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BONDUARIES
“During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
[Bonduaries]
During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
A true architectural wonder, the Basilica of Our Lady of Victory stands as a tangible symbol of one man's unshakable faith and devotion to his patroness, Mary. It is a place of wondrous beauty, radiating hope to all those who arrive at its doors in desperate need. Its hundreds of paintings, sculptures, and mosaics dazzle the senses and evoke awe in even the hardest of hearts. But, above all, the Basilica is a gift of thanks. A gift, offered by Msgr. Nelson Baker, V.G., to his helpmate, Our Lady of Victory, for more than 50 years of inspiration and spiritual assistance.
The Gift
The year was 1921. Although Father Baker was 79 years old, he was still a visionary with great dreams -- and he had one more that needed attention. At a routine parish council meeting, the humble priest shocked all in attendance as he calmly unveiled ambitious plans for a shrine that would rival any within the U.S. Speaking before an astonished crowd, Father Baker outlined his desire for the finest materials and artists to come together for a true masterwork -- a way of paying homage to the Blessed Mother who provided him with so much throughout the years. Astounding all with his infectious vigor, construction was begun almost immediately.
Knowing that he had not set aside a penny for the new shrine's building did not seem to upset him either, as Father Baker was confident that Our Lady of Victory would again look kindly upon him -- and She did. The "Padre of the Poor" sent out a call of support and it was answered by thousands of citizens from around the nation, happy to support such a divine project. Some contributed through the Association of Our Lady of Victory, Father Baker's pioneering direct-mail fundraising club (via per-brick sponsorships of $10), while countless others sent offerings both large and small.
By late1925, construction of the great Sanctuary of Our Lady of Victory was completed and the first Mass was held there on Christmas of that year. Amazingly, when it opened the following year, the Basilica had no debt, having been completely paid for at a cost of $3.2 million. On May 25, 1926, a very special consecration ceremony took place. Attended by thousands of local dignitaries, priests, nuns, and well-wishers, the event was presided over by Father Baker, Bishop William Turner of the Diocese of Buffalo, and Cardinal Patrick Hayes. Within two months an even higher honor was bestowed upon the shrine as it was officially designated a Minor Basilica via an apostolic decree from Pope Pius XI. Father Baker's greatest dream had been realized: the gift had been given
Through the Years
Although the Basilica has seen many years, it has not seen too many changes. Only three events have altered the original design of the shrine significantly.
In 1941, a freak and violent lightning storm caused major damage to the Basilica's original twin towers. Father Baker's first successor, Msgr. Joseph Maguire, led the efforts to refurbish the structures, replacing the marble towers with the lower, enclosed, copper-dome-tipped towers that can be seen today.
The only other change to the Basilica's exterior took place some 60 years later. Piles of snow and ice caused by the harsh winter of 2001-2002 took its toll on the National Shrine, forcing Msgr. Robert Wurtz to replace the shrine's greenish-hued roof. When the Basilica was first built, the dome and the roof were made of a shiny copper, but, over time, those features turned green due to prolonged exposure to the elements (the same chemical change seen on the Statue of Liberty). A new copper roof was put up, and although, it doesn't match the other greenish highlights, the structure will begin to turn colors in upcoming years and is expected to blend right in with the other sections of copper in about 50 years.
Father Baker Comes Home
March 11, 1999, was a date which would see a profound change in the shrine, and in the minds of thousands of Western New Yorkers. It was on that day, that Father Nelson Baker came home.
In July 1998, Msgr. Robert Wurtz, pastor of OLV Parish announced that the earthly remains of Father Baker would be transferred from nearby Holy Cross Cemetery into his most beloved of creations, the OLV Basilica. The move, which was ordered by the Congregation for the Causes of Saints in Rome, would help raise awareness of Father Baker, his mission, and his legacy. On that brilliant morning in March, Father Baker's casket, carried by six men who were raised by the Padre of the Poor himself, was placed in a sarcophagus within the Grotto Shrine to Our Lady of Lourdes, found on the southern end of the Basilica's transept. A truly unique area, the Grotto is hewn out of black lava rock from Mount Vesuvius in Italy. At the time of its construction, Father Baker insisted on finding a material that was untouched by humans to pay tribute to the vision of Our Blessed Lady to St. Bernadatte in Lourdes, France. It is estimated that nearly 6,000 people passed through the Basilica's doors that day just to honor the humble priest and all of his accomplishments.
