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“To walk is to lack a place. It is the indefinite process of being absent and in search of a proper. The moving about that the city mutliplies and concentrates makes the city itself an immense social experience of lacking a place...” by Michel de Certeau
I love the tension that develops (both in the landscape and my mind) as autumn color begins to drown out the monochromatic greens of summer. The hues are at once spectacular, yet created by the process of the foliage in its death throes. Likewise I love being immersed in this world of color saturation, but with the caveat that it is the last barrier between me and cruel winter. Everything is in conflict and I find that highly inviting. It's one off those situations where you really have to live in the moment. The process unfolds so quickly there really isn't much time to pontificate. I tend to get very tense as the season unfolds (yet another after effect of being a photographer). I'm constantly in fear that a perfect opportunity, or simply not being in the right place and time. Even being out actively shooting does not fully eliminate this anxiety.
Shooting abandonments in autumn is a classic example. I love the visual metaphor of time passage, and death upon death. But also the conflict created by beauty enveloping an empty, deteriorated structure. Lots of cliche in all of this, but I live comfortably within the bounds of cliche, photographically and otherwise. Creativity justifies all sorts of behavioral shortcomings, but I'm digressing. Back in the moment, I'm keen on the timing involved in shots like this. I want enough foliage to convey autumn, but my vision also requires a carpet of fallen leaves. This blends the autumnal color across the foreground. And with just enough fallen leaves, the structure itself is partially revealed. Arrive too early, and the structure is completely obscured; arrive too late and there's not enough color left in the trees. As I stood here in this lonely side yard, the scene just felt unified. The open doorway offered a glimpse of apparent sanctuary. But it was nothing more than a baleful mirage.
Melodía de sombras (Melody of Shadows, 2016) is a heap of testa non pertinente that invokes classical sculpture and, at the same time, commemorates the fallen in the conflicts that permeate our national reality.
_____ _____ ___ ___ __ __ _ .
Artist Cynthia Gutiérrez (born 1978 in Guadalajara, Mexico)
The work of Cynthia Gutierrez denotes a constant search to analyze memory at different levels, generating tensions or fissures in established schemes. Her reflections and processes depart from situations of conflict; from indefinite, unstable terrains with a vulnerable condition that allows movement in multiple directions. From fragments, she reconfigures images that alter habitual trajectories and destabilize structures offering alternatives that simultaneously operate between reality and fiction. She articulates historical elements from a new posture with distorted chronologies that evidence the impossibility of generating accurate memories, and reveal the transience of history.
( cynthiagutierrez.com/biography/)
Dans son travail, Cynthia interroge constamment l'instabilité de la mémoire ainsi que la pertinence des narrations historiques officielles. Dans Melodía de Sombras, l'artiste sature l'espace d'exposition en y plaçant une grande quantité de têtes classiques empilées. Elle questionne ainsi, par une répétition et un agencement inspirés par les ruines, le caractère identitaire de ces sujets, la multiplicité des visages dissolvant l'identité du masque particulier en un anonymat universal.
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( Eldorado: 27 avr - 03 nov 2019)
youtu.be/bRlXUYtKrRo?si=8RroUqu-4znjDg7o
Marian Petrescu Jazz Trio – Symphony No.3 in F, Op.90 (Brahms) 🎧
---- Thanks to Eloy Gonzalo García ----
The Composers Quarter Hamburg is a gathering of six museums in the Peterstraße in Hamburg-Neustadt, Germany. The associated museums have one or two classical composers as a theme who were born or have lived in the city of Hamburg (G.P. Telemann, C.P. Emanuel Bach, J.A. Hasse, Fanny and Felix Mendelssohn, Johannes Brahms and Gustav Mahler) The museums are located in restored historical buildings.
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"People usually complain that music is so ambiguous, and what they are supposed to think when they hear it is so unclear, while words are understood by everyone. But for me it is exactly the opposite...what the music I love expresses to me are thoughts not to indefinite for words, but rather too definite."
--Felix Mendelssohn--
This is the weathered and worn logo from an old Ferguson tractor on the farm. I like the result, especially the colour and the indefinite edge. There are three vintage tractors on the farm. One has been completely renovated and is used regularly. The other two are projects in waiting, one is used, the other not.
