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Vieranus se trouve au 39 rue de Bretagne Paris 3, juste à côté de la librairie comme un roman.
L'artiste de la rue possède un site :
Vieranus sera le représentant idéal pour un portrait mosaïque géant dans minuscules sont les enragés.
www.flickr.com/photos/mogendre/sets/72157624421150861/
L'omnivorace
L’omnivorace.
Que dire de l’être revêtu d’un poncho étonnamment sale ?
A-t-il connu la chaleur d’une union ou provoqué la déchirure d’un divorce ?
Souffre-t-il en son corps ? Parle-t-il français ?
Et sa tête à la forme tourmentée reflète-t-elle vraiment l’image sympathique qu’il impose ou dissimule-t-elle quelques tourmentes dévastatrices ?
Comment opérer une approche qui ne soit pas dérangeante ?
Le bousculer, serait-ce la solution pour réveiller en lui un quelconque réflexe de vie ?
Lorsque j’entrais en gare, imaginais-je un seul instant me trouver confronté à telle existence ?
***
Le nouveau distributeur gorgé d’automatismes se refusait à satisfaire ma demande.
Un homme m’aborda, me proposant de m’aider. Lorsque je me retournai, un réflexe répulsif me fit hérisser le poil.
Comment lui, l’individu pouilleux identifié non pas grâce à son costume, mais à son odeur, comment pouvait-il venir en aide à moi, le responsable de la délégation départementale de la Croix Rouge ?
— Ça va ! Je vais m’en sortir.
Il insista et me désigna la molette à tourner du haut vers le bas.
Mais oui, mais c’est bien sûr, je le savais, je l’aurais trouvé sans l’aide de ce crève-la-faim. Je m'égarai certes un peu beaucoup, mais j'en avais marre de l'humanitaire.
De peur que mes manipulations ne révèlent quoi que ce soit sur ma vie, je lui tournai le dos et continuai…. le bouton vert…. à sélectionner ma destination…. le bouton vert…. tout en me demandant bien pourquoi…. le bouton vert…. je ne parvenais pas à passer sur l’écran suivant. Stressé par le grand panneau lumineux qui indiquait le départ de mon train, je ne prenais pas le temps de lire les instructions détaillées par ce guichet automatique. J 'en conclus qu’il fallait appuyer sur le « bouton vert ». Lorsque je tournai la tête, l’individu était encore là, à me désigner le fameux bouton vert.
— Oui, mais non, je sais lire, lui annonçai-je avec une certaine irritation dans la voix.
Au pas de charge, je tentais de rattraper la minute qui avait filé aussi vite que le train que je voyais s’éloigner du quai.
***
De la table de café où je m’étais installé pour attendre le train suivant, je pouvais observer les voyageurs qui s’attardaient devant les fameux distributeurs automatiques. L’homme à la barbe hirsute proposait ses services à chaque utilisateur en perdition confronté au système déshumanisant. Répulsion et incompréhension s'accordaient à l’approche de l’homme mal fagoté.
Quel était le sens de sa démarche persévérante ? Pourquoi m’en vouloir à moi, le bien-pensant, le premier de la classe, le chouchou des profs, le mieux noté de l’entreprise ? Pourquoi vouloir me rabaisser au niveau des intouchables ? Avais-je des goûts de chiotte ? Le domaine des latrines serait-il mon seul univers ? Ou alors, j’avais pêché par excès d’orgueil et c’était sa manière de me signifier le rejet de ma suffisance.
Mon café fumait. J'observais les volutes qui s'échappaient de la tasse.
Ma femme s’en était allée, peu après le départ de notre dernier enfant ; mes conquêtes extra-professionnelles redevinrent professionnelles sans extra ; mes aventures d’un soir s’espacèrent à tel point que je m’habituai à ce vide occupé par le silence.
Au fur et à mesure que l’amour se réduisait à peau de chagrin, l’espace libéré autour de moi m’isolait du monde extérieur.