Today & Beyond
In 2001, a celebration 75 years in the making was held as the OLV Parish celebrated the National Shrine's Diamond Jubilee. As the 75th Anniversary of consecration approached, a committee of parishioners and OLV Institutions' staff members banned together to plan a truly special day. On May 26, a special Mass was followed by a dinner party, at which hundreds of dignitaries, clergy members, and friends came together to celebrate the OLV Basilica and its saintly founder, Father Nelson Baker.
Today, the Basilica continues to draw close to 2,000 visitors every month. Pilgrims and well-wishers of all faiths from every state gather to offer prayers to Father Baker, enjoy a calm moment of reflection, or just to admire the breath-taking architecture. The future will no doubt hold even more promise, as Father Baker advances down the long Path to Sainthood. Beatification (the next step and the second of three in the process), would, in itself, cause attendance to jump, while canonization is expected to bring tens of thousands of visitors to Lackawanna and its wondrous shrine.
Simply stated, the OLV Basilica is what it is: a shrine of unparalleled beauty, a place for all to dream, hope and believe in. But it is also this: a gift offered by a humble servant to a provider of great things, the Blessed Mother. It is, and ever will be, a symbol of Father Baker's steadying faith and a dream that was very much worth dreaming.
A true architectural wonder, the Basilica of Our Lady of Victory stands as a tangible symbol of one man's unshakable faith and devotion to his patroness, Mary. It is a place of wondrous beauty, radiating hope to all those who arrive at its doors in desperate need. Its hundreds of paintings, sculptures, and mosaics dazzle the senses and evoke awe in even the hardest of hearts. But, above all, the Basilica is a gift of thanks. A gift, offered by Msgr. Nelson Baker, V.G., to his helpmate, Our Lady of Victory, for more than 50 years of inspiration and spiritual assistance.
The Gift
The year was 1921. Although Father Baker was 79 years old, he was still a visionary with great dreams -- and he had one more that needed attention. At a routine parish council meeting, the humble priest shocked all in attendance as he calmly unveiled ambitious plans for a shrine that would rival any within the U.S. Speaking before an astonished crowd, Father Baker outlined his desire for the finest materials and artists to come together for a true masterwork -- a way of paying homage to the Blessed Mother who provided him with so much throughout the years. Astounding all with his infectious vigor, construction was begun almost immediately.
Knowing that he had not set aside a penny for the new shrine's building did not seem to upset him either, as Father Baker was confident that Our Lady of Victory would again look kindly upon him -- and She did. The "Padre of the Poor" sent out a call of support and it was answered by thousands of citizens from around the nation, happy to support such a divine project. Some contributed through the Association of Our Lady of Victory, Father Baker's pioneering direct-mail fundraising club (via per-brick sponsorships of $10), while countless others sent offerings both large and small.
By late1925, construction of the great Sanctuary of Our Lady of Victory was completed and the first Mass was held there on Christmas of that year. Amazingly, when it opened the following year, the Basilica had no debt, having been completely paid for at a cost of $3.2 million. On May 25, 1926, a very special consecration ceremony took place. Attended by thousands of local dignitaries, priests, nuns, and well-wishers, the event was presided over by Father Baker, Bishop William Turner of the Diocese of Buffalo, and Cardinal Patrick Hayes. Within two months an even higher honor was bestowed upon the shrine as it was officially designated a Minor Basilica via an apostolic decree from Pope Pius XI. Father Baker's greatest dream had been realized: the gift had been given
Through the Years
Although the Basilica has seen many years, it has not seen too many changes. Only three events have altered the original design of the shrine significantly.
In 1941, a freak and violent lightning storm caused major damage to the Basilica's original twin towers. Father Baker's first successor, Msgr. Joseph Maguire, led the efforts to refurbish the structures, replacing the marble towers with the lower, enclosed, copper-dome-tipped towers that can be seen today.
