View allAll Photos Tagged Obsession
So my obsession with heading out to the beach while its raining continues...We got hit with a huge storm over the past couple days and the waves were reaching 20 ft-none of which turned out well....Anyway I really like this one and hope you do too!
| ♕ | Fifty Two Weeks ~ 07/52 |
Okay, so it's not really a secret but it's definitely an obsession. For the last 11 months Spadge has been working on an awesome 35mm camera project titled "24-12/3". Each month, with a budget of £10, she's been finding a 35mm film camera & running as much film through it as she can… read more on my blog.
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Strobist:
• 580ex camera right through a Westcott Apollo on 1/16th power/
• 430ex camera left through an umbrella on 1/32nd power
Automn test drive for this 1970 Alpine A110 Group 4 waiting for Monte Carlo Historique.
Col du Corbier, Vallée d'Abondance, Haute-Savoie, France.
Photo of light show during Santos City of Light festival spring 2012. For more info feel free to visit my page www.facebook.com/MunzerPhotography
Do not use or reproduce this image without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved.
Hey guys! I'm back from Disney!
It was sooo awesome!! =D
And while I was walking in one of the Disney Stores, I thought of doing this for my Obsessoin shot!
The Teleidoscope - (11/52) Obsession
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The Teleidoscope is a project that inspires 10 photographers to make 52 photos, one every week.
10 people, 10 different ideas for 52 themes, 52 weeks long.
Every week we will post our images on our site and our Flickr group.
You can join us!
Every saturday we will pick a winner whose photo will get a special extra place at our site!
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305/365
Wansink Photography © All Rights Reserved. 2011. Do not use, copy or edit any of my photographs without written permission.
Morning View of Mount Rainier from the Dock Street Marina, located on the southwest of Tacoma's beautiful Commencement Bay, along the historic Thea Foss Waterway
Simply titled for my obsession with Padley Gorge. This is from one of my favourite parts of the place.
After 12 years of serious journal-keeping, I have accumulated a huge stack of paper, and quite a chronicle of obsessions. Below, a few excerpts.
Every once in a while a fantastic tiny little victory will come along for which I must be grateful. A tiny victory so small it requires magnification under a lens in order to be understood. This is it: he called tonight, and I didn't talk to him. — 1992
We went this weekend to Little River Canyon and hiked... I looked over the cliff into the white water splashing down below. Owen held both my hands behind my back (this was to brace me as I gazed down into the abyss). Later that night I dreamt of slipping over the edge, falling a merciless distance to the rocks below. — 1993
Every night I come in late and light the candles and play opera music loud in my second-story bedroom. Is that wrong? Now after he kept me up all night I will see him a week from tomorrow. I count down the days like an idiot. — 1994
A million things to remember a million things to whisper in your ear. The cowbell wind chimes next door. Ugh it's so very Jack Kerouac. Empty Old Milwaukee cans as ashtrays. I wanted to go back before the ugly statistic of AM radio wrecked the tranquility, back before the no-color sky brightened the room dismally. I wanted to go back to my wrists on the mattress looking straight up and not knowing what to do, not knowing how my face should behave, back to the sweet tender time when I kissed his face gently again and again telling him I'd take care of him. — 1995
My pain multiplied by his. It's like letting all your weight go as you walk into the sea. You don't realize how much you've invested until you get out of it and your clothes waterlogged weigh eight thousand pounds and you're trudging through sand. — 1996
The dresses in the department stores have already wilted. For two blissed-out weeks in March they danced across the racks in clouds of organza, tulle, silk. Shades from mother-of-pearl, all soft oyster and pink and butter yellow. A tickle of green. And now it's not even June and the tones have all deepened, slipped into stains. Heather has decayed to violet and pink has bled to red. All sober and practical. Whimsy won't get you far. — 1997
