RETRO ART
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A river cuts through rock, not because of its power, but because of its persistence.
~ James N. Watkins
I posted an image of Mosquito Creek a few days ago and said that I would post some closer shots of the rocks and water, so here's one. I was right there in the water with my waders on and enjoying every minute.
The quickening of the senses, the whispered desires...
In the blackness of the night, our dark side takes flight.
I've always been a fan of the "film noir" genre. My humble attempt at depicting a "good-bad girl" heroine.
ISFLY ♥♥.
Her phone was buzzing while she quickened her steps, "I'm coming!" she exclaimed, more to herself knowing well who was the culprit behind the impatient messages.
It was one of those days when nothing goes according to plan. His shop was supposed to be closed half an hour ago but due to her delay he waited because she said she would join him on the trip home.
There it was, the perfect sign of his shop, "Hideout Blooms". The concept was quite different from other flower shops. He gave out tea, sometimes coffee. The aroma was so welcoming. Moreover, he encouraged his patrons to write or draw something with the flowers they wanted to buy. That wasn't enough though, he also crafted pretty gift boxes or fancy storage containers as she liked to call them.
"You are too slow." he said, when she finally entered the shop, looking really apologetic.
"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed and went to hug attack him on the chairs he used as a temporary bed. He sighed, watching her drag a chair next to him, invading his personal space as always.
"I made that for you." he said, pointing on the wreath made of blue tulips on his work table. She over-excitedly wore it over her head, smiling sheepishly.
"You want to go home now?" she asked, smiling warmly down towards him.
"Not yet, let's rest awhile." he said, making himself comfortable and using her lap as a pillow.
She held his hand, resting with him, inhaling the sweetness all around her. Flowers, left over tea, polished wood, old paper...colorful scents.
P.S. Inspired by 8f8 - BloomLife Collection
This is the junction of two rivers, the Afon Pyrddin joins the Nedd Fechan at this point. Brecon Beacons National Park, Wales.
A duo tone take on The Old Man of Storr, I thought that the light in the clouds around the pinnacles looked quite cinematic......hence the title.
Winters always seem to move slowly while everything outside is in its sleepy hibernation. And then Spring arrives and it's as if someone pressed the fast-forward button. Already the crocuses, snowdrops, white forsythia and early magnolia & irises have come and gone, while new leaves and buds are popping open everywhere. Now to just keep up with it.... :)
Sunset on the tidewater as textures, light, and colors change while the tide silently pores in at the urging of the sun and moon.
James City County, Virginia
Young Grizzly cultivating earth in an never-ending quest for grub. Photographed enroute to Lake Louise via the David Thompson Highway.
"Those who have packed far up into grizzly country know that the presence of even one grizzly on the land elevates the mountains, deepens the canyons, chills the winds, brightens the stars, darkens the forest, and quickens the pulse of all who enter it. They know that when a bear dies, something sacred in every living thing interconnected with that realm... also dies."
- John Murray
After a confusing morning in Puerto Natales walking 3 blocks this way and 3 blocks that way trying to nail down the need (or not) for camping and access permits in the Torres del Paine, we hastily purchased several days worth of backpacking dry goods, and headed north. As we passed Lago Sarmiento on our way to the Laguna Amarga entrance, this was the first real jaw-dropper of a look at the Cordillera Paine. The weather was fine, and months of anticipation were building to a crescendo as we contemplated hiking the Circuito around the Cordillera - 75 miles in 7 days.
In the foreground, the Lago Sarmiento is truly a shocking shade of blue. It is also quite basic (high pH), and one of the few places in the world with actively growing thrombolites, which form the gray shoreline in the photo. Hundreds of millions of years ago, ancient thrombolites produced the oxygen in the atmosphere we breathe now.
🔸◾️ C O N C R E T E - S T O R M ◾️🔸
Keen to revisit the coast after a stint photographing woodland, I decided to head east... Further east than I'd normally go, where the tide would be lower at sunrise to reveal more beach.
I'd never visited Millendreath (near Looe) before, but I'd seen some great photos of the characterful rocks there, taken by Tim Gilbert Photography.
Upon arrival though, after driving over an hour, the said rocks were already cut off by the incoming tide.
