View allAll Photos Tagged PATHOS
As photographers, we all understand the interplay of negative and positive space. When I took the shot, I was thinking about the pathos of the scene, but as I worked in Photoshop, my reaction to it changed. Slowly the grave lost is melancholy, I began to think of this as contemplation on the idea that birth and death might be more in balance and harmony than we normally appreciate. Perhaps they are just two expressions of the one, same, much greater, reality. And then I thought, “Without death, the birth of Christ would have very little meaning. After all it is his resurrection after death that is all important.” So for Christian, having death in the picture must not be such a sad thing after all. Not being a person of faith, I then thought, “Throughout history; the celebration of the Solstice was always linked to the preceding darkness. It was only the loss of light during the preceding months that motivated the celebration.” Which made me think that perhaps the message of the Christmas Season is that without death, life has very little significance? That in turn led me to think that perhaps death might be the one Christmas gift we are all born with, a gift that forces us to seek meaning in life, and it is this search which leads us to art, another gift. Is art how we as humans attempt to transcend the grave? All this eventually led me led me to ask, is possible that the overarching message of Christmas is that, there is a spirit, a driving force, inside us all that can and sometimes does transcend the grave, so we should not live in fear of the grave but celebrate this very short gift of life and the perspective we have been given on the value of that gift.
As photographers, in the era of the internet, we can use our art, not just to give meaning to our own life, but to share that meaning, insight and connectedness with people everywhere. Somehow all this convoluted logic led me to believe that all this was sufficient to reason for me to wish you all a very Merry Christmas.
Apollonius, Boxer at Rest, 1st century B.C.E. (may be a copy of a 4th century sculpture), bronze, Palazzo Massimo, Museo Nazionale Romano
This Scania was new to West Midlands Travel as H225 LOM. During its time in the Midlands it wore a version of Birmingham Transport livery for a period.
Now part of the CitySightseeing Paphos fleet and seen parked up at the Harbour bus station one breezy evening.
Der interessante Bogenschütze ist eigentlich ein Ehrenmal für die gefallenen Flaksoldaten des ersten Weltkriegs. Das Flakregiment 12 wurde im 2. Weltkrieg nach Stalingrad abkommandiert und ist dort untergegangen. Deshalb wurde das Ehrenmal von Überlebenden auch auf Gefallene des 2. Krieges ausgeweitet.
Die Ausformung als Bogenschütze ist eine ausgefallene Idee, die mit erfreulich wenig Pathos auskommt.
Strobist: One SB910 left behind subject, aiming on chest for muscles, one SB910 with silver umbrella (mounted reflecting the light) to fill up the gaps in the daylight. Used a Honeywell Industrial Ventilator as a windmachine, connected to a camping generator.
Tried to create some imagery with ancient greek iconography, but incorporated in contemporary switzerland (yes, that's how it looks everywhere here.)
110 Bell B206L-3 Long Ranger III (51148) Cyprus Air Force - Andreas Papandreou Airbase , Pathos International Airport Cyprus 08-11-2019
I've just seen that this picture has been explored! Its my first one!!!! Yuppi! Thank you all for all the support, its thanks to you!!!!
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Hi all,
This one is rather humoristic:)
Just before Easters we went to that amazing Blue Fairy Forest in Halle, near Bruxelles. The views were amazing, and its just for few weeks in a year like this.
We took around 400 pics that day and here is the one I found funny, little disturbing too:) Little change from all this pathos filled conceptual from weeks before! Enjoy!
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ANDRE LEBON – ON : 603470
Built 1915 by Messageries Maritimes , La Ciotat, France ( YN : 142) as ANDRE LEBON
GRT: 14368/ DWT: ??
Length (LPP): 154.9 metres x Beam : 18.8 metres
Service Speed 14.5 knots
Machinery: 2 shafts each driven by a quadruple expansion reciprocating steam engines, 12 coal-fired boilers until 1924, then oil-fired
History
1915: ANDRE LEBON : Cie des Messageries Maritimes, Marseilles
1922: ANDRE LEBON : Soc des Services Contractuels des Messageries Maritimes, Marseilles
1948: ANDRE LEBON : Cie des Messageries Maritimes, Marseilles
1952: Broken up at La Seyne.