Hey all, I'm taking a break from blogging. May be indefinite, may not be. I don't know.
I have to rediscover why I fell in love with sl photography in the first place.
Anyway, here's alien fuckery for you.
Also, happy new year
This year we have only produced one orange and several mandarins.
The truth is that a terrace does not give us much more.
But we do not lose hope that, some fabulous year, we will have enough to at least make a juice.
ETIMOLOGY: The word "orange" derives ultimately from Proto-Dravidian or Tamil (naram). From there the word entered Sanskrit (naranga), meaning 'orange tree'.
The Sanskrit word reached European languages through Persian (narang) and its Arabic derivative (naranj).
The word entered Late Middle English in the 14th century via Old French pomme d'orenge.
Other forms include Old Provençal auranja, Italian arancia, formerly narancia. In several languages, the initial n present in earlier forms of the word dropped off because it may have been mistaken as part of an indefinite article ending in an n sound.
In French, for example, "une norenge" may have been heard as "une orenge".
This linguistic change is called "juncture loss".
The color was named after the fruit, with the first recorded use of orange as a color name in English in 1512. (Source: Wikipedia)
Photo taken in Pozuelo de Alarcón, Madrid, Spain.
CÍTRICOS DE NUESTRA COSECHA CASERA, 2024
Este año sólo hemos producido una naranja y varias mandarinas.
La verdad es que una terraza no da para mucho más.
Pero no perdemos las esperanzas de que, algún año fabuloso, tengamos suficiente para al menos hacer un zumo.
ETIMOLOGÍA: La palabra española «naranja» proviene del sánscrito "narang", sin embargo, no es una palabra nativa a esa lengua, sino que se especula que la tomó de las lenguas drávidas como el tamil donde se dice narandam a la ‘naranja amarga’, nagarukam a la ‘naranja dulce’, donde nari es ‘fragancia’.
La palabra junto con la fruta fue lentamente llevada hacia occidente: del sánscrito pasó al persa "narensh", luego al árabe "naranj", el árbol, y "naranjah", el fruto y de ahí al español «naranjo» y «naranja», respectivamente.
Se difundió a otros idiomas europeos en un curioso proceso: los portugueses cambiaron la ene inicial por una ele "laranja"; al pasar al italiano, para que la ele inicial no redundara con el artículo «la» se le eliminó la ele inicial "arancia"; al pasar al francés y al latín se relacionó con el lexema oro (or y aurum) resultando orange y aurantium.
Debido a que en la Edad Media el idioma culto de Inglaterra era el francés, en inglés pasó tal cual como orange en 1512
Siempre hablamos de Citrus Aurantium, de sabor amargo, única naranja conocida en la Edad Media en Europa. (Fuente: Wikipedia)
Foto hecha en Pozuelo de Alarcón, Madrid, España.
Travis - 3 Miles High / Everything At Once (2016) Filmed in Berlin
Todo el mundo tiene un muro que escalar. Pero realmente no tenemos tiempo para dar un qué sobre ello. Y tu vida es una muñeca rusa que te regalaron cuando eras pequeño. Y todos dentro de ti, no tenemos ni idea, porque estamos a tres millas de altura. Y nos pudrimos como el polvo... y las plumas vuelan. Y no podemos bajar, porque reventaríamos nuestra pequeña burbuja en el suelo. Y no bajaremos hasta que toquemos el suelo... porque estamos a tres millas de altura.
.....
Thievery Corporation - Saudade (2014)
Dentro do silêncio, me percebo e te noto e te beijo junto do nascer do sol. Nós dois abraçadinhos na varanda, na casinha tão sonhada, encaixados feito caracol. Enquanto a vida nos deixar, curtir assim. Enquanto for bom pra você e para mim. Enquanto a vida nos deixar curtir assim. Enquanto esse amor viver dentro de mim. E de você. É melhor deixar acontecer naturalmente. Sem expectativas. Se tiver de ser, será enquanto a vida nos deixar, curtir assim. Enquanto estiver bom pra você e pra mim... Enquanto a vida nos deixar.
Dédié à Pat.
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"Saudade" is a word incorporated into Galician and Spanish from Portuguese. It is a rather indefinite word. It refers to an affective feeling close to melancholy, originated by the distance towards something dear and which implies the desire to resolve that distance, be it physical or spiritual. It entails the recognition of knowing that what is missing... will most likely never return.
