View allAll Photos Tagged FUTILE
As promised, starting a new series today of old photos, scans from slides. Fortunately I filled notebooks and trail journals in the days before EXIF data, so I know when and where I shot this self-portrait.
It was a cold, foggy morning in my back country camp, so naturally I thought it would be a good day to explore the surrounding mountains. This was in the Coast Mountains north of Vancouver, north of Whistler. There were no trails. I had a compass and topo maps, but of course you need to be able to sight on landmarks to use those effectively.
Anyway, I spent several hours picking my way up and over and around some very rugged, rocky mountain slopes, looking for a route to Tundra Lake. This is the point at which I realized it was futile, and turned back. One of my favourite words is "bewildered", and I was definitely that. I wasn't sure where I was, precisely, but figured I knew how to find my way "home".
Meanwhile the fog rolled in thicker and lower, and I nearly overshot my campsite - luckily I caught a flash of blue across an open, fog-drenched meadow: my tent. Boots were soaked, socks were soaked, but I had washed my other pair of hiking socks the previous morning, so had something warm to put on before crawling into my sleeping bag with a book (Doris Lessing's Shikasta). My notes for that afternoon: "Rain, rain, rain; wind, fog, low cloud, socked in. Lots of deer tracks in the lower meadows, and goat tracks higher up on the ridge... if the sun shines tomorrow I can dry out my boots..."
Which was what happened.
Photographed in what is now Stein Valley Nlaka'pamux Heritage Provincial Park, BC (Canada); scanned from the original Kodachrome 64 slide. Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission ©1981 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
Against an impressive industrial backdrop, two SY class locos prepare to leave the concrete canyons of the Wulong deep mine in Fuxin.
The train on the left has spoil for tipping into the nearby open cast mine, a seemingly futile process given the sheer size of the hole they were trying to fill. On the right could be a train with loaded coal for the city’s power station.
Wulong mine has since closed completely, and I read that the open cast pit has been turned into some sort of off-road motor racing venue. Nothing stays the same in China.
Fuxin, Liaoning Privince,China
January 2016. © David Hill
“Without knowledge action is useless and knowledge without action is futile.”
---Abu Bakr As-Siddiq (RA)
Without any intention to offend anyone for the state of some houses, this series of ugly images is my desperate, probably futile attempt to save the architectural heritage that is already in such a state that her salvation is gone.
[...The Dark Side of the Moon]
Each side of the album is a continuous piece of music. The five tracks on each side reflect various stages of human life, beginning and ending with a heartbeat, exploring the nature of the human experience and, according to Waters, "empathy". "Speak to Me" and "Breathe" together highlight the mundane and futile elements of life that accompany the ever-present threat of madness, and the importance of living one's own life – "Don't be afraid to care". By shifting the scene to an airport, the synthesiser-driven instrumental "On the Run" evokes the stress and anxiety of modern travel, in particular Wright's fear of flying.
[From Wikipedia]
Photo By: Cate Infinity
🌿✨ Discover Drone Haven ✨🌿
I'm thrilled to announce that Drone Haven has been featured in the Editor's Picks of the Second Life Destination Guide! The dedication, creativity, and passion of everyone involved shine through in the mysterious yet haunting beauty of the space. A huge congratulations to my talented collaborators: Myrdin Sommer, Dia G, Poppy Morris, and Christo Winslet. Together, we’ve turned this vision into a remarkable virtual reality!
Join our social group and share your creativity!