On commissioning in 1915 ANDRE LEBON was requisitioned as a troop transport, the first departure for Salonika on December 26, 1915. She also made postal trips on the Far East line. On July 11, 1916, in particular, she embarked in Hongay (Indochina) the 10th Battalion of Indochinese Tirailleurs, arriving in Marseille on August 16 after an uneventful journey. On 26 September 1916, she was converted into a hospital ship until 1918. On July 28, 1918, he embarked in Saigon several companies of various battalions of colonial troops, joined on July 19 in Shanghai by a Serbian detachment and on July 30 in Taku by two other companies of various colonial regiments, the whole forming the Siberian colonial battalion, which landed on August 9, 1918 in Vladivostok to take the Bolshevik troops from behind . ANDRE LEBON finished the war without incident, and resumed civilian activity in 1919 on the Marseille-Yokohama line. In 1919, while coaling in the harbour of Singapore, the ship suddenly heeled and water entered through the open ports. The vessel sank on a even keel as a result of the water that entering, fortunately in shallow water and it was possible to salvage the vessel and return back into service.
On September 1, 1923, she was in the harbour of Yokohama during the earthquake. Despite her boilers being worked on she managed to maneuver in such a way that it avoids the fire following the earthquake, and saves more than 1500 people who were able to board the ship.
In, 1936, sent for a refit.
In 1939, it was requisitioned and carried out various transports. He participated in particular during the summer of 1940, then in 1941, in the repatriation of French troops from Syria. Decommissioned at Marseille at the end of 1941. She was seized by the Germans on May 6, 1943 and transformed into barracks for a few months. Sunk in the port of Toulon on March 11, 1944 by American planes, ANDRE LEBON it was refloated the following year, repaired at La Seyne, and resumed the Far East line. Ran aground on 26 September 1948 on a sandbank at Cangio Point, but could be cleared, and on 20 October was the first ocean liner to visit Yokohama after the war. She was sold for scrapping at La Seyne in December 1952 after almost 40 years of service..
________________________________________________________________________________________________________
PORTHOS – ON : 603795
Built 1915 by Chantiers et Ateliers de la Gironde, Bordeaux (?? YN) as PORTHOS
GRT: 12633 / DWT: 9340
Length (LPP): 155.7 metres x Beam : 18.8 metres
Service Speed 17.0 knots
Machinery: 2 shaft each driven by a triple-expansion steam engine with steam supplied by 9 coal-fired boilers
History
1922: PORTHOS : Soc des Services Contractuels des Messageries Maritimes, Marseilles
1942: 8 Nov : Damaged by gunfire from USS MASSACHUSETTS while alongside at Casablanca
1945: Broken up
Launched 25 January 1914 in Bordeaux. Sister ship of ATHOS. Intended for the Marseille-Saigon-Haïphong line. Postal service during the war, without any particular incident. Served on the Far East Line until 1939. It made some rotations to Madagascar in 1939 and 1940. On September 23, 1940, hit by a 155 mm shell during the bombing of Dakar. She was finally sunk by gunfire on November 8, 1942 in Casablanca, when hit by by a salvo of 406 mm shells from the USS Massachusetts resulting in 26 deaths. This action was part of Operation Torch the landing in French North Africa.
Blue Lake Como, so peaceful and refreshing. The little cherub's splashing fountain going day and night, welcoming all.
This was quite a setting. (Photo taken at noon, on a nippy March day.)
[This was the entrance to the gardens and villa, right on the lake. The place was built for Carlotta who, sadly, lived here only 5 years and died very young. The decor was delicate and feminine, but to me there was a certain pathos about the place seeing as how it had been inhabited so little.....it could have been a fabulous family home for generations one would think......