So instead, I turned my attention to the concrete sea defence. The tide level was perfect to photograph it.
The composition was simple - a natural lead-in along the wall to the railings as a focal point. With such an obvious composition, I made sure that I nailed the other details...
The pre-sunrise light allowed for a slow shutter to capture the movement of the sea. In fact, at F11 I had to dial the ISO up to 320 to quicken the shutter.
In Photoshop, I blended three exposures to incorporate the best features of the moving water in one image.
Canon 6D MkII | 24-105mm lens at 35mm | ƒ/11 | 0.6 sec | ISO 320 | Lee ND Hard Grad | Tripod | Taken 19-12-2019 at Millendreath
🔥🔥 Check out my 2020 Calendar - www.hocking-photography.co.uk/online-store (collection from Penryn available too!)🔥🔥
**Photos available to buy** - contact me or visit my website
Copyright Andrew Hocking 2019
I arrive on the beach before the coming storm. I lay back on my beach chair enjoying the quickening breeze and the darkness of the clouds. The blood in my veins cooling with the wind. A thought scratches the back of my mind. I remind myself that the tide is rising. It is of no concern. I close my eyes.
As I fade into slumber, the stirring waves of the ocean soothing me into trance with whispers of solitude. Floating upward toward the sky, I feel myself drifting toward sleep. But, my eyes are still just a bit open.
Why can't I shut them? I hear noises. Like whispers.
Why are there noises?
I don't want to be here. I hear them all around me. The whispers. I cannot wake myself.
Where did all these people come from? I remember no people here. I arrived here alone. Before my very eyes, people and a warm light. Why is it warm? There was a coming storm...
Where are the people going? A lumbering tall man slowly slipping forward toward the ocean. A woman with her bike, on her phone as if nothing were happening. A little girl joyfully playing with her mother. I hear kids laughing. I think I hear a dog barking. None of this makes any sense.
I feel a numbness. As they stretch toward the sky, they fade from my vision. My eyes finally close. They are no longer here. Perhaps, neither am I.
A bit of late night (or early morning) distraction away from sleep. A story from my last day on the beach at St Simons Island.
quickens our own and makes it so much the larger and better in any way. ~ John Muir
August 28, 2009 (DSC_0309)
There is a vitality, a life force, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and there is only one of you in all time, this expression is unique, and if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium; and be lost. The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is, not how it compares with other expression. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep open and aware directly to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is a divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others. - Martha Graham (1894-1991)
1/500 sec., f/4, ISO 250, focal length 17 mm
Brown tinged by salt spray, hardy plants take root and 'express their life force' in bedrock outcroppings near the sea shore.
Our eyes met, my breath quickened and in that very instant I knew that she knew that I knew. If I could have, I would have reached out and slid my hand into hers and squeezed. Then we would have talked about life and love and hair product.
I don't know when my fascination with Sherlock Holmes started. In my childhood certainly...but I can't pinpoint the exact moment. I love the character. I adore the stories...and I long just a little for the world they exist in.
I loved it each time the Great Detective turned to Watson and said something along the lines of "We've not a moment to lose, old friend. The game's afoot!" Right after that, they'd pile into a horse drawn carriage and kick some evil-doer's ass.
When I heard 'The game's afoot,' my pulse quickened.
So when I noticed there was an actual Sherlock Holmes museum at (where else) 221b Baker Street here in London, I began plotting how to get there.
It is a richly detailed building, put together by people who love the stories even more than I did. Statues, curios, props built from precise descriptions in the stories...fascinating corners and photo opportunities everywhere.
You feel like you are walking in to consult with Holmes, maybe wearing a mask to conceal your identity -- or a secret-but-urgent mission for some reclusive royal family.
But here was a mystery: in the gift shop I bought nothing.
"Aren't you going to get anything?" asked Sheree. She knows my fascination with all things Holmsian.
I shook my head.
"NOTHING?" she asked.
I proffered a handful of business cards with "Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective" on them.
Her eyes narrowed. Trust me: you simply cannot snow this woman. I know. I've tried. "You didn't see anything you liked?"
"Lots of stuff," I said. "But nothing in particular."