🎵🎶 Exit Music (For A Film) 🎶🎵
Backstory: Drone Haven stands as a somber monument to humanity’s fleeting reign, a forsaken city overtaken by the relentless march of nature. Towering, rusted skyscrapers—once symbols of progress—now crumble into the earth, their skeletal frames bound in a suffocating embrace of vines and moss. Faded posters and the echoes of forgotten graffiti serve as grim premonitions: “The End is Near!” On the fringes, a last-ditch survivalist camp briefly defied extinction. Dreamers, with fragile hope, planted gardens and built shelters in a futile act of defiance. But disease, depletion, and discord swiftly snatched away their fleeting defiance, leaving only silence and creeping green. At the city's heart, the butcher shop—a relic of human industry—stands decayed and broken. Its walls, softened by moss and pierced by vines, speak of a once-vibrant world now swallowed by time. The eerie message lingers: “The End is Near!” A grim echo of human ambition, now lost in nature’s quiet dominion. Among the ruins, drones—mechanical phantoms—still wander, remnants of their creators' ambition. They dutifully plant life during the Echocycle, maintaining the city as both a testament to human legacy and nature's quiet triumph. But even these tireless machines, bound by the limits of their energy, will one day cease. The paradox is clear: humanity’s imprint, though indelible, is as ephemeral as the machines it birthed. Drone Haven whispers a haunting truth: humankind, for all its perceived significance, is but a fleeting echo against the eternal backdrop of nature’s vast, unyielding cycles. In the city’s rust and bloom, it mourns the inevitable collapse, the fragility of life, and the inescapable reality that all things—natural or artificial—are bound to fade into silence.
A female Sarus crane (Grus antigone) was following her partner by flight for a new resting place. Her wingspan was very big to manage from close by a big prime! This frame was the result after a few days futile efforts to have them in a perfect distance, light and angle. Got rewarded eventually with a close encounter in flight with full wing span against a soothing bokeh backdrop. It was a real delight to observe their behaviour and movement from close some of which were very predictable. Pics was taken from Bharatpur, Rajasthan, India.
Just when I thought that flower photography has started to be boring to me these little joys are coming out again. And find me kneeling before them and worshipping them with my camera. Resistance is futile.
With Panasonic Lumix GX8 + Helios 44-2
Thoughts of you still in my head... in the darkness of the night they invade my dreams making the thought of sleep futile because the dreams that envelope my mind all seem to revolve around the one thing I sleep to forget. The waking is agony... all I seem to do is To Wish Impossible Things.
The landscape along the river is ever-changing and an ecosystem unique to itself. Between the river and the tree-line of the forest is a different world than either. This is where the River Oats flourish and fallen trees are absorbed back into the soil.
Thompson Peak, AKA “My Mountain” (but I’m willing to share), can put on quite the dramatic show during stormy conditions. This was captured at about 8AM in January 2021 as the morning sun was making what was ultimately a futile effort to burn through the low cloud deck. Like many high ridges that jut well above the surrounding terrain, this one forms its own clouds at the top and can look like it’s steaming when the wind blows across it.
I’m truly blessed to live near this great peak’s base so I get to watch its wonderful shows with some frequency.
For you I was a flame
Love is a losing game
Five story fire as you came
Love is a losing game
Why do I wish I never played
Oh what a mess we made
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game
Played out by the band
Love is a losing hand
More than I could stand
Love is a losing hand
Self professed... profound
Till the chips were down
...know you're a gambling man
Love is a losing hand
Though I'm rather blind
Love is a fate resigned
Memories mar my mind
Love is a fate resigned
Over futile odds
And laughed at by the gods
And now the final frame
Love is a losing game
[Love is a losing game-Amy Winehouse]
... yet she was so beautiful as she was quietly gliding through the treacherous waters of the Strait of Messina, where the fearsome shadows of Scylla and Charybdis are still looming. I have already mentioned that my second Sicilian sunrise was somehow a bipolar one: a fiery, ominous Cyclops' sunrise, no doubts about that. Yet when looking Southeastwards it was as gentle and serene as a sunrise can be, bathed in a soft light. And yes, I was lucky enough to see and capture the elegant, graceful shape of the Amerigo Vespucci, the renowned training ship of the Italian Navy, in the distance, her sails furled. Definitely not Ulysses' galley, but a subtle sense of adventures to come transpired from her.
For those who are new to this series, here is some context.
I was in Messina, Sicily, for a convention - Messina, the city of the Strait. The city of the two seas, the Tyrrhenian and the Ionian - not two whichever seas, but the very stuff of myths and epics. Scylla and Charybdis haunted these narrow, deep, perilous waters.
As you would expect, I had tried to leave my camera at home (it was work, after all...), but it sneaked into my backpack anyway, along with my Samyang wide angle lens and my tripod. Unfortunately neither of them told the remote shutter, so it stayed safe and cozy within my gear bag at home. Oh my gosh! What was the use of having a tripod while lacking a remote shutter? I just hoped that enabling the Delay exposure Mode would be sufficient to compensate for my awkward finger actually pressing the shutter release button.
