicaque, which were the tribes present on the mainland. Christopher Columbus on his fourth voyage (1502–1504) came to the islands as he visited the neighbouring Bay Island of Guanaja. Soon after, the Spanish began trading in the islands for slave labour. More devastating for the local Indians was exposure to Eurasian infectious diseases to which they had no immunity, such as smallpox and measles. No indigenous people survived the consequent epidemics
Throughout European colonial times, the Bay of Honduras attracted an array of individual settlers, pirates, traders and military forces. Various economic activities were engaged in and political struggles played out between the European powers, chiefly Britain and Spain. Sea travellers frequently stopped over at Roatán and the other islands as resting points. On several occasions, the islands were subject to military occupation. In contesting with the Spanish for colonisation of the Caribbean, the English occupied the Bay Islands on and off between 1550 and 1700. During this time, buccaneers found the vacated, mostly unprotected islands a haven for safe harbour and transport. English, French and Dutch pirates established settlements on the islands. They frequently raided the Spanish treasure ships, cargo vessels carrying gold and silver from the New World to Spain.
During the War of the Austrian Succession (King George's War in the US), a detachment of the British Army under Lt. Col John Caulfeild garrisoned the island from 1742 to 1749. The garrison was originally found from two companies of Gooch's Virginia Regiment, but these were eventually amalgamated into Trelawney's 49th Foot (later the 1st Royal Berkshire Regiment).
In 1797, the British defeated the Black Carib, who had been supported by the French, in a battle for control of the Windward Caribbean island of St. Vincent. Weary of their resistance to British plans for sugar plantations, the British rounded up the St. Vincent Black Carib and deported them to Roatán. The majority of Black Carib migrated to Trujillo on mainland Honduras, but a portion remained to found the community of Punta Gorda on the northern coast of Roatán. The Black Carib, whose ancestry includes Arawak and African Maroons, remained in Punta Gorda, becoming the Bay Island's first permanent post-Columbian settlers. They also migrated from there to parts of the northern coast of Central America, becoming the foundation of the modern-day Garífuna culture in Honduras, Belize and Guatemala.
The majority permanent population of Roatán originated from the Cayman Islands near Jamaica. They arrived in the 1830s shortly after Britain's abolition of slavery in 1838. The changes in the labour system disrupted the economic structure of the Caymans. The islands had a largely seafaring culture; natives were familiar with the area from turtle fishing and other activities. Former slaveholders from the Cayman Islands were among the first to settle in the seaside locations throughout primarily western Roatán. During the late 1830s and 1840s, former slaves also migrated from the Cayman Islands, in larger number than planters. All together, the former Cayman peoples became the largest cultural group on the island.
For a brief period in the 1850s, Britain declared the Bay Islands its colony. Within a decade, the Crown ceded the territory formally back to Honduras. British colonists were sent to compete for control. They asked American William Walker, a freebooter (filibuster) with a private army, to help end the crisis in 1860 by invading Honduras; he was captured upon landing in Trujillo and executed there.
In the latter half of the 19th century, the island populations grew steadily and established new settlements all over Roatán and the other islands. Settlers came from all over the world and played a part in shaping the cultural face of the island. Islanders started a fruit trade industry which became profitable. By the 1870s it was purchased by American interests, most notably the New Orleans and Bay Islands Fruit Company. Later the Standard Fruit and United Fruit companies became the foundation for modern-day fruit companies, the industry which led to Honduras being called a "banana republic".
In the 20th century, there was continued population growth resulting in increased economic changes and environmental challenges. A population boom began with an influx of Spanish-speaking Mestizo migrants from the Honduran mainland. Since the late 20th century, they tripled the previous resident population. Mestizo migrants settled primarily in the urban areas of Coxen Hole and Barrio Los Fuertes (near French Harbour). Even the mainlander influx was dwarfed in number and economic effects by the overwhelming tourist presence in the 21st century. Numerous American, Canadian, British, New Zealander, Australian and South African settlers and entrepreneurs engaged chiefly in the fishing industry, and later, provided the foundation for attracting the tourist trade.
In 1998, Roatán suffered some damage from Hurricane Mitch, temporarily paralysing most commercial activity. The storm also broke up the popular dive-wrecks Aguila and Odyssey.
Credit for the data above is given to the following websites:
Title:
Society’s Shrew
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The study below was uncovered through research for the following Doctorial dissertation:
Light to the shadows of their mind:
Criminal tactics and strategies
Criminology Department Dept.
Chatwick University
Case Study 14 :
Name: Seth circa 192…
Subject: A rather unprincipled & deviously unscrupulous scoundrel
From Seth’s Journal:
Headed as:
Societies Shrew
October 11, 192
It is truly amazing what people will talk about on a train. And I could not say the number of times I had collected a tidy sum by just keeping my ears open to such talk. The following remarkable account centered on a couple named Caboyt is my case in point.
I was traveling between cities, after finishing a weeks’ worth of “business”, successfully making a handsome “little” profit on the jewels I collected from several unsuspecting wealthy women.
I had spotted a young couple sitting alone at small table in the dining car. Taking a seat in the nearby bar I had taken the opportunity to observe them. They were newlyweds. I could tell by the way they had acted, and by the shiny new gold rings they sported. She was a very attractive long haired brunette, wearing a long flowing skirt and a high-necked satiny blouse with long sleeves. He was wearing a fitted suit, and by his expression, was ignorant of anything else but his bride’s existence. I too noticed her existence. Especially the existence of the solid gold necklace set with tiny rubies and diamonds she wearing, loosely hanging down from around her throat. When she talked, her hands made little motions, and it was a pleasure to watch her rings sparkle from fingers as she did so. When they left the dining car I stayed at the bar, quickly forgetting about the pair. I enjoyed a few drinks while anticipating the new opportunities that should be plentiful at my next stop.
