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PictionID:48524080 - Catalog:14_026496 - Title:Atlas 5303 Details: SLV/5303 Being Covered with Shroud for Trip by Land to ETR Date: 01/28/1966 - Filename:14_026496.tif - - Images from the Convair/General Dynamics Astronautics Atlas Negative Collection. The processing, cataloging and digitization of these images has been made possible by a generous National Historical Publications and Records grant from the National Archives and Records Administration---Please Tag these images so that the information can be permanently stored with the digital file.---Repository: San Diego Air and Space Museum
The game consists in guessing which character (or animal, object, title of movie or novel, etc.) is hiding in a design made of letters of the alphabet and typographical symbols.
WHAT ARE THESE?
(C in English, N in Italian)
If you guess it, please answer in the comment.
Otherwise you can find the answer in the next image (wait for Zaffle 134)
Open the album "Zaffles" to see more than 100 zaffles but remember that the goal of this game is that everyone can create their own zaffles.
This photo made it to Explore. Thank you for your interest and support. Got up before 4 am to make an early morning flight.
Previous title: Anyone recognize this view?
Collaborating with Laura Serra on the exhibition logo was a delight. I tossed her a disparate pile of photos from the collection and (short of a few final touches) she came back with this.
She managed to balance the flowing style of her natural freehand lettering with the more mechanical nature of mid-century emblems cut from metal. It clearly references several decades of classic automotive brightwork without leaning too heavily on any one example or era. The allusions are obvious yet the mark is completely original. This thing really could exist on a car or refrigerator made anytime between 1930 and 1965.
Two objects — one for the title wall (on Laura’s Bel Air silhouette) and one for the window — were milled with a slightly angled bevel and sprayed with a chromesque coating.
More photos of the show later, but for now it’s best seen in person.
Thanks to Rob Keller of Mota Italic for this photo.
Descriptive title
Even more descriptive description
I drew Niue on some discarded cardboard-paper type material from work and it doesn’t look like total crap so that’s progress!
Shirt says “Smoke meth hail Satan” because that’s not edgy or overplayed at all.
I just got back florida yesterday I’m still tired
45EPIC Zion National Park Fine Art Landscapes: Dr. Elliot McGucken Fine Art Landscape and Nature Photography! Zion Autmn Colors and Fall Foliage!
Zion National Park Fine Art Landscapes: Dr. Elliot McGucken Fine Art Landscape and Nature Photography!
Hiking the Zion Narrows and the Zion Subway! Shooting Paradise Cove and Archangel Falls! The Zion National Park autumn is most beautiful!
instagram.com/goldennumberratio
Greetings flickr fans! Many more uploads soon! I have been busy writing, traveling, and shooting! I finished my books on the Tao of Epic Landscape Photography and the Golden Number Ratio Principle! I oft incorporate the golden ratio in my landscape compositions, and you'll also see it in the design and proportion of the 45surf clothes and surfboard and gun logos (More golden ratio information at my facebook page facebook.com/goldennumberratio). Message me on facebook for free review copies of my books here: facebook.com/mcgucken ! :)
I'm working on a book on photographing epic goddesses too! What should I title it? :)
facebook.com/goldennumberratio
Full titles: The Tao of Epic Landscape Photography: Exalt Fine Art with the Yin-Yang Wisdom of Lao Tzu's Tao Te Ching.
And: The Golden Number Ratio Principle: Why the Fibonacci Numbers Exalt Beauty and How to Create PHI Compositions in Art, Design, & Photography: An Artistic and Scientific Introduction to the Golden Mean !
I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them! :)
Enjoy the epic landscape and goddess and photography and note the golden ratio overlays in some of the photos, as well as the golden ratio in the Birth of Venus painting by Botticelli!
I've been on the road shooting landscapes in Zion, Yosemite, the Eastern Sierras, Big Sur, and more!
Many of you have seen my physics formula dx4/dt=ic for Light Time Dimension Theory on a lot of the 45surf clothing and in the fine art landscape logos. I finally finished the first book of many on the foundations of photography's best friend--light:
Light Time Dimension Theory: The Foundational Physics Unifying Einstein's Relativity and Quantum Mechanics.