Am I being too idealistic? in a word, yes. So I have found the one to take all my crooked treasures. Yes, he cherishes them. So do you ever really know? Well, okay, but doesn't it seem like you should? After all, this is once in a lifetime. At the same time — I have a fear of intimacy. I have a terrible fear of waking up one day and having nothing to say to the person beside me. — 1998
It is hard finding time to write. It's not like before when I had little pockets of time all over in which I could pick up the pen, jot a thought, write a brilliant statement. Life is a shabby flurry of missed phone calls, grocery receipts, thank you notes, dust bunnies, dirty socks, wedding magazines, smiles, sighs, anticipation. — 1999
I was walking through the Farmer's Market alone again tonight (picking up onions, carrots, red peppers, cheese, apples...). I realized that I miss B. I miss being able to go out on our weird semi-romantic dates together or our weird tragic picnics. I miss the sheer physical presence of him. And the fact that while he was sullen, he was never quiet about it. I miss the easy senseless chatter that led nowhere, the meandering dialogue. — 2000
This is very much is very much the same thing that I have been thinking about in regards to leaving East Lake — that it is sucking away the bright seed in the middle of me that made room for whimsy and 'magic' and idiosynchrasies and wildness. And this is all pretty hard to talk about because I feel like it's all very much underwater, a submerged thing, a slippery fish with reflective scales that dazzle. — 2001
I drove up late after work by myself. Friday night is a good one for driving; the radio plays all manner of silly songs and the highways are uncluttered. The tin ashtrays in this Waffle House remind me of the ones they used to have in McDonalds, before smoking in McDonalds was outlawed. I'm glad there's no one here to see me smoking (this fresh pack of Marlboros is entirely ridiculous for a girl like me to be carrying. Girls with my haircut do not smoke, especially not Marlboro Reds). — 2002
Redemption at midnight with L. I arrived to the club alone late last night — came through the chill with my hands shoved in my pockets, looking like one of the boys with cargo pants and a white shirt with sleeves rolled up halfway. And R. was outside the club with T. and P. and some other boys — and there was L. too, wearing a dark brown suede jacket, smoking a Hemingway Short Story. — 2003
Oh the dreams I've been having lately! Last night's was deeply disturbing but also somehow encouraging. In the dream I died. I really died. I died and then I watched myself exit the body. I changed forms in an instant from this dying, struggling person to a fully living person who was now responsible for the custody of this body (I covered my own former body respectfully with a coverlet, but I could still see the graceful curve of my neck, my hair gently spread behind my head.) I had to make arrangements with the airlines to get the body back home so that I could give it a decent burial. — 2004
Tim left the room where we were talking to go join the crowds at the goingaway party, and he sent his dog Don in to take care of me. And Don and I hung out in the little bedroom and I sat next to him on the floor and petted him and cried and told him that he was a very good dog and that he was going to be okay. He just let me pet him and he beat his tail against the floor. — 2005
260:365
Our Daily Challenge - Starts with U (unusual)
Clearly having a trouble with this apple addiction . . . . . . .
This was a lot more difficult than I anticipated.
One more very clear apple idea for tomorrow, then I should be over it . . . . . maybe, especially if hbmike2000 keeps licking them . . . . .
© some[wh]air - Blogged
I think about us every second.
More than you imagine.
Sometimes it afraids me.
That my obsession will turn me to crazyness.
And you just don't care.
Portions of Wombo AI generated pics and stock photos collaged with overpainting and editing in various painting/photography apps.
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Dati Tecnici
a) Leica M8 + Leica Summilux M 75 mm f.1,4;
b) Tempo 1/125s con apertura f.4,0 + 1/3 stop;
c) Lettura Esposimetrica con Gossen Lunalite (Effettuate quattro letture a Luce Incidente sui due lati estremi opposti del gruppo, una lettura centrale e una sul fondo);
d) Negativo Ilford FP4 PLUS Prof 125 Asa (esposta a 200 Asa);
e) Scansione con Agfa Duoscan T2500 Pro;
f) Prima Post-Produzione Corel Photo-Paint X5 e Adobe Photoshop CS3;
g) Post-Produzione di completamento con Nikon Capture NX 2.