So I began my Sicilian days with just as many sunrise sessions. Wow.
The weather was consistently unstable - an ever changing sky enlivened by an endless turmoil of clouds (sometimes benign, sometimes threatening and ominous), sudden showers followed by warm sun, and then again. There was at first a peculiar ambiance - a stormy mood, I would say - an epic character reminiscent of remote ages, when the gods and Cyclops trod these lands and monsters haunted these waters. I could understand the sense of awe the ancient dwellers of these places felt while contemplating such views. I could feel the presence of the gods of old just before me. Just all around me.
Explored on 2022/12/31 me. 75
I have processed this picture by blending an exposure bracketing [-2.0/-1.0/0/+1.0/+2.0 EV] by luminosity masks with the Gimp (EXIF data, as usual, refer to the "normal" exposure shot).
Along the journey - post-processing always is a journey of discovery to me - I tried the inverted RGB blue channel technique described by Boris Hajdukovic to give a slight tonal boost to several parts of the scene. As usual, I gave the finishing touches with Nik Color Efex Pro 4 and played a bit with dodging and burning. I did not like the sea in this photo, so I tried a fancier processing; yet I would have had a ND filter while shooting in order to get the result I wanted (incidentally, I have one now, a little late for my shooting at Messina though). I did not try to emulate the effect of a longer exposure, it looked futile and dangerous, so I was a little creative with the sea as it was.
Raw files processed with Darktable.
In one more, probably futile, attempt to re-boot a slowly dying interest in my own photography, I have decided to start yet another 365 project (my third): one new photo per day for a whole calendar year.
I think I may already regret it and it's only my first post ;-)
A quartet of C40-8s wearing G&W corporate paint lead Providence & Worcester train CT-1 south at Woodhouse Ave in Wallingford with a big train of stone from the Tilcon Quarry at Reeds Gap. I stumbled upon this crew running around at Reeds Gap taking the back way home around some construction traffic and figured it was worth the effort for a quick grab shot. After all it is New England, getting a train actually moving on a clear sunny day seems to be an impossible task as of late. I can't help but think we are on the wrong timeline here. How do we get on the one where P&W is still independent and these units are wearing the proper orange and brown? Asking for a friend....
Woohoo! It's my 100th Flickr Post! I agonized over what to do for this momentous occasion for quite a while and I'm happy to say that I'm very happy with how it turned out. Definitely best viewed large.
Exerpt from Jane's Journal:
The thing about New York is that it doesn't care. Everything is so big and there's just SO much, that it just can't be bothered to take notice of you. It's easy to get lost. It's easy to become invisible and fade into the masses.
Everything moves so quickly that if you stop moving for even a second, the whole thing passes you by like an out of control merry-go-round. The thing keeps spinning dangerously fast and you think "if only it would slow down for a moment I'd be able to jump on". But it won't slow down. It just keeps spinning faster and faster the longer you stand there staring. And as you wait and do nothing it seems to continue to build speed until the idea of catching up with it seems the most impossibly futile task you can think of.
It's drowning without realizing you're underwater. You suddenly wake up to find yourself neck-deep in it and letting the waves engulf you seems easier than trying to find a way to swim out of it.
Somewhere amongst this city's charmingly clustered streets and buildings, in all the art and the restaurants and the parks and the people... I lost myself. The person who's sitting here feeling impotent and scared... and consequentially does nothing to try and fix or change it... that isn't me. It has never been me.
I'm not sure where I go from here. All I know is that I've got to do something before time runs out and it swallows me completely.
[Just found this song that goes with this really well in my mind! - Enjoy!]
This beautiful area of Cuba, with its karst landscape and futile soil is only a few hours from Havana.
Claire Morgan’s sculptures are enchanting show stoppers in which elegantly taxidermied animals are on the verge of falling, jumping or flying. Their frozen movement is emphasised by the interaction with monumental geometric shapes that seem to float. According to Morgan, the creation of these seemingly solid shapes from seeds, flies, leaves and pieces of plastic, hanging from nylon threads, symbolises the futile attempt of mankind to control and organise nature. By using artificial materials, such as plastic, she also exposes the destructive relationship that mankind has with nature.
www.hetnoordbrabantsmuseum.nl/bezoek/tentoonstellingen-ac...
www.hetnoordbrabantsmuseum.nl/topmenu/english/exhibitions...