Maman refusait l'accompagnement de tout autre aide-soignante. Sous la menace de devoir mettre fin à ses jours, elle m'ordonna de la soigner quotidiennement. J'avais 58 ans. Des ordres, je ne voulais plus en recevoir de quiconque et pourtant je cédai, au point de revenir habiter chez elle, un, deux puis trois jours par semaine. Je ne pouvais me résigner à quitter définitivement mon appartement. Celui-ci, bien que très vaste, ne recevait plus grand monde depuis bien longtemps.
J'avais été son œuf, elle mon cocon. Avant d'être papillon, je m'empêtrais dans sa toile.
Artiste, elle crevait de ne pas vendre ses œuvres. L’atelier était devenu sa cuisine, la maison son entrepôt. Des dizaines de croûtes adossées aux murs, de toutes hauteurs, de toutes couleurs. Je n’avais pas de chambre, juste un lit devant une planche peinte, elle aussi, qui me servait de bureau. Les couleurs avaient déserté sa palette. Sur le tard, elle travaillait désormais en noir et blanc, uniquement.
— Pour comprendre un tableau, tu dois rentrer dedans, me disait-elle lorsque je restais planté devant son travail jamais achevé.
Dans la cohorte des nuits sans sommeil de ma pré-adolescence, j’attisais mon regard sur les femmes nues étalées le long des couloirs, sexe posant, leurs seins flasques, étroits, plantureux, gonflés, leurs postérieurs plats, rebondis, larges, sillonnés d'ombre. J'imaginais mes doigts caresser la peau crue, retirer les cheveux encroûtés, gratter les poils pubiens pour retrouver le blanc de la toile restée vierge de toute surveillance.
Ma mère aimait recevoir de nouveaux modèles. Elles se promenaient pointe de seins tendues devant le jeune garçon « si innocent » que j'étais. J'ai reçu les baisers sur les joues, accueilli les tapes légères sur les fesses, et tant de mains caressant les cheveux de ma tête qui, blottit au niveau de leur entrecuisse poilu, attendait avec fébrilité le moment de replonger nerveusement entre les pages d'une bande dessinée piochée au hasard.
Lorsque plus tard, j'avais atteint la hauteur du nombril féminin, je vécus une première alerte. Je connus le genre du désir brut, destiné à souiller mes draps chaque nuit. Combien de fois ai-je voulu effacer ces images féminines qui tendaient mon désir vers une érection obscène ? Pourquoi m’infliger cette contrainte de l’inatteignable assouvissement ?
En touchant le fond de la tasse pour lécher le sucre déposé, je surveillais la pendule de la gare. J'achetai Artension, une revue sur l'art contemporain. Au cœur d'un article, il était question de la mise en lumière des ombres, celles qui ne rentrent pas dans le rang. Yann Xhi You soulignait la nécessité de rétablir l'ombre car c'est ainsi que vivent les discrets. Rétablir et entretenir tout en laissant les projecteurs braqués sur les strass et paillettes.
Téléphone de maman, inquiète de ne pas me voir arriver.
— Fais attention avec tout ce que l’on entend, tu risques de te faire agresser pour un simple regard. Ne traîne pas ! Je t’attends.
***
Il a le temps lui. Pas de soucis d'horaire, pas de contraintes vestimentaires. Mais à propos, comment fait-il pour se changer ? S'il n'a pas de maison, où sont rangés ses vêtements ? Drôle de vie quand même. De toute façon, à l'âge qu'il a , il doit toucher sa retraite, ce n'est pas un type à plaindre. Je suis sûr qu'il vient ici parce qu'il s'ennuie chez lui. Si ça se trouve, il a mis un bon pactole de côté et un jour il partira aux Bahamas, où ailleurs sur les îles. Qui sait, peut-être trouvera-t-il un peintre pour lui tirer le portrait ?
Pour accéder aux quais, je devais repasser devant le va-nu-pieds. À son approche, j'ai senti mes jambes s’alourdir, puis vaciller. C'était trop bête, moi qui ne voulais pas avoir affaire à ce type, le voilà qui s'inquiétait pour ma santé. Mon corps avait une fâcheuse tendance à produire des crises d’hypoglycémie. Une pierre de sucre et ça repartait.
