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A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
A G. Aeon, Private Detective, story
In the steam-powered glow of Victorian virtuality, G. Aeon's name etched in brass upon the frosted glass of her office door stood as a beacon in the expanse of Second Life's neo-Victorian district. Her domain was a labyrinthine enclave of commerce and vice, where the clanking of machinery and the hiss of steam blended with the raucous laughter of tavern-goers and the seductive whispers from the shadows of the night. It was a haven for avatars bearing the burdens of their pixelated pasts and seeking her expertise to navigate the complexities of their digital lives.
G. Aeon sat alone in her office. The gentle ticking of the clockwork mechanisms that powered her gadgets provided a comforting, if somewhat monotonous, backdrop to her thoughts. Her mind wandered to her last lover, a woman whose curiosity and desire for the new had led her away from the steam-powered elegance of their shared world. She had been drawn to the pulsating neon lights and digital chaos of the cyberpunk scene, a stark contrast to the orderly and mechanical beauty of the steampunk realm. This departure had left G with a sense of loss, a reminder of the ever-changing tides of virtual relationships and the diverse landscapes of Second Life that could pull people in different directions.
In the midst of her contemplation, G was acutely aware of the pragmatic realities that tethered her to the virtual world. The rent for her digital office, payable in Linden dollars, loomed on the horizon, a reminder of the economic underpinnings that governed even this ethereal realm. The recent case, involving the recovery of a priceless artifact stolen from the Steamwright Collection, had been intellectually stimulating but had yielded a modest fee.
G needed a new client, a case with the promise of both intrigue and a more substantial reward, to secure her financial footing and ensure the continuation of her detective endeavors. To this end, G Aeon, Private Detective, had distributed handbills throughout New Victoria Township, advertising her availability for work. The ticking silence of the room was punctured only by soft sighs as she waited for the phone to ring.
Part 2 flic.kr/p/2pQtrtY
Part 3 flic.kr/p/2pQPRer
Photo taken at New Victoria Township- RP and community opening late Summer.
Story by Grace with some help from ChatGPT
More G. Aeon, Private Detective, at flic.kr/s/aHBqjBgiN8
More Clockwork Sibyls at flic.kr/s/aHBqjBiSG9
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
This is an all-sky 360° panorama from the horizon to the zenith at centre, taking in the entire sky during an outburst of a particularly colourful aurora on September 16, 2024. This was from home in southern Alberta.
North is at bottom; south at top; east to the right; west to the left. Note the aurora's coronal outburst is converging at the magnetic zenith south of (above) the actual zenith which is dead centre here.
The numbers were indicating a Kp index of 8 this night, though the peak was earlier in the evening before it got dark at my location. The aurora was well underway in the darkening twilight, but underwent a major outburst at about 9:20 pm MDT when I shot this panorama.
The brightest part of the display captured here lasted only a few minutes before the show settled down into fainter pulsating patches and curtains.
But for a few minutes the curtains converged to the magnetic zenith at top left to produce a coronal outburst that was bright to the eye, and pinkish-white here. The outburst was notable for its strong pinks over much of the sky, likely from nitrogen molecules glowing, indicative of a very energetic rain of electrons. Also present are the more usual yellow-greens from oxygen, and briefly at right to the southeast some strong oxygen reds. The bright object at right is the almost Full Moon rising. Arcing across the south at top is a diffuse blue-green band, which might be a proton aurora with hydrogen-beta emission. The sky is blue from moonlight.
At centre are the Summer Triangle stars, with Deneb (below) and Vega (at centre) and Altair (above). At bottom low in the north is the Big Dipper, Polaris and Cassiopeia. The light at top left in the yard is another camera shooting a time-lapse.
Technical:
This is a panorama of 12 segments (at 30° spacing for generous overlap), shot in quick succession, each 4 seconds long with the Venus Optics Laowa 15mm lens at f/2 and the Canon R5 at only ISO 400, with the camera in portrait orientation. Developed in Camera Raw and stitched in PTGui. The aurora was changing rapidly, so the zenith area in particular at top is a blend of various segments' content to create a smooth transition without abrupt seams. So the panorama does not represent what the aurora looked like at one instant in time, but is a blend of images taken over about a minute.
The original is 11,500 pixels square.
Just as with my moon shot long exposure tail lights is nothing new, but this is my take on it. I quite fancy how the LED tail lights pulsate at a high frequency which mimics the jagged lines in the road.
Poem.
A silhouetted, rapier-like peninsula piercing the radiant splendour of a pewter-grey sea.
Domed islands capped by the heavenly spokes of a setting-sun.
Timeless beauty.
Silence……
but for the distant scream of a gull and the gentle, pulsating whistle of an oyster-catcher.
Sky, rock, sand, light and sea uniquely combine
to produce a glimpse inside heaven’s door.
Don’t yearn for heaven.
Look around.
It’s already here!
This is the Flare from Stanlow oil refinery. Its hard to judge the size of the flame from this shot but the flames must be at least 10ft tall! I'd probably say the stack is burning around 80% here and the light from the flame was pulsating in the clouds viewed from Helsby 5 miles away. Its difficult to get near enough to legally take photos of the refinery so this shot from about 1/4 mile from the flare was the best i could get in the darkness.
And this is Essar's explanation for the "flare"
"Flares are important safety devices allowing refineries to get rid of excess gas which cannot be recycled.
Instead of harmful hydrocarbons like methane being released into the atmosphere they are burnt off in a controlled manner at the top of the stack.
The gases are combined with steam to ensure maximum efficiency.
It is done high above the ground as the process generates a huge amount of heat which could affect surrounding equipment.
The Essar website states: "At Essar Oil UK we are committed to improving processes and technology and aim to reduce the amount of flaring through improved recovery and reprocessing of excess materials."
So even though they say its safe it doesnt sound like its completely harmless!
POIMANDRES, THE VISION OF HERMES
The Divine Pymander of Hermes Mercurius Trismegistus is one of the earliest of the Hermetic writings now extant. While probably not in its original form, having been remodeled during the first centuries of the Christian Era and incorrectly translated since, this work undoubtedly contains many of the original concepts of the Hermetic cultus. The Divine Pymander consists of seventeen fragmentary writings gathered together and put forth as one work. The second book of The Divine Pymander, called Poimandres, or The Vision, is believed to describe the method by which the divine wisdom was first revealed to Hermes. It was after Hermes had received this revelation that he began his ministry, teaching to all who would listen the secrets of the invisible universe as they had been unfolded to him.
The Vision is the most: famous of all the Hermetic fragments, and contains an exposition of Hermetic cosmogony and the secret sciences of the Egyptians regarding the culture and unfoldment of the human soul. For some time it was erroneously called "The Genesis of Enoch," but that mistake has now been rectified. At hand while preparing the following interpretation of the symbolic philosophy concealed within The Vision of Hermes the present author has had these reference works: The Divine Pymander of Hermes Mercurius Trismegistus (London, 1650), translated out of the Arabic and Greek by Dr. Everard; Hermetica (Oxford, 1924), edited by Walter Scott; Hermes, The Mysteries of Egypt (Philadelphia, 1925), by Edouard Schure; and the Thrice-Greatest Hermes (London, 1906), by G. R. S. Mead. To the material contained in the above volumes he has added commentaries based upon the esoteric philosophy of the ancient Egyptians, together with amplifications derived partly from other Hermetic fragments and partly from the secret arcanum of the Hermetic sciences. For the sake of clarity, the narrative form has been chosen in preference to the original dialogic style, and obsolete words have given place to those in current use.Hermes, while wandering in a rocky and desolate place, gave himself over to meditation and prayer. Following the secret instructions of the Temple, he gradually freed his higher consciousness from the bondage of his bodily senses; and, thus released, his divine nature revealed to him the mysteries of the transcendental spheres. He beheld a figure, terrible and awe-inspiring. It was the Great Dragon, with wings stretching across the sky and light streaming in all directions from its body. (The Mysteries taught that the Universal Life was personified as a dragon.) The Great Dragon called Hermes by name, and asked him why he thus meditated upon the World Mystery. Terrified by the spectacle, Hermes prostrated himself before the Dragon, beseeching it to reveal its identity. The great creature answered that it was Poimandres, the Mind of the Universe, the Creative Intelligence, and the Absolute Emperor of all. (Schure identifies Poimandres as the god Osiris.) Hermes then besought Poimandres to disclose the nature of the universe and the constitution of the gods. The Dragon acquiesced, bidding Trismegistus hold its image in his mind.Immediately the form of Poimandres changed. Where it had stood there was a glorious and pulsating Radiance. This Light was the spiritual nature of the Great Dragon itself. Hermes was "raised" into the midst of this Divine Effulgence and the universe of material things faded from his consciousness. Presently a great darkness descended and, expanding, swallowed up the Light. Everything was troubled. About Hermes swirled a mysterious watery substance which gave forth a smokelike vapor. The air was filled with inarticulate moanings and sighings which seemed to come from the Light swallowed up in the darkness. His mind told Hermes thatthe Light was the form of the spiritual universe and that the swirling darkness which had engulfed it represented material substance.Then out of the imprisoned Light a mysterious and Holy Word came forth and took its stand upon the smoking waters. This Word--the Voice of the Light--rose out of the darkness as a great pillar, and the fire and the air followed after it, but the earth and the water remained unmoved below. Thus the waters of Light were divided from the waters of darkness, and from the waters of Light were formed the worlds above and from the waters of darkness were formed the worlds below. The earth and the water next mingled, becoming inseparable, and the Spiritual Word which is called Reason moved upon their surface, causing endless turmoil.Then again was heard the voice of Poimandres, but His form was not revealed: "I Thy God am the Light and the Mind which were before substance was divided from spirit and darkness from Light. And the Word which appeared as a pillar of flame out of the darkness is the Son of God, born of the mystery of the Mind. The name of that Word is Reason. Reason is the offspring of Thought and Reason shall divide the Light from the darkness and establish Truth in the midst of the waters. Understand, O Hermes, and meditate deeply upon the mystery. That which in you sees and hears is not of the earth, but is the Word of God incarnate. So it is said that Divine Light dwells in the midst of mortal darkness, and ignorance cannot divide them. The union of the Word and the Mind produces that mystery which is called Life. As the darkness without you is divided against itself, so the darkness within you is likewise divided. The Light and the fire which rise are the divine man, ascending in the path of the Word, and that which fails to ascend is the mortal man, which may not partake of immortality. Learn deeply of the Mind and its mystery, for therein lies the secret of immortality."The Dragon again revealed its form to Hermes, and for a long time the two looked steadfastly one upon the other, eye to eye, so that Hermes trembled before the gaze of Poimandres. At the Word of the Dragon the heavens opened and the innumerable Light Powers were revealed, soaring through Cosmos on pinions of streaming fire. Hermes beheld the spirits of the stars, the celestials controlling the universe, and all those Powers which shine with the radiance of the One Fire--the glory of the Sovereign Mind. Hermes realized that the sight which he beheld was revealed to him only because Poimandres had spoken a Word. The Word was Reason, and by the Reason of the Word invisible things were made manifest. Divine Mind--the Dragon--continued its discourse:"Before the visible universe was formed its mold was cast. This mold was called the Archetype, and this Archetype was in the Supreme Mind long before the process of creation began. Beholding the Archetypes, the Supreme Mind became enamored with Its own thought; so, taking the Word as a mighty hammer, It gouged out caverns in primordial space and cast the form of the spheres in the Archetypal mold, at the same time sowing in the newly fashioned bodies the seeds of living things. The darkness below, receiving the hammer of the Word, was fashioned into an orderly universe. The elements separated into strata and each brought forth living creatures. The Supreme Being--the Mind--male and female, brought forth the Word; and the Word, suspended between Light and darkness, was delivered of another Mind called the Workman, the Master-Builder, or the Maker of Things.