Late that evening the newlyweds were abruptly placed back into my thoughts. As I made my way back to my car I saw them in their seats, sleeping soundly. Her head was on his shoulders, an arm curled around him. The head of her husband was back on the seat snoring. I noticed her necklace hanging provokingly down, flickering in the passing lights that lit up the car in ten second intervals. The back two rows of seats were vacant, so I slipped into the seat directly behind them. I slowly moved my fingers up behind her seat, dipping down I felt through her ultra-soft hair until my fingers felt the cold hardness of her necklace. I could feel the slippery sleekness of her blouse, and I will admit I did perk up in doing so. Ever so slowly I pulled it out, exposing its gold chain. Then I slipped it around, silently thanking her for the slickness of the high necked pretty blouse that made my attempt so easy. Finally I expose the clasp, and leaving it hanging sat back for a minute to let them settle. I watched it there, as the flicking lights lit it up, my hunger increasing in a prickling sensation I knew and loved so well, the thrill of the hunt. When I could contain myself no longer I reached up again and undid the clasp, then I began the delicate operation of slipping it from her throat. It took almost fifteen exhilarating minutes as I worked it free, exposing it’s; length over the seat ever longer. Then it came loose, and with a swish curled up into my palm. As the last of it slipped away my victim stirred a little, sighing in her sleep, she cuddled in even more. I waited a few more minutes, all was calm around me.
I eyed the sleeping couple. Following her arm that lay around her husband’s shoulder I could see her hand. A glittery ruby ring sparkled merrily in the passing lights. The ring was definitely not as valuable as the necklace in hand, but the allure of acquiring it overwhelmed me. Now slipping a ring from a ladies finger is of course, no great trick. If she happens to be sleeping soundly, like this one, its rather as easy as taking it from a baby.
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(Which for the record I have never done, preferring my victims to be of a mature age. A mantra from which I have only strayed from once, for every rule commands an exception!
The exception for this rule was a matching set of sparklers; dangling cascading earrings, wide “lace” style necklace, bracelet and a brace of rings, all of it small and dainty, all of it quality diamond ,and best of all, invitingly obtainable.
Because the young miss laden down with those petite diamonds was all of fourteen years of age. And, as for the glossy taffeta gown that clung charmingly to her girlish figure? It cried out to even the most novice of us pickpockets to use its sleekness to execute a nimble “slip up and flick” maneuver to relieve this little squirming princess of some piece of her jewelry.
It had definitely been worth the Crown I had expended to the well-dressed young lad with a solid gold pocket watch hanging from his vest, to spend at the penny arcade, located in the bazaar across the street…. It successfully lured him temporarily away from the richly attired kid sister wearing the diamonds in question. He had been keeping an eye over her, a job for which I could tell he had been grudgingly delegated with, and which he happily abandoned; leaving the diamond laden impish young sister vulnerably exposed to the harsher realities of life.
I used the procured opening to cross the young sister’s path and with a perfectly timed ploy caught her in mid stride, the fingers of my right hand grabbing her by the gown’s sleek midriff causing her to totter over my arm. The fingers of my left moved in at the same moment.
The gown had indeed tingled quite pleasantly underneath my left hands fingers as they glided up along her taffeta slick back to lift up and break open the clasp of the silver chain, from which hung the dangling diamonds dripping down along her gown’s full neckline; As I gently plucked and straighten her gown with my right hand, my Left hand delicately began to pull away the necklace. I asked the young miss her where she was off to in such a hurry. She told me, in quick nervous breaths, that she was looking for her brother. As I listened intently, my left hand tugged, then slipped free her necklace, spiriting it away from her heaving chest with a muted swish. I watched it disappear, flickering its protest, as I held its pretty mistress’s attention. I pocketed it as she followed my pointing finger to the bazaar across the street where I explained her brother had gone.
I watched as she happily scurried away from me, blissfully naive that her necklace no longer was merrily bouncing along her chest as she moved. It was just then a rather full bosomed lady passed me by, nose in the air, a ruby brooch precariously perched in the cleavage of her low cut rustling gown. I followed, my mind calculating the risk.
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As the train gently rocked back and forth I kept my eyes focused on the sleeping woman’s ring, first I licked my lips, then my fingers. Reaching up I gently slipped my fingers along hers, moistening them. Then I felt for her ring, and slightly lifter her finger, carefully worked the jewel off by rocking it back and forth between my fingertips. Once I had it over her knuckle, I stopped to catch my breath and look around, all was still quiet. I easily pulled it off the rest of the way, than lay back and closed my eyes. Soon both of them were snoring regularly. I than arose, stowing away the necklace securely, and walked silently amongst the other sleeping passengers. Unnoticed by anyone, I regained my car, took my seat, and laying back I closed my eyes, and happy with myself, fell into a deep sleep.
October 12, 192
The next morning I awoke to a bright sunrise, refreshed and satisfied with the previous evening’s effort. I now settled back comfortably and watched the scenery. There appeared to be no noticeable commotion at my end of the train over my nighttime activities. But it is the reason I stayed glued to my seat for the rest of my journey, and the reason I would make a rather informal acquaintance with Sophia and Arthur Caboyt.
The seat in front of me was occupied by a priest traveling with his rather ancient mother. Nothing that they were discussing had captured my interest the day before. The priest was spending the morning reading his bible, his mother snoozing, so it appeared neither would be saying anything to peak my interest this morning. So I closed my eyes, placed a thought in my head, and started dozing…….
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She was a beauty, a ravishing brunette clad in a long purple satiny number. Her jewels were all sapphires, sparkling as she walked somewhat unsteadily up the path leading her away from the sanctity of the castle keep. I was following with curiosity, having seen her slip out the back way, looking for the entire world like a child sneaking out on her parents. She reached the top of the hill where it opened into a small glen. Off to the side lay a dark lake of calm water. As she stood by a cement bench on the bank of the lake the moon peeked out through the clouds, placing her in a pool of light. A pair of white swans swam over in curiosity. She bent down and lifted out her gloved hand to them, her rings and bracelet glistening radiantly.
