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Another image from down stream from Southford Falls. I used the Singh Ray Vari-Duo filter. Converted in PS and dulpicated Agfa black and white film in channel mixer. Slight bump up on contrast. Canon 24-105mm f4.0 lens. View in Lightbox.
Met a friend down in Pennsylvania yesterday. We ended up inside this castle called the Mercer Museum. The stuff in here was ancient! The museum was six floors high and very, very dark inside. I found this library to be the best room in the castle. Very Harry Potterish. =0))
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Lisu women in conversation at their New Year festival in Mogok.
On Facebook at www.facebook.com/RemoteAsiaPhoto. More on my website www.remoteasiaphoto.com.
A snap shot of a very young boy who is riding in a three-wheeled wooden cart being pushed by his young mother along the sidewalk of the national road as she sells boiled peanuts.
Taken in Subic, Zambales, Philippines.
In the Wings
Every stage is designed for performance
While performance roles gently behind the scenes
It is the angel who catches my attention
Above the treetop, reflecting limelight, in the wings
"It's a Wonderful Life", said the production
And though her lips still, I agreed
Pondering the stage's setting
And knowing that she waits, in the wings
The quiet ‘neath the drapered cover
A yielding strength, unheard
That given all of life's ascending
The praise seldom shared by the wings
And when the play is ended
And hindsight be the role
Commanding the performance be the angel or the man
The difference be only, in the wings
CLK
12:36 PM 12/14/2007
Written wholly for my flickr friends, "2007". Thank you for your support and love throughout this year. And thank you for being my inspiration.
Photo taken:
December 9, 2007
Stagecrafters present
The Baldwin Theatre and the production of,
"It's a Wonderful Life"
Theater Built 1922, for vaudeville
Restored 1985
Royal Oak, Michigan
Special thanks to Stagecrafters for allowing us this special glimpse into the theater!
Interior of St. Nicholas Cathedral in Elbląg :)
St. Nicholas Cathedral is a 13th-century Gothic church in Elbląg, Poland, established in circa 1247. It was damaged by fire in the late 18th century and suffered damage during World War II. It was elevated to the status of cathedral in 1992. The most valuable elements of the interior are: a gothic bronze baptismal from 1387 made by master Bernhauser, wooden figures of the apostles, a large gothic sculpture of St. Nicholas and late gothic altars transferred from other churches in Elbląg (altars of the Three Kings, malt makers, Virgin Mary, raftsmen).
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Wnętrze katedry św. Mikołaja w Elblągu :)
Katedra św. Mikołaja w Elblągu – kościół w Elblągu, pierwotnie farny, a od 25 marca 1992 katedra diecezji elbląskiej. Siedziba najstarszej w mieście parafii św. Mikołaja. Początki kościoła sięgają poł. XIII w., kiedy powstało prostokątne prezbiterium i 5 przęseł korpusu. Przez kolejne stulecia kościół był stopniowo rozbudowywany. Do najcenniejszych elementów wyposażenia wnętrza należą: gotycka chrzcielnica z brązu z 1387 wykonana przez mistrza Bernhausera, drewniane figury apostołów, wielka gotycka rzeźba św. Mikołaja oraz późnogotyckie ołtarze przeniesione z innych kościołów Elbląga (ołtarze Trzech Króli, słodowników, NMP, flisaków).
I took this photo at the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin. The woman is not a model, but a stranger. Her pose happened by chance.
In some respects one could say because of the history nobody should take photos there. But I think this photo is not disrespectful, rather the opposite of it.
While processing the photo, I was thinking very carefully about the message of the photo. In the end I liked this version the most: in front darker, but she is walking towards the warm light.
Dieses Foto ist am Holocaust-Mahnmal in Berlin aufgenommen worden. Die Frau ist kein Model, sondern eine Fremde. Ihre Pose ist zufällig entstanden.
Viele würden sagen, dass man an solchen Orten keine Fotos machen sollte, aufgrund der Geschichte. Ich finde aber, dass man eher darauf achten sollte, dass das Foto respektvoll bleibt, wie bei diesem hier.
