Metaphor and Analogy - **In Title or Description**
View allAll Photos Tagged Metaphor
Photo prise dans le jardin du LAM Lille Métropole Musée d’Art moderne, d’Art contemporain.
Artiste: Richard Deacon
Tôle d’acier peint (1992)
« Comme toutes les sculptures monumentales de Richard Deacon, « Between Fiction and Fact » a été pensée et créée en fonction du contexte de son installation. Placée sur le côté de l’entrée du bâtiment de Roland Simounet, la sculpture serpentiforme est penchée légèrement. Graphique et industrielle elle constitue aussi un commentaire métaphorique à la fois sur le bâtiment et la situation du musée ».
Running wild ... for the sake of it.
Punning on Dali. Two 'secret' self-portraits also hiding in the veils. I've always loved images that continue on out from all the framing edges. It gives the impression that there is much more happening beyond what we can see. That's a good metaphor for our daily, so-called, waking consicousness.
Image created May 12, 2023 - From a series of previously photo manipulated pieces.
Zoom in for a more immersive view.
In "The Kreative People" group's collage challenge.
www.flickr.com/groups/1752359@N21/discuss/721577219187541...
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© 2023, Richard S Warner. All Rights Reserved. This image may not be used or copied or posted to another website in any form whatsoever without express permission of the creator of this work, with whom the sole copyright resides.
signalling a new direction
For some time now I've struggled to keep up with flickr...
I try to think of ways to be generous and reciprocal
and also meet my own needs to be more playful...
to have more time and energy for making images
and also for making lucid comments ;-)
For now I'm going to try being more flexible...
embrace a little more imperfection :-)
I'll still respond to comments
(this connection brings me happiness )
and I'll enjoy visiting those who leave them :-)
But I'll be more free about timing...
and not respond to every fave.
Tho I'll try to recognise loyal and wordless fave givers
I am, after all, often one myself.
Not an easy change to make.
But something has to give.
So here's to generosity and freedom.
Meet you
at the intersection ;-)
Forth Road Bridge 13 Dec 2015
The FRB is shrouded in all kinds of things - fog, political smokescreens, uncertainty, to name but a few.
Hopefully the bridge really will open again on 04 January 2016. I feel most sorry for the cancer patients having to travel miles extra for daily treatment in Edinburgh.
Please see my other photos of Edinburgh & the Lothians at www.jamespdeans.co.uk/p399603778
No one remembered to put in their original teeth
at the plant nursing home
so they can’t tell the nurses and aides
to turn off Fox news
and they wither like they’ve been
left for an eternity to suffer
for all their long lost sins.
**All poems and photos are copyrighted**
~ The sky is often used as a metaphor
And I suppose that's because it's so big and expansive
When a long strand of cloud sits just above the horizon
Leaving a strip of clear blue beneath it
It becomes the panorama
It'll turn your head three hundred and sixty degrees,
And the same line follows you round if the land is sufficiently flat
Really, nothing can be compared to it
I am not an acrobat…
I cannot perform these tricks for you
Losing all my balance…
Falling from a wire meant for you ~
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© Copyright by Floriana Thor 2013-2015
We can express our feelings regarding the world around us either by poetic or by descriptive means. I prefer to express myself metaphorically. Let me stress: metaphorically, not symbolically. A symbol contains within itself a definite meaning, certain intellectual formula, while metaphor is an image. An image possessing the same distinguishing features as the world it represents. An image — as opposed to a symbol — is indefinite in meaning. One cannot speak of the infinite world by applying tools that are definite and finite. We can analyse the formula that constitutes a symbol, while metaphor is a being-within-itself, it's a monomial. It falls apart at any attempt of touching it.
― Andrei Tarkovsky
When I think of Istanbul,
Yahya Kemal used to come to mind
Now Orhan Veli comes to mind
You've been on the tip of my tongue for a while now, Orhan Veli
Your taste, your salt,
Your poetry, your face
Like a wounded dove
It circles above my head
It comes and silently lands somewhere in this poem
Where? Those who seek will find
Those who know, know
This city drives people crazy
May your glasses clink, Orhan Veli
A child’s toy and an old bench....childhood and old age.... A visual metaphor? Or maybe just a little boy who got called to lunch and left his trike on the sidewalk!