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Mio breve Curriculum Vitae su LinkedIn: - My Brief Curriculum Vitae on LinkedIn:
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Visualizza il profilo di Luigi Mirto/ArchiMlFotoWord
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Tutti i diritti riservati ©2018/2025 da ArchiMlFotoWord/Luigi Mirto/Photography
Nessuna immagine o parte di essa può essere riprodotta o trasmessa in qualsiasi forma e con qualsiasi mezzo senza preventiva autorizzazione.
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All rights reserved ©2018/2025 by ArchiMlFotoWord/Luigi Mirto/Photography
No images or part thereof may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means
Without prior permission.
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Suggerisco di guardare l’immagine su fondo scuro e ascoltare questo brano
I suggest you look at the image on a dark background and listen to this song
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Hans Zimmer - Lost Canvas Eptesicus
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……. e gli altri
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…il pensiero dell’invecchiare,
a furia di remare con la mente,
incontra l’ossessione che è della morte
nel vasto cullata dei somiglianti.
C’è una prigione degli attimi
dalla scoscesa del trascorrere insieme
dal suo trascinarsi pian piano
di un tempo senza orizzonte.
Suona da lontananze
la sua frusciante voce
incatenata a sé e tanto vissuta
del grigio cielo l’albero
sembran salutare.
Tu che ora guardi alterata
che fa da guscio all’ignoto corpo,
falsa sicurezza loro,
la purezza delle cose fluttuante
e d’intensamente stabile
inviti il profilo a qualcosa
che piattamente porgono
concretamente erti
nel corpo come pali
tra cui perdute ondeggiano
le ombre solitarie che nel buio cancellano
ogni altra realtà ogni mattina risorgente.
L’urlante silenzio si spande
si confonde coll’aria
inizia dal cervello e dilatando…
molecole di luci d’eclisse forano
nel cielo della galassia che
piangono a rilento le stelle della notte,
cadendo, sorgendo nella terra
ridono i prati mentre scorre il sangue,
si perdono i sentimenti,
i vecchi muoiono nel suo ventre spento.
………………………………….Luigi Mirto
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…….and the others
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.... the thought of aging,
by rowing with the mind,
meets the obsession that is of death
in the vast cradle of the likeness.
There is a prison of moments
from the precipitous of spending together
from his dragging slowly
of a time without horizon.
It sounds from distance
his rustling voice
chained to himself and so much lived
of the gray sky the tree
he seems to greet.
You who now look altered
that acts as a shell to the unknown body,
false security,
the purity of floating things
and intensely stable
invite the profile to something
that flatly reach out
concretely eroded
in the body like poles
including lost sway
the solitary shadows that cancel in the dark
every other reality every morning resurgent.
The screaming silence spreads
it gets confused with the air
starts from the brain and dilating ...
molecules of eclipse lights pierce
in the sky of the galaxy that
the stars of the night are slowly weeping,
falling, rising in the earth
the lawns laugh as the blood runs,
feelings are lost,
the old men die in his dull belly.
........................................Luigi Mirto
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Italiano
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Questa immagine è tratta da un reportage in continua evoluzione che sto effettuando nella ricerca di particolari volti che esprimano particolari sensazioni, scene di particolare enfasi ambientale, espressioni e sentimenti profondi trasmessi attraverso semplici sguardi, di particolari posture del corpo o anche dai semplici abiti e decorazioni fisiche.
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Tali immagini verranno raccolte in un “Manuale Artistico Tecnico Fotografico” nella quale saranno descritte le particolari tecniche di ripresa, i materiali impiegati, l’attrezzatura fotografica, i luoghi e le condizioni sceniche ambientali.
Grazie
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English
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This image is from a report in continuous evolution that I am making in the search for specific faces expressing particular feelings, scenes of environmental emphasis, expressions and deep feelings conveyed through simple look, a particular posture of the body or even from simple clothes and decorations individuals.
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These images will be collected in a "Artistic Photography Technical Manual" which will describe the special filming techniques, materials, photographic equipment, sites and scenic environmental conditions.
Thanks
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