Metaphor and Analogy - **In Title or Description**
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"Alle ist Umgeformt" - German: "All is transformed".
The third and final image in the TotenTanz series that uses images from a cemetery to question the absoluteness of death.
In this case the "pano-sabotage" is used to both de-construct, and show in "RE-construction", funerary monuments in an historical graveyard.
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© Richard S Warner ( Visionheart ) - 2015, 2016. All Rights Reserved. This image is not for use in any form without explicit, express, written permission.
Like a vampire you didn't invite
Suddenly, a change stifles the air
Sucking away all your blood and energy
Whispering in your ear
"You aren't going to survive this one, dear"
Filling you with unabated darkness
Which is really strange because
Just two days ago
You were feeling so much better.
**All photos are copyrighted**
a profound truth that humanity has since disregarded to its own detriment. Since the words "humility" and "humble" also derive from humus, it is rather ironic that we should have assigned our species so arrogant a name as Homo sapiens sapiens ("wise wise man") :-)
Daniel Hillel, Out of the Earth: Civilization and the Life of the Soil
HPPT!! Humility Matters!
rose, little theater rose garden, raleigh, north carolina
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**
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
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!
Il est fort curieux que la philosophie occidentale, qui a presque universellement accepté l’idée que la mort de l’individu ne met aucunement fin à quoi que ce soit d’essentiel de la vie, ait à peine honoré d’une pensée (excepté chez Platon et Shopenhauer) cette autre idée bien plus profonde et plus intimement joyeuse, et qui logiquement va de pair avec elle : l’idée qu’il en est de même pour la naissance de l’individu ; que je ne suis pas créé pour la première fois, mais que je suis progressivement réveillé d’un profond sommeil. Alors mes espoirs et mes aspirations, mes peurs et mes soucis peuvent m’apparaître comme étant les mêmes que ceux de milliers d’humains qui ont vécu avant moi. Et je peux espérer que ce que j’ai imploré pour la première fois il y a des siècles pourra m’être accordé dans quelques centaines d’années. Aucune pensée ne peut germer en moi qui ne soit le prolongement de la pensée d’un ancêtre ; il n’y a pas en réalité de nouveau germe (de pensée), il y a l’éclosion prédéterminée d’un bourgeon sur l’arbre antique et sacré de la vie.
Je sais très bien que la plupart de mes lecteurs, en dépit de Schopenhauer et des Upanishads, prendront ce que je viens de dire pour une métaphore plaisante et adéquate, et refuseront d’accepter à la lettre l’axiome que toute conscience est Une par essence.
Ma conception du monde: Le Veda d'un physicien (Science et conscience) - Erwin Schrödinger
My metaphor range is strange as angles
You get tangled, twist inside affections
Channels repeat, complete, can't compete
Check the hour texture, mind adventure
Exploit the point into tracks, to devour
My intellects proceed, with diesel power
RIP Keith Flint
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.
“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”
― Anais Nin
I adore Anais Nin, I have read several of her books and some a few times over. She understands the nature of being a woman in love in a way that is kindred to yourself. She feels your desires, your passion, and your pain.
This poem can be a metaphor for first love, the feeling that consumes you, takes over, where all the things that were important before suddenly cease to exists so that it can make more room for Love! Ahh first love, that messy, drunk, and fearless kinda love! You know the one with the rose colored glasses. Smiles.
It also can be one of transition. This poem was my inspiration for a tattoo that I have. It is a beautiful lotus flower merging from its bud and was a ear mark for a major transition in my own life.
This poem can also be a metaphor of fear and letting it go, for me that was the case, one where I learned to love the woman I am and not fear to become the woman I knew I could be.
It is in a woman's nature to fear, where it came from I do not know. Is it instinct to protect life or ages of suppression? No matter the cause we should never give into fear and always be strong so that we can fully be ourselves and love every minute of it.
Music for your Soul .. Really :)
Thank you Lawrence for the Support and encouragement!
Set created with Keke & HPMD Products - Fully maxed parcel limit with Flower prims. lol
#PryceBloomofSpringCampaign
At a time of a historic pandemic and racial discord/violence, major league baseball seems to reflect the times. Even as the virus may be waning, the different sides (the teams and the players) cannot agree yet on what's fair compensation for a shortened season. As a baseball fan who loves the idea of the USA...and it's the first country started as an idea if you think about it....I hope the sides can come together. Maybe the stitching's just gotten too loose and we can tighten them up a bit?
That's definitely the question....
It's kind of a metaphor for our globe, with all the crazy things humans do to each other and to the globe.
I for one, hope it's melting 🙏
💝❤💝
Swedish sculptor Karl Momen’s 87-foot-tall "Metaphor: The Tree of Utah" rises over the desolate emptiness of Utah’s Bonneville Salt Flats.