N'empêche que l'homme m'aida à m'appuyer contre une borne et attendre l'effet du remède miracle. Son insistance me toucha. Tout à coup, je fixai son regard. Ses yeux étaient brillants. La pupille dilatée accentuait la profondeur dans laquelle je faillis me noyer. Un bref passage de main sur mon visage et me voici qui revint à la réalité avant de prendre mon train. Je le remerciai et lui souhaitai une bonne soirée.
C’était décidé : dès demain je lui apporterai un costume de ma collection et un pardessus.
Il refusa mon paquet.
— Je ne comprends pas. Je crois que nous sommes de la même taille. De quoi avez-vous peur ?
— Peut-être... de vous ressembler ? Non, je rigole. Je ne veux pas me débarrasser de mes habits.
— Et pourquoi pas ?
— J’y tiens beaucoup.
— Soit. De toute façon, je vous laisse le paquet. Vous pourrez le donner à qui vous voudrez ou bien le vendre. En magasin, ça vaut une fortune.
Je lui installai le colis dans son caddie.
— Bonne journée.
Tous les jours suivants, nous échangeâmes des coups de tête polis, de près ou de loin, jusqu’au soir où de nouveau devant le guichet automatique, je devais renouveler mon abonnement. Il m’interpella.
— Bonsoir monsieur. Merci encore pour votre cadeau. Comme je n’allais pas m’en servir, je l’ai offert à un autre gars qui en a vraiment besoin. Il était très content. Depuis il a la classe ! On dirait un professeur.
— C’est bien, c’est bien. Vous habitez par ici ?
Sans vouloir être indiscret, j’avais été maladroit.
— Pas loin en effet. J’ai un petit coin. Avec la chaleur du métro, il y fait bon.
Je vous proposerais bien d’y passer un jour mais le ménage laisse à désirer.
La semaine suivante une grève surprise m'obligea à attendre le seul train disponible. Comme par hasard nous nous trouvâmes l'un contre l'autre dans la foule compacte des mécontents. Juste histoire de m'extirper de cette situation, je lui proposai un coup à boire.
— Je vous offre un canon ?
— Ah ! C’est pas de refus, mais c’est moi qui régale.
À croire que dans toute la ville, dans toute la gare de Perrache, dans toute la salle de restauration rapide, il n’y avait que nous deux.
En moins d’une heure, il me raconta son histoire sans interruption, mélangeant l’enfance, le mariage, le divorce, sa passion du tennis qu’il pratiquait en équipe nationale, photo à l’appui, ses enfants, sa femme. Il fallut que je lui serre la main fort pour interrompre le flot de paroles qu’il déversait jusqu’à en perdre haleine sans oublier de les alimenter toutefois de gorgées de rouge bien grasses.
Pourquoi un type comme lui était-il tombé si bas ?
Comment un type comme lui pouvait en arriver là ?
Il me regarda partir. J’avais ses yeux ronds cloués dans ma nuque. Une drôle de sensation me fit me retourner. Il avait disparu.
Maman ne connut pas le printemps. Elle qui aimait tant les fleurs, je lui en portai sur sa tombe. Mes deux enfants mariés étaient venus se recueillir par devoir, un instant. Comme à leur habitude et histoire de garder le contact, ils ne manqueraient pas de me téléphoner pour mon anniversaire et le jour de l’an.
Je vendis mon appartement décidément encombré de vide.
C'était drôle de réinvestir les lieux où j'avais grandi seul, sans l'aide de personne. La chambre ressemblait à une chambre d'adolescent. Mes médailles remportées au tennis étaient suspendues contre l'armoire juste à côté du poncho que j'avais rapporté du Pérou.
La chambre de ma mère ressemblait à une chambre de vieille, malade. Débarrassé du lit médicalisé, je retrouvai le capharnaüm de son atelier au travers duquel autrefois elle déambulait en s’arrêtant devant les toiles qui lui évoquaient un souvenir, une présence, une sensation.
J'éprouvais alors, un plaisir infini à entrer physiquement dans le cadre de ses peintures qui finiraient de toute façon à la benne.
***
Ma relation avec le clodo devint cordiale, parce que habituelle, voire professionnelle, car je le saluais amicalement à chacun de mes retours du travail.
Au mois de mai, il ne refusa pas mes chaussures légères qui remplacèrent ses croquenots très lourds à porter malgré les trous dans les semelles. Nous avions la même corpulence. En échange, il m’offrit un briquet, du genre de celui que j’avais reçu pour ma communion par mon père, cet illustre inconnu.