The gardens were a pleasure despite there being little in bloom as it was early March. Winter sun, low in the sky, brightened everything up creating strong shadows at midday.
Now it is thousands of visitors who have the pleasure of seeing the artistry of this spacious villa on a magical lake. The little cherub welcomes everyone equally with his cheerful splashing fountain that sparkles in the light. Indeed lovely!]
again - with pathos
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www.youtube.com/watch?v=7-pWSHTQOFs
love will tear us apart again - june tabor
Il monumentale gruppo di figure è disposto in diagonale, dall'angolo superiore sinistro a quello inferiore destro del quadro. Se la Madonna è collocata nel suo centro geometrico, il Cristo ne è il fulcro drammatico con la linea spezzata delle sue membra livide investite dalla luce.
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I have had a few opportunities to visit Shanghai and I am never disapointed with the sights. This is a view the Pudong District from across the river. It was late and I had been walking all night and was about to call it a day when I came across this view. I setup my rig and took a few shots right before they literally shut off the lights. I got an image of some technician in a dingy little room throwing a switch and laughing to himself in the dark. I looked around wondering if someone was playing a practical joke on me, but I guess there is no need to show off after 11pm.
("A" Side) Instruction # 46
"Make a picture that is funny and sad at the same time. A photograph that simultaneously evokes pathos, irony and humour." - Jeff Mermelstein
This young man stopped and told me hello, when he realize i was taking a photo of him, then went on doing his work collecting cardboard to earn his life, he was very kind, and looked happy even though he is very poor!
Here there are a picture of these workers at night when they have full (twice their high) their trolley and take the train (that specially run for them and their trolleys) to go out the city:
www.flickr.com/photos/28466129@N02/5962502490/in/set-7215...
Mis imágenes están protegidas por derechos de autor, si está interesado en alguna de éllas, sírvase dirigirse a sobrenivel@yahoo.com.ar
Gracias
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I was only in Beijing for one morning before I had to catch my flight back home so I tried to make the most of it. I was ecstatic to finally see the famous Temple of Heaven, but the sky was a very flat gray so I got a little creative with the processing. Now it is the Temple of Heaven … in space! =P
French postcard by Editions Superluxe, Paris, no. 19. Image: Walt Disney Mickey Mouse S.A.. Publicity still for Bambi (1942). Caption: Bambi gathering all his forces fights against the dogs that attack him from all sides and manages to put them to flight.
Bambi (David Hand, 1942) was the fifth animated feature produced by Walt Disney. It is based on the book Bambi, a Life in the Woods by Austrian author Felix Salten. The film was released by RKO Radio Pictures in 1942, and received three Academy Award nominations: Best Sound (Sam Slyfield), Best Song (for Love Is a Song sung by Donald Novis) and Original Music Score.
The main characters are Bambi, a mule deer; his parents (the Great Prince of the forest and his unnamed mother); his friends Thumper (a pink-nosed rabbit); and Flower (a skunk); and his childhood friend and future mate, Faline. For the movie, Disney took the liberty of changing Bambi's species into a mule deer from his original species of roe deer, since roe deer are not native to North America, and the mule deer is more widespread in the United States.
English film historian Leslie Halliwell wrote that Bambi was "one of Disney's most memorable and brilliant achievements with a great comic character in Thumper and a climactic forest fire sequence that is genuinely thrilling". He concluded that it was "a triumph of the animator's arts. Hal Erickson at AllMovie adds: "In the grand Disney tradition, Bambi is brimming with unforgettable sequences, notably the young deer's attempts to negotiate an iced-over pond, and most especially the death of Bambi's mother--and if this moment doesn't move you to tears, you're made of stone (many subsequent Disney films, including Lion King, have tried, most in vain, to match the horror and pathos of this one scene). The score in Bambi yielded no hits along the lines of "Whistle While You Work", but the songs are adroitly integrated into the action. Bambi was the last of the "classic" early Disney features before the studio went into a decade-long doldrums of disjointed animated pastiches like Make Mine Music."