This was, of course, a lie. There was a fist-sized bronze statue of Holmes on the moors, contemplating a clue that will help him solve the mystery of the Hound of the Baskervilles (which happens to be one of my all-time favorite novels).
I loved it at first sight. It's got a dated look to it...which is right up there with the covers of Hardy Boy novels where 'Frank and his younger brother Joe' peered around old clocks or into hidden caves for inciting a powerful sense of adventure and mystery.
But this statue was 20 pounds...which is like...well...probably like...40 bucks Canadian. What moron's gonna pay that much for a statue?
Me, I guess. It just took me a little longer to make the buying decision.
But a funny thing happened when I went through the hundred or so photos I took in the museum. I couldn't find any one of them that really said "HOLMES" to me.
Then I saw this strange bust...processed it, added grain and a splash of gold...and this is as close as I can come to showing you what it felt for me when Holmes cried out "The game's afoot" but it didn't do it completely either.
(I always thought that line would be a shoo-in for a podiatrist theme mystery.)
"Be thou as a throbbing artery, pulsating in the body of the entire creation, that through the heat generated by this motion there may appear that which will quicken the hearts of those who hesitate."
― Baha'u'llah
Since the 1970’s, The Alan Parsons Project has been one of my favorite bands with one of their songs “Old and wise” being a personal favorite. With age, wisdom should occur…and for most it does. I always enjoy seeing wisdom in the animal kingdom, when experience has provided lessons learned, reflected in the flight-fight response…or lack of it. I am often reminded of my father saying “I’m too old for this shit” when the decision was made to hold his ground in the matter at hand.
Years ago, I was walking the sand roads of the Juniper Club in Central Florida when I spotted a Gopher Turtle up ahead in the road. Wanting to capture its image, I picked up my pace in its direction. Once noticed, the turtle quickly pivoted and started walking away in the opposite direction. I quickened my now awkward looking speed-walking pace a bit to close the gap.
To my surprise, it started running…I was surprised by its speed! I started jogging with side mounted lenses, water bottles and my spare camera flying in every direction. After a few minutes, I finally caught up with my prey, out of breath with my hands on my knees…we both looked pretty turtled-up as it peered out of its shell at me in fear. I backed away, it came out a bit, I took its picture and walked away.
Now fast forward to this fellow…who’s photo was taken on 13 October, 2023. A much larger, older and wiser turtle as when Rob spotted him up in the middle of the road ahead, he (or she as I do not intend to offend) had little to no noticeable reaction to two humans approaching. He posed perfectly…or as perfectly as a turtle can, and I captured this image. Rob and I then returned back on our way, leaving him be to go on his way.
The vast difference in reactions between the two turtles that I have photographed there makes me wonder if the wisdom in the second one is a reflection of other life experiences, or if it could be the same one from years ago…where we both have grown older and wiser…and “too old for this shit” to run!
Adventure before dementia!
A goat watching my every move in Woodwards Cove on Grand Manan Island, New Brunswick, Canada.
I was photographing two horses from outside a property (needless to say), and this goat kept its eyes fixed on me.
Minute by minute, it kept heading towards me at an ever quickening pace, until well, I got scared and jumped into my car and headed out of Dodge! Who needs a dog with such a guardian?
The Quickening©David Rothwell Photography All Rights Reserved. Please do not use any of my images/digital data without my written permission. 2013
Please also REFRAIN FROM POSTING YOUR OWN IMAGES within my Photostream. I consider this rude and unwelcome. Posting an image of your own within my stream will not encourage me to visit / award, but will in fact have the complete opposite affect. Persistent offenders will simply be blocked.