Mes dégoûts olfactifs s'étaient estompés depuis que l’homme de la gare avait décidé d'utiliser les bains douches municipaux impasse Flesselles. La gratuité du lieu offrait en plus du bienfait corporel, un lien social.
On s'appelait Monsieur.
J'insistai pour qu'il m'emmène à l'endroit où il dormait. Le coin devait être tranquille la nuit, car à cette heure-là, la rue piétonne grouillait de monde.
Un jour, il me confia une grosse enveloppe. Elle contenait ses cahiers de souvenirs. Son écriture ressemblait à la mienne. Les événements de sa vie se calquaient sur les miens. M’aurait-il extorqué tous mes secrets ?
À l'automne de l'année suivante, nous constatâmes que nous étions nés le même jour.
La barbe que j’avais décidé de laisser pousser après mon licenciement me fit ressembler à lui sur le photomaton que je regardais, fébrile. Nous étions entrés à deux dans la cabine. Sur le cliché délivré par l’appareil, un seul personnage apparaissait.
Qui de lui était moi ?
Pourquoi un type comme moi était-il tombé si bas ?
Comment un type comme moi pouvait en arriver là ?
Questions sans réponse qui me permettraient de siroter mes verres de rouge au café de la gare de Perrache .
Après un long soliloque philosophiquement indigeste, je repris ma place près des distributeurs automatiques de billets, espérant apporter un peu d’aide aux égarés du voyage.
The entire serie : Les nourritures terrestres on my blog !
Please tell me what you like/dislike in this photo ! I want to improve !
Dites moi ce qui vous plaît/déplaît dans cette photo ! Je veux progresser !
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So wait, what? This is the best drawing I've ever done. I decided I had to do another realistic drawing after this, and Erin had just sent me this print a few weeks before. So there you have it. I am quite proud. :')
Curse you, pearl jewelry! D:
This is my reference. Check out that beautiful girl's photo stream, GOGOGO!
I got this gas mask while in Wilmington NC at a great little consignment shop that carried lots of old war equipment. This is just my first "test run" with the prop. I also have a child-sized one, that will (hopefully) be making its appearance soon.
#1 Done for Project 52
#1 Done for Cliche Saturday's Scavenger Hunt-- selective color
Done for Sliders Sunday
Please view in the lightbox, Press L
Himbas, like many tribes in Africa use headrest, or wood pillow, to protect their haircut. Himbas have this kind of pillow, and sometimes put some leather on the top to have a real pillow effect!
The headrest is sometimes the only thing they own from their family, with the ornaments they wear.
© Eric Lafforgue
This is MY bam year!! Last year was a crazy but good year for me. In the beginning of last year I was a lost soul and had some personal issues that made me into a person I didn't like.
Last year I finally got pregnant in February. I was excited to finally become a mother again... I carried my baby for 5 weeks and was sooo ready to be a mom again. I lost my baby and sorta lost my mind. That day after going to the emergency room something in me snapped... something that really made me finally grow up! Something made me want to crawl in a whole and never come out again and something made me want to embrace my faith and let God do His work. I chose God. So far my husband and I have taken a break from actually trying to have a baby but we've learned that it's in His hands and we shouldn't feel like we have to rush it. We both are still very young and have a lifetime together.
Last year I had many resolutions and actually fufilled some of them... one was to loose weight and a lot of it! So far I've made it to my goal weight plus a little extra... I feel great!
I'm not embarrased to look at my self in the mirror anymore which is a huge deal for me! I've always been really hard on myself and how I look on the outside... I don't want to be like that anymore! So that's one thing I want to work out with myself this year. To be more confident in myself!
I want to be more athletic! I want to start getting into something like bike riding, roller blading, swimming... anything just something that I can do outdoors besides working out at home to pilates dvds lol
I want to be more serious in my photography... I want to one day open my own photography studio here at my home. My husband has been slowly but surely converting one of our 3 car garages into a studio. It's still a huge work in progress, money is tight right now especially since I only work 1 day a week. I've saved up some money and am planning on getting my lights hopefully by next month. I know either way I will continue learning and my camera will never leave my side :)
Sorry for the super long description! Hope you all have a wonderful rest of your week! Xxoo!