"In this manner it was accomplished, O Hermes: The Word moving like a breath through space called forth the Fire by the friction of its motion. Therefore, the Fire is called the Son of Striving. The Workman passed as a whirlwind through the universe, causing the substances to vibrate and glow with its friction, The Son of Striving thus formed Seven Governors, the Spirits of the Planets, whose orbits bounded the world; and the Seven Governors controlled the world by the mysterious power called Destiny given them by the Fiery Workman. When the Second Mind (The Workman) had organized Chaos, the Word of God rose straightway our of its prison of substance, leaving the elements without Reason, and joined Itself to the nature of the Fiery Workman. Then the Second Mind, together with the risen Word, established Itself in the midst of the universe and whirled the wheels of the Celestial Powers. This shall continue from an infinite beginning to an infinite end, for the beginning and the ending are in the same place and state."Then the downward-turned and unreasoning elements brought forth creatures without Reason. Substance could not bestow Reason, for Reason had ascended out of it. The air produced flying things and the waters such as swim. The earth conceived strange four-footed and creeping beasts, dragons, composite demons, and grotesque monsters. Then the Father--the Supreme Mind--being Light and Life, fashioned a glorious Universal Man in Its own image, not an earthy man but a heavenly Man dwelling in the Light of God. The Supreme Mind loved the Man It had fashioned and delivered to Him the control of the creations and workmanships."The Man, desiring to labor, took up His abode in the sphere of generation and observed the works of His brother--the Second Mind--which sat upon the Ring of the Fire. And having beheld the achievements of the Fiery Workman, He willed also to make things, and His Father gave permission. The Seven Governors, of whose powers He partook, rejoiced and each gave the Man a share of Its own nature."The Man longed to pierce the circumference of the circles and understand the mystery of Him who sat upon the Eternal Fire. Having already all power, He stooped down and peeped through the seven Harmonies and, breaking through the strength of the circles, made Himself manifest to Nature stretched out below. The Man, looking into the depths, smiled, for He beheld a shadow upon the earth and a likeness mirrored in the waters, which shadow and likeness were a reflection of Himself. The Man fell in love with His own shadow and desired to descend into it. Coincident with the desire, the Intelligent Thing united Itself with the unreasoning image or shape."Nature, beholding the descent, wrapped herself about the Man whom she loved, and the two were mingled. For this reason, earthy man is composite. Within him is the Sky Man, immortal and beautiful; without is Nature, mortal and destructible. Thus, suffering is the result of the Immortal Man's falling in love with His shadow and giving up Reality to dwell in the darkness of illusion; for, being immortal, man has the power of the Seven Governors--also the Life, the Light, and the Word-but being mortal, he is controlled by the Rings of the Governors--Fate or Destiny."Of the Immortal Man it should be said that He is hermaphrodite, or male and female, and eternally watchful. He neither slumbers nor sleeps, and is governed by a Father also both male and female, and ever watchful. Such is the mystery kept hidden to this day, for Nature, being mingled in marriage with the Sky Man, brought forth a wonder most wonderful--seven men, all bisexual, male and female, and upright of stature, each one exemplifying the natures of the Seven Governors. These O Hermes, are the seven races, species, and wheels."After this manner were the seven men generated. Earth was the female element and water the male element, and from the fire and the æther they received their spirits, and Nature produced bodies after the species and shapes of men. And man received the Life and Light of the Great Dragon, and of the Life was made his Soul and of the Light his Mind. And so, all these composite creatures containing immortality, but partaking of mortality, continued in this state for the duration of a period. They reproduced themselves out of themselves, for each was male and female. But at the end of the period the knot of Destiny was untied by the will of God and the bond of all things was loosened."Then all living creatures, including man, which had been hermaphroditical, were separated, the males being set apart by themselves and the females likewise, according to the dictates of Reason."Then God spoke to the Holy Word within the soul of all things, saying: 'Increase in increasing and multiply in multitudes, all you, my creatures and workmanships. Let him that is endued with Mind know himself to be immortal and that the cause of death is the love of the body; and let him learn all things that are, for he who has recognized himself enters into the state of Good.'"And when God had said this, Providence, with the aid of the Seven Governors and Harmony, brought the sexes together, making the mixtures and establishing the generations, and all things were multiplied according to their kind. He who through the error of attachment loves his body, abides wandering in darkness, sensible and suffering the things of death, but he who realizes that the body is but the tomb of his soul, rises to immortality."Then Hermes desired to know why men should be deprived of immortality for the sin of ignorance alone. The Great Dragon answered:, To the ignorant the body is supreme and they are incapable of realizing the immortality that is within them. Knowing only the body which is subject to death, they believe in death because they worship that substance which is the cause and reality of death."Then Hermes asked how the righteous and wise pass to God, to which Poimandres replied: "That which the Word of God said, say I: 'Because the Father of all things consists of Life and Light, whereof man is made.' If, therefore, a man shall learn and understand the nature of Life and Light, then he shall pass into the eternity of Life and Light."Hermes next inquired about the road by which the wise attained to Life eternal, and Poimandres continued: "Let the man endued with a Mind mark, consider, and learn of himself, and with the power of his Mind divide himself from his not-self and become a servant of Reality."Hermes asked if all men did not have Minds, and the Great Dragon replied: "Take heed what you say, for I am the Mind--the Eternal Teacher. I am the Father of the Word--the Redeemer of all men--and in the nature of the wise the Word takes flesh. By means of the Word, the world is saved. I, Thought (Thoth)--the Father of the Word, the Mind--come only unto men that are holy and good, pure and merciful, and that live piously and religiously, and my presence is an inspiration and a help to them, for when I come they immediately know all things and adore the Universal Father. Before such wise and philosophic ones die, they learn to renounce their senses, knowing that these are the enemies of their immortal souls."I will not permit the evil senses to control the bodies of those who love me, nor will I allow evil emotions and evil thoughts to enter them. I become as a porter or doorkeeper, and shut out evil, protecting the wise from their own lower nature. But to the wicked, the envious and the covetous, I come not, for such cannot understand the mysteries of Mind; therefore, I am unwelcome. I leave them to the avenging demon that they are making in their own souls, for evil each day increases itself and torments man more sharply, and each evil deed adds to the evil deeds that are gone before until finally evil destroys itself. The punishment of desire is the agony of unfulfillment."Hermes bowed his head in thankfulness to the Great Dragon who had taught him so much, and begged to hear more concerning the ultimate of the human soul. So Poimandres resumed: "At death the material body of man is returned to the elements from which it came, and the invisible divine man ascends to the source from whence he came, namely the Eighth Sphere. The evil passes to the dwelling place of the demon, and the senses, feelings, desires, and body passions return to their source, namely the Seven Governors, whose natures in the lower man destroy but in the invisible spiritual man give life."After the lower nature has returned to the brutishness, the higher struggles again to regain its spiritual estate. It ascends the seven Rings upon which sit the Seven Governors and returns to each their lower powers in this manner: Upon the first ring sits the Moon, and to it is returned the ability to increase and diminish. Upon the second ring sits Mercury, and to it are returned machinations, deceit, and craftiness. Upon the third ring sits Venus, and to it are returned the lusts and passions. Upon the fourth ring sits the Sun, and to this Lord are returned ambitions. Upon the fifth ring sits Mars, and to it are returned rashness and profane boldness. Upon the sixth ring sits Jupiter, and to it are returned the sense of accumulation and riches. And upon the seventh ring sits Saturn, at the Gate of Chaos, and to it are returned falsehood and evil plotting."Then, being naked of all the accumulations of the seven Rings, the soul comes to the Eighth Sphere, namely, the ring of the fixed stars. Here, freed of all illusion, it dwells in the Light and sings praises to the Father in a voice which only the pure of spirit may understand. Behold, O Hermes, there is a great mystery in the Eighth Sphere, for the Milky Way is the seed-ground of souls, and from it they drop into the Rings, and to the Milky Way they return again from the wheels of Saturn. But some cannot climb the seven-runged ladder of the Rings. So they wander in darkness below and are swept into eternity with the illusion of sense and earthiness."The path to immortality is hard, and only a few find it. The rest await the Great Day when the wheels of the universe shall be stopped and the immortal sparks shall escape from the sheaths of substance. Woe unto those who wait, for they must return again, unconscious and unknowing, to the seed-ground of stars, and await a new beginning. Those who are saved by the light of the mystery which I have revealed unto you, O Hermes, and which I now bid you to establish among men, shall return again to the Father who dwelleth in the White Light, and shall deliver themselves up to the Light and shall be absorbed into the Light, and in the Light they shall become Powers in God. This is the Way of Good and is revealed only to them that have wisdom."Blessed art thou, O Son of Light, to whom of all men, I, Poimandres, the Light of the World, have revealed myself. I order you to go forth, to become as a guide to those who wander in darkness, that all men within whom dwells the spirit of My Mind (The Universal Mind) may be saved by My Mind in you, which shall call forth My Mind in them. Establish My Mysteries and they shall not fail from the earth, for I am the Mind of the Mysteries and until Mind fails (which is never) my Mysteries cannot fail." With these parting words, Poimandres, radiant with celestial light, vanished, mingling with the powers of the heavens. Raising his eyes unto the heavens, Hermes blessed the Father of All Things and consecrated his life to the service of the Great Light.Thus preached Hermes: "O people of the earth, men born and made of the elements, but with the spirit of the Divine Man within you, rise from your sleep of ignorance! Be sober and thoughtful. Realize that your home is not in the earth but in the Light. Why have you delivered yourselves over unto death, having power to partake of immortality? Repent, and change your minds. Depart from the dark light and forsake corruption forever. Prepare yourselves to climb through the Seven Rings and to blend your souls with the eternal Light."Some who heard mocked and scoffed and went their way, delivering themselves to the Second Death from which there is no salvation. But others, casting themselves before the feet of Hermes, besought him to teach them the Way of Life. He lifted them gently, receiving no approbation for himself, and staff in hand, went forth teaching and guiding mankind, and showing them how they might be saved. In the worlds of men, Hermes sowed the seeds of wisdom and nourished the seeds with the Immortal Waters. And at last came the evening of his life, and as the brightness of the light of earth was beginning to go down, Hermes commanded his disciples to preserve his doctrines inviolate throughout all ages. The Vision of Poimandres he committed to writing that all men desiring immortality might therein find the way.In concluding his exposition of the Vision, Hermes wrote: "The sleep of the body is the sober watchfulness of the Mind and the shutting of my eyes reveals the true Light. My silence is filled with budding life and hope, and is full of good. My words are the blossoms of fruit of the tree of my soul. For this is the faithful account of what I received from my true Mind, that is Poimandres, the Great Dragon, the Lord of the Word, through whom I became inspired by God with the Truth. Since that day my Mind has been ever with me and in my own soul it hath given birth to the Word: the Word is Reason, and Reason hath redeemed me. For which cause, with all my soul and all my strength, I give praise and blessing unto God the Father, the Life and the Light, and the Eternal Good.