Walking in fog often provides a visual representation of my thought process. My brain constantly brings different topics into view, but in the process lets others slide into the periphery. Most of the time they are all still there, competing for my attention, but all in varying degrees. In fog I respond to the overall loss of clarity, but also the nuance that is created by relative distance. It's this layering effect I find most appealing as more distant objects eventually recede into nothingness...exactly the same as my mind reacts.
Walking outdoors this morning felt otherworldly. I love seeing familiar places rendered as ones I'm visiting for the very first time. A rich dichotomy as the serenity of fog is ripped apart by this visceral reaction. In these moments I invariably come up with camera angles that never would have occurred to me in normal circumstances.
Unless there is the iPhone icon, all photos were taken with a Nikon or more recently, with a Sony Mirrorless. I ioften import the images to a 12.9 inch iPad for editing.
Marks comment when he saw these artificial made hills was "Do they not think there is enough uphills in Norway".
I really found this remark so funny.
And then I started to think about the perspective we all have upon things.
Uphills can be tough and yes we have lots of them in Norway.
You don't need to seek them, but I do.
And now Mark does too 😊
May be not quite volunteering 😂
As in life too.
Uphills can be a struggle, huge mountains of matter to deal with.
Uphills can be the real downer in your life, they can be devastating.
All the challenges we have in front of us, all the decisions we must make, all the tears that have been and will be flooding, all the pain to endure, all the experiences we gain.
You really feel alive when you are having your struggling uphills.
Why is that?
It may sound a bit rough, but this is only my thoughts;
You will be in touch with your emotions and feelings, find out who you really are.
You get to know what really matters in your life, and not to mention who that matters in your life.
You get to enjoy life in quite another way because you'll become aware of the small joys you always have had in your life, but never seen.
It's not easy to see that everlasting uphills can be a blessing.
You often must have endured them, chewed them and processed them quite a lot before you can see that your life has changed to something better.
So when you think life is smooth, living the downhill-life, and you are trotting along with no effort, I hope you too are aware of all the good things in your life.
There's always something to appreciate.
Waterfalls are my favorite metaphors. Each and every one of them effortlessly recounts one or the other little fragment of mine… my thoughts, moods, and/or emotions. Some, like melancholia, flow year-round; others are seasonal, like tears. Some are bright and mighty; others are tender and lucent in grey dark light. Some roar, sing, or whistle; others listen. Some guard secrets; others spill them. Some remain strangers; others become friends even before I get to know their name. Some flutter like my soul-songs; others, like the one above, are my incomplete poems.
“I'm tired, boss. Tired of bein' on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. Tired of not ever having me a buddy to be with, or tell me where we's coming from or going to, or why. Mostly I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world every day. There's too much of it. It's like pieces of glass in my head all the time. Can you understand?”
John Coffey, “The Green Mile” by Stephen King
Inch strand, Dingle Peninsula, Co Kerry, Ireland.
A silver lining is a metaphor for optimism in the common English-language idiom.
Halloween excites me like no other holiday. It's one of those primordial feelings, deeply rooted in childhood memories. The utter excitement of celebrating fear and darkness. Of dark thoughts being brought out into the open, if just for one night. Now many years past my youth and the sheer joy of costume-wearing and trick-or-treating, I'm still caught up in these feelings. I watched in fascination yesterday afternoon as kids in costumes prowled the streets. Some quite imaginative, other less so. But all infused with that playful energy that I recall so vividly. Kids seem to have transitioned away from horrific monster sort of costumes of my day. But that's really doesn't matter; the festive, celebratory aspect remains intact. Laughter and bright colors filled the ever lengthening shadows, both of the landscape as well as my mind. Time has a way of dampening the mind, blotting out memories. But Halloween in this case brought them flowing back. Adults seem to rekindle their own memories watching children retrace their steps in life. As a kid the most terrifying thoughts were centered on scenes such as this creepy pumpkin head-scarecrow hybrid. I loved (and still do) the thought of something like this standing silent vigil out in some desolate location. Nothing abjectly terrifying about this puppet-like creation, yet the context of presentation is darkly disturbing. It's as if this tattered and grimy thing has been waiting for me all these years since childhood. In fact I'm certain it waits for me still.