She was not yet aware of being followed……
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I must have fallen asleep, for next thing I knew I was rudely awakened as the train was ratcheting to a stop, whistle blowing. When the train finely halted, The priest and his mother departed. I still was going on for a distance so I kept my seat. I bid them a silent adieu; nothing about them had held my interest in any shape or form.
But the newcomers who took their seat turned out to be a whole other story.
A rather stern faced husband had escorted his chattering wife and basically maneuvered her into the seat. She was clad in a long silky, rather form fitting dress. She was wearing a nice display of glistening white pearls, and her fingers were home to several sparkly rings. By the way the pair carried themselves; I had no doubts the fair maidens jewels were the real McCoy. As I watched the diamond clasp of her pearl necklace from behind I again closed my eyes, once more reminiscing about the train ride on my first leg of the journey.
But this couple did not appear to be of the snatch and slip into the shadows type of prey to me. I opened my eyes, wide awake, my interest peaking as the wife’s shrill voice penetrated into me. No, I smelled real opportunity being handed to me by fate. Let me explain. In my line of business I had become a quick study of a person’s character. His was obviously that of an important ( in his mind) president( probably a bank) used to controlling all aspects of his life, including his wife. She was a quarrelsome chatterbox who was as opinionated as they come. My guess is that that he only had married her for her money, why else would he have put up with her? His name was Arthur, Hers was Sophia, and the last name was Caboyt, which perked my interest even more. Caboyt being a well-known name of a wealthy family from the large city where I had grew up as a child. The couple was attending a Charity Ball at some rather ritzy sounding establishment in a City four stops before mine. The more I heard, the more I smelled money to be made. So it was without a thought that I rose a minute after they did, and got off on the same stop, forgoing the rest of my travel plans. I quickly stashed my luggage in a locker and got out onto the street in time to see them getting into a hotel taxi.
I went in, collected my bags and hired a taxi to take me to an inexpensive hotel that he recommended. I checked in, prepaying for three nights to cover my tracks, threw my luggage on the bed. I looked in my stage case, and selected a reddish wig and matching moustache, trying them on for effect. Adding a pair of black, horn rimmed eye glasses completed the disguise
I grabbed another taxi had him drive me to the hotel they were staying at. Paying him off ,I crossed the street and positioned myself in a park. It was now early evening, the sun just dipping below the tall buildings.
I studied the situation from the park while sitting on a bench. It was older, with balconies extending outside each of the rooms. The balconies were cement rimmed, with low rails. If I could get a room above or below theirs, It would be a short, easy rope climb to their balcony. I went inside and inquired about available rooms for the next evening, the evening of the ball. As the clerk leafed through his book I studied the registry and soon located Sarah and Henry Caboyt’s listing. It was better than I had hoped. They couple were in room 311. 313, 413 and 213 were taken for the weekend but 315, right next door was available. Containing my excitement I took it, prepaying for two nights, giving the clerk a false ID . I explained that my luggage had been delayed, and that when it came I would just take it up myself.
I returned to the other hotel, and dressed and went out for dinner, forming my plans as I ate. Returning I packed a small valise, put on evening attire, and snuck out via a back stairway that led to a now shadowed alley.
Walking out I went up the street bus stop and hailed a taxi. He gave me a suspicious look as I gave him the name of a fancy hotel that was a couple of blocks away from where the Cabot’s, and I, were staying: but I put on my bigwig demeanor and ignored him. He let me off and as I made sure he drove off, went up the block and entered my new hotel, heading straight for the elevator, not even gaining a second glance from the well trained operator. I went into my room, whistling at the fancy digs, before setting up the groundwork for my little operation.
That evening I sleep soundly, almost falling deeply again into a dream.
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I found myself in her room once again. There were two of them. Identical twin sisters who occupied adjoining rooms in the old keep of the ancient stronghold that had been turned into a posh resort for the ultra-rich.
They had both been attending the extravagant ball being held in the old main chamber of the castle. But one had been ill and left early, planning to take a strong sleeping draught to fight her ailment.
Making sure the remaining sister was still going strong at the ball, I melted away into the shadows, breaking into her room before the twelve strokes of midnight had sounded in the large grandfather clock at the end of the hall. It took no effort on my part; she had conveniently left her velvet jewel pouch on the nightstand. I quickly scooped out its contents in a couple of shimmering handfuls. It was going to be a good night I told myself happily.
I went to the door that joined the room where her twin was sleeping. I cautiously opened it, and then slipped inside.
She looked so beautifully innocent as she slept, her brown satin pajamas shimmering in the light of the full moon streaming through an open stone cased window. After a bit of searching I found her jewel case tucked under the pillow she was laying on. I had discovered it while sliding my hand underneath, and I now began to work the calfskin leather case free. As I did I saw something glimmer faintly in the moonlight? Looking closer I realized she had no removed the pendent she had been wearing around her neck. It was on a gold chain, a ruby surrounded by small diamonds. I freed her jewel case and quickly emptied its contents, only one brightly glistening handful, which joined her sister’s collection in my satchel. I then pulled back her hair and felt for the clasp of her necklace. Locating it I slid it into my view and unclasped it. Picking up one end I lifted it from her throat, and gently pulled the other end from beneath her. It went perfectly; she never stirred as I took it from her. One a whim I peeled back ever so gently the long sleeves of her pajamas, . One her left wrist she still wore a ruby and diamond bracelet. Lifting her wrist up enough so my fingers could reach I undid the clasp and pulled it free, hanging like a wide sparkling snake.
I listened at her door, all was quite. I stole away, sneaking down the old servants back stairway. It was as I was edging around the building to make a bolt for the woods and my escape, that I saw her. The twin, who had stayed at the ball while her sister slept, was now lurking outside. She had no idea she was being watched. I eyed her sapphire jewelry sparkling along her pretty satin gown. I could tell she was up to something, as she hesitated, then assuming no one was around, headed off onto the path leading to a small lake. I followed without a second’s hesitation……..