Sources: Hal Erickson (AllMovie), Wikipedia and IMDb.
I'll write the true story part about why I have had and loved this table for close to 40 years, but right now, the rain has slowed down a bit and I have some pictures to go shoot. This is for the "Our Daily Challenge" group subject of "Tables". The story part is not required, but it is true and I think you'll like it.
Hi Dave, for the Soul of the photo, I think the soul is this little table with such pathos, love & charm attached to it's history.
OK, it is 8:27 P. M. Pacific Coast Time here in Oregon, USA and if you hold your ears up close to your monitor you might hear me typing up my story. I'm starting it, and my stories are usually pretty short. It shouldn't be too long now.
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This table is warped pretty badly, and it has been moved so many times, the thin legs are wobbly, but it has a rather sad, but also romantic and charming history. Not quite 40 years ago, my children and I moved to Baker Bay at Dorena, Oregon. A gorgeous lake/dam had been made there, but flooding over parts of what was left of Dorena. My kids rode a school bus around the lake and many more miles to their respective schools. I met the parents of one of my daughter's first or second grade classmates. Rachel (I'm pretty sure her name was) came on a bus from a different direction, but Rachel and my daughter became friends. There was a baby either just recently born or on the way soon. I don't recall the baby's name. The parents were Bill and Pat Love (fitting surname for this story).
The Love family had meager means with which to live, but they were resourceful. Bill got scrap lumber (thus the table) from Weyerhaeuser Lumber and built their furniture for their little cabin up the river and on gorgeous Brice Creek. They painted rocks and sold them at some sort of craft fair in Cottage Grove, Oregon. Pat nursed their baby so no cost for formula. They had a used van, and the family treat once a month was to go into Eugene, Oregon (I believe over 80 to 90 mile round trip) and watch some sort of family matinee. I recall their allotment was $25.00 for this entertainment. I should know the mileage more precisely because later on I ended up making the trip many times, but it has been a long time.
I didn't know the Loves well, but what I did know of them was very nice. They were genuine and kind. I think it was 17 miles from my place to theirs but Rachel and my daughter meeting almost in the middle for school. Bill was American. I think his family may have been from the Vallejo, California area, not sure. Pat was Irish. I guess he met her over there. I don't know the details of their meeting. They married, and Bill promised her if she didn't like country living in Oregon, USA that he would take her and their children back to Ireland.
So he built other furniture too, a cool bed, and a bookshelf-desk combination that covered a good portion of their bedroom wall. He built a chicken coop, and so they had eggs cheaply. They had a darling and homey 2 bedroom cabin, with spring-fed water. It had a porch around a good part of the cabin and some property and fruit trees. It was absolutely beautiful there. It bordered Brice Creek, a whitewater beauty. It was romantic and scenic, and charming. They had a gorgeous purebred Irish Setter.
One night Brice Creek flooded. The cabin was built up I'm guessing maybe 8 feet from a dirt floor semi-open basement to the wooden floors of the actual cabin. Huge boulders were tossed by the flood waters up toward the cabin. Bill spent 8 hours (I'm pretty sure he said) pacing on the porch, not knowing where or when his family should try to get away, and where on earth they would go. The scenic paradise had become terrifying and treacherous. The chicken coop was flooded completely away, probably down toward Dorena Lake where I lived. I guess you could say their dreams sort of flooded away too.
Bill managed to rent some sort of backhoe (I wasn't there; so I don't know all the details) and build somewhat of a retaining wall with some of the boulders by moving them back toward the edge of the creek. He managed to build a fairly good barrier. He was a large man and apparently a very good worker, but their idyllic life had been badly blemished and threatened. They were both nervous. Pat told Bill she wanted them all to go live in Ireland. True to his promise, Bill said they would go as a family to Ireland.