All the best on your epic hero's odyssey!
Follow me! instagram.com/mcgucken
Was so fortunate to be able to photograph the epic Zion glow this year in the Narows and Zion National Park!
PLEASE TITLE THIS!
I love my best friend Christopher. He has dressed up as a banana for me an emo kid and now a clown, I can usually talk him into anything. He's such a great friend and I'm extremely happy that we've been hanging out more lately. He'll do anything for me (except freaking withdraw from his Humanities Class to take it with me) lol. I love him.
No title for this little statue (well, it's fairly big), in fact none of the artworks had titles at Rufford
The opening title of the James Bond film 'A View to a Kill' (1985), designed my Maurice Binder. Binder (1925 – 1991) was an American film title designer best known for his work on 16 James Bond films including the first, Dr. No (1962).
Another photo with the "hidden" theme going on. I'm going to camp for a week, so, no I didn't die or abandon flickr. I'm taking pictures there, so I'll upload them when I get back.
Hopefully the Gordon Lightfoot fans will get the song title reference. This image sat around for awhile because I was unsure of what to do with it. I tried to tweak the colours at first but I didn't really like how it came out. Now after mulling over it for awhile I went with the black and white conversion. I knew it would work out well because of how blue the sky was in the original image. Adding adjustments like burning was incredibly easy since the telephone pole has sharp edges. Overall I am quite pleased with how this image came out. Images like this are the reason I never get rid of any photos I take. Even though not many photos are salvageable, when you sit on the image and tweak it over the course of a few months you can get a result that you never expected after taking the image.
Website: ethanhassickphotography.webs.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/ethanhassickphotography
Since it's Super Bowl Sunday, I'll put it out there that I'm going for Denver to win the Super Bowl tonight! Hopefully that doesn't sway your opinion of this image!
With a mark on the smoke deflector revealing where a rather fine cast plate was formerly attached, the once proudly decorated QJ No.7164 is cast aside on the scrap line at Daban depot by classmate No.7081 just after sunrise on 18th November 2005. QJ7164 was delivered to China Rail from Datong works in December 1986 and was withdrawn from service on 28th August 2005. QJ7081, also delivered in 1986, faired better and survived to be exported from China to the USA and now works on the Iowa Interstate Railroad.
© Copyright Gordon Edgar - No unauthorised use
Title: Approach Passageway
(LUMIX G3 shot)
Manhattan. New York. USA. 2017. … 7 / 7
Images.
21 Savage, Summer Walker - prove it
youtu.be/oa8kjoT-MrM?si=IPmJ6WVmUokf1Wp2
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My new novel.
B♭ (B Flat)
Part 8. I’ve polished the opening section into what is almost its final form. 😄
(Of course, this is not the definitive version.)
Below is the earlier draft of the same passage. You might find it interesting to compare them. 😄
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My New Novel.
B♭ (B Flat)
1
——There are countless reasons a person might fall in love. Yet to realize—only afterward—that one has already fallen, that has no reason at all. That, I believe, is what true love is. And perhaps, if at that very moment a pale, washed light were spilling across the air around you, it would be easier to know. Such a light wraps itself around you like breath, stirring dormant memories. It seeps through the veil of your eyelids, reaching into the quietest chambers of your heart. To meet someone whose name you do not yet know, and come to know them deeply—this light is indispensable.——
From the warehouse’s high windows, a softened light poured in at an angle.
It was nearly noon, yet the whiteness seemed uncertain, as if reluctant to wake. It drifted into the dimness, losing its edges, and came to rest in silence upon the floor, where it left a faint, wavering shimmer over the roughened concrete.
Between the white tape that marked each booth, artists moved quickly, crossing paths with the efficient chaos of a weekend market. They had gathered for an exhibition and sale, and the air was thick with a mingling of colors, voices, and the faint hum of old walls holding their breath.