My gran. Not too happy at me pointing a camera at her. Unimpressed by her second telegram from the queen (she was 105 on Saturday). Possibly even less impressed by the telegram she received from Sith Lord Ian Duncan Smith.
Mind you, half the time I think she's just pretending to be annoyed or grumpy for her own amusement. She has the attitude and mischievous sense of humour of a much younger person. A 90-year-old, for example.
存在革命同人活動 - 台南一中 / 雖不能預知明日世界 - 堅定看著未來的生活
The Cosplay of the Existence Revolution - Tainan First Senior High School / Although cannot know in advance tomorrow the world - Looks at the future life firmly
El Cosplay de la Revolución Existencia - Tainan Primera Senior High School / Aunque no pueda saber por adelantado mañana el mundo - Mira la vida futura firmemente
革命の人の活動が存在しますと - 台南の一中 / 明日の世界を予知することができないが - しっかりと未来の生活を見ています
Die Cosplay der Existenz Revolution - Tainan First Senior High School / Obgleich die Welt nicht im Voraus morgen kennen kann - Betrachtet das zukünftige Leben fest
Le Cosplay de la Révolution Existence - Tainan Première Senior High School / Bien que ne puisse pas connaître à l'avance demain le monde - Regarde la future vie fermement
Tainan Taiwan / Tainan Taiwán / 台灣台南
越過山谷和山 / James Last Orchestra
{Over Valley And Mountain / 渓谷と山を越えて}
{View large size on fluidr / 觀看大圖}
NIKKOR 180mm 1:2.8 *ED AIS NIKON-EOS & Fujifilm PROPLUS II 100
{My Blog / 管樂小集精彩演出-觸動你的心}
{My Blog / Great Music The splendid performance touches your heart}
{My Blog / 管楽小集すばらしい公演-はあなたの心を心を打ちます}
{Mi blog / La gran música el funcionamiento espléndido toca su corazón}
{Mein Blog / Große Musik die herrliche Leistung berührt Ihr Herz}
{Mon blog / La grande musique l'exécution splendide touche votre coeur}
書中風起雲動 劍下虎嘯龍吟
The book stroke have the clouds to move under the sword the tiger's roar and dragon to recite
誰知成敗早已天定
Who knows the success or failure already to decide for GOD
回首江山依舊 入眼夕陽正紅
Who looks back on the landscape as before pleasant setting sun is red now
但願人長久情長在
Hopes the persons long-time sentiment exist
熱蘭劍士無悔無憾
The Zeelandia's swordsman regretless not regrets
(homeless man, sf civic) (taken 3/10/06)
...homeless vet omar from louisiana sitting on a flat bed cart near the civic center.
he is on ssi because of vietnam injuries to his legs; he is starting to get better... after all these years.
S.V.P.
Aidez naus pour manger
Merci
Please help us to eat.
During the holiday season I challenge you to think of those less fortunate than you. Homelessness is a problem in most cities and for whatever reason people end up on the streets begging it doesn't matter, no one would choose to live like this.
Be compassionate not judgmental
Be a better person
A small act of kindness
Can make a big difference.
Listen to this homeless mans poem
www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtZ50QDWL58
Thank you for your time and friendship it's appreciated more than you know. :-))
My interview on Google Local Guide Connect
All Photos Are Copyright To Paul Saad , Unauthorised Use Is Not Allowed Without Prior Permission. © Some rights reserved ©
(young drifter, san francisco, 2/16/07)
he says san francisco is twisted.
says he can see it in their eyes on their way. before they stop. bad intent. no shame. like they can buy anything. have anything.
they can't.
yet there's no end to them. and the things they ask. and expect.
joe's been panhandling.
he reads people. says that most people who give can't afford to give. many are people who were once where he is. people who've gotten out.
but those who can afford to, don't.
he's sitting on the sidewalk by a puddle.
as i sit, he apologizes for any smell. he hasn't had a shower in some time.
he split home when he was 14. hopped a freight train and joined the circus. used his brother's id. he's been on the street a year longer than he's been alive.
says he "was always a rebel." and quickly "still am."
a picture?