The only other change to the Basilica's exterior took place some 60 years later. Piles of snow and ice caused by the harsh winter of 2001-2002 took its toll on the National Shrine, forcing Msgr. Robert Wurtz to replace the shrine's greenish-hued roof. When the Basilica was first built, the dome and the roof were made of a shiny copper, but, over time, those features turned green due to prolonged exposure to the elements (the same chemical change seen on the Statue of Liberty). A new copper roof was put up, and although, it doesn't match the other greenish highlights, the structure will begin to turn colors in upcoming years and is expected to blend right in with the other sections of copper in about 50 years.
Father Baker Comes Home
March 11, 1999, was a date which would see a profound change in the shrine, and in the minds of thousands of Western New Yorkers. It was on that day, that Father Nelson Baker came home.
In July 1998, Msgr. Robert Wurtz, pastor of OLV Parish announced that the earthly remains of Father Baker would be transferred from nearby Holy Cross Cemetery into his most beloved of creations, the OLV Basilica. The move, which was ordered by the Congregation for the Causes of Saints in Rome, would help raise awareness of Father Baker, his mission, and his legacy. On that brilliant morning in March, Father Baker's casket, carried by six men who were raised by the Padre of the Poor himself, was placed in a sarcophagus within the Grotto Shrine to Our Lady of Lourdes, found on the southern end of the Basilica's transept. A truly unique area, the Grotto is hewn out of black lava rock from Mount Vesuvius in Italy. At the time of its construction, Father Baker insisted on finding a material that was untouched by humans to pay tribute to the vision of Our Blessed Lady to St. Bernadatte in Lourdes, France. It is estimated that nearly 6,000 people passed through the Basilica's doors that day just to honor the humble priest and all of his accomplishments.
Today & Beyond
In 2001, a celebration 75 years in the making was held as the OLV Parish celebrated the National Shrine's Diamond Jubilee. As the 75th Anniversary of consecration approached, a committee of parishioners and OLV Institutions' staff members banned together to plan a truly special day. On May 26, a special Mass was followed by a dinner party, at which hundreds of dignitaries, clergy members, and friends came together to celebrate the OLV Basilica and its saintly founder, Father Nelson Baker.
Today, the Basilica continues to draw close to 2,000 visitors every month. Pilgrims and well-wishers of all faiths from every state gather to offer prayers to Father Baker, enjoy a calm moment of reflection, or just to admire the breath-taking architecture. The future will no doubt hold even more promise, as Father Baker advances down the long Path to Sainthood. Beatification (the next step and the second of three in the process), would, in itself, cause attendance to jump, while canonization is expected to bring tens of thousands of visitors to Lackawanna and its wondrous shrine.
Simply stated, the OLV Basilica is what it is: a shrine of unparalleled beauty, a place for all to dream, hope and believe in. But it is also this: a gift offered by a humble servant to a provider of great things, the Blessed Mother. It is, and ever will be, a symbol of Father Baker's steadying faith and a dream that was very much worth dreaming.
The most tangible and versatile analog audio format ever invented: reel-to-reel tape.
Explored October 3, 2022.
"Dawdler Dream" by Bambi Chicque ~Photo taken at THE SLEEPING SNAIL BY REBECA BASHLY
Away to the sea the Sleeping Snail watches calmly for no curse
to a folklore Princess.
All curiosity within one’s breath and first glimpse remains etched forever
in one’s soul and memory.
Be as slow as a snail and take pride as you enter a world of golden complex
with hints of surreal to real and back again.
To go “as slow as a snail” is rarely considered a good thing;
yet until you enter The Sleeping Snail by Rebeca Bashly.
♛
Spending 3 hours dangling, flying, gawking, spying and observing
did not feel like eternity as it was still not enough time spent
with a dream of a pure tangible sight to behold.
♛
No matter which windlight you select while shooting your favorite
composed angles, you will be pleased with each shot!
Read more here:
bampulegacies.com/2014/01/05/dawdler-dream-sleeping-snail...
Two days ago a huge storm blew through my town. My phone went off again and again to alert me of a severe storm warning. Stay inside, it said. Not a chance. I ran out into the blizzard to create.