Image dedicated to who left forever, the friend who left their footprints in the past. Infinite everywhere. "Saudade"
Eric Hilton - Infinite Everywhere / Infinite Everywhere (2020)
Selfie-drone at sunrise Lençóis Maranhenses.
(This is the feeling we would wish for the inhabitants of Gaza and South Lebanon, in an indefinite future, when cruel and blatant Zionist colonialism is brought to an end.)
The plant shown is a wild-growing specimen of the ubiquitous European Red Raspberry (Rubus idaeus). When loose in the wild (as here), it is an amazingly successful, hardy, difficult plant that seems to grow anywhere and everywhere. Its shoots grow really fast--a couple of meters in a couple of spring months. The thorns are numerous and sharp. I learned the hard way that you have to wear heavy gloves to deal with the shoots.
Location: Among some old machinery in "indefinite, long-term outdoor storage." Kreiterhof, near the village of Nebenau, District of Lörrach, Baden-Württemberg DE.
In my album: Dan's Weed World.
The past, like the future, is indefinite and exists only as a spectrum of possibilities.
Stephen Hawking
Volevo stupirvi con qualcosa di eclatante, qualcosa di nuovo, di mai fatto prima. Poi sono giunta alla conclusione che a me piacciono questi scatti, questi particolari, tutti questi pallini fluttuanti e indefiniti.... ed è inutile che io mi ostini a voler fare cose diverse. In fondo il mio "non-stile" è proprio questo, con qualche digressione saltuaria e deviazioni più o meno marcate verso altri soggetti. Non smetterò di utilizzare l'iPhone, è troppo divertente, ma questo scatto racchiude tutto ciò che amo nella fotografia. Quindi parto da qui, un bokeh arrugginito e pungente. Il fatto è che appena ho avuto in mano la macchina fotografica nuova, sono partita alla volta di questa recinzione appena dietro casa mia, un groviglio di fili spinati che mi ha sempre affascinato e che ho già fotografato in passato varie volte.
Devo dire che mi sto veramente divertendo con la Canon, mi ritrovo perfettamente e facilmente a mio agio e credo che faremo grandi cose insieme..... e poichè sono sempre indecisa.... + 2 nei commenti. SOOC.
HBW!
I wanted to surprise you with something striking, something new, something never done before. Then I came to the conclusion that I like these shots, these details, all these dots floating and indefinite .... and it is useless for me to insist on wanting to do different things. At least, my "non-style" is just this, with occasional, sporadic and more or less pronounced deviations due from other subjects. I will not stop using the iPhone, it's too funny, but this shot contains everything I love in photography. So I start from here, a bokeh rusty and sharp. The fact is that as soon as I got hold the new camera, I went toward this fence just behind my house, a tangle of barbed wire that has always fascinated me and I have photographed in the past for several times.
I must say I'm really enjoying the Canon, I find myself easily and perfectly at my ease, and I think we will do great things together ..... and due to my indecision.... + 2 in the comment. SOOC.
HBW!!!
While disciples make their hajj to William Blake, I would rather
pause to kiss the air on behalf of Ella Wheeler Wilcox, 1850 - 1919,
of Dane County, Wisconsin, who wrote, a pat on the back is only a
few vertebrae removed from a kick in the pants, Mrs. Wilcox one
of the Midwestern gnostic poets at the edge of where the country
broke in half, where the midday moon appears crenelated and rusts
through the sky. The wind could channel the vapors of atmospheric disturbance above Galena or Mt. Horeb, could summon thunderheads and crackle the blue, but sweet, dead Mrs. Wheeler Wilcox would
remain speechless under her sod, gone with those who gathered
thistles and eulogized the russet manes of draft horses, camisoles
and ice frescoes. I think of her now as I pump this roadside
spigot and listen for whatever life begins its upward journey
hundreds of feet below. A sputter, a muddy burst, then
I speak in tongues, a lukewarm joy I bend toward and sop up.