This wood-burning stove sits outside an antique shop as a display. There is no real intention to try to heat up the outdoors, global warming more than covers that.
Ecclesiastes 6:9 “It is better to be content with what the eyes can see than for one's heart always to crave more. This continual longing is futile—like chasing the wind.”
There's new place I've recently discovered, I call it 'the thicket', mostly because it is one. The shrubs are dense and tall enough to make me believe any photographic effort there is futile for a while. I'll be coming back when the vegetation stops :)
August, 2017
Rolleiflex Automat K4B
CZJ Tessar 75 mm f/3,5@ f/8-11; 1/250
Rollei H1 filter
Kodak TMY-2
Without any intention to offend anyone for the state of some houses, this series of ugly images is my desperate, probably futile attempt to save the architectural heritage that is already in such a state that her salvation is gone.
Conditions at Sussex Prairies yesterday afternoon were, to say the least, somewhat challenging for photography. It was blowing a gale! Potential subjects were waving around so much it was almost comical. So, what lens had I taken with me? My manual focus Lensbaby Velvet 56mm, of course. Sheer madness!! That's why I was amazed that my clever camera managed to capture anything at all. It was pretty futile really, but I still had fun. :)
Continuing the series of "ugly" pictures with the same comment:
Without any intention to offend anyone for the state of some houses, this series of ugly images is my desperate, probably futile attempt to save the architectural heritage that is already in such a state that her salvation is gone.
An "iceberg graveyard" (icebergs become stranded there) at Port Charcot, Antarctica. I took this on a 2015 trip while sitting on the side of a Zodiac inflatable boat and futilely trying to keep my camera lens dry
Death Valley, USA.
Resistance is futile. Even the walls will not protect Mesquite Dunes from baking in the sun…
I must have the naughtiest puppy in the world. She hardly ever sleeps, always on the hunt for mischief, If anything is not perched over 3 foot from the ground she is away with it. I’ve just come upstairs to chill after chasing her around the garden with a mouthful of my underpants Carla had just washed and was hanging them out to dry. I know it was futile chasing her as I can’t catch her, it’s just a big game to her, but in my defence I know if she has time to stop she tear a nice hole in those underpants. Todays photo was taken two years mid May in a local location which is good for wild garlic. Two nice big beech trees anchor the scene as a path passes through. As in every wood close to urban area’s it has the obligatory nylon rope swing hanging from any suitable branch, probably why I don’t achieve any emphathy for my images in such woodland but I can’t knock the local kids blowing off steam exploring the woods, much healthier pastime.
The last warm, leisurely days of our Minnesota fall are futilely resisting the change that is coming.
Leaves litter country roads, geese fly overhead loudly exclaiming their plans for upcoming flights while state natives with long term memory loss plan picnics for next week.
(Photographed near Cambridge, MN)
A shot from earlier this year when I was lucky enough to find some Beardies feeding at the edge of the reeds on ice. I was lying on cut reed covered in mud with water slowly soaking into my clothes and I was loving every minute of it.
I know it's futile, and not a little egotistical, to wish for a change in the weather - however if that jetstream can move there'd be colder air and clearer skies again. And me and the camera would be grinning.
Press L
The kaleidoscopic and extravagantly colourful Peacock Mantis Shrimp (Odontodactylus scyllarus).
a.k.a. Harlequin or Clown Mantis Shrimp and native to the Indian Ocean.
© 2015 Alan Mackenzie.
www.alanmackenziephotography.com
This mature Roe deer buck had a magnificent pair of antlers. He confidently asserted his presence in full view by walking in a semi-circle and barking. The purpose of his behaviour was to communicate that I had been identified as a "predator" and any further pursuit would be futile.
Without any intention to offend anyone for the state of some houses, this series of ugly images is my desperate, probably futile attempt to save the architectural heritage that is already in such a state that her salvation is gone.