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October 13, 192
The next morning I arose late, refreshed and ready for whatever exploits the day would hold for me.
After checking out my surroundings, including the balcony, I took a long hot shower and stretched out, waiting like a lion in the brush. Late afternoon I made my way down to the lobby with a book and nestled in a shadowy corner to wait. My plan was to watch them leave, follow them to gauge how long it would take them to return, head back, enter their room via the balcony and pilfer the room of its valuables and exit stage right, before they returned. I was banking on a fat jewel case. The rooms had no safes.
I sat, I observing my fellow guests coming and going about their personal business. Soon I noticed more and more of them in evening dress, heading out for a night on the town, which was a treat in and of its self. I did perk up when a lady clad in a long black velvet dress, matching gloves and pearls, walked down the stairs. As a pearl hanger, she would have been a tempting target. Pearls were always easy to pawn, and hers were a rather nice set. She seemed to be the easily distractible type, and easily distractible types who wore expensive jewels had always been my specialty. But I already had my mind set on Sophia Caboyt’s jewels that evening, So I let her slip away, watching her long gown swish about her pleasant figure.. Bird in the hand I thought, wistfully hoping that would prove to be the case.
An hour later I was rewarded as Sophia and Arthur came down. The couple was dressed to the nines for the evening, he was in a tux, she was in a long flowing glossy gown and gloves. She was dripping in diamonds, a full set. My heart sank, I wanted those diamonds, Quickly as I watched them I revised my plan. She was wearing a small fortune. I was sure that whatever was left in their room was probably not worth nearly as much, even the pearls.
I than sat and pretended to read my book for about another two hours while my mind went over several new plans of action. Accepting one of them as feasible, I rose and headed back up to my room. Lost my disguise, packed my valise for a hasty exit, put on my mask and gloves, turned out the lights, carefully opened my balcony door, and from a vantage point where I could see their room, I waited for their return. Breaking into a room with sleeping occupants was something I would rather not do, but oh, well, I would have to creep a little more carefully. Hopefully they would return home tipsy and sleep deeply.
Three and one half hours later the lights went on in their room. The balcony door was opened and Sophia came sweeping out, her jewelry blazing in the street lamps light from below. I watched with growing anticipation as she leaned out and looked onto the view below, her necklace and long earrings swaying out over the void, careful I thought, don’t let the pretty things fall. Her husband voice came out of the room inside, calling to her in an angry tone. “Sophia, I don’t believe it, they gave me the wrong top coat.” She sighed, gathering air, Are you sure she snapped, yes he said, my gloves are not in the pocket. She turned and went to the door, Go back tomorrow she decreed. I am going back now, he rebelled, and giving them a piece of my mind, I tipped that idiot 5 shillings. I heard the door slam. As it did, she had continued telling him not to go.
He had left and my mind started buzzing. What is he up to? He had no real reason not to wait, unless he was really that much of a hot head. If that was the case, He would easily be gone for an hour, which would give me at least 45 minutes to work with. They didn’t appear to have been drinking, If I stuck with my original plan, when he returned, things would be a lot more sticky, especially if he was in a foul mood and couldn’t sleep.
My window of opportunity, small already, began to shrink even more. I could have just let it go, but no I scolded myself, I would forever be berating myself for letting the chance to make a major coup slip through my fingers. I decided to risk it. Sometimes you just have to roll the dice and see how things lay and hope, luck will travel with it. I quickly reformulated my plan.
I went back and pulled a small derringer and some rope from my valise. She had been wearing a satin sash encircling her waist, held with a brooch. Once she handed me the brooch, I would use the sash to gag her; and my rope to tie her securely to a chair freeing me to search her and her room for valuables. I smiled in wicked anticipation; I have always liked a good old fashioned hold-up. I looked at my watch, still a good 32 minutes to obtain her jewels.
Climbing between the two ledges I slipped onto their balcony, ducking below the side and waited. Nothing stirred. I slinked over to the window and peered inside. No movement. Waiting another eternal minute I decided to enter, Carefully opening the glass door so it let out only the slightest of clicks I entered. I saw a door on the opposite side of the room, slightly ajar I could hear the sound of water running. Sophia was drawing a bath. I couldn’t believe my luck. I wedged myself in a corner and waited. I could see her shadow in the crack of light emitting from the door, and then I heard her slide into the tub. Immediately I was on the move.
I had seen a glistening pile on top of a small table by the bathroom door. I went there first. On the table were spread out in a sparkling array the diamonds she had been wearing earlier. I carefully lifted each magnificent piece and secreted them into my small satchel, one eye on the outer door, and one ear on the occupant of the bath tub. As I made a complete sweep of the table I saw her silvery, shiny jeweled purse off to one side, lying on her satin gloves. I went through it and found a the wad of notes and a heavy gold compact and matching cigarette holder. Putting the items back inside, along with her gloves, I pocketed the shiny purse. Then I noticed her jewel case when I had come in laying on the vanity. I went over and opened it, my eyes rewarded by a satisfying collection of glittery jewels, gold and pearls. I and quickly emptied it of its valuable contents, a set of emerald with diamonds( necklace, earrings, ring and bracelets), several gold chains, two pairs of gold earrings, one set with small diamonds, a thick solid gold bracelet, and a rather nice 3 strand pearl choker, as well as the pearls she had been wearing on the train. I hadn’t seen this much ice lately outside a jewelry store. Closing the case, I slipped it into a drawer out of sight..
