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Sea State is a series of nine projects initiated in 2005 by artist and former Olympic sailor Charles Lim with the premise of investigating perceptions of sea and land in the island city-state of Singapore.
Please take a minute to read this uncanny phenomenon.
I was so excited to FINALLY see some snow outside our windows that, with "Window Wednesday" in mind, I took a shot of these two images which were placed randomly on my windowsill in December.
NOT until I just uploaded this post did I notice that the watercolor on the left blends so naturally into the real background it looks like I just put a mat on the sill!
I promise you this was NOT planned! The photo card I received from my husband is on the right, and his watercolor is on the left, along with a little added "Charlie Brown" tree . . .
WOW! CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS?
The 18th century, the age of Enlightenment is marked by the modernist ideal of ultimate perception. The telescope which was increasingly used in this era was a means of unlimited perception from the below and of the above, whilst the Eiffel Tower which was built a century later was the medium of unlimited perception from the above and of the below.
Beneath a shifting ceiling of ashen clouds, the Valley of Trolls unfurled in solemn grandeur, a wilderness carved by time’s relentless hand. Ocean Peak rose above the far horizon, its serrated heights stark against the gloom, like an ancient banner frayed by millennia of winds. At its feet, Lake Harris lay brooding, its dark waters restless and inscrutable, stirred by winds that whispered of distant seas and forgotten storms.
In the foreground, a serpentine stream spilled forth from the hidden cradle of Lake Wilson, threading its way through a chaotic tumble of stone. Its waters shimmered, not merely clear but luminous, catching elusive glints of light that seemed to flicker and fade as if stolen from the stars. Pools gathered in quiet hollows, their surfaces dappled with ripples that moved like silver veins through emerald and cobalt. The stream hummed with life, its song subtle yet persistent, like a half-remembered melody from a world long past.
Clinging to the fractured rocks, alpine daisies stretched defiantly, their white blooms trembling as faint sunbeams broke through the clouds, only to vanish again as swiftly as they had come. These hardy flowers, so fragile in appearance yet stubborn in their survival, seemed to hold council with the mosses and lichens that crept across the crags in slow, deliberate conquest. Each blade of grass, each cluster of growth, seemed to hold its place not by chance, but by some secret decree of the land itself.
The valley walls were a mosaic of raw geology, where layers of stone thrust forward, tilted and scarred as though shaped by a craftsman’s fury. Deep fissures cleaved their surfaces, shadows pooling within them like ink spilled from some unseen hand. This was no land of soft beauty or gentle welcomes—it was a place that commanded respect, its silence carrying the weight of long-buried stories.
Farther still, Lake Harris mirrored the sky’s shifting moods in its dark expanse, its waters holding a curious stillness at odds with the restless air around it. The peak above seemed almost watchful, its sharp contours suggesting not just a mountain, but an ancient presence—a witness to events that even the loremasters of Rivendell might struggle to recall.
Here, one might imagine a weary Frodo pausing, his hand brushing the cool stones, as Sam’s voice broke through the quiet with some small encouragement. Or perhaps Aragorn, his gaze far away, scanning the rugged horizon as though searching for echoes of a time before his own. It was a land where footsteps felt heavier, where the air seemed dense with unspoken warnings, and yet where beauty—wild and unbroken—shone like a pale flame in the gathering dusk.
The Valley of Trolls held no welcome for travelers, nor did it turn them away. It simply was, a fragment of Middle-earth unbent by the passing ages, its mysteries untouched by the dominion of Men. There was a stillness here, but not a peace. Beneath the green and stone, beneath the streams and shadows, there was a waiting, a presence that seemed to hum just below the edge of perception. Not malevolent, not benevolent—simply there, as if the valley itself watched and remembered long after all others had forgotten.
"Depth Perception (2):" I took this photo last year in a remote area of the Hassayampa River. The water in which I was standing when I was shooting was already knee deep. If you look closely into the water, just beyond the rocks in the foreground, you may see that there is a sudden drop-off into a bowl-like chasm, the depth of which I did not want to measure myself. Instead, I stopped and enjoyed the reflections of the colorful rock patterns across this watery abyss.
"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are."
– Anaïs Nin
Pacific Place, Queensway. 2014.
GhostWorks Texture Competition #49
Texture with thanks to Skeletal Mess
This image just kept getting darker and darker... but that's not really where I wanted it to go. So I thought I'd find a poem or something to explain darkness in the image, so I started to look up the word sorrow but instead came across a wonderful bit of conversation between two sisters - Marianne and Elinor in the novel Sense and Sensibility - where Marianne is caught up in the fabulous whirl of leaves as they fall... and her sister is... should we say.... not! Sisters!! :))
Photo and one of the texture is my own, the other texture is courtesy of SkeletalMess
30 Days of Perception - Day 29
Wonder: a feeling of amazement and admiration when taking notice of something quite remarkable.
Nature, in all its forms fills me with wonder. As I see, and admire from my kitchen window, my little basket of strawberry plants. I find it so amazing that the leaves know exactly when to change colour. They're prompted by the cooler nights and shorter days which trigger changes in the leaves that have consequences on their colour. The productions of green chlorophyll stops and the green fades leaving yellow, orange and red pigments
The changing colours of leaves fills me with wonder.
”If we meet life with wonder, it’s always new, always fresh. We don’t need experiences - just encounters.” ~ Maggie Ross.
Today, I encountered these colourful strawberry plant leaves and they filled me with joy!
Canon A1
Canon FD 50mm 1:1.8
Konica Minolta VX100
@ 'A Turkish Breeze Through A Dutch Frame' Photography Exhibition
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