It's hard enough to rescue the lost who are still with us, but
those who wrote so plain seem unanointed, few thickets to hew
or Latin to transliterate. We drink what the well sends up, no
matter how aged or mineralized or from which artesian spring it
comes, earthy in my cup of hands, water from underground, from
lightless cisterns, free flowing long after we let go. And for
hours afterward an indefinite taste remains in my mouth, of words,
I think, untapped, moving miles down in subterranean rivers and
black, enormous lakes that exist on maps only the dead possess.
--M deO
Nothing holds me to anything.
I want fifty things at once.
With a meat-hungry anguish I yearn
For what I don’t know —
Definitely for the indefinite …
Restless I sleep and live in the restless dream
Of someone who sleeps restlessly, half of me dreaming.
They closed all the abstract and necessary doors on me.
They drew the curtains on all the hypotheses I might have seen on the street.
There is no house on the side street with the number they gave me.
I woke to the same life I departed after sleeping.
Even my dream armies suffered defeat.
Even my dreams felt false as I dreamed them.
Even the life I only desire — even that life — cloys …
Fernando Pessoa
● ꜱᴘᴏɴꜱᴏʀꜱ ●
↪ Indefinite Sleeved Scarf ---> @[Dope+Mercy]
↪ Indefinite Sweatpants ---> @[Dope+Mercy]
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Blog Post :#344
*SWEETNESS* is the topic for Sunday ~ July 26th, 2020, Group Our Daily Challenge
Since I can't carry a heavy camera for an indefinite period because of my shoulder surgery, I got a new toy from my wife for my birthday. A fine little Sony that weighs only half. These are the first results.
I think it's not bad!
Da ich wegen meiner Schulteroperation auf unbestimmte Zeit keine schwere Kamera tragen kann, habe ich zu meinem Geburtstag, von meiner Frau ein neues Spielzeug bekommen. Eine feine kleine Sony, die nur die Hälfte wiegt. Dies sind die ersten Ergebnisse.
Nicht schlecht finde ich!
The apparent restriction of the phenomenon of consciousness to higher forms of life has long served science as a pretext for eliminating it from its construction of the universe. To dismiss it, thought has been classed as a bizarre exception, an aberrant function, an epiphenomenon. . . . “Full evidence of consciousness appears only in the human,” we had been tempted to say, “therefore it is an isolated case and of no interest to science.”…
… Evidence of consciousness appears in the human, we must begin again, correcting ourselves; therefore half-seen in this single flash of light, it has cosmic extension and as such takes on an aura of indefinite spatial and temporal prolongations. . . . Indisputably, deep within ourselves, through a rent or a tear, an “interior” appears at the heart of beings. This is enough to establish the existence of this interior in some degree or other everywhere forever in nature. Since the stuff of the universe has an internal face at one point in itself, its structure is necessarily bifacial; that is, in every region of time and space, as well, for example, as being granular, coextensive with its outside, everything has an inside.
-Teilhard, The Human Phenomenon, 23–24.
“To walk is to lack a place. It is the indefinite process of being absent and in search of a proper. The moving about that the city mutliplies and concentrates makes the city itself an immense social experience of lacking a place...” by Michel de Certeau
Πάμε παρέα,
αδερφέ μου, μη κάνεις κράτη.
Το έχω άχτι να περάσω απ' τον συρμάτινο φράκτη
και τον ήλιο να θαμπώσω για λίγο,
να μη μας πάρουν χαμπάρι όσο θ' ανοίγω και θα πνίγω
στης γης τα ρήγματα, τα πιο όμορφα κρίματα,
ζωής θελήματα, της φτώχειας γεννήματα,
μονάκριβα ποιήματα και δίπλα στα θύματα
η παρέα μου ίχνη αφήνει, και πατήματα
Πάμε...
Υο! Noi non vogliamo Bush, il figlio di papa.
Non vogliamo questa guerra che ι contro l'umanita.
Noi prenderemo il sole, il sole e la liberta,
sulla spiaggia di Guantanamo il vento ci portera.
Τρομάξτε τους ήδη φοβισμένους δεσμώτες
με λόγια και νότες κι οι ατσάλινες πόρτες
ραγίζουν κι οι ταπεινοί τα ουράνια αγγίζουν,
δυο πύρινα μάτια και πύργους γκρεμίζουν.
Πάμε...
A Guantanamo in gabbia c' ι anche gente innocente,
gente presa a caso che non c' entra niente.