I did not see her gown with its sash and brooch. I snuck a peak into the bathroom; I saw a long flowing satin bathrobe, but no red gown visible. I hesitated, for I could see her outline in the tub, she was laying back with her eyes closed, a hand hung down, from which glittered a pair of rings. No, I thought, letting them go. I went to her closet; there was a gold gown, but not the gown she had been wearing. I looked at my watch, 9 minutes left; I was running out of time. I went back to the bed and circled it, keeping a close eye on the two doors. Looking over on the opposite side by the wall I saw something glossy on the floor.. There it was, the little darling had slid off and was hiding on the floor. Lifting it up, I let the smooth material run through my hands, feeling it through the thin gloves I was wearing. I felt nothing hard, laying it across the chair I looked under the bed, saw something silky and pulled at it. It came out like a shiny snake, with a large diamond studded head. There was the prize. I took the sash and the brooch and stuffed them in my pocket. 3 minutes left by my watch.. I went back to the closet and felt along a couple of her things hanging there, hoping to find a clip , or possibly another brooch, one a silky jacket I felt something hard, it turned out to be a gold pin of a humming bird with jeweled wings. I pulled it free. My time was up, and I had plenty,
Turning out the lights I Heading to the door of the balcony fortunately I heard them just as I opened the glass door. I peeked to the balcony next door, on the opposite side of mine. A couple was in the middle of an argument. A quite pretty lady was giving a tuxedo shirted male a piece of her mind. She was a long haired brunette clad in a long silk sheath, gold and black descending stripes. She was lecturing a harried thin gentleman in a white tux shirt, chewing him out in rapid Italian. I was caught between a rock and a hard place. I stepped out in the shadows, closing the door behind me. I did not want to chance having the dejewelled princess or her husband walk into the bedroom and find me there. The minutes ticked by. I was mesmerized by the hand the Italian woman was shaking under his nose. The ladies’ Jeweled rings and bracelets flashing extravagantly in and out of the light. I will admit that after 6 excoriatingly long minutes I started to sweat a little. The show was quite fascinating, but I was expecting company at any time. And three would definitely be a crowd. She was not running out of steam, I felt sorry for the little guy.
Finally the Italian banshee ended her tirade. She ran into the room sobbing, he meekly followed. Just Than I about jumped out of my skin when I head Sophia calling out her husband’s name. Arthur she screeched, are you there yet, I have soap in my eyes. Do I dare, I thought to myself, those magnificent rings flashing back into my mind.
I moved swiftly back into the room, stealthily going to the bathroom door, looked around the door and stole a peak. She was holding her eyes closed, searching in vain for a towel, which had fallen just below her searching hand. The hand where the expensively jeweled rings she had worn into her bath resided. I moved swiftly, rapping on the door. About time she said as I handed her a towel. I took her hand, and kissed her soapy wet fingers. She smirked; don’t try to make up with me Arthur. I let go of her now ring less fingers. Turning I walked out swiftly, closing the door behind me before she had a chance to clear her eyes. Swiftly going back out the balcony door, I flew over the rail into my own balcony, and into the door. I waited for a minute without moving. The coast seemed clear.
I felt safe to turn the lights on. I hid her sash, brooch, jewels, and the silvery jeweled purse in the false bottom of my small valise. I put back on the red wig moustache and glasses and evening clothes. Then snatching up my case, I went to the door after a final inspection of the room. 65 minutes now had ticked by since the husband had left the apartment, leaving his wife and her jewels behind unprotected. It was time to make a hasty exit. As my white gloved hand touched the knob I heard voices in the hall. Damn I thought, she had taking the argument out of the room. Thankfully I heard the door slam. This was becoming a circus I thought, opening door a crack. The hall way was clear. I moved quickly down the corridor turning into another , down with lay my exit down a rear stairwell. I froze in my tracks. Now what I thought!
At the far end of the corridor, just passed my exit, was a wall where a full length painting of the battle of waterloo hung. The lady in velvet and pearls that I had been scrutinizing earlier in the evening sashaying through the lobby, was standing with her back to me mesmerized by the painting, her hands clasped behind her while she swayed to and fro studying it.. She was so enthralled by it that I probably could have walked right up to her and slipped the pearls from her throat and wrist without her even noticing me. Why not, I asked myself rhetorically. Setting the valise by the exit, I began removing my gloves as I walked up to her on the balls of my feet, silent as a cat. Pretty is it not I asked in her ear, she started, backing into me. I caught her as she twittered nervously. Sorry I said, steadying her. She blushed as she turned to me, giving me full view of the pearls around her throat. I kissed her hand, asking for her apologies as I turned and left her standing there. I heard the swish of her dress. I had been right about her being vulnerably captivated by the painting. The proof was in the pudding, or in this case the triple string pearl bracelet I had slipped away from her gloved wrist as she had bumped against me
I started down the stairs leading down to the lobby silently thanking whatever distraction it was that was holding Arthur up from returning home. Then, I saw him. I was coming down to the bottom of stairs I saw Arthur cutting through the lobby. I walked past him nodding as he passed raising my valise in salutation. He nodded back passing me without another look. He had a smile on his face, so he had received satisfaction from something. I too had a smirk on mine, garnering some satisfaction that he was totally unaware that a small fortune in his wife’s jewels was walking out the door right under his nose.
I left, holding my valise and headed down the street. I hailed a taxi, had him drop me off at the bus station, then went into my hotel and packed, before falling again into sound , pleasantly dream filled , sleep.
October 14, 192
I arose early the next day, leaving by the same back door to the alleyway.
Flagging a taxi I had him drive me to the shopping area by the train station.
I meandered around a bit and then, sure I was not being watched, made my way to the train station.
I than caught the next train heading to my original destination. After a long, leisurely meal, and a couple well-earned drinks at the bar I headed back to my seat. This time there were no brides with shiny necklaces, or Caboyt’s with their pompous arrogance and fancy jewels to entertain me. So I found one of my own making. As the train rumbled into the night I snuggled down and replayed the whole adventure, savoring every aspect until I fell into dream filled sleep.
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She must have imbibed more than I thought, for she walked to the bench, and taken a careful look around, began to undress. Watching the swans, she started by removing her jewelry, placing them in a pile that glistened in the moon’s light. She then stepped behind some bushes, and I observed her laying her gloves, gown and some silky nickers over a tree limb. I began to move back and cut along the woods to where she had undressed. A soft, subtle splash of water let me know she had entered the pool. Reaching her things hanging on the tree limb I looked out, she was in up to her chest, back to me, still watching the swans that had moved off a small distance when she had entered. I carefully pulled her clothes off the limb, then hid them behind a tree, , feeling the hardness of her broach, I unfastened from her gown. Then on all fours, keeping below the bench, I carefully crawled forward, inching ever closer to the glistening pile of rich jewels that beckoned me…..