It was more than a little eerie up in Rhosydd. The weather forecast had warned of awful weather but I was desperate to feel the freedom of the mountains, and reset my senses. I knew I had to get up there early to stay ahead of the storm and from some distance off in Blaenau Ffestiniog I could see the clouds blanketing the tops of the mountains. I didn't hang about at Tanygrisiau and lower down in Cwmorthin to wait for some light but pushed on against the mizzle and quickening wind. Up on the cwm, the shoulder between the mountains, I found the ruins of Rhosydd mine constantly being veiled in cloud, thickening one moment, clearing the next, just seconds at a time as the wind blew the cloud across my field of vision. I moved quickly to a few viewpoints grabbing a shot each time the cloud cleared just long enough for a clear picture, but by the time I got to the barracks the wind was really forceful. It came out of no where, at least three times a violent, howling gust that nearly tipped me and my tripod over, and bowled little Darcy in her pink coat in a feint pink blur across one shot. It was so strong I felt uneasy like a force was trying to push me off the mountain, "go: get out!" The dark shapes moving in and out of full vision spooked me and I decided I had had enough and wanted to get down into the valley before something unpleasant happened. But up there on your own, amongst those dark ruins, it's easy to imagine things move. And once they did.
I was up on the higher levels of Dinorwic quarry when a wintry squall came rushing in. I had been caught out earlier, whilst using the old track to gain elevation. The hail came in so fast, and thickly, that with no shelter around I decided to get down on all fours on the track and tuck little Darcy under me. We stayed like that, crouched in the open, until there was a lull in the weather. I decided our best option was to cut back down to one of the terraces below where there were some substantial ruins, some at least with partial roofs. Quickly we headed along to one dark slate building, the wind and hail chasing us all the way. I was just moving down its side and on the verge of turning round the end of it to duck out of the wind when I almost went full tilt into lip-smacking range of a fearsome looking dark bearded and hooded man who loomed up right in front of me. The shock to both of us was instantaneous. The immediate fear on his face made him look terrifying to me, and in my terror I probably looked shockingly terrifying to him too. We both let out a feeble little cry that was thankfully muffled by the wind (although if I'm honest I think his scream was quite a bit louder than mine). But what a shock we both got! And an observer would have laughed their socks off seeing how shit scared we were by each other. But I know in future he was going to be more circumspect in sticking his head round the corner to see what the weather was doing, and I was definitely going to take a wider berth when rounding the side of a ruined building to get shelter.
But he's damned lucky my silent assassin training didn't kick in or he could have been dead in one quick chop. I can be a bit jumpy some times.
Model: Mia Allen
MUA & Hair: Christine Shields
Assistant: Katherine Westlake
Photography, character, concept, book, dress modifications: Kindra Nikole Photography
[Finally a new installation in my dreamscapes series! It's been far, *far* too long. I shot this back in November but only just now completed editing it. Had such a fun time handpainting this vintage dress and painting and embellishing the book prop for this.
It's been a tumultuous journey these past four or so months, but I'm finally coming out the other end feeling fulfilled, invigorated, and excited for the future. Can't wait to create more dreamscapes over the coming months.
This particular segment of dreamscapes is indicative of new directions and ideas. The ethereal being looks onward and upward to fresh possibilities. The book she holds with a proud grace may just unlock new secrets in this hidden world.]
This wind-bitten tree, a semi dwarf, an exile,
leans its trunk
against the fence's barbs, its scars etched
from weathering.
Nearby fields lie barren.
What secret impulse rose into this wayward
flowering? Limbs droop, arthritic,
each
lacquered, blood-red fruit a gemstone
in waning light.
Half the tree seems blighted. Where
the trunk splits
leeward and overhangs the milkweeds, leaves
curl and brown, berries puckered to black kisses.
This final act is playing out far afield,
unnoticed
by whoever owns
the land. The tree, untended, needs amputation.
Or would such severing
quicken
its demise? A sparrow flutters off, in no mood
for rumination. Who knows
if under peeling bark some force still slumbers?
And so this tree
buries deep its life lines
and holds up its bitter end, its cancering
for all to see:
sky, endless blue, fading day, clouds in flight.
And so we.
--Miguel deO
Homily062021_QuiettheStormu
“Let Us Cross to the Other Side”
One phrase in our Gospel reading quickened my heart, because I instantly related to its meaning. It speaks to the big and small decisions we make everyday in our lives. “Let Us Cross to the Other Side” is a statement that we should all relate with. With each event that occurs in our lives we make decisions (big or small)…and a new journey begins. Yes, our lives, are but a series of decisions and events with many endings but ultimately concludes with our death.