This weekend was the last with my foster baby. I raised her to 5 months old and today she went to a new home. It knocked the air out of me, and I broke a little. But I've done this before, and I know even as I feel broken, I am rebuilding.
Today, I celebrate saying yes to every opportunity, no matter how much pain it will bring. Especially because of how much pain it will bring.It is a great fortune to love so deeply that it hurts. I'm so lucky to create through those experiences. To make this new piece of art when grief has sharpened my senses - the good and the bad - into something tangible and real.
We can run from grief, or we can meet it.
We can turn away from pain, or we can feel it.
I choose to live wholly, painfully, beautifully.
May we all learn to use grief as a microscope to see the beauty in darkness.It's there, that I promise.
"Vitality", self-portrait, March 2021
Vitality: capacity for survival or for the continuation of a meaningful or purposeful existence.
Vor vielen Jahren entwarf und nähte ich Tastbilderbücher für Blinde und sehbehinderte Kinder. In diesem Buch ist die zweite Hälfte des Alphabets in Blindenschrift mit Perlen tastbar und in Normalschrift in Kontrastfarben für jene mit Sehrest sichtbar.
Many years ago I designed and sewed tactile picture books for blind and visually impaired children. In this book, the second half of the alphabet is tangible with pearls in Braille and visible in contrasting colours for those with remaining sight.
Tangibles.
Pateando puertas acciones malvadas objetivos rebaños vocación filosófica poderes devastadores dinamitas literatura lecciones caras ruidos embrutecidos,
delirious dårskap sin pessimisme tilstede påvirkning steder intellektuelle former utallige muligheter eldgamle andakter følsomhet kontoer,
charmes médiocres considérer les goûts déduire les esprits les règles montantes la connaissance les découvertes les ignorants les idées industrieuses les passions diaboliques,
plebeus predileções jorrando exercícios tirânicos divagando diabos questões mal-entendidos morais desejáveis exemplos enredando,
ינווענטיוונאַס סודות טיפענישן צאָרעס באשעפענישן פּאַמפּערינג אַרבעט פאָלגעוודיקייַט וועלט דיסענגיידזש דוטיז באַגרייַפן דיאַגנאָסיס,
混合疾患純粋な麻痺の主張懐疑論驚くべき否定的な流れる危険な地下の懐疑論者曲がった仮説生理学的病気神経質な美徳バラストの決定自由の喜び.
Steve.D.Hammond.
[Bonduaries]
During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
There was a change tangible in the air that buzzed with the voices of summer - the dull hum of several simultaneous conversations or distant bird songs barely reaching our ears. I submit it is the air, the aura, that is different from the other seasons. With summer comes a time when anything seems possible - the strange closeness of the sun warming the spirits of each and every body, overflowing with energy, inspiration, creativity, joy, love. Summer is the season for adventure.
Do I sound like a broken record to anyone else?
Madison, again. Effortlessly flawless, this girl is.
There's a good summer somewhere in the cards. I'll be doing self portraits sometime soon again. It's a bit harder with film, but I'm going to try. It's been a while, I bet you all forgot what I looked like.
As he breathed a soft sigh and settled into one of the soft chairs in the back of First Coffee, the outside world blurred into a palette of unfocused lights. Inside, the café was alive, but not with noise—with the quiet presence of cats.
They were everywhere—sprawled across chairs, curled up on tables, perched in high places like silent observers. Their movements were unhurried, deliberate, as if they understood the importance of slowing down.
Marqs sat with seven of them surrounding him, their soft purrs weaving an invisible cocoon of calm. A calico stretched out near his feet, its paw twitching as it dreamed. A Siamese balanced delicately on the arm of his chair, its gaze steady and knowing.
The purring wasn't just a sound—it was a sensation, a soothing vibration that seemed to echo against the weight in Marqs' chest. The tabby pressed close, its warmth tangible, as though offering silent reassurance that he wasn't alone, no matter the storms that he had been going through.
In their quiet, gentle way, the cats brought solace. They didn’t pry or push; their presence wasn’t a solution but a simple reminder that calm could be found even in the midst of chaos.