This is a display of Northern Lights in the pre-dawn hours at about 3:45 am MDT on May 3, 2025 from home in southern Alberta at latitude 51º N.
The aurora has been going all night though usually not bright. But at this time it entered into a more active pulsating or flickering phase typical of a post-substorm recovery. Large patches were pulsing off and on and amid the green patches were isolated blue rays or pillars, lit by sunlight. The aurora still looked dim grey to the eye but the blue pillars were visible to the eye standing out from the more diffuse background aurora.
The darker green area at right was a patch that had turned on briefly. It was absent in the frame before and after, The arc of maon aurora showed some yellows and lower red fringes
Technical:
This is a single 2.5-second exposure with the Nikkor 20mm lens at f/1.8 on the Nikon Z8 at ISO 3200.
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
Cours Saleya market in Nice is at the heart of the Old Town and it’s always pulsating with life. Striped awnings cover its centre and shelter the products on offer in the daily market. Crowds of locals and tourists come here to do their shopping or sometimes just to look and snap photos of the colourful displays. The scents of fresh produce and flowers seem to put everyone in a good mood and the atmosphere is friendly.*
*https://www.thegoodlifefrance.com/cours-saleya-market-in-nice-france/
It's a cold May afternoon in the small community of Gold Run, CA. Rain clouds have danced across the sky all day. After numerous threats, the skies finally open up, dumping rain and hail across the area. The torrent, along with the hum of wind rushing through the pines, drowns out the sounds from parallel Interstate 80 and the railroad. Suddenly, a pulsating screaming sound marches fast towards my location. Light dances across the steel rails in the distance. The large yellow locomotive comes into view. It's a train...a big train.
UP 5452 marches past my location, with the ZG2LT (Global Two Yard, Chicago to Lathrop, CA Expedited Intermodal) in tow. The long train rolls past, racing down the slopes of the Sierra Nevada, eager to leave the stormy weather behind. As fast as the train passes, so does the storm. Rain and hail abates, allowing the roar of the train to grow louder and louder. In the distance, a distinct screaming sound gets closer and closer to my location. It's the sound of dynamic brakes screaming.
UP 8647, the rear distributed power unit, roars past. The locomotive, providing additional breaking for the long train, is in full dynamics. As the train disappears around the corner, the roar mellows substantially. The dull hum of traffic passing by on Interstate 80 re-enters the scene. The sound of a locomotive horn in the distance punctuates the air for a brief moment.
Another amazing moment on Donner Pass.
© 2016 Patrick Dirden Photography
All Rights Reserved.
Fresh water
Lethocerus is a genus of the hemipteran family Belostomatidae, known colloquially as giant water bugs, toe biters and electric light bugs, distributed in tropical, subtropical and temperate areas of the world. The greatest diversity of species occurs in the Americas, with only a single species in Europe, two in Africa, two in Australia and three in Asia.
Like other members of the giant water bug family, Lethocerus species are predators that overpower prey by stabbing it with the rostrum and injecting a saliva that includes a number of enzymes that break down proteins. As many as 132 components have been found in their saliva or venom, several being similar to those found in assassin bugs. The proboscis is then used to suck the liquified and semi-digested body fluid of the prey. The rostrum can also be used in self-defense, and the bite is very painful to humans, causing swelling and pulsating pain, but usually resolves within about five hours at most.
Beautiful Twirl Fractal Art created by a photo conversation with motion filters in Photoshop into this pulsating star pattern designed by Adrian of www.luminouslight.com
Hope - Issue #6 "Remember me?"
*Hope and his new ally Vanessa, who goes by her street name, Smoke Punk, make their way through the corridors of the underground Meta fight club called, Brawlers. Hope felt queasy returning here despite his mission to free those captive and forced to fight for entertainment like he was, he could hear the cheers of the twisted crowd echo making his skin crawl. Smoke Punk grabs Hope's wrist as a couple guards emerge from around the corner, she teleports them behind the guards in a puff of smoke and Hope leans against the wall catching his balance.*
Hope: *Whispering* "Warn me next time you do that, please?"
Smoke Punk: *Whispering* "Sure. Okay, I am about to teleport you now. Oh wait never mind we've already been shot and bled out."
*Hope rolls his eyes then realises she can't see him do it under his mask so he just ignores her sarcasm which he found to be thinking was strangely cute. The two continue to creep past the guards and through the corridors as they make their way to the prisoner hall, but a door creaks open from another corridor and Hope peaks around seeing Plague and Bullwhip walk past making his heart stop. He turns to Smoke Punk who insists to keep moving but he waves her off watching the two baddies walk out of sight.*
Hope: "I have to stop them."
Smoke Punk: "What?! No way, we can try and do that once we get my brother and everyone out."
Hope: "Plague will run by then. I need to stop him now, besides you use up less energy teleporting on your own. Just get the others to safety and I'll meet you outside when it's all over, okay?"
*Smoke Punk objects but Hope slips away through the corridor hovering in the air as he follows the two, he turns back and sees Vanessa disappearing in a puff of smoke. He knows she will free the others and he worries if she will manage without him but he can't risk Plague getting away, nor Bullwhip after what he did to stop Nico escaping with him. Hope quietly flies through the corridor catching up to the two and comes to a halt seeing Plague enter the stand of the arena, Bullwhip turns around almost spotting Hope who hides behind the corner as he waits outside the door. Hope didn't know how he'd find out if Vanessa managed to free the prisoners but he knew that if he could get past Bullwhip and defeat Plague then it wouldn't matter. Hope lands on the ground taking a deep breath and clenches his fists letting them glow with his energy aura, he walks around the corner standing opposite Bullwhip who draws his whip looking surprised.*
Hope: "Remember me?"
Bullwhip: "Not ringin' any bells, kid."
Hope grits his teeth in anger under his mask, how many yellow energy people this guy went up against? Is he purposely trying to aggravate him?*
Bullwhip: "Lets see if your scream will jog my memory!"
*Hope uses his energy blast to propel himself to the side seeing Bullwhip's whip crack off the ground nearby. Hope soars up the corridor at Bullwhip trying to get in close. Bullwhip reels in his whip but takes out another one from his belt slashing it at Hope, he lifts his arm shielding his face as the whip coils around it. Bullwhip pulls it down crashing Hope into ground, whilst he's downed he draws back his whips and strikes them off Hope's back making him cry out in pain.*
Bullwhip: "I know that sound, that's ringin' some bells. Is that you, kid? The one who escaped and left his friend behind. What's with the costume?"
Hope: "Shut up."
Bullwhip: "Oh it is you, the coward!"
Hope: "SHUT UP!"
Bullwhip: "Don't worry I only made him suffer a little, he's still alive."
Hope: "I SAID SHUT UP!"
*Hope's body ignites emitting a bright yellow flame as he roars holding out his palms aiming them at Bullwhip who lets out a small whimper. Hope's palms explode releasing a strong current of energy beams which plow into Bullwhip smashing him against the wall relentlessly crushing him against it. Hope's body pulsates with power as he screams louder in fury blasting Bullwhip through the wall into the crowded stands making people shriek. Hope hovers along the corridor levitating before the shocked audience and Plague as his body glows.*
Hope: "You're next."
There Once
"A Long Time Ago In Miami"
Now it isn't even in my dreams.
When moonlight
was just as intense as the sun's rays
in touching our laughter.
Passionate Nights
and Latin beats
pulsating through
our writhing bodies.
Eating mangos
all syurp and stickiness
and running down
our faces and arms.
Serviche as cold as ice.
Embraces and herbs'
smoke wafting towards the skyline.
Now there are not even dreams.
Just fleeting memories.
And still ,
it all was so sweet.
Just not a memory,
really?
Anymore...
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
... and men with minds sensitive to hereditary impulse will always tremble at the thought of the hidden and fathomless worlds of strange life which may pulsate in the gulfs beyond the stars, or press hideously upon our own globe in unholy dimensions which only the dead and the moonstruck can glimpse. H. P. Lovecraft
One of my favorite events is going on now: the Lovecraft Festival. maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Ravenheart/230/123/52
Photo is a collaboration with Skye McLeod, who set it all up. Her version is here: www.flickr.com/photos/scubagrl/42456611070/in/dateposted-...