A clump of wild timothy sways languidly along a rural road in the moments before an ominous thunderstorm storm strikes. I’m always in search of borders and boundaries when out with the camera. I love photographing them, and even more standing astride them. This is one of my many odd behavioral traits that defy rational explanation. As a result, attempts to discuss them often sound irrational (if not downright ridiculous). With that risk in mind, I’ll just say I think at some level, boundary lines represent unseen (yet highly palpable) energy fields. That includes boundaries both real and liminal. It relates to creating photos based upon a reaction to how scenes or situations make me feel.
Back in the moment on the old farm road, I’m already pretty charged up about the storm. It’s what brought me to this spot in the first place. And for my money, it’s one of the best visual and emotional boundaries imaginable, standing right along the leading edge of an intense storm. And on the edge of an expansive farm field which creates a visual effect of multiple boundaries within a single frame. In this case newly mown hay casting a wonderfully warm color contrast against the cool, dark sky. And as I walk along, I stumble upon the timothy grass. The stalks look delicate and tranquil as they gently sway in response to the breeze. Their presence made even more prominent by the raging storm looming in the background. It’s one of those scenes that exists only in this moment, and I could think of no better way to illustrate the fury of the storm than to focus on the calm in its path.
Even as an adult, I'm still enchanted by the 'winter wonderland' effect of new fallen snow. There's just something about seeing the landscape transformed into shades of brilliant white with layers of snow concealing virtually every defect. One of the downsides of that transformation is the inevitable slog back to spring and summer. It's always a bumpy ridge, and the process is anything but linear. Warm and cold days are interspersed as the temperature vacillates. Rain mixes with snow, sleet and ice. The pristine wonderland is transformed into multiple shades of grime. Where the snow melts away, sickly hues of yellow grass are revealed along with rotting leaves leftover from autumn. On this particular day a thick fog developed amid a light but steady rain. I walked through scenes utterly devoid of both color and cheer. Still I was mesmerized by the fog. I love its immersive quality and the way it alters my view of the landscape. Even sound is altered...muted in the same way as color and visual definition. If one specific weather condition equates to human sadness, this would be it.
An obscure flickr post I created back in 2017 about Seasonal Affective Disorder has been trending near the top of my activity feed for the past couple of weeks. I can only imagine people are searching that phrase and turning up my photo. A sure sign that the darkening phase in the northern hemisphere is taking a toll on our collective mental health. For me, this time of year brings about yet another dichotomy in my life. I'm not keen on the reduction in the hours of daylight. Yet the abrupt transformation of the landscape in the past couple of weeks is truly astounding. It's not just the feeling of omnipresent darkness, but the utter stripping away of the foliage and the resulting desaturation of the landscape that fascinates me. Recent snow has heightened the sensation of existing within a monochromatic world that, if appearance is all that matters, is devoid of even a hint of joy. Yet within that construct I find wonder. I truly revel in the feeling that familiar places look completely different, and at times even inhospitable. Such was the case as I contemplated this lone tree, buffeted by wintry winds beneath an eerie layer of striated clouds ahead of a massive cold front. A moment of cheer on a very bleak November afternoon.
Nice metaphor for a lot of life’s situations and changes on the soon horizon…good things to come, starting with my health after Covid.
Each year I find myself pulled in many different directions and usually forget to take care of myself and my own interests along the way. My creative side goes into hibernation and inevitably lose my mojo.
Here’s to getting back on track for myself sooner than later. I can’t wait to share more.
A geranium basking in the morning Sun I cannot yet see, entangled in processing artifacts.
On this first day of Spring 2022, we—that is, I—interrupt our usual program with a reminder that we—that is, Sol, Gaia, Humanity—are all connected. We—that is, other people—just don’t always notice. In this 27-image handheld focus stack, I understand the processing artifacts, which only constrain the photographer, not the flower, and so could easily fix them. Maybe that will get posted, in due course.
Heard our revered guide Sir David Attenborough, in his excellent program “Breaking Boundaries”—highly recommended, worth the price of Netflix all by itself if, say, your budget leaves you enough surplus wealth for a camera—use the word “we” twice in the same sentence, leaving the viewer to work out the shifting implied reference. He said words to the effect of, “We—that is, scientists and the aware public—know that our actions are converting Nature from friend to foe, and so we—that is, corporations and a yet-to-be developed plenipotential global governance structure—can fix it.” True enough, as far as it goes. The program was mostly about explaining why people say “We have only a decade to avert the worst of climate change”, which in context seems a challenging schedule.
21 Mar 2022; 11:30 CDT; Provia ++
244;38;5