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Oil on Water Abstract Macro Series
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IMG_9857-Edit
shot executed by pinhole auloma panorama 6x12
Film lomography negative iso100
Camera Auloma Panorama 6x12
Film scan by Canon EOS 1100D
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Grille exécutée par Fray Francisco de Salamanca et Juan de Avila.
Fondé au XIIIe siècle après la découverte d'une statue de la Vierge et symbole de la "Hispanidad", il fut le plus important monastère d'Espagne durant quatre siècles.
C'est là que vint Colomb après son voyage de 1492 pour rendre compte aux Rois Catholiques de son voyage vers les Indes... et c'est là, en 1496, que furent baptisés les premiers Indiens ramenés en Europe.
The Mausoleum of Hadrian, usually known as Castel Sant'Angelo, is a towering cylindrical building in Parco Adriano, Rome, Italy. It was initially commissioned by the Roman Emperor Hadrian as a mausoleum for himself and his family. The building was later used by the popes as a fortress and castle, and is now a museum. The Castle was once the tallest building in Rome.
The tomb of the Roman emperor Hadrian, also called Hadrian's mole, was erected on the right bank of the Tiber, between 134 and 139 AD. Originally the mausoleum was a decorated cylinder, with a garden top and golden quadriga. Hadrian's ashes were placed here a year after his death in Baiae in 138, together with those of his wife Sabina, and his first adopted son, Lucius Aelius, who also died in 138. Following this, the remains of succeeding emperors were also placed here, the last recorded deposition being Caracalla in 217. The urns containing these ashes were probably placed in what is now known as the Treasury room deep within the building. Hadrian also built the Pons Aelius facing straight onto the mausoleum – it still provides a scenic approach from the center of Rome and the left bank of the Tiber, and is renowned for the Baroque additions of statues of angels holding aloft elements of the Passion of Christ.
Much of the tomb contents and decorations have been lost since the building's conversion to a military fortress in 401 and its subsequent inclusion in the Aurelian Walls by Flavius Augustus Honorius. The urns and ashes were scattered by Visigoth looters during Alaric's sacking of Rome in 410, and the original decorative bronze and stone statuary were thrown down upon the attacking Goths when they besieged Rome in 537, as recounted by Procopius. An unusual survivor, however, is the capstone of a funerary urn (probably that of Hadrian), which made its way to Saint Peter's Basilica, covered the tomb of Otto II and later was incorporated into a massive Renaissance baptistery. The use of spolia from the tomb in the post-Roman period was noted in the 16th century — Giorgio Vasari writes:
...in order to build churches for the use of the Christians, not only were the most honoured temples of the idols [pagan Roman gods] destroyed, but in order to ennoble and decorate Saint Peter's with more ornaments than it then possessed, they took away the stone columns from the tomb of Hadrian, now the castle of Sant'Angelo, as well as many other things which we now see in ruins.
Legend holds that the Archangel Michael appeared atop the mausoleum, sheathing his sword as a sign of the end of the plague of 590, thus lending the castle its present name. A less charitable yet more apt elaboration of the legend, given the militant disposition of this archangel, was heard by the 15th-century traveler who saw an angel statue on the castle roof. He recounts that during a prolonged season of the plague, Pope Gregory I heard that the populace, even Christians, had begun revering a pagan idol at the church of Santa Agata in Suburra. A vision urged the pope to lead a procession to the church. Upon arriving, the idol miraculously fell apart with a clap of thunder. Returning to St Peter's by the Aelian Bridge, the pope had another vision of an angel atop the castle, wiping the blood from his sword on his mantle, and then sheathing it. While the pope interpreted this as a sign that God was appeased, this did not prevent Gregory from destroying more sites of pagan worship in Rome.
The popes converted the structure into a castle, beginning in the 14th century; Pope Nicholas III connected the castle to St Peter's Basilica by a covered fortified corridor called the Passetto di Borgo. The fortress was the refuge of Pope Clement VII from the siege of Charles V's Landsknechte during the Sack of Rome (1527), in which Benvenuto Cellini describes strolling the ramparts and shooting enemy soldiers.
Leo X built a chapel with a Madonna by Raffaello da Montelupo. In 1536 Montelupo also created a marble statue of Saint Michael holding his sword after the 590 plague (as described above) to surmount the Castel.[6] Later Paul III built a rich apartment, to ensure that in any future siege the pope had an appropriate place to stay.
Montelupo's statue was replaced by a bronze statue of the same subject, executed by the Flemish sculptor Peter Anton von Verschaffelt, in 1753. Verschaffelt's is still in place and Montelupo's can be seen in an open court in the interior of the Castle.
The Papal state also used Sant'Angelo as a prison; Giordano Bruno, for example, was imprisoned there for six years. Another prisoner was the sculptor and goldsmith Benvenuto Cellini. Executions were performed in the small inner courtyard. As a prison, it was also the setting for the third act of Giacomo Puccini's 1900 opera Tosca; the eponymous heroine leaps to her death from the Castel's ramparts.
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Sadly, not executed as well as I had hoped for, but I like this shot nevertheless for the expression of movement as well as for the delightful subject. The sheer number of cyclists in Amsterdam and their appearance at considerable speed from all directions is astonishing. There are no overweight Dutch people, they are all so fit!