Während ich das Foto entwickelt habe, habe ich lange über die Bildaussage nachgedacht. Am Ende habe ich mich für eine Version entschieden, wo der Vordergrund dunkler ist und die Frau in das warme Licht läuft.
Laddie taking in the first signs of spring in Llanfairfechan, North Wales.
Explore Highest position: 250 on Saturday, April 23, 2016
Rehearsing in the mid-day heat, window slats open allowing air to flow, the dancers performed with grit and grace.
Shot with Fujifilm FinePix S5600
© Aleksandra Radonich, All Rights Reserved.
This image is the property of the photographer and cannot be used, printed, downloaded, or reproduced in any way for either personal or commercial use without prior written consent of the photographer.
211 326 stellt einen Gaswagen zur Fa. Tyczka zu.
Der Anschluss war der letzte Rest der Strecke nach Otterberg.
In Greek mythology, the autumn equinox is linked to Ade, Demetra and Persephone. In antiquity, myths and legends were used to find an explanation for the passing of the seasons, which marked with great importance the alternation of work in fields, crops and rest.
These are Apollo and Dafne and so do not really get to the theme
But this work done a while ago makes me think of the Autumn
Apollo and Daphne is a life-sized Baroque marble sculpture by Italian artist Gian Lorenzo Bernini, executed between 1622 and 1625. Housed in the Galleria Borghese in Rome, the work depicts the climax of the story of Daphne and Phoebus in Ovid's Metamorphoses.....
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apollo_and_Daphne_(Bernini)
Thanks for your recent visits, favorites, comments and invitations. I go slow, but everything is very much appreciated, as always....
All rights reserved. Image can not be inserted in blogs, websites or any other form, without my written permission.
In a stretch of level flow between the falls of a mountain stream - Nant Cadair, Cwm Cau, Cadair Idris.
This was taken in the Masai Mara. The Wildebeest and the Zebra were building upon the bank waiting to cross. This Zebra became a caught up in the mass of Wildebeest and was looking for the rest of his herd.
Took this shot Yesterday morning in the Butterfly garden,
Happy Sunday everyone and happy week to some.
I didn't have much time to play in the closeup details of the aspen, but I did get lost in there a couple times...
This is much sweeter if you hit the "L" key.
Flickr doesn't allow self-promotional links under our photos. My contact info can be found on my Profile Page.
This is the view from my west balcony. The water tower is what I use to gauge how far north or south it is traveling as the seasons come and go. Im actually looking to the northwest.
At the height of summer the sun sets well to the right of the water tower. Two months later, as in this shot, it is to the left. And even later, during the dead of winter, the sun is completely off this frame to the far left. Probably off your monitor........lol.
As of today, the sun is still off your monitor but it is making its way north again. In due time, it will be June 21st again and the sun will be well to the right of the water tower once again.
And that will be Summer :-)
Have a great weekend everyone!!
For my friend NatuurfotoRien/Rien in Holland, who loves corvids.
I had this odd notion that when I retire I would carve a totem pole, and so over the years, I learned more and more about northwest coast art, culture, and carving. One of the pieces I studied was this - a huge cedar sculpture carved by the great sculptor, Bill Reid, to whom the telling of this ancient story is credited.
Bill Reid was a Haida indian (Haida is their word for “human”). The Haida tribe lives in the Queen Charlotte Islands off the coast of northern Canada (below Alaska), in a special place they call Haida Gwaii. Bill is widely credited for reviving the arts of the northwest coast - he was an amazing sculptor. I am disappointed I will never meet him.
The northwest coast tribes have many gods - all animals. Raven is the Haida equivalent of “fox”. Tricky, playful, smart, inquisitive - these are all qualities of Raven, whose play and trickery created the stars in the sky, the sun, the ocean and man.
The man-size (literally) sculpture is inside the University of British Columbia museum in Vancouver, Canada. When it was installed, Bill had the children of Haida Gwaii come to the installation - each with bottles of sand from the beach at Haida Gwaii, so Raven, could be installed in his native soil.