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
There were almost no clouds over most of the area so the sunset was golden red, but rather uneventful, with no dramatic explosions of colors in the clouds to see last night. However, the low hanging sweeping cloud layer going from west to east, with two distinct families of clouds flowing in divergent directions, one sensual pink, the other golden red, made for an even more exciting visual. This panorama view of about 180° was made from ten iPhone 7+ photos taken at the dock of my blessed home.
© 2017 IMRAN™
The Northern Lights in a superb all-sky Kp6 to 7 display on August 11-12, 2024, here over 70 Mile Butte in Grasslands National Park, Saskatchewan, near Val Marie. This was from the middle of a bright sub-storm outburst with the deep red color visible even to the eye.
This was also a peak night for the 2024 Perseid meteor shower, and one bright Perseid meteor shoots away from the radiant point in Perseus, and to the south of the W of Cassiopeia, amid the deep red aurora and converging rays at the magnetic zenith at top.
This was one frame from a 280-frame rapid-cadence time-lapse, set for the aurora and its fast pulsating motion. Each exposure was only 2 seconds with a 1-second interval, so I was lucky to catch the meteor in its entirety on this frame.
This is a single exposure with the Venus Optics/Laowa 10mm Z lens wide open at f/2.8 on the Nikon Z6III at ISO 6400. Adobe DeNoise AI applied.
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
Am I just like you?
Power seething
Really reeling, reaching out for you~ 🎶
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The Pulsating Anomaly is unstable.
The pulsating anomaly is situated in a region known as uncharted space, an area that has yet to be thoroughly explored or mapped by starships. This anomaly is characterised by its instability, with unpredictable and erratic fluctuations that make it a fascinating but potentially hazardous phenomenon. The wild fluctuations in its behaviour can vary dramatically, posing challenges for any vessel that might venture too close. Scientists and explorers alike are intrigued by the anomaly's dynamic nature, as it holds the potential for both discovery and danger.
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A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
Chapter 7
The Daring Kind
She must have been able to read the discomfort in his eyes, assuming her actions had left her lover speechless.
She appeared happy to accept that for an answer and backed away, still smiling smugly, towards the staircase.
The diamond dangling from the coronet was still flashing its Morse code-like flickers, tapping the message to him that signalled, come get me!
Happily, she tapped his cheek, then turned and disappeared back around the corner with a swish of her gown, trilled affectionately to ‘Gaston” as she did…
“A most welcome home darling Gaston!”
He then heard her say merrily from her hiding spot...
“You have till the count of 25 luv , so get a move on”.
He stood there, jaw opened wide beneath his mask, his eyes had watched as her gown had wispily whipped around the corner behind her, whilst listening as she was giggling quite excitedly to herself at her cleverness!
He just didn't know what to think.
So of course, He obediently followed her directions.
“Bloody “ell” he muttered, thinking, had he just had fallen into a cat thief’s wildest dream!
He opened the door to the green satin wrapped damsel’s bedroom, and pulling out his torch, lit its pencil-thin beam.
Wishing only now that only the real Gaston didn’t decide to show his mug and spoil all the fun!
Once Inside, the torchlight quickly found her oak jewel case on the mantel of an old stained oaken dresser.
The high case matched the dresser and drawers below it perfectly, and it appeared that it was all uniquely Chippendale!
It sat across from a matching four-poster, with a sea blue satin coverlet and matching silken sheets.
“Nice of her to point out where her jewels are kept!” He thanked the clueless girl!
He swiftly went over and began opening the many drawers of the jewellery case, or jewellery coffin as some would churlishly call it!
The thin light of his torch lit up a sinfully copious display of jewels, note quite as valuable as the ones discovered in the master bedroom, but it was a damn close race all the same!
He happily began pulling out the drawers and sliding the prettily flickering contents into an already bulging case.
Rudely discarding the empty drawers unceremoniously upon the floor.
The lady he hoped, would appreciate the dedicated “realism “that this’ Gaston’ of her’s was going to put into her play, and he was just the person to make it realistic!
He reckoned this with a rather nefarious smile spreading upon the bearded face, covered by its thin black mask.
At that precise moment, he heard the door creak slowly open….
She was coming in quietly, and soon the lady proved her mettle to be quite the actress!
He heard her gasp behind him as he continued on his work!
“ No, not my jewels, Do anything to me but don’t take my family jewels!”
He turned around to face the damsel, holding the pearl filled final drawer in his thin black-gloved hand.
She stood there with her left hand to her mouth, while her right ringed gloved fingers played with her necklace. The diamonds flickered quite as she held it up!
She then teased, delighted at his captured attention! …
“You want these, do you not Mister Burglar, I can see it in your eyes!”
Looking upon her, he tipped the drawer full of pearls into the black bag, then dropping it empty onto the pile strewn about at his feet.
Then he eagerly, purposefully, moved towards her, lustfully eyeing the pretty victim’s savoury jewels.
She shivered as if she read his mind, that he would take her jewels and flee into the night with them.
But she was not ready to have him do that, so she commanded him in a softly brisk tone…
“Not yet!”
Putting up a nicely ringed finger to indicate he should come no further!
Surprisingly to himself, for he had no real reason to listen, he obediently stopped in his tracks to await her next command.
As it turned out, he was soon very glad he had done so!
Then he eagerly, purposefully, moved towards her, lustfully eyeing the pretty victim’s savoury jewels.
She shivered as if she read his mind, that he would take her jewels and flee into the night with them.
But she was not ready to have him do that, so she commanded him in a softly brisk tone…
“Not yet!”
Putting up a nicely ringed finger to indicate he should come no further!
Surprisingly to himself, for he had no real reason to listen, he obediently stopped in his tracks to await her next command.
As it turned out, he was soon very glad he had done so!
^^^^^^^^^^^^
Chapter 8
One must be Methodical
Dropping her hand, she questioned him…
“What have you forgotten to do, my dear thief?”
He stood still, hoping she would just obligingly tell him what to do next.
She happily did so...
“My closet! Gaston your always forgetting any good burglar worth his salt checks a damsel’s closet for brooches and such left on by ladies far too lazy to remove them from one's party frocks. I swear Gaston You would make a horrible burglar in real life. You would positively starve if it were not for being directed by someone like me!”
She chortled at her wit.
He just smiled, thanking her inwardly for being ever so much a big help to her poor Darling ‘Gaston’!
He turned to his right and headed straight to the closet, curious as to what he was expected to find inside?
Opening the door, a long floor length mirror was revealed, allowing one to see into the interior of the bedroom behind him.
Including the reflection of his most helpful victim as she stood there in all her jewelled and tight-fitting emerald satin attired glory!
She keenly watching his progress with an eager interest, as he stole a look at her reflection, muttering happily to himself…
“Best get this over with quickly, then attend to the lady and her finery!”
He turned to look back inside, and was met with a designer like an assortment of colourful dresses, gowns, and other fancy attire!
A quite nice, if not downright beguiling, display of soft velvets, slinky silks, sleek satins, frilled lace, and shiny leather.
He quickly began his task at hand, letting his thinly gloved fingers feel through the wonderfully sleek fabrics for anything hard and metallic.
On one velvet number he felt something like a necklace around its top, he pulled it out, but disappointedly it was a rhinestone collared frock.
He tossed it onto the bed and resumed his search as she could be heard softly giggling behind him...
“Nope, nothing on that one, but don’t quit just yet!
He stole a glance at her from the mirror, then he turned back into working the closet.
The glance revealed that his ‘mentor’ was watching him eagerly, her whole being quivering in anticipation head down to spiky heeled foot!
He fingered a satiny white ruffled blouse, he decided he had better keep tabs on this one, still not sure what exactly her game was all on about?
He muttered to himself…
“They were her jewels after all, weren’t they? Indeed, rather valuable for mere playthings!”
There had to be something inside here!
He thought as he let drop the satin blouse and plunged his gloved hands inside again and felt around.
This time he was rewarded by feeling a slight prick of something solid and sharp.
He pulled out a luxuriously long black satin number and saw it had two ruby clips attached to its bodice.
He held it up to the mirror so she could see.
she clapped gleefully, watching him pull free the ruby clips from the evening gown and casually flipped them into his bag on the floor.
“Well done Gaston!”
He looked up at her, as the slinky black gown was indifferently added to the growing pile on her bed.
He could see by her reflection that she was excitedly eating it up.
Then she suddenly resumed back into her character of being the hapless victim.
And began to miserably plead…
“Please mister burglar don't take everything of mine! I am sure there is nothing more inside!”
He smiled, wondering how she would react when she eventually found out that indeed, she was a hapless victim of her game!?
Turning his attention once again to her closet he moved aside the hangers, revealing a set of shelves set in the back that contained a nice selection of sensible shoes, wedged pumps, glossy spiked heels and designer style purses.
One purse caught his ever-appraising eyes, a small gold clutch with what looked like (and probably was) a diamonded clasp!
He pulled it out and tossed the expensive bugger into the bag.
“Oui , Good eye Gaston! It's almost like you were a real thief.”
She gurgled this, shivering in delight, as her earrings and necklace flickered along with her figure, like uncontrollable wildfires.
He watched the enticing show from her reflection in the handy door length mirror.
Then he turned back to the closet.
For, as he was moving the dresses over to look into the shelves, his eye had caught sight of a black leather jacket with a belt studded by what must have been a thousand rhinestones.
He now pulled it out and searched its pockets, mainly to tease her a bit further, for he imagined that “Gaston” would do such a thing!
So, he was utterly surprised when his gloved fingertips felt something cold and a bit weighty in a side pocket!
He slipped it out and found he was holding a solid gold cigarette case, which he added to the ever-growing collection in his bag!
His “Mentor” trilled as he did so, exclaiming with happy surprise...
“I had wondered where that had gotten off to luv! The matching lighter should be there too!”
He reached back in, and there it was, as well as a small ivory and ebony gold ringed cigarette holder.
Both of which quickly joined their companion in the now bulging bag.
He then pulled off the shimmery belt.
Even with rhinestones, it was worth a pretty penny he reasoned.
As started to pitch it into the case, he heard the Lady helpfully exclaim in the background, a good idea she said excitedly.