There were some summer months left, where no one was worried about the creek flooding, and Bill and Pat approached me with the idea of renting their cabin from them. I guess until they could sell it, or until a relative could come up and remove some of their personal effects. Not sure. It was an even longer drive for me, for groceries and gasoline and entertainment, etc., but it truly was a beautiful spot. Brice Creek didn't normally flood there, and it was heavenly. I had encountered some problems anyway, at the place I rented at Baker Bay; so they talked me into it. Thus I became the proud owner of several pieces of economically homemade furniture, still stamped on the undersides with Weyerhaeuser. Now I believe almost 40 years later that company was bought out or absorbed by International Paper in Springfield, Oregon. I don't know the details or the exact year it happened.
I also became the proud owner of the best dog I ever had, Reilly, a purebred Irish Setter. Reilly was kind of deal-clincher.
My two favorite pieces of furniture that Bill built were the bedroom ones. Unfortunately, at least as far as keeping them, I ended up moving back into Eugene, and getting married. My new husband had all the furniture we needed; so those two pieces got sold. The little table you see in the picture could and did frequently go outside; so I still have it, after many moves and life changes.
When I look at that little table, I don't really dwell of on its faults. I can't even count all the times I've moved it and put it to different uses. I see the story of a loving family, a man who kept his promises, and the charm of the whole tale. Their surname of Love is perfect. I'm forever grateful for the short but enchanting time I got to spend in the cabin on Brice Creek in Disston, Oregon.
THE END
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On reflection, I am going to make about 2 corrections in my story. I believe my daughter and the Love's daughter were in first or second grade, not kindergarten. Also the total distance from Cottage Grove up to the place my children and I had on Baker Bay was probably about 10 miles. The total from Cottage Grove to Disston was about 27 miles; so for me to move up to Disston from Baker Bay would have been an additional 17 miles from Baker Bay, not an additional 27 miles. At any rate, it was really out in the boonies.
(20190915_155115WarpedWobblyDisstontableflickr091519)
This will be a tiny true story in a few minutes. I have to write it. It is going to have a sadder note than most of my stories, kind of a 2 or 3 hankie story, you might say. So, if you don't like any pathos in your stories, then stop right here. The picture right before this will have the same story, but I will only submit one of these photo/stories to the various groups that like them.
The little girl on the guardrail represents me as a child. There are a few problems with her. One is I didn't have brown hair at the age of 5 or 6. I was blonde until age 9 or 10. Two is that my eyes are blue, and hers are not.. Three is that I didn't wear my hair in pigtails. Four is that I was tall, but not that tall. You might be asking yourself, "Self, then why on Earth do you think that represents you?" Well, she looks very sweet, as I did. She has rosy pink cheeks and a cute little smile, as I also did.. She likes bridges as I did from a very young age. She looks very innocent. The main thing that helps her represent me as a little girl is her white blouse and red plaid skirt, which will be the main thing in my story, if you can endure the next 3 or 4 paragraphs first.
I knew my mother didn't touch me very often, but I didn't realize how bereft she was of warmth, giving and receiving hugs and so on until all these years later. Various bouts of poison oak I had were savage. I knew she had tried to prick each horrible blister of poison oak, not getting them all, but trying. She would then apply Calamine Lotion with little cotton Coty brand pads. She still didn't touch me, but she ministered to me. That was when I was 5 or 6. Later when I was 8, 9 and 10 and got other cases of infected Poison Oak, could barely see out of one eye, and my other eye was closed, she did not administer anything at all. She and my Dad left for work 25 miles away. They got home that evening and my mouth was swollen closed all but the tiniest amount. My parents heated Campbell's Vegetable Beef Soup for me, and put it in a Waring Blender so I could manage to drink it through a straw. I shall not forget that. It was warm and comforting and tasted pretty good.