Dove sono i processi? Le prove? I diritti?
Noi non stiamo zitti, non stiamo zitti.
Falso, falso, falso, falso grande capo,
sei un capo solo col fucile puntato.
Non ti rispetta piϊ nessuno ormai nel mondo.
Guantanamo e la guerra non nascondono il tramonto.
Noi non vogliamo Bush e faraoni predatori,
petrolieri ricoperti di rubini e ori.
Noi non vogliamo Bush che coltiva il terrore -
ultima spiaggia e speranza per restare al potere.
Schiacciati in fondo al mondo come sardine
eppure ancora vedi che l'umanita combatte e vive.
Questo canto vola, oltre oceani e colline
dove un nuovo mondo sorge e per voi c' ι scritto: "Fine".
Lets wonder, lets fly, lets find us
in Guantanamo and free the fire.
Πάμε σαν διψασμένα πουλιά
μέχρι το Γκουαντανάμο
να πάρουμε τη φωτιά
How can we free the prisoners of war,
from indefinite detention down in Cuba?
I feel sorry for the innocent ones who suffer,
so we dedicate this one to all world leader.
If you live in a glass house, don't throw stones.
What gives you the right to invade people's homes?
Terrorism is something that we can't condone,
but there is more than one reason why the towers came down.
Πάμε σαν διψασμένα πουλιά
μέχρι το Γκουαντανάμο
να πάρουμε τη φωτιά
Vamos aser lo imposible
por una vez mas como embieja saga
con un tripulacion puro la roja armada
que viene de los sinquo orizontes del mundo.
Curagaro deada da aqua
y ensima las barreras enredal istorias
nosostros quon allas de barro y las palabras ammos
libertaremos el fuego en Guantanamo.
Je repense aux images des prisons de Guantanamo
Des hommes dans des cages, traitιs comme des animaux
En dιtention ' loin de Genθve et ses conventions
Certains sont innocents de toutes ces accusations
Faire subir aux autres ce qu'on n'aime pas subir
C'est comme ηa qu'ils poussent les terroristes ΰ agir
Je dis Attention !!! Car je sens monter la tension
Ces provocations auront de graves rιpercussions
Nos dirigeants passent leur temps ΰ semer le vent
Quand vient la tempκte, les tours tombent en miettes
Et qui ramassent les pots cassιs? C'est malheureusement
Nous toujours nous encore nous les innocents
Πάμε, φώναξε σ' όλους πως πάμε,
μιλάμε, αγαπάμε, νοιώθουμε και τα δεσμά τους σπάμε.
Ανταμώνουμε και σ' άλλη γλώσσα μιλάμε,
στου ονείρου την άκρη περνάμε.
Noi non vogliamo Bush, il figlio di papa.
Non vogliamo questa guerra che ι contro l'umanita.
Noi prenderemo il sole, il sole e la liberta,
sulla spiaggia di Guantanamo il vento ci portera.
Non stiamo zitti...
Noi non vogliamo Bush...
Lets wonder, lets fly, lets find us
in Guantanamo and free the fire.
Πάμε σαν διψασμένα πουλιά
μέχρι το Γκουαντανάμο
να πάρουμε τη φωτιά.
Vamos como pajaros del fuego
en Guantanamo,
libertaramos el fuego
Des oiseaux volent vers les terres
De Guantanamo l'ξle de l'enfer
Πάμε σαν διψασμένα πουλιά
μέχρι το Γκουαντανάμο
να πάρουμε τη φωτιά.
Lets wonder, lets fly, lets find us
in Guantanamo and free the fire.
Active Member
354 Shunchang Rd., Shanghai
I have photographed this dry food and pickle shop several times. This photo was taken on March 15, 2022, two weeks before the city-wide lockdown.
Six months before this wave of outbreaks, most shops on this street had been evicted for city projects, and some buildings had been demolished. This shop, on the other hand, lasted until March. However, these could be its last days, as basically it would be impossible for a shop like this to survive this indefinite lockdown.