The storm outside would pass eventually—Marqs didn’t need answers right now. The soft paws, gentle purrs, and silent companionship were enough.
It's a widespread belief that to live a meaningful life, we must possess a grand dream, a singular ambition that ignites our passions and guides our every action. But what if we don't have that all-consuming aspiration? What if, instead of burning for something unreachable, we choose to focus on the warmth of the present moment? Believe it or not, it's okay to not have a dream, and it might even hold the key to a profoundly fulfilling existence.
The relentless pursuit of dreams often comes with a heavy side of anxiety. The pressure to achieve some extraordinary feat can create a constant hum of dissatisfaction with the ordinary. We become blind to the small joys found within the everyday, sacrificing the sweetness of the present for a future that may never materialize.
Furthermore, dreams can be blinding. When we fixate on a singular vision, we risk missing the unexpected opportunities that arise along our journey. We become inflexible, unable to adapt when life inevitably throws us curveballs. By releasing ourselves from the imagined perfection of a dream, we open ourselves to the beautiful randomness of life.
This doesn't mean we shouldn't strive for growth or desire a fulfilling life. Instead of a distant, nebulous dream, we can focus on tangible aspirations and passions that enrich our daily experiences. Learning a new skill, nurturing meaningful relationships, exploring the world through travel, or giving back to our community; all of these can give our lives purpose and fill us with satisfaction.
The foundation of this approach is gratitude. Thankfulness for the gift of being alive, for the simple pleasures that surround us, has the power to transform our perspective. Through it, we realize that a dream is not what gives life meaning; meaning is found in the unfolding of each and every day.
So, if the idea of a big, unattainable dream leaves you feeling uninspired or even anxious, know that it's okay. It's okay to walk rather than sprint, to marvel at the present rather than fixate on the future. Find your joy within the ordinary, in the actions you take day by day, and create a beautiful life defined solely by your own intentions and experiences.
A narrow passage winds through the souq of Marrakech, bathed in soft sunlight filtering through the brightly decorated stalls. Ornate lamps and handcrafted artifacts line the narrow alley, each telling its own story of Moroccan craftsmanship.
The scent of spices and intricate fabrics hangs in the air, while mysterious figures of shadowed people move through this labyrinth. The magic is tangible.
James Turrell (1943) designed a permanent 'Skyspace' for Museum Voorlinden. The room with integrated wall benches has a square roof opening, allowing visitors to look straight up. On clear days the blue sky is framed like a painting. You know it's real - not an arty illusion - the sky comes closer, but the air remains out of reach.
When the weather turns bad, the roof is closed and a slow-changing lighting program, curated by Turrell, takes over. The interaction of natural light with the bright, almost tangible colors of the lamps is breathtaking. The artist plays with our perception and tries to make something as intangible as light tangible.
Even though she sleeps upon your satin
Even though she wakes you with a kiss
Do not say the moment was imagined
Do not stoop to strategies like this.
As someone long prepared for this to happen
Go firmly to the window.
Drink it in.
Exquisite music. Alexandra laughing.
Your firm commitments tangible again.
- Leonard Cohen
BONDUARIES
“During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
Basilique Notre-Dame de l'Assomption Neuchatel
communément appelée église rouge1, est un lieu de culte catholique construit entre 1897 et 1906. L’architecture de cet édifice de grandes dimensions ne sacrifie pas à l’unité stylistique prisée au XIXe siècle, mais juxtapose habilement les références néo-médiévales et les solutions constructives résolument contemporaines. L’érection de cette église revêt aussi un aspect symbolique, marquant de façon tangible l’essor et l’acceptation du catholicisme à Neuchâtel à la fin du XIXe siècle.
Basilica of Our Lady of the Assumption Neuchatel
commonly known as the Red Church1 , is a Catholic place of worship built between 1897 and 1906. The architecture of this large building does not sacrifice the stylistic unity favoured in the 19th century, but skilfully juxtaposes neo-medieval references and resolutely contemporary constructional solutions. The erection of this church also has a symbolic aspect, marking in a tangible way the rise and acceptance of Catholicism in Neuchâtel at the end of the 19th century.