“Save that for when you tie me up to take my jewels!”
Shaking his head, why not? he tossed the belt to the helpful lass’s feet…
Thinking he was quite finished with the closet as he held the leather jacket, he for no rhyme or reason, took the time to hang it back up rather than adding it to the pile on the bed.
But It was as he did so that something, a most decidedly not rhinestone something, flashed in the dim lights in the gap that had been made where the leather jacket had hung!
He eagerly reached in and pulled out a lovely long brown, silky soft, liquidly appearing gown.
Holding it up triumphantly, he looked down at the dazzling sparkles of a magnificent gem-encrusted brooch that was suspended from the gown’s wide centre waistline.
“Good show Gaston!”
She exclaimed in the background.
His eyes left the brooch and looked into the mirror at her.
She was clapping, rings and bracelets, earrings and Coronet, the whole lot, erupting into a million pinpricks of fire as she did so!
He felt his manhood rising precariously as he looked her over, feeling the effect, even from this distance, her primitively carnal arousal!
She eagerly continued, spilling her emotions into her words!
“Mon Mari, I was going to tease you later if you were to ‘ave missed that one, and I was sure you were going to!”
“Tsk!” he said to himself. wonder what the teasing part would have entailed!
At the same time his mind was picturing this, he automatically, without taking his eyes off the mirror, pulled off the brooch and nonchalantly pocketing the breathtakingly pretty jewel before throwing the scintillatingly downy soft feeling soft gown onto the shiny pile already laying strewn about the bed.
It flashed through his mind that the fancy dresses strewn about could have been the striplings from that many jewel encrusted maidens, like this one, and what a delightful haul that would have been to carry out!
Savouring those thoughts, he turned once again to focus his attention, on the rather all too helpful Miss, his eyes traveling unabashedly up and down her figure.
Time was a-wasting!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Chapter 9
Wasting Time?
He eagerly started to move towards her...
“Almost!”
She said with a giggle, her flashily ringed finger raised again, stopping him as he had started to move towards her as she admonished him…
“Not quite yet! You forgot the most important part of burgling a lady’s chamber! “
Again, he stood staring, not quite knowing what the devil this peculiarly eager to be robbed damsel in distress was going on about now!?
But quite recent experience told him it should be to his thieving benefit to take more precious time and hear her out!
So, he stood questioningly waited to hear what the most important part was?
Which she then, quite helpfully, spelled it all out to him…
“You didn't check the lingerie drawer, Gaston! Any real burglar would have done so!”
He observed her winking at him …
“Come along Gaston l, get into your role my darling…!”
He looked at her, smirking to himself…
“Indeed, lady, I will!”
Curiously He turned and looked down upon the drawer in the stand next to her bed.
“No silly, still in the drawer beneath my now pilfered jewel case!”
She was looking down mischievously at the Drawers set in the ancient oak antique Chippendale dresser.
He turned, hesitating…
Should dear Gaston know which one it was?
He decided to just start at the top and began opening them one by one and pray he did not invoke her to start having any doubts as to his true nature!
He went over and started to pull open the top drawer.
She could be heard giggling in the background…
“Moved it on you didn’t I from the last time!? “
Her most welcomed words relived a bit of his anxiety, the gig was still not up, she still hadn’t guessed that he was the real thing, and not some love lost Beau sadly burdened with the moniker of Gaston, of all things!
“Ahh, there you go my darling!”
She said as he opened the next…
The drawer was found to contain, as promised, piles of wispy thin satin and silks, in all colours of a shimmering rainbow! Curious as to what further riches he was meant to find, he greedily swirled the expensive lingerie about, soon finding a pile of glistening silver all carefully laid out on one side.
A silver brush comb and matching mirror, all studded with jewelled handles, and a pair of silver handcuffs!
He lifted the jewelled vanity pieces...
He had once drooled over a similar set discovered in a museum's case!
“Oops, she giggled, forgot those were there, just leave ‘em luv!”
But he continued to place them into the case at his feet and was surprised when she did not protest.
Instead, she said reasonably…
“But of course, they are jewelled, just be careful with ‘em please my darling?”
Buy then he was already curiously looking inside, lifting the handcuffs…
He heard his victim give out a hoarse moan behind him!
The handcuffs and keys he lifted and threw on the satin comforter of the bed, wondering how many times she and her Gaston had put them to use?
He picked up the now quite hefty leather pouch and looked over at his smirking victim.
“Come mister thief!”
She instructed lustfully …
“Finally time to do your worst!”
“With pleasure” he murmured to himself, studying most hypnotic swaying of her long jewelled earrings…
“To all my just gratification, Madam!”
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Chapter 10
Lusting Gratification
He came over from the fancy oak dresser and finally stood before her.
The lady’s head came up to his chin, her pretty face looking up with innocence, into his.
She was smiling most provocatively, one hand still holding the clasp of her cloak, the other resting upon the shimmery brooch pinned onto the cloak over her right breast.
He, for no real reason, found himself wondering if the broach’s placement meant she was left-handed.
“Okay mister burglar, take me broach, I see your eye’ in it!”
For the first time, but not the last, he almost felt sorry for the show that poor Gaston was missing out on, but glad deep down that he, on the other hand, was not!
He reached down and pried her fingers from the brooch, and as he unpinned the precious jewel, she pushed against him so his fingers brushed against a rather perked, notably heaving breast.
Obligingly he allowed his fingers free reign to fondle her tits!
With a deep sigh, she listlessly allowed both her hands to fall to her sides as she leaned into him, her eyes turned upward gazing lustfully at him with her imploring hazel green eyes.
Huskily she murmured…
“That’s it, not too quickly now…”
He unsteadily managed to unfasten the broach, his fingers a bit encumbered by the game she was playing with her body as she leaned in against him.
Pulling it off, his fingers brushing her soft figure, he let the broach plop into the pouch at his feet…
He then reached up and undid the jewelled clasp of her long green satin cape, exposing is silvery lining… and finally revealing the playful lady’s gown as it lay in full glory down along her enticingly Horney diminutive figure!
As well as revealing her remaining ornaments, in all their exquisite glimmering glory!
Tongue-tied in awe; he watched the cape slither down from her arms.
She looked up into his face, lustful eyes sparkling with delight at his unbridled rapture at seeing her...
Though not for a second realizing quite what it was about her that had captured his total drooling interest!
“Cat ‘ave your tongue there laddie?”
She purred, her hazel eyes opening doe wide, offering no quarter as to their needful meaning.
He just let his eyes travel up and down the now fully exposed figure, quickly taking it all in.
He thought with satisfaction …
“The only thing that had more shine than those doe-like eyes were the diamonds that fell ever so dripping, ever so invitingly, from alluring points along down her scintillating figure!”
Her green satin gown was fitted to show off every delightful curve of her figure.
The bodice was not decorated by rhinestones or anything else that would have taken away one’s eyes from the jewels the wearer was sporting.
Those jewels consisted of a brooch equally as magnificent as the one he had plucked from the brown satin gown found hanging in her closet.
Besides, now could be viewed her long wide necklace dripping down to just above her visibly heaving breasts. The fine piece was set with blazing diamonds, smaller round ones surrounding a steady stream of larger egg-shaped ones that matched the one that hung from her forehead.
She smiled at his amazement.
“Gaston, you almost act as you have never seen these before!”
She scolded, while playfully lifted the necklace, letting it flow charmingly through her emerald green satin gloved fingers.
“Or are you really getting into robbing me, you naughty man!”
She let her other hand playfully pat the side of his mask.
For a second, he thought she was going to pull it up to kiss him, thus spoiling the game.
So, he quickly grabbed her by the wrists under the pretense of studying her rings and bracelets, thus successfully diverting her mind away from the thought.
“Ahh mister burglar, you want my pretties, I can tell, do you desire them more them Moi? One can imagine that you do! Quickly now, put yonder chair to use and ensure sure your victim cannot slip away whilst you wrestle the jewels from her very body!”
Liking this game more and more, he quickly fetched over the chair she was indicating.
Happy to oblige, it would make things far easier at the end he thought to himself with a dash of relief!
The chair was another sturdy Chippendale, Victorian-era straight-backed. Its' position, reflection in the closet door he had left open, would allow them both to watch from all angles. Dear Romeo ‘Gaston’ could not have planned it better!
He sat it down behind her and she started to sit.
He grabbed her by the wrists, keeping her upright. He looked into her wide-open eyes, yet she was the one smirking like the cat eyeing the canary in its cage!
“Good Lord he thought wryly. What did you get yourself into mate?”
she asked him sweetly, honey dripping with each syllable.
“What do you have in mind for your victim?”
He briskly turned her around and began to unzip her gown, feeling its slick material, quite luscious even under the thin gloves he wore.
“Good show Gaston!
she chirped in approval…
“Make your victim feel vulnerable!”
She kicked off the gown and it fell in a pile on the carpet, with the brooch on top, sparkling like a lighthouse on top of an Irish island of shimmering green. She was looking up at him, clad only in a scant mint coloured silken slip that hung delightfully tight against her now quite overly perked figure.
She stooped down giving him a purposely good view of her ‘fin arrière’, tightly outlined by her silken thin slip. She reached down and retrieved her cape, covering the cold oak back of the high-backed chair with it and slipped onto it, too fast for him to react.
“Damn! He had planned to nick that pretty cape with its expensively wrought clasp as well!”
“But he reasoned, all is fair in love, games, and theft!”
He went over and undid the satin sash of her green gown, eyeing the brooch, but not taking it...
“Not yet my pretty!”
He said to himself with promise, as he slipped the sash off.
He turned back around, again she was still smirking like the cat that had now caught the canary, though this time it looked like she had bloody thing in her mouth. He looked down at her gloved hands, the bracelets were there, but judging by her now bare fingers, it was not a canary she had sucked into her mouth.
Without letting on to her mischievous game, he went behind her and she quite helpfully placed her gloved hands behind the chair, her fingers beckoning, trying to get him to notice her missing rings. But he had other ideas for that part of her game…
And it did not involve Gaston snogging ‘er to get at em!
He employed the sash by tying her waist to the chair.
He could feel her shiver deliciously from her head to toe, squirming playfully in the chair.