In this rich and deep Gospel story, Jesus is inviting each of his disciples to travel with him “to the other side.” Each of them freely makes the decision to enter the boat. From the disciples view, they soon discover that they are on rough water. It should be easy for us to relate to their predicament. However, Jesus we are told is asleep on a cushion. In their panic, they wake Jesus up, and state “don’t you care that we are perishing?” With the words from his mouth, Jesus simply says “quiet, peace be still.” All the storms are calmed now…the one they see and the one they feel on the inside. One can imagine Jesus calming saying “what are you afraid of…where is your faith?”
How often have we felt this way in the middle of a journey? The storms within our own hearts! How often do we feel the squalls, the uncontrollable emotions that snatches away our peace and clouds our judgement. I have and so have you.
Recently, I was traveling to see one of our parishioners. I was stopped at a red light, when the light turned green, I proceeded forward…suddenly I was in the middle of a sudden storm…my car spun around…and my peace was gone. After my daze, I quickly realized how blessed I was…in the spinning of my car…the deadly force of the other car had been swallowed up. A few feet more…and I would have been crushed. I made it to the other side of this event…and I am steal learning things about myself. What did the disciples learn about themselves, as they completed their journey to the other side of the lake? I suspect they had a deeper understanding and a “healthier fear” of the one called Jesus; their constant traveling companion.
Like the disciples on the boat, some storms we experience collectively-that would be together. Our Psalm reading, in the context of our shared experience of the pandemic, seems very timely. Is life not like sailing on deep waters where we experience wonder, mystery and fear. Sometimes larger then life events carry us to heaven (rain during a drought or the miracle of a as a vaccine that is available to us all) and sometimes we get carried to the depths-pandemics, droughts, earthquakes and war. What should our collective response be? I quote our Psalm reading…
They cried to the LORD in their distress;
from their straits he rescued them,
He hushed the storm to a gentle breeze,
and the billows of the sea were stilled.
They rejoiced that they were calmed,
and he brought them to their desired haven.
Let them give thanks to the LORD for his kindness
and his wondrous deeds to the children of men.
It appears that we are starting to see the other side of this event we call Covid. It has been a very long journey. As we arrive on this new chore together…we are wondering what the new normal is going to look like. We know that this journey has changed us…it has changed our Church community.
Every week we come to church where we are reminded that we do not journey alone. We receive an outward reminder of an inward reality that our God would never abandon us. I am reminded what Jesus said in John 14:27:
“Peace- I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.”
Jesus always resides with us and in us. In a moment we will physically receive Jesus in the bread…we will consume this bread of life. The sign has been given, Jesus is literally with us. The question now is where will we take Him?
-rc
Copyright Michael Kurman (bonobaltimore)...please contact bonobaltimore@hotmail.com if you wish to use.
A cloud rises
Catching morning's light
Quickening my leaf song
A largo andante
To be sung to the mountain
Poem Copyright
© 2006 Helen D. Ojha, All Rights Reserved
“I’m not crying. It’s just raining. On my face.” Flight Of the Conchords
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Turns out we are visiting North Carolina to experience record rainfall levels. The all-time record in Asheville in the month of May (the ENTIRE month) used to be 9.1 inches. As of today, which is Wednesday 5/30/18, Asheville has been drenched with 17.97 inches of rain. And it’s still going!
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This rain is causing a lot of flooding around the area. Some people in other areas nearby are having to evacuate their homes. Several roads around here are flooded, rendering them impassable.
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We are pretty lucky though. If we’re going to be stuck in the rain, this is a pretty magical place to experience it. Right now, there is a cool breeze as the adults sip coffee on the covered porch and the kids snuggle up with us for a few moments between playing. The air smells sweet. We are safe. We are cozy. The flowers are blooming.
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What are your favorite rainy-day activities?
Hi one from some local woods at lunchtime today...this is pretty much how I saw it as I ran after the dog as she chased a muntjac (no animals were harmed in the making of this pic.).
An ICM/ME double exp in camera . 0.3sec
| The pure water. Drops scattering. Seeds of light falling in the grass, on the earth. She made light, also. She must have caught it from the angel. Her fingertips left stains of golden brightness that she struggled always to leave in threes or multiples of three. She had to speak. She couldn't keep it in. As though her mouth were full of water. But to whom? |
Adam Foulds
The Quickening Maze.