•52 Church Street is Christ Church Cathedral. In 1816 the stone Christ Church was built by order of Governor Macquarie by convicts. Designed by convict artist Joseph Lycett. The first Bishop of Newcastle was appointed in 1847. Bishop Tyrrell who arrived 1848. The old church of 1816 was used until architect John Horbury Hunt drew up plans for a cathedral and had it demolished. One stone remains in the nave of the current Cathedral. In 1883 Cathedral Hall was built across the road for use as a church whilst the Cathedral was being built. Work began 1883 on the Cathedral but stopped in 1891 as the foundations began to subside. Work restarted in 1902 and was soon finished with marble floors, stained glass windows and a superb Warriors Chapel. The church ran a competition in 1868 for a cathedral to cost no more than £10,000. The winners were Terry and Speechley from Melbourne with John Horbury Hunt as supervising architect. Cost concerns arose and John Horbury Hunt was appointed as the architect. During repairs undertaken after the 1989 Newcastle earthquake the original 1816 church foundation stone was re-positioned within the Cathedral nave. Hunt also designed a Pro-Cathedral opposite which was called Cathedral Hall. It is now the Anglican Newcastle Grammar School. This was used until the opening of the new Cathedral for services in 1902. Kempe of London supplied the stained glass windows in the nave and baptistery in the new Cathedral. It also contains a stained glass jewel: the Dies Domini window designed by Sir Edward Burne-Jones and executed by Morris & Co. of London. The Warriors' Chapel was built in 1924. It was a permanent memorial to all those who died in World War I, especially men and women of Newcastle and the Hunter Valley. The Christ Church burial ground, located on the northern side of the church and now a park and is the first known European burial ground in Newcastle.
Image of Nickel Plate Road 2-8-4 No. 767 doing a photo runby on the Cuyahoga Valley Scenic Railroad made at Boston Mill.
U memorijalnom parku Dotrščina spomenik je u čast žrtava fašizma strijeljanima u ovoj šumi. Spomenik je djelo Vojina Bakića (1915.- 1992.), koji je bio istaknuti hrvatski kipar srpskog podrijetla.
Zbog odbijanja svjetla od metalne površine ovog lijepog spomenika, on se mijenja od sata do sata, od jednog do drugog godišnjeg doba. Nikad se ne čini isti.
In memorial park Dotrščina there is a monument in honour of victims of fascism executed in this forest. The monument is work of Vojin Bakić, ( born 1915 , died 1992) who was a prominent Croatian sculptor of Serbian descent.
Due to reflection of the light from the metallic surface of this beautiful monument, it changes from hour to hour and from season to season. It never seems to be the same.
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Exécuté seulement en 1807 par Gérard (1770-1837), le portrait de Joséphine "dans le costume du couronnement" fut exposé au Salon de 1808 et placé aux Tuileries.
Napoléon en commanda la même année une réplique destinée à être traduite en tapisserie.
Huit lissiers des Gobelins travaillèrent au tissage, notamment Claude père, aidé de son fils, qui exécuta la figure de Joséphine avec une rare perfection. Bien que tissée en haute lisse, la tapisserie est inversée par rapport à la peinture comme c'est le cas en basse lisse. La couronne posée sur le tabouret est bien celle livrée par le joaillier Marguerite pour le couronnement; et, mis à part la parure de saphirs et le haut du corsage, le bas de robe en soie blanche brodée et le grand manteau en velours pourpre, exécutés par les couturiers Leroy et Rimbaud, sont ceux que l'Impératrice portait pour la cérémonie du 2 décembre 1804.
Commencée en juillet 1808 et livrée en novembre 1810, un an après le divorce de Joséphine et Napoléon, cette tapisserie fut offerte par Napoléon au fils de Joséphine, Eugène (1781-1824) pour les étrennes de 1810.
Executed only in 1807 by Gérard (1770-1837), the portrait of Josephine "in the costume of the coronation" was exhibited at the Salon of 1808 and placed in the Tuileries.
In the same year, Napoleon commissioned a replica to be translated into tapestry.
Eight weavers from the Gobelins worked on the weaving, notably Claude père, assisted by his son, who executed the figure of Joséphine with rare perfection. Although woven in haute lisse, the tapestry is inverted in relation to the painting, as is the case in basse lisse. The crown on the stool is indeed the one delivered by the jeweller Marguerite for the coronation; and, apart from the sapphire set and the top of the bodice, the embroidered white silk dress and the large purple velvet cloak, made by the couturiers Leroy and Rimbaud, are those worn by the Empress for the ceremony of 2 December 1804.
The tapestry was begun in July 1808 and delivered in November 1810, a year after Josephine and Napoleon's divorce. Napoleon gave it to Josephine's son Eugène (1781-1824) for his Christmas present in 1810.
It has been a busy few weeks, planning and executing a seven part project for one of my favorite clients and squeaking in other work between those shoots. Between at project and my other responsibilities, I have pulled almost a month (maybe more, who can remember) for 7 day work weeks. So, I am headed up to lake Bruin with a few friends for a much-needed couple of days off.
Before I go, I thought I’d throw a few images up on the site that were outtakes from the recent shoots. It’s been a fun project where I had a lot of creative latitude. I feel extraordinarily fortunate to be able to make a living doing something I really love, namely taking pictures. But, when I am doing client work, I am sometimes restricted in what I can post. Such is the life of the freelancer.
Although I do plan on doing some work on a wedding that I recent photographed, this weekend will be more about play than work. Depending on the conditions, I would like to get some shooting in while I am up there. Readers of this blog won’t be surprised to know that I love north Louisiana and the photographs I am occasionally able to capture from the mystical, empty place.
I hope you all have a good weekend and just to keep this site active (I’ve been slack about posting, I know). Here are some of the shots I took recently but which probably won’t make the cut with the client.
Check out more at my blog, for lots of photos, recipes, tech talk, travel writing and other ramblings. I appreciate any feedback but, please do not post graphic awards or invitations in the comments, I'm just not crazy about them. Also, if you want to use any of my Commercial Commons licensed photos please link the attribution back to my blog (listed above) and use my full name, Frank McMains. Thanks! Sorry, but you have to pay to use fully copyright protected photos.