Then in her throes of passion, she almost slipped off the chair, made slicker by the cape upon which she perched, sitting in an equally slippery slip, and he had to catch her and pull her back, feeling her shiver pleasurably as he held her.
Her dangling earrings were flickering like mad throughout the show, beckoning quite invitingly in his face as he was kneeling, causing him to shiver in much the same manner as her.
He then rose and going to the bed picked up the set of the handcuffs. Going back, he held her eyes steady with his, as she tried to come across as if she was imploring him not to do it, the rings hidden in her mouth preventing her to speak out!
As he approached, she kicked off both of her emerald rhinestones covered spiked heels, playfully missing him.
He smiled at her mischievously, going around and handcuffing her wrists together as she squirmed!
Then he came back around, and bent down in front of her, his hand reaching back and snatching up the rhinestone belt from her leather jacket.
He reached down, and taking an ankle in turn, strapped them both securely together!
She was not going anywhere without dragging the chair with her!
He had kept the keys on the bed, she could reach there to undo herself, but he was planning to be long gone before she would manage to accomplished that feat!
She was now ready, bound up the way she was, to be mercilessly stripped of the rest of her jewels!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Chapter 11
The Subtle Touch
He went down behind her and she arched back in an attempt to watch what he was up to!
He looked over at their figures image in the mirror, her coronet, necklace, and earrings vividly sparkling in the reflection, like fire on a distant mountain he thought drooling with anticipation…….
He methodically decided to start with her Bracelets….
Holding her left wrist with his left hand, he let his right-hand travel up her squirming figure till he reaches her breast. Cupping it he began to with a slipping motion, massage it through her thin satiny slip.
She curled her figure against her bindings, closed her eyes, and began to whimper and moan lustily, opening her mouth just enough to keep her rings hidden inside!
As his right hand subtly pleaded her breasts, his left hand travelled down to a cuffed diamond bracelet. He began rubbing it up and down her gloved wrist in sync with his right hand, eventually worked it open and slipped it off from around her wrist, tossing it neatly into his pouch.
He repeated the performance on her right wrist as she continued moaning in total satisfaction.
If she noticed her twin bracelets were being removed in the process of having her breasts massaged, she did not appear to care.
Then, playing along with the lady’s game, he fruitlessly felt for her rings, hearing her muffled giggles above him as she squirmed.
“Mmmm,” she said, through gritted teeth not being able to open her mouth due to her rings.
He could see that what she was unable to voice, it was readable in her expression, reflected from the handy mirror!
Then he moved his hands, grasping her by the silken sides of her slip, and began to tickle her mercilessly, she started to uncontrollably giggle, then stated to sputter, finally letting loose with a gasping laugh!
This sent the three sparkling rings she had been holding inside her mouth, spinning out and plopping onto the green silk of her lap, where they slithered down between her knees!
“Dirty Play, Gaston!”
She admonished, snapping her legs closed to hide the rings, tears in her eyes as she laughed out her words…
“That wasn’t how… !
He hushed up her words by quickly plunging his gloved fingers down inside her slip, grasping and kneading her breasts in unison
Her whole being tingling with the exquisite pleasure, made her forget entirely how she had wanted him to play the game with her rings!
But he was now entirely in control of the situation, and she felt her whole figure limply wilt under his command!
He left his right hand inserted down her slip to carry on with the task, subtly extracting his left to then run fingers through her long blonde, luxurious feeling hair, pulling it back behind her head, where it hung down in a gold coloured silken mass!
Figuring if he did, she would lean right back to look up at him!
Which is exactly what she did, playing right into his trick!
Her eyes, though, were still tightly shut, as her focus went off to some erotic location, as she was reeling in the vivid pleasures of her game.
Her green satin gloved fingers tried to adjust her bonds so she could reach back out behind her, and he knew for what and responded appropriately by rising so she could reach her objective.
Then it became his turn to be the one moaning softly through gritted teeth…
He silently thought, while groaning inwardly…
“Easy on the family jewels there, missy!”
“Oh, My Darling Gaston!”
she responded, apparently, hopefully, waiting for a response.
He gave her one, though not verbally…
He leaned against the backside of the chair, getting as close to her as he could!
She began to grope quite furiously and he thought of a monkey he had seen once in the city zoo doing one such number on a banana.
He was also finding it increasingly difficult to keep his mind on the task at hand.
So, he pulled away from her grasp a little, allowing her fingers the barest of touch!
He then gently pulled back her blonde hair, and quickly started caressing her now sweating earlobes, taking advantage of where this lady’s reeling mind was otherwise occupied!
Slowly, carefully stroking up and off, he pulled out the gold hooks attached to her sparkling earrings from each pierced ear.
Freeing both of her lovely long earrings in turn and letting them drop, glimmering into his leather pouch!
He kept on caressing, deeply thrusting his right hand in and along her breasts for several minutes taking precious time with the task as to keep her mind away from what he was accomplishing from behind her trussed up back.
Meanwhile, his left hand moved up into a new position.
Her entire being was squirming, so enraptured and enthralled, that she never even felt him picking up the ends of the thin coronet: lifting oh so carefully, each end of shiny gold braided ends that were woven into her hair, and began gently lifting out each one free!
As he pulled it delicately away, she did not even miss the egg-shaped diamond as it stopped brushing against her sweat glistened brow!
Once he had freed the shimmering piece, he eagerly lifted to admire it!
She broke his trance by purring, opening her eyes as he quickly hid the jewelled coronet!
“Well, my Gaston! I can feel you desire me again, my darling! It has been quite a long time for you also!”
But though she may have felt that something growing between her captor’s legs, she had no inkling that he had been busy lifting her pricey jewelled headpiece!
Nor did she now hear it being dropped in the pouch at her foot!
So, oblivious that her earrings and coronet were gone, the bound, satin slip clad lady, quite seductively began murmuring these words as her fingers continued their gentle free play between his legs.
“You want me don’t you luv!”
She asked this seductively, wistfully as her eyes opened wide and looking up into his, catching him hovering over her, his eyes from the slits in his hood, looking down upon her.
He had stopped fondling her breasts with his right hand and placing that hand on her shoulder was looking down upon her with lust-filled eyes!
But she was entirely misreading the object of his also lustful gaze…
She again closed her eyes with a heavy sigh!
As his eyes went to what he now really wanted from her!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Chapter 12
The Fondling Theft
He smiled as he looked down upon her throat, watching the diamond and emerald necklace moving up and down in conjunction with her heavy breathing!
For the small fortune in diamonds, dribbling nicely down as her throat was arching back in her ecstasy, was sending a rippling cascading fire of colour from its’ gemstones!
This was, for the most part, the blame for a stiffly obvious condition of his John Thomas!
“Kiss me, Gaston!”
The enraptured miss cried out yearningly at that point.
In her bliss, his victim moved open her knees ever so slightly, uncovering several small glittering objects!
The rings! He had almost forgotten all about them!
Seizing the moment, his hand had delved down, then up in between her legs!
He pried open wider her legs, finding no resistance atoll.
He then obliged her sweet fantasy
As her thoughts of being kissed vanished into the aire in a fit of convulsive ecstasy.
She screeched, her whole figure thrashing against her bindings as the intensity of sparking feeling erupted from the sensitive area he had invaded!
He reached into her lap, his fingers plunging in against her silken slip, scooping the rings inside, inserting two fingers, pushing inside a portion of her slip with the bundle of 3 rings, deep up within her vagina!
Her whole being exploded into enveloping, exquisitely painful jolts of pleasure as her long waiting orgasm took full effect.
He had ardently moved against her and he felt her fingers curling around his manhood, he pulled away quickly before she could cause him some pain from a reflecting grasp!
“Gaston,!” she screamed her eyes closed shut tight in pulsating ecstasy!
He had begun groping about inside her vagina, searching inside the slip he had pushed up for the rings that were laying somewhere there, unseen!
He soon found and scooped out each glittery ring one by one, pushing them deeply up and into her pulsating “Labia Majora”, before pulling them from the now damp silk and tossing them each neatly into his bag.
As he pulled out the last ring, along with her now wet portion of slip, she said, her voice hoarse with expectations,
“Sure you found everything mister burglar Gaston?”
He reached down and randomly pulled up her hairpiece from the top of the glistening pile in his pouch and dropped it down between her legs.
She opened her eyes, looking down
“When did that fall off?”
Forgetting her hands were bound, she had tried to feel up for her hair…
Like she had done with her rings, she firmly clamped her legs tightly over the jewel, extinguishing its flicker as it laid there shimmering brightly!
“Not part of the game, luv… I borrowed that from Lilly, silly! “
She giggles at her rhyme, light-headed from the lingering effects of her prickling arousal and orgasm!
He smirked, thinking!
Hmmm, where is this Lilly, and is she another one wondering about, wearing the good ‘ice’ this evening? But, back to the job at hand!
He bent down and tried to open her knees…
She resisted, struggling against her bindings as she tried to work her hands-free to stop him!
He hoped she was still playing her game, and not having second thoughts about it.
It could make things rather unpleasant!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Chapter 13
Pleasant Reflections
But apparently, the gig was not up yet!
For an old memory had been invoked back to her conscious mind.
With this thought, she said lustily, her dry throat cracking her words…
“Ah yes, you are right my dear Gaston! Recreating that time in the film we were watching, when a thief lifted some jewels from those ladies at a party, after promising them he was reformed!”
“Yes Gaston, you remembered that game..!”
she said with a sultry gasp, before uttering one last word.
“Except …”
He froze not sure if he should follow-through, not wishing to upset any apple carts of fantasy she was expecting.
Then she went on….
“I should have told you that the Tiara was out of bounds, of course, you wouldn’t ‘ave known it was mine, being absent for so many years…!”
He looked down at her and saw that she was again watching him with some queries.
Was she having some doubts as to what game was being played?
he was curiously wondering?
He removed his hands from her leg!
She sighed happily!
“Thank you, you are a gentleman as well as a thief! Dear sir!”
He then reached up and lifted her necklace, fingering its beckoning lure.
She said nothing...
So apparently, this beauty was still in play!
it was time for the coupe de grace!
He eagerly contemplated as he eyed the magnificent necklace, the last and best piece of his victim's worn jewels.
He again grasped her breasts, fondling them through the silken slip with his right hand.
Whilst his left travelled up her slick backside, reaching the back of her throat, and her necklaces’ jewelled clasp!