From the half-open loading bay came the low throb of hip-hop—its bass-heavy rhythm dragging slightly, as if reluctant to let go. The beat shivered through the floor, up the walls, as though the building itself were listening. Likely it came from the speakers of a delivery truck idling outside.
From a narrow slit in the eastern bay door, sunlight spilled in just enough to turn the dust motes into a drifting gold haze.
A young man in a suit lowered himself into the booth where Ana sat. On the white tape marking the aisle edge, someone had written Sieve—the name under which Ana and her group had reserved the space.
He leaned forward, pulling one notebook from a precarious stack, and began turning the pages slowly, his eyes lingering. His skin was a warm brown, perhaps Middle Eastern like Ana’s, and the profile that caught the light was refined, his blue eyes steady and unhurried. They followed each pencil line as if tracing a path: the breadth of a slow curve, the layering of fine, taut lines, the shadows conjured by the pressure of graphite.
Ana had always thought that those who can speak with their eyes are also those who can take the world in with them.
He looked up, caught her gaze from the corner of his vision, and smiled.
“Is this yours?”
Startled at being caught watching him, Ana answered a little too quickly.
“Yes. Mine.”
“Why did you draw it in ordinary pencil? Is it a rough sketch?”
The piece he was looking at was Arjun—her boyfriend—seen in profile as he waited for her at a café. That day she had arrived late; he was seated by the window, eyes fixed on his laptop screen. The slant of sunlight had fused with the intent in his gaze, branding the image into her memory. That was the moment she had drawn.
“No—it’s finished. I like the feel of ordinary tools. Pencils, everyday pens…”
He smiled faintly.
“And the man is him?”
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation, the smile reaching her eyes.
“I see. A shame, though—for a weekend. And is this one your mother?”
Ana leaned over to see the page he held. It was indeed her mother, Sangeeta Patel, bent slightly forward, preparing food. The curve of her lips revealed a glimpse of teeth, a smile caught mid-breath.
When Sangeeta cooked, the whole house was wrapped in the perfume of spices and the warm, nutty scent of fenugreek. Every winter, without fail, she made undhiyu, a recipe handed down from Ana’s grandmother. It was a traditional Hindu dish from before the family converted to another faith, yet she had kept it—because inside it lived the memory of family as an unbroken circle.
To Anaya, it was the very scent of India’s sun-dried earth.
“Yes, my mother,” she said softly.
Amir’s mouth softened into a smile. He turned the page.
“And this too?”
Ana stepped closer. Again, her mother—but this time by the window, reading. Her gaze, resting on the page, held a quiet stillness, and somewhere deep in it, a shadow of sorrow. On the cover, in dull gold letters, was the title Untouchable. Years ago, her mother had stumbled upon the novel in the town library, and it had shifted her life by a fraction—enough to change its course. Within the text, she had met a younger version of herself. Reading had become prayer; prayer had become resolve. From that day, Sangeeta’s faith was aimed toward “a God who would harm no one.”
Ana gave a small nod.
“Yes. My beloved mother—whom I deeply respect.”
Amir lowered his gaze to the drawing again, his index finger following the line of her mother’s sight, almost but not quite touching.
“You draw eyes beautifully,” he said.
Those eyes were nothing but gradations of graphite, and yet they held a depth that felt layered with countless emotions. The contours were soft, the shadows of the lashes trembling faintly. There was no reflected light, and still, the act of seeing was there—quiet, unwavering. In the firmness of the strokes lay a delicate quiver, as though searching for the light beyond. The shadows seemed steeped in unspoken conflict and in prayer. As if, deep in the paper, a soul stood motionless in silence.
“Eyes that seem to be fighting quietly,” Amir murmured, his voice roughened, “and yet, somehow, forgiving.”
His words stirred something deep in Ana’s chest. She had wanted to capture both—the heat of her mother’s struggles and the cool clarity with which she met them. And he had seen it.
Amir smiled again, and rose slowly.
Mika arrived, weaving between the booths with a bright, scattering smile for every artist, her F30 canvas slung across her back.
“If you’d like, you can look at mine too. I’m Mika.”
“Thank you,” Amir said, extending his hand. Mika passed her canvas to Ana, shook hands, and grinned.