"you're not going to down me, are you?"
disparage him and his condition.
"no i'm not going to down you."
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(photo at gallery site)
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...ho provato a guardare attraverso gli occhi, ma risultava troppo banale, allora ho guardato attraverso il cuore...
I am fascinated by the gaze of the African American woman in the center of the frame who--to my eyes--is a cross between the brilliant actress, Alfre Woodard and the great 20th-century soprano, Marian Anderson. I cannot be sure she saw me, although it does seem that she's looking my way.
Strangely enough, there appears to be something happening behind the shot's two female 'protagonists.' Everyone else is looking away from the camera, which adds an element of mystery...
Midtown Manhattan
New York City, NY USA
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For the group six word story.
As street photographers, we’ve all had photo walks like today’s: lots of walk and not much photo. Then, when opportunity knocked, it kept on knocking. I met Jacob just before deciding to head for home, and Jacob introduced me to Anna, his 93 year old mother. No sooner had I said goodbye to Anna when I met Jessie. I was still on McCaul Street, across from the Ontario College of Art and Design and she was walking toward me with a backpack and a stylish brown cap. She had a friendly face and before I knew it I was giving her my Human Family project invitation (which is really a friendly request). She liked the idea from the get-go and was eager to participate.
I showed her my contact card and said she could keep it and told her I would like to make use of the scaffold-covered sidewalk to frame her and the photos were taken. Because I had Jessie standing in the middle of the sidewalk for symmetry reasons, there were a few pauses as pedestrians passed by. At one point a couple was kind enough to walk in the street so as to not get in the way of the photo session and I thanked them. I caught one photo of them climbing through the scaffolding in the background in order to get out of the street. I’m often surprised by how friendly complete strangers can be in similar situations.
Jessie was just as good-natured and open as she appears in the photos. We stepped out of the middle of the sidewalk and chatted. She is 20 years old and was born and raised in Toronto. Her parents are from Jamaica. When I said that would have been my guess she smiled and said “Really? Some people assume I’m African.” Jessie is working part time at a movie theatre and just getting used to the working world. She is also studying art which is her passion.
She mentioned that she lost her hearing at the age of 3 due to an illness which would be quite an obstacle for a child just learning to fit into the world. Of course her speech was affected too and she jokingly told me that she used to pronounce “pancakes” “panicakes.” At the age of 13 she discovered she was a candidate for cochlear implants and persuaded her mother to help her pursue surgery and she is now a part of the hearing world. I was surprised to learn of her hearing difficulty and would not have guessed, but once she told me I was aware of some slight variations in pronunciation. Wikipedia describes cochlear implants as follows: “A cochlear implant (CI) is a surgically implanted electronic device that provides a sense of sound to a person who is profoundly deaf or severely hard of hearing in both ears. Cochlear implants bypass the normal hearing process; they have a microphone and some electronics that reside outside the skin, generally behind the ear, which transmits a signal to an array of electrodes placed in the cochlea, which stimulate the cochlear nerve.”
When I asked Jessie about her biggest challenge in life she didn’t cite the hearing loss. Instead she described the death of her mother three years ago from a heart attack. “I moved in with my sister and made the decision that nothing was going to stop me. I decided I was going to make a life for myself and pursue my interests which are mainly creative and artistic.” When I asked where she found her strength to move beyond loss, she said “I found my strength through art, family, and friends.” I asked how she thinks her friends would describe her and she said “Oh man. That’s a real good question. Probably creative, daring, outgoing, friendly, and kind of crazy.” This was said with a big laugh. “I’m an energetic person. I like to be busy and on the go.” Her message to the project is “Peace.”
I found Jessie a very likeable person with a strength of character that really impressed me. I have a feeling that she won’t let anything stop her from succeeding in life.
Thanks, Jessie, for taking the time to meet and for doing the photos. I hope you like them. You are my 295th subject for The Human Family Group on Flickr. Good luck with your studies.
You can view more street portraits and stories by visiting The Human Family.
His Discussion Thread:
www.flickr.com/groups/portraitparty/discuss/7215762834232...