Street art is visual art created in public locations, usually unsanctioned artwork executed outside of the context of traditional art venues. The term gained popularity during the graffiti art boom of the early 1980s and continues to be applied to subsequent incarnations. Stencil graffiti, wheatpasted poster art or sticker art, and street installation or sculpture are common forms of modern street art. Video projection, yarn bombing and Lock On sculpture became popularized at the turn of the 21st century.
The terms "urban art", "guerrilla art", "post-graffiti" and "neo-graffiti" are also sometimes used when referring to artwork created in these contexts.[1] Traditional spray-painted graffiti artwork itself is often included in this category, excluding territorial graffiti or pure vandalism.
Street art is often motivated by a preference on the part of the artist to communicate directly with the public at large, free from perceived confines of the formal art world.[2] Street artists sometimes present socially relevant content infused with esthetic value, to attract attention to a cause or as a form of "art provocation".[3]
Street artists often travel between countries to spread their designs. Some artists have gained cult-followings, media and art world attention, and have gone on to work commercially in the styles which made their work known on the streets.
Tower Green is a space within the Tower of London, a royal castle in London, where two English Queens consort and several other British nobles were executed by beheading. It was considered more dignified for nobility to be executed away from the gawping spectators, and Queen Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey were among the nobility beheaded here. Queen Victoria asked for information on the exact location at which the executions took place, and had some granite paving laid to mark the spot. However it is unclear whether the location is indeed correct because other sources place it on the current parade ground, between the White Tower and the entrance to the current Waterloo Barracks.
Her Majesty's Royal Palace and Fortress, known as the Tower of London, is a historic castle located on the north bank of the River Thames in central London. It lies within the London Borough of Tower Hamlets, separated from the eastern edge of the square mile of the City of London by the open space known as Tower Hill. It was founded towards the end of 1066 as part of the Norman Conquest of England. The White Tower, which gives the entire castle its name, was built by William the Conqueror in 1078, and was a resented symbol of oppression, inflicted upon London by the new ruling elite. The castle was used as a prison from 1100 (Ranulf Flambard) until 1952 (Kray twins), although that was not its primary purpose. A grand palace early in its history, it served as a royal residence. As a whole, the Tower is a complex of several buildings set within two concentric rings of defensive walls and a moat. There were several phases of expansion, mainly under Kings Richard the Lionheart, Henry III, and Edward I in the 12th and 13th centuries. The general layout established by the late 13th century remains despite later activity on the site.
museumPASSmusees 2021 - Mima - Double Bill
'DRAMA', The Art Of Laurent Durieux
'Laurent Durieux's magnificent work elevates poster art to a high level. The stunningly executed images express the ideas and themes of the films he has chosen in new terms. They communicate a lot without words and are part of the wonderful tradition of illustrative art. '
Francis Ford Coppola
The exhibition presents around a hundred original posters of the Belgian artist, internationally acclaimed by moviegoers.
THE ABC OF PORN CINEMA
(Prohibited under 18 year old)
In 2013, the ABC, Brussels' last old-school adult cinema still showing 35mm films, was shut down. Its archive, meticulously built over the forty years of its existence, was salvaged by Cinema Nova, allowing the veil of a bygone era devoured by the digital revolution to be lifted.
The exhibition 'The ABC of Porn Cinema' spans four decades of activity by the aforementioned theatre, and in doing so recalls the world that surrounded it. Through numerous documents, posters, hand-painted billboards, engraved press plates and censored photos retrieved from the ABC, plus an accompanying art installation, an obscure part of our culture destined to be buried in the annals of history can once again be rediscovered and reappraised. Indeed, these historical archives are exceptional and unique, unafraid to indulge in humour or to drum up reflection and controversy.
An exhibition created by the Nova cinema and the MIMA with the participation of the Gogolplex collective
( 200 musees
Des maintenant, vous pouvez visiter tous les musees participants pendant un an. Pas une fois, mais aussi souvent que vous le souhaitez !
297 expositions
Vous pouvez egalement visiter les expositions temporaires des musees participants gratuitement ou a un tarif fortement reduit.
1 pass musees
Tout ceci avec seulement 1 pass.
Domenico Ghirlandaio (1449-1494) - St. John the Baptist - polychrome stained glass windows, executed in 1492 by Alessandro Agolanti to a design by Ghirlandaio - Tornabuoni Chapel (1485-1490) - Santa Maria Novella Florence
La cappella Tornabuoni è la cappella maggiore della basilica di Santa Maria Novella a Firenze. Contiene uno dei più vasti cicli di affreschi di tutta la città, realizzato da Domenico Ghirlandaio e bottega dal 1485 al 1490.
Gli affreschi hanno come tema le Scene della vita della Vergine e di san Giovanni Battista, inquadrate da finte architetture (pilastri con capitelli corinzi dorati e trabeazioni con dentelli, sulle tre pareti disponibili. Le scene si leggono dal basso verso l'alto, da destra a sinistra, secondo uno schema che già all'epoca doveva risultare un po' arcaico.
Le due pareti principali, a destra e a sinistra, presentano tre file di scene ciascuna, a sua volta divise in due scene rettangolari, ed una grande lunetta sulla sommità, per un totale di sette scene a parete.
The Cappella Tornabuoni is the main chapel (or chancel) in the church of Santa Maria Novella, Florence, Italy. It is famous for the extensive and well-preserved fresco cycle on its walls, one of the most complete in the city, which was created by Domenico Ghirlandaio and his workshop between 1485 and 1490.
The portraits of the members of the Tornabuoni family and of relatives, friends, allies and clients of the Medici and the Tornabuoni are included as spectators to the holy stories.
Ghirlandaio worked to the frescoes from 1485 to 1490, with the collaboration of his workshop artists, who included his brothers Davide and Benedetto, his brother-in-law Sebastiano Mainardi and, probably, the young Michelangelo Buonarroti. The windows were also executed according to Ghirlandaio's design. The complex was completed by an altarpiece portraying the Madonna del Latte in Glory with Angel and Saints, flanked by two panels with St. Catherine of Siena and St. Lawrence.