Here is his telling of their genesis myth - one of the most sacred stories in Haida culture:
The Story of the Raven Creating Man by Bill Reid
The great flood which had covered the earth for so long had receded, and even the thin strip of sand now called Rose Spit, stretching north from Naikun village lay dry. The Raven had flown there to gorge himself on the delicacies left by the receding water, so for once he wasn't hungry. But his other appetites - lust, curiosity and the unquenchable itch to meddle and provoke things, to play tricks on the world and its creatures - these remained unsatisfied.
He had recently stolen the light from the old man who kept it hidden in a box in his house in the middle of the darkness, and had scattered it throughout the sky. The new light spattered the night with stars and waxed and wane in the shape of the moon. And it dazzled the day with a single bright shining which lit up the long beach that curved from the spit beneath Raven's feet westward as far as Tao Hill. Pretty as it was, it looked lifeless and so to the Raven quite boring. He gave a great sigh, crossed his wings behind his back and walked along the sand, his shiny head cocked, his sharp eyes and ears alert for any unusual sight or sound. Then taking to the air, he called petulantly out to the empty sky. To his delight, he heard an answering cry - or to describe it more closely, a muffled squeak.
At first he saw nothing, but as he scanned the beach again, a white flash caught his eye, and when he landed he found at his feet, buried in the sand, a gigantic clamshell. When he looked more closely still, he saw that the shell was full of little creatures cowering in terror of his enormous shadow.
Well, here was something to break the monotony of his day. But nothing was going to happen as long as the tiny things stayed in the shell, and they certainly weren't coming out in their present terrified state. So the Raven leaned his great head close to the shell, and with the smooth trickster's tongue that had got him into and out of so many misadventures during his troubled and troublesome existence, he coaxed and cajoled and coerced the little creatures to come out and play in his wonderful, shiny new world. As you know the Raven speaks in two voices, one harsh and strident, and the other, which he used now, a seductive bell-like croon which seems to come from the depths of the sea, or out of the cave where the winds are born. It is an irresistible sound, one of the loveliest sounds in the world. So it wasn't long before one and then another of the little shell-dwellers timidly emerged. Some of them immediately scurried back when they saw the immensity of the sea and the sky, and the overwhelming blackness of the Raven. But eventually curiosity overcame caution and all of them had crept or scrambled out. Very strange creatures they were: two-legged like the Raven, but there the resemblance ended. They had no glossy feathers, no thrusting beak. Their skin was pale, and they were naked except for the long black hair on their round, flat-featured heads. Instead of strong wings, they had thin stick-like appendages that waved, and fluttered constantly. They were the original Haidas, the first humans.
For a long time the Raven amused himself with his new playthings, watching them as they explored their much expanded-world. Sometimes they helped one another in their new discoveries. Just as often, they squabbled over some novelty they found on the beach. And the Raven taught them some clever tricks, at which they proved remarkably adept. But the Raven's attention span was brief, and he grew tired of his small companions. For one thing, they were all males. He had looked up and down the beach for female creatures, hoping to make the game more interesting, but females were nowhere to be found. He was about to shove the now tired, demanding and quite annoying little creatures back into their shell and forget about them when suddenly - as happens so often with the Raven - he had an idea.
He picked up the men, and in spite of their struggles and cries of fright he put them on his broad back, where they hid themselves among his feathers. Then the Raven spread his wings and flew to North Island. the tide was low, and the rocks, as he had expected, were covered with those large but soft-lipped molluscs known as red chitons. The Raven shook himself gently, and the men slid down his back to the sand. The he flew to the rock and with his strong beak pried a chiton from its surface.
Now, if any of you have ever examined the underside of a chiton, you may begin to understand what the Raven had in his libidinous, devious mind. He threw back his head and flung the chiton at the nearest of the men. His aim was as unerring as only a great magician's can be, and the chiton found its mark in the delicate groin of the startled, shell-born creature. There the chiton attached itself firmly. Then as sudden as spray hitting the rocks from a breaking wave, a shower of chitons broke over the wide-eyed humans, as each of the open-mouthed shellfish flew inexorably to its target.
Nothing quite like this had ever happened to the men. They had never dreamed of such a thing during their long stay in the clamshell. They were astounded, embarrassed, confused by a rush of new emotions and sensations. They shuffled and squirmed, uncertain whether it was pleasure or pain they were experiencing. They threw themselves down on the beach, where a great storm seemed to break over them, followed just as suddenly by a profound calm. One by one the chitons dropped off. The men staggered to their feet and headed slowly down the beach, followed by the raucous laughter of the Raven, echoing all the way to the great island to the north which we now call Prince of Wales.