Reference Photo:
www.flickr.com/photos/billfulton/9691842318/
Prismacolor pencils on 9"x12" Piece of Brown paper Bag
Free skating
2018 ISU European Figure Skating Championships
Jan 20, 2018
Megasport Arena
Moscow,Russia
Prints | Facebook | Twitter | G+ | Blog | Music | © Ben Heine
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I'm finally on Instagram: www.instagram.com/benheineart I hope
you can join me there too! I plan to post more personal (but still
creative) pictures on my Instagram account. Coming soon...
PS: Some cool & affordable gift ideas (11/12) for Christmas!
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For more information about my works: info@benheine.com
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Hi everyone,Today's painting is simply called (Struggle) if you look at the note in the painting you can see the person trying to hold back all the forces that are trying to bring them down,or are the flames of hell going to suck him or her down to the underworld? is it the weight of the world that will be their end? with so many things knocking on everyone's door at all hours of the night, don't give up the struggle,for if you do what will become of you? a shell of a person with no more life inside ,and that my friends isn't something to be desired,so as long as you have blood pumping through your veins .Welcome the struggle, for it will make you a stronger person to help others that may need help during their times of a weighty struggle,and that is the greatest of all feelings to help someone else who may not have the strength to fight off this monster called struggle,but if your prepared you can make this monster as tame as a kitten, but first you may go thru a little fire yourself, just remember after the fire of the struggle ,you will become like a fine piece of forged steel ready to take on any kind of struggles that will come your way in the future, Steve.
And I would like to tell you why.
With so many horrible things going on in the world, with so much injustice and prejudice and bias, with so much Hatred and so much Stressful situations, WHY oh WHY do people have to bring such Nastiness to our Hobby? Why is it so easy to be so mean? Isn't there enough awful in the world?
If you are a mean person and You get off on the gossip and the Spreading hate, Please stop following me I don't need anything negative in my life, I get enough of that just from my Job. I love dolls and the doll community it brings me some Peace of mind when I need it, If all you want to do is gossip about it then Please just leave me out of it.
Thanks.
To all the others that are here to share the love and the dolls and toys Big hugs from me, that is why I love this hobby so much.
No longer a boy, not yet a man, Florida 2012. © J.J. Taylor. No usage without prior written consent. All Rights Reserved.
MAN WITH LIPSTICK IN ALLEYWAY | SAN FRANCISCO | JULY 26, 2013.
there's a thickness to the air which hangs like muck in a basin after the party. he's expecting something as autos snail past. his eyes dart. weary but ready.
i'm invisible until he speaks.
"i haven't seen you in years," he says.
"hello wayland," i say.
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other photographs of wayland:
10/17/07: "it wasn't me"
2/19/07: "kids with dolls"
7/18/06: "street sixteen"
Union Square, NYC
Thank you Ourit aka She said unprintable things for writing me a testimonial. Ourit is not only a great street photographer, she is blessed with her huge talent with words. Although I have never met her in person (we narrowly missed each other during my NY trip when she was away in Israel), she has been a very close contact of mine. I hope some day we will meet!
Je ne me lasse jamais de la crinière de Menthise dans le vent .
Voici une photo de la belle , que je n'avais pas photographié depuis un moment , je suis toujours autant sous son charme.
En plus de ca , j'ai pu lui faire une nouvelle tenue , et un serre tête avec des fleurs aux couleurs d'automne pour ses cheuveux .
WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
Not my first name, but my middle name after my Auntie.
WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
2 days ago
DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?
Yes, one thing I do like!
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Chipper chicken.
DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
Not yet.
IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Mmm I think so, if anything hopefully I would make me laugh. Er, the other me. Yeah.
DO YOU USE SARCASM A LOT?
A habit, unfortunately.
DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS
yes
WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP?
You couldn't pay me to.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
Toasted museli.
DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES WHEN YOU TAKE THEM OFF?
I try to, doesn't always happen.
DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?
Sometimes.
WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
Mint Choc Chip. Never a question.
WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Their eyes
RED OR PINK?
Red.
WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
My lack of confidence.
WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST?
My Canadian family.
WHAT COLOR SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
Light blue slippers.
WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
BBQ flavour Rice crackers.
WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
Transformers score.
IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Peacock blue - probably from the Crayola 164 pack as I dont think it would be a standard colour
in a 10 pack!
FAVORITE SMELLS?
Coffee, even though I dont drink it, fruit salad on a Summer day and Coco Mademoiselle Chanel perfume.
WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
My boyfriend.
FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Aussie Rules footy and swimming.
HAIR COLOR?
Light brown/ blonde
EYE COLOR?
hazel
DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
No
FAVORITE FOOD?
Mexican
SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
happy endings
LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
Burn after reading
WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
Fluoro green - but only because its my sports team colour and I have a game in 20 mins. It wouldn't be my usual choice.
SUMMER OR WINTER?
Summer where are you? Bring it on baby!
HUGS OR KISSES?
Hugs
FAVORITE DESSERT?
Anything chocolately, hazelnut, creamy.. you get the picture.
WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING NOW?
Wide Awake - Erwin Mcmanus
WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
Print company details
WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV LAST NIGHT?
I watched a movie - Son of Rambo
FAVORITE SOUND?
Chocolate breaking. Preferably in my mouth. Did I say my favourtie food was Mexican?
ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?
Beatles
WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME???
Canada
DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
I am an artist in many ways but I wouldn't say any are particularly special. I have a memory like an elephant. I guess you could call that a talent. Or just hereditary. Thanks Mum :)
WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
Perth, Australia.
(homeless man with face markings, sf, 5/8/06)
homeless eric in soma. eric used to freight hop and had a circuit he would follow seasonally. about eight years ago, on his sf stop, he got hooked bad on heroin and thus got stuck.
he figures it's too much trouble trying to move on; he'd just get sick, and he wouldn't be able to put aside enough to hold him until the next fix. everything now is shooting up and hustling his next fix. so he stays.
he was in prison in new mexico some time before and has prison tattoos up and down his arms. he managed to get away with them except for an inch by inch section on his left arm; his last. that got him nine extra months.
he grew up in the foster system. his parents killed themselves when he was five (carbon monoxide asphyxiation). his mom was a hooker and his dad was a junky.
he agrees that was fucked up for a five year old but says everything's been fucked up like that.
I've been doing a whole bunch of more people focused, straight forward street shooting lately. More and more in fact. I thought it time to go through another little batch of 'em.
(old man with raiders cap, sf, 1/17/06)
70 year old jimmy from louisiana. he lives in nearby low income housing. jimmy spent a brief stint in the army, but hated it because they "didn't train me good."
when asked how he spends his time, "i walk around days."
I was out scouting warehouses and old storefronts for an upcoming photo shoot when I began to hear sweet music wafting through the air. Certain that the shop owners had installed speakers underneath the awning and were piping out a recording of classical violin music, I kept scouting locations. As I passed an old Coke machine though, I found the source of the soothing arias among all the hustle of post-Thanksgiving shoppers.
Jimmy Bryant was seated on a bench playing his violin, and I listened a while before I asked to take a photograph. Jimmy just nodded and kept playing. I snapped a couple of shots, and after he completed the piece, we talked a bit. Jimmy has been playing violin since he was a young boy. He laughingly told me how he started in the garage, and after a year, he was allowed to practice in his room. He knew he had graduated when his mother allowed him to play in the kitchen as she was preparing supper.
Today, Jimmy makes his living with his violin and musical talent. He plays in the group Prestor John as well as busking on street corners and giving the gift of music to everyone. His repertoire includes music from Brahms to Leadbelly, from Chopin to the Stones.
I asked Jimmy to walk a block away to a place where a pink stucco wall stood backlit on a corner. The rose color of the wall would complement his shirt. I knew I could catch the light streaming down the sidestreet with a reflector and place it where ever I wanted. I decided to place it at a slight upwards angle to mimic stage lighting. It was only afterwards that I realized the colors generated would do the same, and the faux column would be remininscent of the classical music that drew me to Jimmy in the first place.
Thank you Jimmy, both for the music, and for being Stranger #127 in my 100 Strangers project. Find out more about the project and see pictures taken by other photographers at the flickr group page.
The 100 Strangers website can be found at 100strangers.com/
Nikkor 50mm ƒ1.8, Available Light, Gold Reflector.