To understand the fiasco of China's epidemic prevention, please read these reports:
www.thelancet.com/action/showPdf?pii=S0140-6736%2822%2900...; cn.nytimes.com/business/20220525/china-covid-zero/dual/
To know what has happened in Shangai since March, 2022, watch these videos: youtu.be/DGL29gU_I8o , youtu.be/HQxJBhR5ZzU, and read these stories: www.nytimes.com/2022/05/06/business/shanghai-xinjiang-chi..., www.nytimes.com/2022/05/13/business/china-zero-covid-xi.html and www.voanews.com/a/foreign-businesses-consider-leaving-chi...
Another foggy morning on the coast near Victoria.
A little more humid if you click the pic to view in Lightbox...
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Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media
without my explicit permission.
© All rights reserved
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I'm the opposite of a nervous driver. But I do have a slight fear of things crashing down a mountainside into me. I was thinking about going out west today, and checked weather and tides in advance. It was the tide situation that put me off. No point going all that way to find the beach is underwater. But the weather has not been good either, with so much rain, and I often see the result of landslides in this area. The road at Camus Nan Geall is etched into the hillside, high above the glittering bay below. The road is rough and very narrow and held against the hillside by a thin, low and very battered barrier. My route was blocked a couple of months ago by temporary traffic lights. As I sat patiently waiting an indefinite amount of time I spotted workmen right up at the top, above me, working on the cliff-face levering loose bits of rock. They regularly rolled down, gathering speed until they crashed down onto the road, shattering into pieces that shattered the steel barrier like shell shrapnel. After about 15 minutes, I was waved through after a little digger had moved the worst of the rubble, and I edged past the worst of the rockful, praying that no more loose bits decided to make a run for it down the hillside. But it does worry me now. Especially after all this rain, and wind, (and we are susceptible to frequent minor earthquakes here too), what if a jagged bit of rock races down from the top and hits me broadside doing 80mph? I don't think I will go there on Friday 13th. Might risk a day at home with my wife instead.
taken from my kayak (The Streak)
“I am grateful for what I am and have. My thanksgiving is perpetual... O how I laugh when I think of my vague indefinite riches. No run on my bank can drain it, for my wealth is not possession but enjoyment.”
― Henry David Thoreau
Thinking of the good times. Happy Canadian Thanksgiving! Thankful for friends like you!
“I am grateful for what I am and have.
My thanksgiving is perpetual.
It is surprising how contented one can be
with nothing definite - only a sense of existence.
Well, anything for variety.
I am ready to try this
for the next ten thousand years, and exhaust it.
How sweet to think of
my extremities well charred,
and my intellectual part too,
so that there is no danger of worm
or rot for a long while.
My breath is sweet to me.
O how I laugh when I think
of my vague indefinite riches.
No run on my bank can drain it,
for my wealth is not possession
but enjoyment.”
- Henry David Thoreau
In quiet times my thoughts fly to the wind
Memory upon memory
Year after year ... into what seems time indefinite
Shadows lurk in these halls
To forever bear presence of a love
one that almost made it to my door
an eternity ago it seems
Night after night
wading into pools of dreams
gazing red moons
and ... wondering
... what two love's futures may have held
And now the chimes roll gently to the wind
and call out softly
As if they knew to hold their peace
... in the presence of a grieving heart
Oh, to know the sound of sad
and yes, to see the colour of loss
in silvery watered tones
that film across ones eyes
It is oft times the lady sits in darkness
rocking ... and pondering by the light of moon
on silent lingering nights
till darkness bids farewell and shows
recompense and compassion
freeing her at last
in twilight sleep
to make way for a new day dawn
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不由自主想起一部電影
Ladies in Lavender
digital 2016
Happy birthday Thea ...all the best to you from down under...have a aussie walkabout on me.......:)
created for and dedicated to~Thea--Tedje51~
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Walkabout-Australian Slang
a walk in the Outback by Aborigines that lasts for an indefinite amount of time; an extended trip or tour, on foot
be lost; can't be found
to go for a long walk, for an aboriginal holiday away in the bush; period of spiritual enlightenment.
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". the grand tour is just the inspired man's way of heading home."
- Paul Theroux
"There are no foreign lands. It is the traveler only who is foreign."
- Robert Louis Stevenson
"I haven't been everywhere, but it's on my list."
- Susan Sontag
Thank you for your wonderful comments,
awards,invites and faves...
all are very much appreciated....!
(original photo in 1st comment box )