“Why are you giving me your stuff?” Ana muttered, a touch annoyed.
“You live together, don’t you?” Mika whispered back, smiling.
“My name is Amir. Amir Nasser.”
He smiled at them both, lowered his gaze to the floor, glanced up at the ceiling, then turned his eyes away shyly, like a boy.
Tapping rapidly at his phone, Rafi appeared, gave Ana a quick look, and addressed Amir in a low voice. The heaviness in his build suggested he was older.
“What’s wrong? Something happen?”
“No. I’ll tell you later,” Amir said gently, as if to temper Rafi’s stare. Then, to Ana and Mika:
“Thank you. It was a beautiful moment. I’ll see you on Saturday.”
Ana smiled her thanks, though Rafi’s gaze stayed sharp. For a moment, Amir studied her eyes as if searching for something, then turned and walked away with Rafi.
Ana watched them go, unsettled. Both were wearing suits—on a Saturday.
“They rich?” Mika said lightly. “Saudi heirs, maybe?”
“What do you mean?” Ana asked.
“Brioni suits. Edward Green shoes. That’s about the price of a luxury car. Two of them? Two cars.”
She bent to retrieve a canvas from behind their booth’s supplies, and began setting up again.
“Maybe they’re with the Republicans? There’s a national convention at the Garden tonight.”
The Garden—short for Madison Square Garden. Ana, still watching the two men’s retreating backs, said absently,
“Is that so.”
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My new novel:
B♭ (B-flat)
There’s still more to come. 😃
(This is not the final draft.)
Set in New York City.
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Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
Note: I gave a brief explanation of this novel in the following video:
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
iTunes Playlist Link::
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b/pl.u-47DJGhopxMD
Notes
1. "Bombay Blood Type (hh type)"
•Characteristics: A rare blood type that lacks the usual ABO antigens — cannot be classified as A, B, or O.
•Discovery: First identified in 1952 in Mumbai, India (formerly Bombay).
•Prevalence: Roughly 1 in 10,000 people in India; globally, about 1 in 2.5 million.
•Transfusion Compatibility: Only compatible with blood from other Bombay type donors.
2. 2024 Harvard University Valedictorian Speech – The Power of Not Knowing
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3. Shots Fired at Trump Rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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Title.
アプローチ通路。
( LUMIX G3 shot )
マンハッタン。ニューヨーク。アメリカ。2017. … 7 / 7
Images.
21 Savage, Summer Walker - prove it