"But when I was studying that railway guide, it was so tangible and so satisfying that something just clicked. Then it clacked. Then it clicked, then it clacked, click-clack clickety-clack, and here we are. Whoo-whoo!"
- Sheldon Cooper in "The Locomotion Reverberation" (Big Bang Theory)
A true architectural wonder, the Basilica of Our Lady of Victory stands as a tangible symbol of one man's unshakable faith and devotion to his patroness, Mary. It is a place of wondrous beauty, radiating hope to all those who arrive at its doors in desperate need. Its hundreds of paintings, sculptures, and mosaics dazzle the senses and evoke awe in even the hardest of hearts. But, above all, the Basilica is a gift of thanks. A gift, offered by Msgr. Nelson Baker, V.G., to his helpmate, Our Lady of Victory, for more than 50 years of inspiration and spiritual assistance.
The Gift
The year was 1921. Although Father Baker was 79 years old, he was still a visionary with great dreams -- and he had one more that needed attention. At a routine parish council meeting, the humble priest shocked all in attendance as he calmly unveiled ambitious plans for a shrine that would rival any within the U.S. Speaking before an astonished crowd, Father Baker outlined his desire for the finest materials and artists to come together for a true masterwork -- a way of paying homage to the Blessed Mother who provided him with so much throughout the years. Astounding all with his infectious vigor, construction was begun almost immediately.
Knowing that he had not set aside a penny for the new shrine's building did not seem to upset him either, as Father Baker was confident that Our Lady of Victory would again look kindly upon him -- and She did. The "Padre of the Poor" sent out a call of support and it was answered by thousands of citizens from around the nation, happy to support such a divine project. Some contributed through the Association of Our Lady of Victory, Father Baker's pioneering direct-mail fundraising club (via per-brick sponsorships of $10), while countless others sent offerings both large and small.
By late1925, construction of the great Sanctuary of Our Lady of Victory was completed and the first Mass was held there on Christmas of that year. Amazingly, when it opened the following year, the Basilica had no debt, having been completely paid for at a cost of $3.2 million. On May 25, 1926, a very special consecration ceremony took place. Attended by thousands of local dignitaries, priests, nuns, and well-wishers, the event was presided over by Father Baker, Bishop William Turner of the Diocese of Buffalo, and Cardinal Patrick Hayes. Within two months an even higher honor was bestowed upon the shrine as it was officially designated a Minor Basilica via an apostolic decree from Pope Pius XI. Father Baker's greatest dream had been realized: the gift had been given
Through the Years
Although the Basilica has seen many years, it has not seen too many changes. Only three events have altered the original design of the shrine significantly.
In 1941, a freak and violent lightning storm caused major damage to the Basilica's original twin towers. Father Baker's first successor, Msgr. Joseph Maguire, led the efforts to refurbish the structures, replacing the marble towers with the lower, enclosed, copper-dome-tipped towers that can be seen today.
The only other change to the Basilica's exterior took place some 60 years later. Piles of snow and ice caused by the harsh winter of 2001-2002 took its toll on the National Shrine, forcing Msgr. Robert Wurtz to replace the shrine's greenish-hued roof. When the Basilica was first built, the dome and the roof were made of a shiny copper, but, over time, those features turned green due to prolonged exposure to the elements (the same chemical change seen on the Statue of Liberty). A new copper roof was put up, and although, it doesn't match the other greenish highlights, the structure will begin to turn colors in upcoming years and is expected to blend right in with the other sections of copper in about 50 years.
Father Baker Comes Home
March 11, 1999, was a date which would see a profound change in the shrine, and in the minds of thousands of Western New Yorkers. It was on that day, that Father Nelson Baker came home.
In July 1998, Msgr. Robert Wurtz, pastor of OLV Parish announced that the earthly remains of Father Baker would be transferred from nearby Holy Cross Cemetery into his most beloved of creations, the OLV Basilica. The move, which was ordered by the Congregation for the Causes of Saints in Rome, would help raise awareness of Father Baker, his mission, and his legacy. On that brilliant morning in March, Father Baker's casket, carried by six men who were raised by the Padre of the Poor himself, was placed in a sarcophagus within the Grotto Shrine to Our Lady of Lourdes, found on the southern end of the Basilica's transept. A truly unique area, the Grotto is hewn out of black lava rock from Mount Vesuvius in Italy. At the time of its construction, Father Baker insisted on finding a material that was untouched by humans to pay tribute to the vision of Our Blessed Lady to St. Bernadatte in Lourdes, France. It is estimated that nearly 6,000 people passed through the Basilica's doors that day just to honor the humble priest and all of his accomplishments.