Using two gloved fingers, he neatly popped open the clasp and watched as the two ends fell open and hung down over her shoulders.
Curious as to what reaction she would give,
She did not disappoint
She quivered and moaned, then, began choking out the words in quite in a seductive, huskily hoarse-voiced manner.
“Gaston, Mon Mari!”
Her eyes were glazed over, reflected in the mirror, wide open with crazed excitement!
Suddenly an epiphany of an idea enters his head
letting one ned of the necklace noticeably drag up and over her shoulder, he released his hold, with a cascading fiery slither, it fell inside between her heaving breasts.
His right hand still fondling those breasts, he felt the necklace and worked it past so it slipped further down, landing in her lap!
Her diamonded necklace had joined its jewelled mate, the forbidden fruit, the jewelled coronet!
He then did the job properly, feeling along with the outside first, then reaching inside and giving great attention to all of her sweet spots.
Finally reaching the bottom, he again located her clit and began to manipulate it!
“Oh good, lord !”
she exclaimed, pleasurably leaning forward as much as her bindings would allow
As he fondled and groped, going all out to give her already intensely aroused figure as much over stimulation as possible!
Said figure, which had been ratcheting impulsively during the entire performance, now shot straight rigid as his fingers began once again searching the area between her legs!
She let out a piercing squeal as he hit home several times.
And as she closed her eyes tightly with each plunge of his right hands’ fingers finding their mark contorting her figure into exquisite convulsions, he took the opportunity to reach in with his free left hand and grabbed the now unprotected jewels from her lap!
As he pulled her jewels free, she slumped back into the chair, her whole being exhausted from her ecstatic struggles!
He slipped the shimmering strings of diamonds, necklace, and coronet, down on top of their pilfered, glittering mates…
Quite a haul he thought as He looked at her body, eyes clamped shut, still grasping to control her pinnacle reached desires!
She never even noticed that her borrowed headpiece had also been scooped up along with her necklace as he had quickly, unobtrusively also taken it to be deposited inside his bag
He went over to the piled green gown laying on the floor.
Lifting it he carried it over to his victim.
Holding it up he watches as the dazzling brooch was reflected in her, now open, slightly glazed over, doe wide eyes.
He slipped off the jewel, mindlessly pocketing it with the other, as he laid the gown reverently out over her lap.
Her only reaction was to close her eyes and groan happily.
“Okay Gaston you win, she murmured huskily, now untie me!”
“This Gaston did win!
He thought smirking to himself as claimed the now weighty pouch from the floor!
He began to stroll briskly towards the bedroom door exit, preparing himself for when she would realize the truth and start her desperate pleading.
It didn’t take long he heard her exclaim from behind his back before reaching the door…
“Hey, Gaston ! Where do you think you are going, lad?!”
“I said game over, no didn’t I ?!
She must have been looking down, for she began to bleat on like an annoying lost lamb…
“And you give me back that Tiara, it is not supposed to have been part of the game!”
He spoke aloud for the first time, lecturing…
“It is more of a Coronet than a Tiara my sweet!”
The burglar boldly closed the door behind him, distinguishing any further comment from the now indignantly squealing young, distressed Damsel.
He retraced his steps out to the second-floor sitting room’s balcony.
Then made his exiting the way he had come.
Climbing from the ancient wrought iron fire stairs conveniently located down off the second-floor balcony!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
www.amazon.com/dp/9657589290?ref_=pe_3052080_397514860
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
Don’t let these tumultuous times tear at your dreams
You are a deep reservoir of possibility and outcome
Your thoughts and adorations are pillars within you
Reach for the Mystery out of which you came
Even in your mother’s womb the connection pulsated
Stay connected there where the breath rises and falls
Where aching questions reach out to the Unknown
Reach upward with invisible arms and take flight
Re-establish the kingdoms you once built in the sand
when life was still a long hot day at the beach
See with eyes that enhance your view with hope
Even if your world feels broken and dry
The children of the world need us to stay connected
Because they still trust in the law of giving and receiving
It cannot be taught
Only remembered
It cannot be taken
Only activated
From the depth of a mind in balance
From the heart of a child still believing
From the womb of a world in dark and fragile conception
It bursts forth with audacious expectation
Reaching for a kind of Love it has never felt before
GF/08/06/2020
Beibei was eyeing my teriyaki-flavoured chicken wings. But no human food for cat especially notti cat!
Hope V2 - Issue #7 "Monsters Under the Mattress"
*Callum stands outside Mitch's house glowing in the night, he knew what he had to do, he had to stop his parents. Despite all they had done he didn't want A.N.G.E.L. involved, this was personal. They could try and hurt him all they wanted but going after his best friend, they would regret that. Callum takes a step forward forcing the night back with his radiant yellow aura, his fists burning with power. Suddenly his Dad
smashes through the upstairs bedroom of Mitch's room and leaps out crashing into the driveway before Callum. He straightens up smirking down at Callum clenching his fists, his arms bulging with strength through his suit. Callum realised the danger he was in, he looked at his Dad like a villain, not a father. He had to be evasive, his Dad was top heavy, his hero name wasn't 'Powerhouse' for nothing. *
Hope: "You better not have hurt him, Powerhouse."
Poserhouse: "Bring it up with your mother."
*Powerhouse swings his fist so hard Callum thought it was going to dislocate his Dad's shoulder, he aims his palms downwards blasting a burst of energy pushing him out of reach. Powerhouse spins with the inertia of his missed swing and jumps out at Callum roaring with rage. Callum aims his hand at Powerhouse but hesitates to fire his energy beam. Powerhouse grabs Callum's face in his oversized hand and slams him into the concrete, his energy aura was strong enough to shield the impact but it still hurt. He lifts Callum up slamming his fist into his stomach with an uppercut sending him soaring through the air winded by the blow. Callum coughs balancing himself in the air and smiles under his mask, his Dad just threw him in a safe zone, his Dad can't fly. Callum looks down at Powerhouse and blasts a beam of energy down at him, the power pushes down hard on his shoulders causing his legs to buckle forcing him on his knees. He grunts in pain trying to push off the blast that ruthlessly bombards him into the ground. Callum stops the beam and quickly zips down through the air smashing his legs down into his back, the rubble around him jumps with the impact that leaves him in the dirt.*
Hope: "Sorry."
*Callum steps off Powerhouse into the crater and jumps into the air engulfed with his yellow aura, he's about to fly into Mitch's house until a vice like grip clamps onto his ankle and drags him back down.
Powerhouse: "Don't be."
*Callum looks back at Powerhouse who begins to get up, what surprised Callum more was that his Mum hadn't yet showed up to fight him, is she staying with Mitch? He regretted flying ahead without Nico & Vanessa but he had to see if Mitch was okay, probably best they don't know where he is, he doesn't want them hurt.*
Powerhouse: "In a hurry? Don't worry your Mother is informing Dr. Toxic of what's happened she will be here shortly."
Hope: "Where's Mitch?"
Powerhouse: "Unconscious In his room. He was weak."
Hope: "All the times I looked under my bed for monsters and I was living with them the whole time."
*Powerhouse growls angrily swinging Callum around in a 360° spin and throws him into Mitch's Dads car. Callum groans in pain peeling himself out of the crushed car but it explodes blasting him into the air, he cries out in pain, his cape and costume on fire. He crosses his arms over his chest and generates a flash of energy blinding Powerhouse who covers his eyes. Callum's body glows with a bright aura extinguishing the flames and healing his wounds rapidly, Callum looks at his hands which are set ablaze with power. He clenches his fists and grits his teeth flying at Powerhouse who watches in horror. He raises his hands to block the blow but Callum smashes through the defence like it was nothing and hits him right in the chest, the power of the strike temporarily stops Powerhouse in his place until a devastating energy blast explodes from his fist. It incinerates his Dad's suit and burns his torso and neck within seconds, Callum watches it happen in slow motion as his fist passes through his chest turning him into ash within seconds.*
Hope: "No... No... No!"
*Callum grabs handfuls of the ash that blows between his fingers through the air staring at it horrified. Tears stream down his cheeks under his mask as he breathes heavily pulling it off crying. He hears a gentle pulsate in the air and looks up seeing a figure engulfed in a red aura burning in the night, his Mother.*
Megadeth plays to a capacity crowd at Austin 360 Amphitheater. Tuesday, September 10, 2013. Usually, The slot set aside before the headliner goes on stage is reserved for up 'n comers, those artists and bands looking for exposure in order to build a fan base. And usually, sadly enough, the venue is filled with just a smattering of early arriving, over-excited fans simply waiting for the headliner to take the stage. In no way was this the case at Austin 360 Amphitheater on Tuesday night. By the time Megadeth took the stage at 7:30 the venue was almost to capacity. Austin traffic conditions are probably to blame for the place not being filled. The early arriving fans were treated to a hot-Texas sun and blistering riffs provided by Dave Mustaine and company. Although Mustaine's demeanor onstage doesn't match the pulsating Megadeth music he clearly seems to enjoy shredding the faces of the Megadeth fans pressed up against the retaining fence with fists clinched over their heads. For as low-key as Mustaine seems to be onstage, the Megadeth music falls into the complete opposite end of the spectrum. Heavy, fast and furious!
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
The Forty Thieves Presents...
Grand Opening of SONANCE: Music & Event Coordination in Second Life
We are thrilled to announce the grand opening of SONANCE, a new underground complex designed to provide you with an immersive musical experience.
Date: 17th November 2023
Time: 2:00 PM - 6:00 PM +SLT
Location: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Raine%20Lake/139/224/2012
Our stage will be graced by the electrifying sounds of two phenomenal DJs:
Nico: 2:00 PM - 4:00 PM +SLT
Lichi: 4:00 PM - 6:00 PM +SLT
Don't miss our exclusive merch stands offering a range of products and clothing items meticulously designed by Traume & Midwest in collaboration with the Sonance Team. Get yourself some unique swag to remember this unforgettable event and grab our Club Emergency Kits for further events!
As the night deepens, the celebration will continue with an exhilarating after-party, allowing everyone to uncover the hidden treasures of our underground sanctuary; lose yourself in the pulsating rhythms as we celebrate the birth of SONANCE.
Mark your calendars and invite your friends. See you there!
