View allAll Photos Tagged FREEDOM
Into the light. Technically one would need to see the eyes or eye of this bird. I opted for wings of freedom in this black and white.
“You wanna fly, you got to give up the shit that weighs you down.”
― Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon
Still at home in Phase One.
A young Amish woman escapes her daily chores temporarily with a short bareback horse ride.
I was driving a back road in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania when I saw this rider in the distance. I pulled over and realized I did not have time to grab the camera in the backseat with a longer lens so I took this shot before she got out of sight. The photo has been cropped so much that it is now too soft to be considered a good photo but I still really liked it. So my answer is to use a texture, and tell you the photo was crystal clear before I artistically used a texture for a visual effect.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3UdNs2LK7e4
The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. - Jim Morrison
A piece from my current exhibition The Masks We Wear at Nitroglobus. with Sina Souza, Nitro Fireguard and curated by Dido Haas.
Cuando el confinamiento se convierte en una pesadilla.
elpais.com/elpais/2020/03/28/buenavida/1585377557_171354....
Dyrhólaey (Icelandic for door hill island), formerly known by seamen as Cape Portland, is a small promonotory located on the south coast of Iceland, not far from the village Vík. It was formerly an island of volcanic origin, which is also known by the Icelandic word eyja meaning island.
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Dyrhólaey (isl. „Türlochinsel“) ist eine 115 m hoch aufragende Halbinsel im Süden Islands, etwa 6 km westlich von Vík í Mýrdal.
Das Kap, das zum Meer hin schroff abfällt, ist vor 80.000 Jahren bei einem submarinen Vulkanausbruch als Insel entstanden. Noch heute kann man leichten, am Gipfel aufsteigenden Schwefelverbindungsgeruch bemerken.
I will try to catch up with you this week-end, still slow, On &Off
Thank you for your visits, your comments, and much more...
"No borders, just horizons -- only freedom"
__ Amelia Earhart
A shiny new year, full of promise, is here!
Looking at freedom as a personal right: Freedom is the right to work out a personal credo. In a sense, freedom is the right to breathe... the right to enough oxygen for personal life... the right to be enlightened or ignorant. I just received Mary Oliver's new book from my dearest friend, Evelyn - Upstream. On the back jacket cover is a quote that I feel must be Oliver's personal credo:
"Sometimes the desire to be lost again, as long ago, comes over me like a vapor. With growth into adulthood, responsibilities claimed me, so many heavy coats. I didn't choose them, I don't fault them, but it took time to reject them. Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness. Something is wrong. I know it, if I don't keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I look down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and the coreopsis, with the greatest respect."
La foto me mola, a pesar del desenfoque, ruido... etc..
Me encanta tener la posibilidad de hacer este tipo de fotos.
Caged Bird
by Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends
and dips his wing
in the orange sun rays
and dares to claim the sky.
But a bird that stalks
down his narrow cage
can seldom see through
his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and
his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.
The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.
But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.
The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still
and his tune is heard
on the distant hill
for the caged bird
sings of freedom.