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Taken from the window seat of a London bound 747. For a long time, this was my most popular photo on Flickr.
That fog doesn't mess around. Just another blue hour shot of the Golden Gate Bridge. It was quite chilly for a night in June, and the bridge was covered in fog within minutes after this shot was taken...
another mirrored compo from a recent walk down haight street
haight ashbury
san francisco, california
The gate bridge at Villiarstown in Co Waterford must be photographed 100s if not 1000s of timess.I just wanted to do something different with it.The gate was built in 1826 as a wedding present for Henry Villiers Stuart and his wife Theresis Pauline Ott of Vienna.It was originally built of timber and paper mache.It was later reconstructed in stone.
Trinity isn't a Jewish cemetery but they welcomed former mayor Ed Koch and it was for him that a gate was designated. The gate serves as a symbolic transition point between the living and the dead (much like the English lychgate) and Jewish burial grounds will have one even if the property isn't fenced in.
Thanks to [https://www.flickr.com/photos/obsessivephotography] for this bit of NYC history!
Taking Golden Gate bridge pictures from a moving car is tricky even when you are not the one driving. Most of mine were crap. But then you can always play with them, edit to no end and call them "art"! HSS!
The 3.8m bronze sculpture by Chong Fah Cheong (Singapore) display at the Active Garden, Gardens by the Bay.
An airport in Germany, abandoned since more than 70 years. One could very well imagine walking along this hallway towards the gates. Except... it was a military airport.
See more Lost Places here.
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welcome to the gates of heaven...or hell feat.
☪ violent seduction unicornis
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Mark Rylance on The Gates of Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre
The Globe Theatre stands by the south bank of the Thames, near Southwark Bridge. The riverside here is a very emotional place for me. I first worked at the Globe before its reconstruction, doing Othello in the small Bear Garden theatre nearby. Then around 1991, while building work was being carried out, I did The Tempest down in the foundations. And in 1995, two years before the Globe officially opened, I became Artistic Director. I used to stand here late at night, looking out at St Paul’s, and later the Millennium Bridge… There’s a sense of time, the presence of other generations, especially those from Shakespeare’s lifetime.
Facing the river are the Globe Gates, which lead into the walled yard of the theatre. Before they were put up in 1997, it was just a concrete wall. Nine steps lead from the road up to the gates. If there’s no play on, the gates are pinned open during the day. They’re made of slender, vertical wrought iron stems that weave gently as they go up. At the top there are three curved tiers, so that the gates are tallest in the centre, reaching about 5 metres where they meet. They’re about the same width. All over the gates there are rows of small cast iron figures depicting plants, creatures and objects from Shakespeare’s plays. Each is a bit larger than a hand with fingers spread. There are over a hundred different figures, made by 130 blacksmiths from all over Europe, America and even further afield.
These gates were initiated by Sam Wanamaker as a fundraising and consciousness-raising project, and designed by Richard Quinnell, MBE. It was part of the architect Theo Crosby’s vision that the Globe should be a place of traditional craftwork – timber framework, lime plaster, thatch-work and blacksmithery - and that all of these crafts should inspire the artists in their craft.
The wonderful, curious figures include mermaids, crows, octopuses and peacocks, sheep, an owl, a stick of corn, rushes, butterflies and a dragon. The three lowest rows are within touching range – one about hip height, one around the shoulder and one just above the head. When the gates are pinned open, you’ll be able to feel the figures that are usually inside. With your back to the river, turn to the gate on your right. Going from left to right you’ll find at hip height: a kingfisher holding a fish in its beak, an abstract ox with long, tapering horns, a hare, powerful legs bent as if ready to leap, two entwined vipers with forked tongues and finally a chameleon, clinging to a branch. Above that, going left to right again, there’s a leek, a feather, quill and ink pot, a frog with spots on its back, an owl and primroses with five heart-shaped petals. And above that: a fig hanging on a branch, a shark, foxgloves, a big rough rat holding a tiny book, and the mask of an ape’s face. The ape’s eyes are bulging and its mouth is open as if in fear. Strangely, it has no teeth or tongue - its mouth is a smooth concave.
The thing with Shakespeare is that he gives soul to the whole of nature. In Cymbeline, when the flame of a candle sees Imogen’s sleeping face, even it falls in love with her: 'the flame o' the taper / Bows toward her, and would under-peep her lids, / To see the enclosed lights’. Plants and rocks are given a liveliness of consciousness. He observes nature so lovingly – that’s one of his gifts to us.