Sonance TEAM
Flickr: www.flickr.com/groups/sonance/
Discord: discord.gg/jJrehPjju7
Today’s ESA/Hubble Picture of the Week features a galaxy that Hubble has captured multiple times over more than 20 years. The galaxy is called NGC 3370, and it is a spiral galaxy located nearly 90 million light-years away in the constellation Leo (The Lion).
What is it about this galaxy that makes it a popular target for researchers? NGC 3370 is home to two kinds of objects that astronomers prize for their usefulness in determining distances to faraway galaxies: Cepheid variable stars and Type Ia supernovae.
Cepheid variable stars change in both size and temperature as they pulsate. As a result, the luminosity of these stars varies over a period of days to months. It does so in a way that reveals something important: the more luminous a Cepheid variable star is, the more slowly it pulsates. By measuring how long a Cepheid variable’s brightness takes to complete one cycle, astronomers can determine how bright the star actually is. Paired with how bright the star appears from Earth, this information gives the distance to the star and its home galaxy.
Type Ia supernovae provide a way to measure distances in a single explosive burst rather than through regular brightness variations. Type Ia supernovae happen when the dead core of a star ignites in a sudden flare of nuclear fusion. These explosions peak at very similar luminosities, and much like for a Cepheid variable star, knowing the intrinsic brightness of a supernova explosion allows for its distance to be measured. Observations of Cepheid variable stars and Type Ia supernovae are both critical for precisely measuring how fast our Universe is expanding.
A previous Hubble image of NGC 3370 was released in 2003. The image released today zooms in on the galaxy, presenting a richly detailed view that incorporates wavelengths of light that were not included in the previous version. NGC 3370 is a member of the NGC 3370 group of galaxies along with other Hubble targets NGC 3447 and NGC 3455.
[Image Description: A spiral galaxy occupies most of the image. It is a slightly tilted disc of stars, yellow-white in the centre and blue in the outskirts, showing light from different stars in the galaxy. Its spiral arms curl outwards from the centre, speckled with blue star clusters. Dark reddish threads of dust swirl around the galaxy’s centre. The backdrop is two medium-sized and many small, distant galaxies on a black background.]
Credits: ESA/Hubble & NASA, A. Riess, K. Noll; CC BY 4.0
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
Hope V2 - Issue #8 "Despair"
*Callum kneels on the ground watching the ash remains of his father drift away between his fingers, tears roll down his cheeks as he drops his mask looking down at it. His mother hovers in the air speechless as her red aura glows around her, he ignores her completely horrified.*
Hope: "What have I done..."
*Callum's Mum shrieks unleashing a continuous beam of energy at Callum knocking him to the ground, she channels are her might and willpower into the blast grinding him into the earth like a bug. Her angered screams drowns out the cracking of the ground and shattering of the concrete around the blast that crushes Callum mercilessly. She stops and wipes the tears from her eyes with her latex glove and hovers down peering inside the crater where Callum lays curled up in a ball...unscathed.*
E-Beam: "How could you?!"
*Callum's body glows yellow and rises out of the crater, his radiance as bright as the sun. He looks down at his shaking hands and clenches them into balled fists that burn energy like fire, he looks up glaring at his Mother and aims his palms at her. Her eyes widen as his palms explode blowing her away with an energy blast knocking her out of the sky and through Mitch's house as rubble crashes on top of her.*
Hope: "How could I?! How could you?! You and Dad made me to be a weapon to end all of humanity, just to make your psychopath leader proud! You both infiltrated the first ever hero team and killed them in cold blood because they rebelled against the idea of genocide!"
*Callum's body pulsates with power as he glows even brighter, his fingertips sparking with fury as he watches his Mother shakily get up clutching her shoulder. Her aura seems to shrink back being repelled by Callum's, she raises her hand weakly about to fire an energy blast.*
E-Beam: "You call yourself, Hope. You're not Hope at all, not for me or your father... you're total Despair. You going to kill me too, your own mother?!"
*Callum's hands vibrate as he aims his palms at her but stops when he sees a puff of black and pink smoke appear behind his Mum. She turns her head only to see Vanessa swing her bat striking the back of his mother's head knocking her out cold. Vanessa pulls back her hood looking up at Callum with her cat like green eyes, her eyes meet his and Callum's aura goes out like a candle being blown. He falls to the ground weakly and she teleports next to him quickly in a wisp of smoke, she lays his head on her lap and takes his hands hands letting go quickly after feeling the heat generating from them. She leans in and softly kisses his hot lips. Callum's eyes begin to feel heavy and he turns his head seeing Nico helping Mitch out of his house, his clothes chalked with dust from the debris. Callum smiles slightly and passes out overwhelmed with fatigue. He begins to stir a few hours later in what appears to be a hospital room.*
Coby: "Hey, buddy. Went all Thanos on your Dad huh?"
Susan: "Coby!"
Callum: "Where uh, am I?"
Coby: "Definitely not Kansas!"
*Susan strikes her brothers arm making him yelp and she leans in looking at Callum intently. He sits up felling his body ache slightly and touches his stomach feeling abs there all of a sudden. Those are new.*
Susan: "Callum, you're in A.N.G.E.L. Hospital. You're body seems to get stronger the more you use your powers. You literally incinerated your Dad with one punch and he was the strongest... hero."
*Callum looks away bitterly and shakes his head, he knew his Dad wasn't a hero and part of him knew the world now knew that with the whole public nighttime fight. Mitch must've told everyone at school by now, after all that was one of the best and worst days his best friend probably had.*
Susan: "Don't worry we know, but the world doesn't. Mitch was just glad you are safe and A.N.G.E.L. covered up the whole thing stating that a vengeful villain from the past came back and got his revenge on your father. Your Mother though, she's unfortunately being kept inside Lockdown."
Coby: "The badass Meta prison the size of a city."
*Callum nods his head slowly, it was a lot to take in. Part of him thought he was just dreaming after the time his Dad threw him through the wall in their house, he wished it was a dream. Even though his Dad was a villain, he still loved him, mourned him.*
Susan: "Callum we both know what you are feeling, there was nothing you could've done to know that was going to happen with your Dad. Your powers are some of the strongest we have seen, nobody could've anticipated that was going to happen."
Coby: "I'm sorry."
Callum: "Don't be. Can I still be a Hero? I know I broke the rule about killing but I didn't know I could do that, with help from A.N.G.E.L. maybe now I can test my true potential."
*Coby looks at Susan and she looks at him. Callum waits with nervous energy as Susan nods at her brother who grins leaning forward close to Callum*
Susan: "We have this little program starting up with young aspiring heroes like yourself, those unsure of who and what they are."
Coby: "It's like a team and we want you to join!"
Callum: "What's it called?"
Coby: "Young Heroes"
Callum: "That name sucks..."
Coby: "Aw come on, you just ruined this issues cliff hanger!"
Combined observations from NASA’s NIRCam (Near-Infrared Camera) and Hubble’s WFC3 (Wide Field Camera 3) show spiral galaxy NGC 5584, which resides 72 million light-years away from Earth. Among NGC 5584’s glowing stars are pulsating stars called Cepheid variables and Type Ia supernova, a special class of exploding stars. Astronomers use Cepheid variables and Type Ia supernovae as reliable distance markers to measure the universe’s expansion rate.
Credits: NASA, ESA, CSA, and A. Riess (STScI)
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
A free Spirit
Mirit Ben-Nun was born in Beer- Sheva in 1966. Over the years she has presented in solo exhibitions and participated in group exhibitions in Israel and around the world.
When she was six, her father was killed in a car accident, leaving behind his wife and two daughters, Mirit and Dana.
Ben-Nun had difficulty concentrating on studies, which caused behavioral problems, and at the age of fourteen she dropped out of the education system and went to work. The colors and writing tools gave her a quiet private space and her own way of surviving. Creativity eased her tumultuous soul.
Until her early 30’s she worked as a telemarketer and for the next fourteen years she doodled and doodled. While talking to customers she filled thousands of pages with lines and dots that resembled hundreds of compressed eggs and seeds which she threw away.
In a large portion of each page she would pick a random word and would write it down over and over while concentrating on her hand movements.
Even then she noticed the rising of her need and obsession as she practiced the endless doodling and writing.
Ben-Nun testifies that the lack of artistic training to paint "correctly" freed her from adhering to the rules of painting and allowed her freedom and spirit of rebellion.
In 1998, she received a bunch of canvases and acrylic paints as a gift from her sister.
She brought the acrylic into her world of lines and dots; she went back to painting women and masks that appeared in her childhood paintings and flooded them with lines and dots without separating body and background.
This is also the moment when Ben-Nun began to refer to herself as a painter.
and when art became the center of her life.
The intense colors in Ben-Nun's paintings sweep the viewer into a sensual experience. The viewer traces the surge of dots and lines formed in packed layers of paint. The movement leads to a kind of female-male hormonal dance within the human body and to a communion with an artistic experience of instinct, passion, conceiving and birth.
Contributing to this experience is the wealth of characteristics reminiscent of tribal art. Ben-Nun merges these with a humorous and kicking contemporary Western Pop art. In the language of unique art, Ben-Nun creates an unconventional conversation between past and present cultures.
It is evident that the paintings emerge from a regenerated need and desire, a force that erupts from her soul, a subconscious survival instinct to which she cannot or does not want to resist.
Ben-Nun places women at the center stage where they are her work focus. The paintings obsessively deal with the existential experience of being a woman in the world. A few of the women's paintings carry feminist slogans stressing the women's struggle in society, a critique for being held to perfection and being required to perform as a model of "beauty, purity and motherhood". Feminism pulsates in Ben-Nun's psyche, through her diverse female images and the play between beauty and unsightliness; Ben-Nun assimilates the consciousness of feminine possibility, of not being "perfect", of being powerful, influential, and outside social norms. This mandates a departure from acceptable limitations where Ben-Nun creates a new world of free spirit for women.
Mirit Ben-Nun is a mother of three and the grandmother of three grandchildren.
Mirela Tal
La vie, c'est aussi la couleur: le battement orange des ailes du croissant nordique, le jaune pulsatile du lotier corniculé, le mauve des vesces, la verte marée des champs. Et le regard s'attarde encore.
Life is color: the orange flutter of a northern crescent wings, the pulsating yellow of birdsfoot trefoil, the mauve of the tufted vetch, the green tide of the fields. An unfinished glance.