Oh Heavens, let the damned phone ring
unanswered call to the throes of telesales
I do not care to linger here
but take the air, the space, the time
of pleasantries in memories of no fear
this is pure magic in the realms of the fantastical
but not fantasy, that steps-in before we do
unnoticed, so let it go too
only hallucinatory haloes care to matter
in the course of feeling it's parachuting virtue
engulfing us like a song when we loved to live
now returns reliving our love of it's remembrance
it's in our eye today what reflects yesterday
and that can be a lovely felling, can it not?
if you ever have time to betray...
let it be so, for a recollection, souvenir, has meaning
spiralling back to you for a very valuable reason
it testifies in defence of your very being
those memories have the agility of ability
far, far beyond anything in legible writing
our days are so tegulated we forget their importance
a role above our heads, keeping us dry...
yet always above water, the weal of continuance
nothing that can't be fixed or abridged
a gallery of lost pleasures now illustrate a free-handed credence
for all endeavours and advantageous circumstance
nothing concludes our days better than the truly natural touch
a hand in our lives is forever the heartbeat of life's power
we frequent it's House but remain forgetful of how it's located
as if Nature needed yet another miracle to conjure-
under our very naive noses we sniff at all Her enchantments
stealing Her fragrance to manipulate our cosmetic (un)kind
then take on Euhemerism to commercial effect too
touching the nether regions of flagrant pampering
such a shower through and through!!
but as we speak something on the wind always digests our thoughts,
and that is not pie in the sky
nor something to flip the bird at!
but Her generosity over ages past
are the lever with which barbaric and futile wars may be combat.
by anglia24
11h40: 11/04/2008
©2008anglia24
A (small) portion of a circuit board
The vertical dimension of the photo is about 0.75" (~2cm) on the board
HMM!
To the left, the upper reaches of Monarch Mountain (9,111 ft; 2,777 m) are wrapped in low cloud as the mountain looms over the patchwork of forest and wet, open terrain comprising Monarch Meadows, Victoria Cross Range, Jasper National Park, Alberta.
There is no trail through these meadows. As such, we felt some measure of relief, standing where this photo was taken, to realize that it would be both possible and safe to descend and thread a relatively direct way through the open patches toward the distant, low pass and then into the next drainage to camp. Given the amount of water we encountered on the sides of the moderately steep slopes we negotiated to gain this vantage, it seemed likely that the areas without trees might be boggy.
We paused for lunch somewhere near the medium-sized, bright, green patch right in the center of the frame. It felt delightful to remove the shoes for a little while, wring out the socks and hang them on a branch to dry (futile), and drink some tea after our repast. The cloud ceiling lifted somewhat from where it was when I made this photo, and Monarch Glacier was revealed, sitting high upon its dais of stone. I kept expecting we might encounter wildlife, and I was not terribly excited about the idea of meeting with grizzly in such relatively close forest. However, to this point, we observed nothing but Ravens moving almost effortlessly above us. I can only speculate as to why we didn't see more of the four-leggeds, and I suspect that animals living this far off trail are not that accustomed to crossing paths with Homo turistico americanus and thus took pains to avoid our presence.
As you can see, climbing a tree to escape a grizzly attack is probably futile.
"If you are attacked by a grizzly bear, leave your pack on and PLAY DEAD. Lay flat on your stomach with your hands clasped behind your neck. Spread your legs to make it harder for the bear to turn you over. Remain still until the bear leaves the area.”
"If you are attacked by a black bear, DO NOT PLAY DEAD. Try to escape to a secure place such as a car or building. If escape is not possible, try to fight back using any object available. Concentrate your kicks and blows on the bear's face and muzzle."
According to the National Park Service, the odds of being attacked by a bear are 1 in 2.1 million.
Bearizona Wildlife Park
A very heavy amount of mist made keeping anything dry a futile effort. While I normally prefer punchy contrast and tack sharp images, the mist coupled with water on my lens added a soft dreamlike quality that was a welcome departure from my usual.
Springtime flow at Panther Creek Falls, Washington. Contrast this to the autumn flow a few posts ago in my stream.
This is a copyrighted image with all rights reserved. Please don't use
this image on websites, blogs, facebook, or other media without my
explicit permission.
© Tom Schwabel, All rights reserved