I can’t describe every figure, but I’ll pick out a few. Still with the gates pinned open, on the gate to your left you’ll find a disc-shaped one. It’s in the lowest row, three along from either side. Shaped like a large coin, it’s a 2-D picture of a man’s stockinged legs and a spaniel. The spaniel’s head and paws pop out – it’s stepping out of the picture. Along the edge of the coin it reads, ‘Troilus, faithful companion’, after Petruchio’s spaniel in Taming of the Shrew.
Immediately to the left of that there’s a mortar and pestle, belonging to the apothecary in Romeo and Juliet. The brim and base of the mortar fan out and the curled letters ‘Rx’ are raised on its surface, from the Latin symbol for presciption. Just beneath the brim there’s a lightly rendered Star of David – the figure was made in memory of someone called Ephriam Bodow.
If the gates are closed and you’re outside, you’ll find a hawk. It’s in the lowest row of the right hand gate - just beside the point where the two gates meet. The hawk is in profile, looking back over its shoulder. It’s perched on the blade of a handsaw, after Hamlet’s words: ‘I am but mad north-north-west: when the wind is southerly, I still know a hawk from a handsaw’.
One row up and one figure to the left is a Japanese Noh mask, made by a blacksmith in Japan. It has a smooth, serene expression, with the suggestion of a smile. And right at the top of the gates there are the two masks, of comedy – on the left – and tragedy – on the right. They are turned towards one another. The masks have angular, stylised faces like line drawings, with thin lips and pointed noses. Their expressions are surprisingly subtle: a smile plays on comedy’s lips, whereas tragedy’s brow is slightly furrowed, corners of the mouth turned down.
The various wishes of the person are entrusted dedication and a money offering with. However, they are insubstantial things in the same way as the charging to virtual contents of the Internet. By the way, according to WEB of the God tool shop of Kyoto, the price of torii seems to be at the same level as a car.
On April 13, 2013 in Nezu Shrine.
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奉納や賽銭にはその人の色々な願いが託されています。 それらはインターネットの仮想コンテンツへの課金と同じように、実体のないものです。 ちなみに、京都の神具店のWEBによると、鳥居は自動車と同程度の価格のようです。
2013年4月13日、根津神社にて。
This is the main entrance to St. Bartholomew’s London, in the Smithfield district of the City of London. The hospital was founded in 1123. Featuring a statue of King Henry VIII (who made a bequest to the hospital), the entrance gate was completed in 1702.
One of the shots I wanted to make while we were in Vancouver was a night image of the Lions Gate Bridge. I had seen plenty of other shots of it online, but really wanted to capture it myself. It's a stunning piece of architecture and I was lucky enough to have a great sky as a backdop for the shot.
Early morning on a ranch in the Aravaipa Canyon area in Arizona. The area must have received a recent rain, the ground was moist and the grass was green. We had seen cattle in nearby pastures and signs of cattle grazing in this pasture. The Cedar post and pipe gate just called to the ranch girl in me, so of course I snapped the shot.
When I got home and started processing some of my photos this was one of the first I looked for in the multitude of photos. I also love the Jumping Cholla cactus in the back ground. I know one thing, if I was gathering this herd on a horse I'd have a good pair of batwing chaps on to protect me from the cactus.
Thanks for looking and commenting.
Susan
On the other side of the gate was sheer cliff and water.
Taken in Newport.
This will be my last vivid photo for a week as I have decided to only do black and white photos starting now for 7 days.
More about this small resolution in my upcoming 365.
Shot at Anne & Mark's Art Party with the I-1 camera and Impossible 600 Black Frame film. Designed by Rose Sellery and worn by Lydia Sellery.
You can click here for a much better view (sharper, better color, and no nadir and zenith pinching) or enjoy what Flickr™ provides. But do click on the external link (to fieldofview.com) and you'll be happy forever--if you derive your happiness from watching carefully made 360 panoramas on the best viewing platform online.
Golden Gate Bridge under the middle arch.
A detail of a surviving leaf of the ancient gates of Ganja, a masterpiece of craftsmanship of the 10/11th century, fastened to the wall facing King David Agmashenebeli’s (the Builder) grave in the yard of the Gelati monastery, near Kutaisi, Georgia. Originally one of the six gates at the castle surrounding the town of Ganja in Azerbaijan, these were created by Azerbaijani master Ibrahim ibn Osman, made of cast iron and decorated on the outside with stamped ornaments and patterns according to the chasing method.
The gates were taken as a trophy by King Demetrius I of Georgia, after he attacked and looted Ganja, that was practically defenseless following a strong earthquake in 1139 that destroyed the town.
David the Builder’s grave itself lies inside the south gate of the monastery; David wanted all who entered to step on his tomb.