Today & Beyond
In 2001, a celebration 75 years in the making was held as the OLV Parish celebrated the National Shrine's Diamond Jubilee. As the 75th Anniversary of consecration approached, a committee of parishioners and OLV Institutions' staff members banned together to plan a truly special day. On May 26, a special Mass was followed by a dinner party, at which hundreds of dignitaries, clergy members, and friends came together to celebrate the OLV Basilica and its saintly founder, Father Nelson Baker.
Today, the Basilica continues to draw close to 2,000 visitors every month. Pilgrims and well-wishers of all faiths from every state gather to offer prayers to Father Baker, enjoy a calm moment of reflection, or just to admire the breath-taking architecture. The future will no doubt hold even more promise, as Father Baker advances down the long Path to Sainthood. Beatification (the next step and the second of three in the process), would, in itself, cause attendance to jump, while canonization is expected to bring tens of thousands of visitors to Lackawanna and its wondrous shrine.
Simply stated, the OLV Basilica is what it is: a shrine of unparalleled beauty, a place for all to dream, hope and believe in. But it is also this: a gift offered by a humble servant to a provider of great things, the Blessed Mother. It is, and ever will be, a symbol of Father Baker's steadying faith and a dream that was very much worth dreaming.
The Giants Causeway Coast and Antrim Glens – an area of unsurpassed beauty, a unique fusion of tangible heritage and magnificent scenery. An area whose breathtaking and rugged coastline merges into the romantic landscape of its deep silent glens and lush forest parks.
The wonders don't stop there as the region has been made famous by the Causeway Coastal Route which is seen as the 'Essential Irish Journey' and one of the most outstanding scenic drives in the world featuring the Giant's Causeway. It's a voyage not to be rushed and provides a journey of exploration, where imagination meets reality and where every village and town, castle and rocky shore are waiting to be discovered.
«The most tangible of all visible mysteries - fire» – Leigh Hunt
Cabossa 2019. The traditional epiphanic fire is burning to seal the end of the past year and to welcome the new one, with the interpretation of the direction of the smoke. Aquileia (UD), Italy. © Michele Marcolin, 2019. K1ii + DFA 24-70
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At the beginning of the year bonfires are a popular tradition of the Italian Northeastern areas, consisting of burning large piles of wood and branches in the first days of January -usually on January 6, the day of the epiphany.
Given its widespread diffusion, there are many versions and denominations: in Friuli it is called 'pignarûl', in Bisiacaria 'seima', in Veneto 'panevìn' (from pan e vin "bread and wine", the poor food that is consumed during the event), pìroła-pàroła, vècia, fogherada, bubarata, in lower Friuli and in Aquileia, it is called 'Cabossa'.
Its origin is lost in time, but it certainly related to the cult of Beleno, the ancient proto-Celtic divinity of light and fire which was kept alive until the 6th century AD. It seems that this custom derives from purifying and propitiatory rites. which were widespread in pre-Christian times.
The Celts, for example, lit fires to ingratiate themselves with the divinity and burned a puppet representing the past and read in its fumes auspices for the future.
As the "Autumn Equinox" passes and there is a tangible feeling of change in the air it is the time of the year to decant to the woods to wonder at natures little gems.......
Explore #101 | large on black
I wanted to take a little break from my farmer's market flower series to show another dead dragonfly pic.
This one I really love ... the selective focus on the wing with the extreme bokeh of the body and head behind. I think it has a really magical quality and a very intriguing blend of abstract and tangible.
Dios no lo sabe, pero yo estoy triste
como los viejos pozos en la tarde;
triste como el portón de la herrería
que hace cien años que no ha abierto nadie.
José Ángel Buesa.