youtu.be/oa8kjoT-MrM?si=IPmJ6WVmUokf1Wp2
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
第８弾。まだ推敲しますが、冒頭部分をほぼ最終的な形に仕上げました。😄
(もちろん最終稿ではありません。)
以下が同じ文章の初期です。比較するとおもしろいかもしれません。😄
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
1
ーーーー 恋に落ちる理由は、人によってさまざまだけど、恋に落ちていたと、あとになって気づくことに、理由はない。それをほんとうの恋だと、私は思う。できればそのとき、辺りに白く滲んだ光が差し込んでいたら、もっとわかりやすい。淡い光は人を包み、記憶を呼び覚ます。瞼を透かして、胸の内まで照らしだす。名も知らない人に出会い、多くを深く知るためには、大切な光だ ーーーー
やわらかな光が、倉庫の高窓から差し込んでいた。昼近くだというのに、まだ目を覚ましきれないような、おぼつかない白さだ。闇に溶け込んだ淡い光が、ひっそりと床に降り、ざらついたコンクリートの上に、かすかなまばゆさを滲ませている。
白いガムテープで四方に仕切られたブースのあいだを、アーティストたちが忙しなく行き交っていた。週末の展示と即売のために集まった人々が、それぞれの色と音を引き連れて、この雑多な古い倉庫にひしめいている。
半開きの搬入口からは、低音の効いたヒップホップが流れ込んでくる。引きずるような重いビートが床から壁面まで小刻みに震わせている—— おそらく搬入車のスピーカーだ。
東側搬入口のシャッターの隙間から、わずかに陽が差し、埃の粒を金色に舞わせていた。
若い、スーツをまとった男性がアナのブースへ腰を落とした。通路際の床に貼られた、白いガムテープには『Sieve（シーヴ）』と書かれている。アナらがグループ名で予約したブースだ。
男性は無造作に積み重なったノートの山から一つ抜き出した。ゆっくりページを繰りながら、静かに眺めている。褐色の肌は、たぶんアナと同じ、中東系の男性だ。端正な横顔に、ブルーの瞳が静かに輝いていた。その眼差しは、アナの作品の線を、丹念に、そして何度も追っている。緩いカーブの線の太さ、細い直線の重ね具合。鉛筆の濃淡を使った陰影。
言葉ではなく、眼で語ることができる人は、眼で多くを吸収することができる人だ。アナは幼少の頃からそう感じていた。
男性は、彼の視界の隅に入ったアナへ、微笑んだ。
「この作品は、君の？」
アナは、見入っていたことを取り繕うように慌てて答えた。
「ええ、私です」
「どうして普通の鉛筆で描いたの？ ラフスケッチ？」
彼が見ていたのは、カフェで待ち合わせていた恋人のアルジュンの横顔だった。アナが遅れてカフェにやってきた時、アルジュンは窓際に腰掛け、ノートパソコンを睨んでいた。鋭利な光の差し込み具合がアルジュンの真剣な眼差しと重なり合って、瞼に焼きついていた。その一瞬の横顔だ。
「いえ、下書きではなく、完成品です。鉛筆とか身近なペンが好きだから….」
彼はアナに微笑みで返した。それからいった。
「男性は彼？」
「はい」アナは屈託のない笑みで彼にそう素直に答えた。
「そうなんだ。少し残念だな、週末だというのに。こっちの絵は君のお母さん？」
アミールが差し出したページに近づき、アナは一瞬記憶をたどったが、自分の母、サンギータ・パテルをモデルにした絵だった。やはり横顔で少し俯き、郷土料理を作っている。口元から歯がのぞけ、微笑んでいる。
サンギータがキッチンに立つと、家中がスパイスと香ばしいフェヌグリークの香りに包まれた。冬になると必ず作る「ウンディユ」は、祖母の代から伝わるレシピだった。ヒンドゥー教徒時代の伝統的な家庭料理で、改宗しても変わらなかったのは、この料理に込めた“家族の円（まる）”の記憶だった。
アナヤにとって、それはインドの乾いた土の香りそのものだった。
「ええ、私の母です」
アミールは、口元を緩め、アナに応えると次のページを繰った。
「じゃ、これもお母さんかな？」
アナは、一歩近づき、見入った。やはり母の絵だ。ただし、料理を作っている優しい母ではなく、窓際で本を読んでいるものだ。本に落としている眼差しには、冷静さとどこか悲しみが潜んでいる。表紙には、くすんだ金色の文字で《Untouchable》と書かれていた。若い頃、町の図書館で偶然見つけたこの小説が、母の運命をそっと動かした。文字の奥に、かつての自分がいた。読書が祈りになり、祈りが決意に変わった。あの日から、サンギータの信仰は、“誰も傷つけない神”へと向かっていた。
アナは、アミールへ軽く微笑んでから肯き、答えた。
「はい、私の大好きな母で、尊敬しています」
アミールは再び絵に目を落とすと、人差し指で触れるか触れないかぐらいで、母の視線を辿った。
「素晴らしい眼の描き方だ」
その眼は、鉛筆の濃淡だけで描かれていた。なのに、驚くほど深く、何層にも重ねられた感情が宿っていた。輪郭はやわらかく、まつ毛の影がほんのわずかに揺れているように見えた。光を反射しているわけでもないのに、そこに確かに“見る”という行為があった。硬質な線のなかにかすかな震えを宿し、光を求めるように宙を見つめていた。陰影の重なりが、言葉にできない葛藤と祈りを滲ませている。まるで紙の奥に、魂そのものが沈黙のまま立ち尽くしているようだった。
「静かに戦っているような目だね…… それでいて、どこか赦している」
そう言ったアミールの声は、少し掠れていた。
アミールの言葉にアナの胸がざわめいた。熱した難解を冷静に解く。母のその両面をアナは描きたかった。アナの意図がアミールへ伝わっていた。
笑顔を戻し、アミールはゆっくり立ち上がりながらアナにそう答えた。
ミカが、他のブースのアーティストらに明るい笑顔を振り撒きながら、自分のキャンバス、F30の作品を背中に背負って足早にやってきた。
「よかったら私の作品も見ていってね。私はミカ」