That first troop of male humans soon disappeared behind the nearest headland, passing out of the games of the Raven and the story of humankind. Whether they found their way back to the shell, or lived out their lives elsewhere, or perished in the strange environment in which they found themselves, nobody remembers, and perhaps nobody cares. They had played their roles and gone their way.
Meanwhile the chitons had made their way back to the rock, where they attached themselves as before. But they too had been changed. As high tide followed low and the great storms of winter gave way to the softer rains and warm sun of spring, the chitons grew and grew, many times larger than their kind had ever been before. Their jointed shells seemed about to fly apart from the enormous pressure within them. And one day a huge wave swept over the rock, tore them from their footholds and carried them back to the beach. As the water receded and the warm sun dried the sand, a great stirring began among the chitons. From each emerged a brown skinned, black-haired human. This time there were both males and females among them, and the Raven could begin his greatest game: the one that still goes on.
They were no timid shell-dwellers these, but children of the wild coast, born between the sea and land, challenging the strength of the stormy North Pacific and wresting from it rich livelihood. Their descendants built on its beaches the strong, beautiful homes of the Haidas and embellished them with the powerful heraldic carvings that told of the legendary beginnings of great families, all the heros and heroines and the gallant beasts and monsters who shaped their world and their destinies. For many generations they grew and flourished, built and created, fought and destroyed, living according to the changing seasons and the unchanging rituals of their rich and complex lives.
It's nearly over now. Most of the villages are abandoned, and those which have not entirely vanished lie in ruins. The people who remain are changed. The sea has lost much of its richness, and great areas of land itself lie in waste. Perhaps it's time the Raven started looking for another clamshell.
An early morning in Iceland, taken in the lagoon at Stokksnes, Litlahorn and the Viking Cafe and you can also see Husadalstindur Klifatindur and the Vatnajokull in the distance,
Almost in Wombourne and the end of this part of my walk and i came across this bench put here in loving memory of a couple 'May & Leah'"who must have loved this part of the Worcestershire & Staffordshire Canal and the view from here ........Wombourne,South Staffordshire ,Staffordshire England
“Do not worry if you have built your castles in the air. They are where they should be. Now put the foundations under them.”
Henry David Thoreau
hellooo (: i hope you had a great week and it wasn't as busy as mine! Tomorrow I will have
my french exam (yessss, on a saturday morning) but in the evening there will be a party! i'm really looking forward to it :)
i hope you'll have an amazing weekend (i will definitely have one :D)
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The soil is rich and fertile in many parts of India so one sees many fields of crops on a road journey. If you are lucky, a woman will be working in a field with a bright colored sari on with ornaments sparkling in the sunlight.
A reminder that all of my images are copyrighted and are not for your use in any way unless you contact me. Thank you for dropping by. I greatly appreciate your visits and comments.
"We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial." -PHILIP JAMES BAILEY, Festus
For this shoot, my sister and I lugged the beautiful trunk she sat on out through a field of weeds that were waist deep to this old barn. Which seems to always be how our adventures go. At the time I was quite frustrated with the shoot, I couldn't get my vision onto my camera. But after a bit of time I look back on this and laugh at our adventure and am even pleased with my image :)
Model: Lauren Mort
A portrait photo of a 63-year-old lady who, at the very moment of capture, looks like reflecting about something occupying her mind.
Taken with her permission just in front of her humble house which is located at a village in Subic, Zambales, Philippines.
before the bay of palma awakens, the day murmurs its arrival through the whispers of dawn. clouds part like curtains unveiling a stage, rays of light cascade, each a gentle touch on the slumbering sea. the silhouette of the distant mountains stands as the eternal audience, witnessing the slow brightening of the world. it’s a serene symphony where each element plays its part in harmony, the sea reflecting the sky’s moody hues, the land a dark contrast to the awakening sky. in this quiet hour, time pauses, allowing the earth to inhale the promise of a new day, a subtle interlude before life resumes its pace.