I had thought for most of my life that at least my mother must have held me and caressed me, bathed me, etc., when I was a baby and toddler. No, she held my hand a few times when we walked somewhere, but the family maid, Mildred, took care of me when I was a baby to age 3. After about age 3 and a half, I was left alone with 2 older brothers that my mother was fond of saying had hated me from the day I was born. The pictures of me with my mother show her positioning herself with my brothers, rather than me, or touching me but not close. When I had my own children she sort of held them out from her body, as if she wasn't quite sure what to do with them, or as if she felt they might infect her with something. .
Several times when she wanted me to look nice because company was coming, she curled my hair with a curling iron. She, herself, did not actually touch me. The curling iron surely did. It was so hot, and it burned my scalp. I don't believe she was trying to burn me, but she surely did. I would say "Ow" many times. Each time, she'd say "Sorry" but then she would do it again. I did look nice afterward, and have a picture of myself on our patio with my nice dress, Mary Janes (shoes) and my hard-won curls. There were no hugs.
Bath time involved her running the water and me getting in, and then her tossing about a cup of Tide detergent, the large chunky powdered kind, in the water. It didn't dissolve easily either. Very rough on children's skin! Then she left the room. There were other times when she was pretty cold, but they are not the reason for my story. I'm only telling about some of them; so that the one time she was very tender and warm will stand out for me and my readers as a banner moment in my childhood. I'm close to 70 now, and don't kid yourself, your childhood memories, impressions, etc. stay with you. At least mine did and do.
You probably thought I'd never tie this altogether, but I'm going to. There is one time, a time I cherish, that my mother, though not consciously trying to, was warm. What she was doing was so I would "look nice" for appearances at kindergarten or first grade, not because she had decided I needed some affection. I had on my little red plaid skirt with straps and a white blouse. My white blouse was rather carelessly tucked in, which made it look wrinkled. My mother reached up under my skirt and pulled my white blouse downward until it looked very smooth around my waist. To accomplish this maneuver, she sort of "walked" her hands around my tummy, tugging gently on my blouse until it looked neat as could be. Her hands were warm and gentle, so much so that I wished I could pull some of my blouse back out again; so she would gently tug, tuck and pat again. That's it! That's the whole story of why I like this big dolly with all her innocence, and her blouse that occasionally needs to be tucked in.
THE END
P. S. Most people that see her on the bridge, smile and wave. One lady even rolled her window down and wanted to know if I made her.
(IMGP1385MePengraCoveredBridgerealismearlyDAPrealismoilME-flickr042317)
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There is something regal about Stanford's campus. Every time I visit, I feel like a country bumpkin who managed to sneak into the palace by hiding in the hay cart. I keep waiting for the palace guards to decent upon me and throw me in the dungeon. Well, until that day comes, I am happy to roam around and take pictures of this beautiful campus.
Imaginative Components.
Courtisans importants erratiques mécontents satiristes ballades flagrantes circulation,
puritanical scriptores vertiginous impetus periculosum devoravit,
Begrenzung Ernten finanziell empfindlich erstaunlich wiederholt imaginären unorthodoxen,
gwrthfesurau ddiwygio pregethwyr pryderus i'r amlwg,
признал, охватывающий гедонизма пророческие окружающие мощные критики,
paesaggi discorsive evoca metafore rigogliosamente morti,
ανθρώπινες συνειδητοποιήσεις ρητορική έμφαση διευκολύνει συρρίκνωση αποφάσεις εντάσσονται,
încălcări hrănit restrâns mituri poezie evocări fără precedent colectate,
diskou transparan progrès unpersuasive monak allusion pale,
stále nejisté verze náboženské sonety sympatického rýmované překlady dluhopisy,
צורות עוינות חדשנות קיצונית ביקורת מניפולטיבית נאבקות תהילים טקסים,
Molann militancy monarchical láidre traidisiúnta mhúineadh gníomhaíochta Dhiaga,
vicissitudes grunsemdir sameina miskunnarlaus hnjóðs berjast gegn flókinn accentual pathos,
spegling policies belastningar investera kulturella lingvistiska invånare aristokrati struktur,
信用をアクセント破壊根本人間味中世の伝統.
Steve.D.Hammond.