Animal Stories in Imagined Landscapes (Israel Pavilion)
Description: "The exhibition LAND. MILK. HONEY. examines the reciprocal relations between humans, animals, and the environment within the Israeli context. Our point of departure is the biblical imagery of milk and honey as a metaphor for plenitude, and its construction in practice as a Zionist project of modernisation. The exhibition focuses on five animals, domesticated and wild, each representing the multifaceted narrative of the introduction of modernity to the Levant. Through five case studies - cows, goats, honey bees, water buffaloes, and bats — we construct a spatial history of a place in five acts: Mechanisation; Territory; Cohabitation; Extinction; and Post-Human."
17th International Architecture Exhibition of the Biennale di Venezia 2021 in the Giardini della Biennale (Castello)
Veneto, Italy 10.08.2021
www.labiennale.org/en/architecture/2021/israel
Tiergeschichten in imaginären Landschaften (Israelischer Pavillon)
Beschreibung: "Die Ausstellung LAND. MILK. HONEY. untersucht die wechselseitigen Beziehungen zwischen Menschen, Tieren und der Umwelt im israelischen Kontext. Unser Ausgangspunkt ist das biblische Bild von Milch und Honig als Metapher für Überfluss und seine praktische Umsetzung im Rahmen des zionistischen Modernisierungsprojekts. Im Mittelpunkt der Ausstellung stehen fünf Tiere, domestizierte und wilde, die jeweils für die vielschichtige Geschichte der Einführung der Moderne in der Levante stehen. Anhand von fünf Fallstudien - Kühe, Ziegen, Honigbienen, Wasserbüffel und Fledermäuse - konstruieren wir eine räumliche Geschichte eines Ortes in fünf Akten: Mechanisierung; Territorium; Zusammenleben; Aussterben; und Post-Mensch."
17. Internationale Architekturausstellung der Biennale di Venezia 2021 in den Giardini della Biennale (Castello)
Venetien, Italien 10.08.2021
I can’t help it, I love to snap gate or stile. Surrounded with all this beauty and rough manmade wooden construction catches my eye every time. It’s got to be physiology, but what, the mind boggles. An invitation to pastures new, a transition, a way through a life barrier. Who knows, all I know, next time my travels encounters one, more often or not I’ll get the camera out. I wouldn’t care after slogging up to this one I didn’t pass through it, something told me to stay on this side of the wall, may be that’s the metaphor I should ponder.
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∎ Created with Midjourney, further edited with Topaz Photo AI
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{...] Buried by their building lay the hideous bodies; it is said that Mother Earth, soaked in the blood of her children, became wet.
She then filled the still warm blood with life and transformed it into the shape of humans so that the memory of her descendants would not be completely lost.
But that brood also despised the heavenly ones, thirsted for brutal murder and was violent; after all, it was born of blood. [...]
Source: ovid-metamorphosen-giganten
∎ Ovid | 20 March 43 BC – AD 17/18
Seems like just a few weeks since I set out this Halloween decoration in my side yard. Not visible from the street, it was one of those things I did more for myself. I just liked the way it made me feel to encounter this eerie specter when I walked back by the edge of the forest. More than once it startled me as I had completely forgotten about it. Over time it had weathered to the point where it totally blended in with its surroundings. A very organic look that suits my mentality much more than the highly contrived decorations commonly associated with holidays.
If Halloween marks the onset of the dark phase of the year in the northern hemisphere, Groundhog Day certainly delineates the return of brightening. The actual groundhog 'prediction' is meaningless to me. It's really just a time marker; a waypoint on the journey of life. Day length is increasing noticeably. Springtime is roaring upon us just as rapidly as Halloween is receding. I suppose it's time to take down this celebration of darkness and begin to embrace the light. Then again I might just let it go for another week or two.
“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
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.
Réflexion éclairante, ou idée lumineuse, symboliquement proposée par la nature à travers ces premiers photons atteignant cette tige de gentiane enrobée de glace, sur laquelle ils rebondissent pour venir nimber le sol d'un halo lumineux.
Ou une revisitation de la métaphore pascalienne, plus vraie encore après avoir bu trop de Suze.
I'm very fortunate to live in a rural area with easy access to woodlands, meadows, streams, ridge lines, valleys, and crop fields. I derive a great deal of energy and mental stimulation by entering into these spaces. I used to think it was the result of the oxygen released by plants. But it's much more than that. The visuals are quite often stunning, and motivate my creative mind. However I feel the same energy even if I take no photos at all. For me it's all about being immersed into scenes such as this, both literally and emotionally.
Walking through this meadow filled with dead and withered leaves filled me with a sense of life and vitality. Don't ask me to explain the dichotomy. It just is. There's simply as much (or even more) energy here now as there was months ago when this was all lush and green.
In her day-to-day, ahead seems gray, but with her reflexive gaze, creativity comes to life.
I'm just trying my hand at some fine arts photography. Mosquitoes bit me 27 times while taking this picture. She was bit 12 times before we realized that we were being eaten alive. So much anti-itch spray!