ありがとうと言いながらアミールは手を差し出した。ミカは背負っていた作品をアナに預け、握手を交わした。アナは、なんで荷物をわたしに？ とやや不機嫌にミカへ耳打ちすると、ミカは同棲しているでしょと微笑み返した。
「僕の名前はアミール。アミール・ナッセル」
アミールは口元を緩めてふたりに笑いかけた。やや俯いて、床へ目を落とし、再び天井を見上げ、恥ずかしそうに目を逸らしてから少年のように微笑んだ。まだあどけなさを残していた。
スマートフォンに文字を打ち込みながら、ラフィは足早にやってくると、アナを一瞥し、アミールへ低い声でいった。首周りの贅肉からアミールよりもずっと年上のようだ。
「どうした？ 問題が？」
「いや、あとで話す」
アミールは、睨んだラフィの視線を悟すように、穏やかにいった。続けて、アナらに伝えた。
「ふたりともありがとう。素敵な時間だった。また土曜日に」
アナはありがとうと微笑んだが、ラフィはアミールを睨んだ。しばらく、アミールの視線はアナの瞳の奥を探るようにじっと見つめていたが、背を向け、ラフィと歩き出した。
アナはふたりを見て、不思議に思った。
アミールもラフィも土曜だというのにスーツを纏っている。二人の後ろ姿を見送りながら、ミカが明るくつぶやいた。
「ふたりともリッチマン？ サウジアラビアの御曹司とか」
アナが不思議そうにミカへ尋ねた。
「どういう意味？」
「スーツはブリオーニ。革靴はエドワードグリーン。高級車一台分ぐらいよ。あ、二人だから二台分。たぶんね」
ミカは、ブースに積まれた荷物の奥からキャンバスを取り出し、展示の準備を再び始めた。
「ひょっとしたら共和党の関係者かな？ 今夜、ガーデンで全国大会じゃない？」
ガーデンとは、マジソンスクエアガーデンの略称だ。アナは、二人の後ろ姿を見送りながら、気のない返事で答えた。
「そうなんだ」
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僕の新しい小説。
B♭ （ビーフラット）
舞台はニューヨークです。
8
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54713957969/in/dateposted...
7
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54703714420/in/dateposted...
6
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54696914108/in/dateposted...
5
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54686544606/in/dateposted...
4
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54653035442/in/dateposted...
3
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54639396885/in/dateposted...
2
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54628511025/in/dateposted...
1
www.flickr.com/photos/stealaway/54599616429/in/dateposted...
Soundtrack.
music.apple.com/jp/playlist/b-my-novel-soundtrack/pl.u-47...
追記 この小説を多少説明しました。
youtu.be/3w65lqUF-YI?si=yG7qy6TPeCL9xRJV
メモ
1
「Bombay型（ボンベイ型、hh型）」
•特徴：通常のABO血液型を持たない（A、B、Oに分類されない）特殊な型。
•発見地：1952年、インド・ムンバイ（旧ボンベイ）で初めて確認。
•発生頻度：インドでは1万人に1人程度だが、世界的には約250万人に1人とも。
•輸血制限：同じBombay型しか輸血できない。
2
2024年ハーバード大学首席の卒業式スピーチ『知らないことの力』
youtu.be/SOUH8iVqSOI?si=Ju-Y728irtcWR71K
3
Shots fired at Trump rally
youtu.be/1ejfAkzjEhk?si=ASqJwEmkY-2rW_hT
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#Exhibition #デザインフェスタ #デザフェス #designfesta #tokyobigsight #東京ビッグサイト #Lumix #ルミックス #パナソニック #Panasonic #G3 #やちまた #八街 #八街市 #yachimata #yachimatacity #cityofyachimata #NewYork #ニューヨーク #マンハッタン #Manhattan #アメリカ #USA #Japan #Manhattan #Newyork #日本 #千葉 #小説 #Chiba #novel #B♭ #ビーフラット #テイラースウィフト #TaylorSwift #ellegarden #lonesome #エルレガーデン #エルレ #TylerTheCreator #DanielCaesar #LaToiyaWilliams #TakeYourMaskOff
#21Savage #SummerWalker
"Madison's Treasures', the Madison Historical Society Centennial photo-book. Learn more about this new publication at madisonhistory.org/madison-treasures/. See more images of this new book at flic.kr/s/aHsm4ghhbJ.
ObjID# A2017.MadTreas.000
(Photo credit Bob Gundersen www.flickr.com/photos/bobphoto51/albums)
Medium- Water soluble transparent colour on paper,
Size- 47.5 cm x 65.5 cm ( excluding frame),
Art by Tamal Sen Sharma,
#artcollectors #artexhibition #artbuyers #art #artgallery #artgalleries #artgalleryonline #artistsonlinkedin #paintings #painting #paintingart #painter #gallery #galleryart #artforsale #fineart #finearts #abstractart #abstractartist #abstract #modernart #modernart #arte #galeriedart #wheel
As most of you know, I enjoy trying to create a congruency between image and word, song, or quote in conjunction with an appropriate title. I thought I might share the process with you on this lazy Sunday morning. Surmising that rose hips would not be a subject providing verbal inspiration over the ages, my mind went to a play on words concept, which quickly yielded a number of title possibilities, such as:
1) Hip, Hip, Hooray; 2) Joined at the Hip; 3) Shoot from the Hip; or 4) Does This Make My Hips Look Big?
While all were acceptable, I tended to lean toward the last, that old, feminine favorite. Not expecting much, I nevertheless decided to seek a quote which might enhance the whole. Remarkably, I found one of history's truly significant religious leaders had offered his thoughts on hips...perfectly ironic for a Sunday morning. While I have never seen these particular words carved over the altar in any church I've attended and they admittedly are not some of his more famous utterings, I believe it is one of the famed 95 Theses posted on the Wittenberg Castle Church door on October 31, 1517. (Trick or treat?) Perhaps one of the religious scholars amongst my followers could confirm this. Nevertheless, I thought I would offer them as a tribute to my feminine followers for their serious consideration...or perhaps, reconsideration. To wit:
"Men have broad and large chests, and small narrow hips, and more understanding than women, who have but small and narrow breasts, and broad hips, to the end they should remain at home, sit still, keep house, and bear and bring up children." -- Martin Luther
Do I hear an "Amen?" ;-)) Probably not. One might say that by today's standards (except for a segment of American politicians), the wild and crazy Martin wasn't too hip...
[Another view in comments...]
Ás veces pasan estas cousas. Apenas un par de horas despois de que entre o outono, de que os días sexan xa máis curtos cás noites, vas á praia e, ó voltar por onde xa pasaches centos de veces, miles, atopas unha imaxe pola que parar.
E paras, axústa-lo 55-200 e pasas uns minutos probando cousas. Tampouco demasiado tempo porque a Lúa móvese. Ou a Terra. Ou ambas.
E igual que estou eu, tamé se achega unha rapaza porque se fixou en exactamente a mesma imaxe ca ti e quere gardala en uns e ceros, so que o seu móbil non lle permite facer aquilo que lle gustaría. A Lúa é así de complicada de fotografiar sen o equipo axeitado. Que non é que o teña eu, pero cun móbil é aínda moito máis complicado.
Así que marcha co seu ¿mozo? mentras eu sigo a probar cousas ata que a Lúa xa se moveu demasiado, ou a Terra, ou ambas, e o encadre non é xa igual de interesante.
Vai por eses momentos e vai por esa rapaza.