View allAll Photos Tagged Transcend
de Young Museum in Golden Gate Park - San Francisco, CA
American Art
The de Young’s American art collection, spanning from the 17th century to the present day, is the most comprehensive survey collection of American art in the American West, and is among the top 10 collections nationally that encompass the entire history of non-indigenous American art. The acquisition of the distinguished Rockefeller Collection, along with later gifts and purchases, transformed the American art collection into a true national treasure, as well as a significant cultural and educational resource for both residents and tourists.
The art on view spans four centuries and includes objects created by Native American cultures, subsequent immigrants, enslaved Africans, and their descendants. Many of these cultures clashed over their differing visions of America’s past, present, and future, while also borrowing and sharing ideas from each other. This historical diversity and complexity has led to the creation of many hybrid art objects that are among the defining features of culture in the United States.
The breadth and depth of the American art collection enables visitors to explore many of the most influential developments in American art and history. These objects reflect both the personal visions of the artists and the collective concerns of their communities. The juxtaposition of old objects with newer ones in the galleries is intended to foster a dialogue between the past and the present, and to remind viewers that cultural ideas can transcend the artwork’s time and place of origin.
Sounds : Right Click and select "Open link in new tab"
www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulOzErzHM_c
Milena Glowacka - Trascend [SEMANTICA101+]
transcend
. . . . . be or go beyond the range or limits of
transcend poitical or social boundaries :-) Jimmy Carter
HBW!! which makes me wonder why i have seen no quotes about the love of nature from any Republican president since TR ;-(
hemlock bluffs nature preserve, cary, north carolina
The Civil War encampment was filled not just with soldiers but all sorts of people representing life as it existed in the 1860s. I came upon this woman sitting quietly beneath a tent. She caught my eye from several hundred feet away. I approached and introduced myself. She possessed a quiet dignity, a sense of gravitas. She spoke softly and was kind to me. She agreed to pose and I captured this beautiful, timeless portrait.
One impeccable old Valaiser is Lafnetscha, derived from Laff-nit-scha in local dialect. Here, a march for Corpus Christi.
A hair salon (="peluqueria") somewhere along the road less traveled by tourists in Mexico. I thought the shot was interesting not only because of the composition, but because of the man walking out onto the street checking the lenght of his new haircut -- this hair salon did not even have a mirror for customers to inspect the "after" result!
based this one on the fairies at the bottom of the garden....trying to show them braking through time & space from one world to another.....
thanks for looking.....appreciated....best bigger....hope you have a Great Weekend
under the skies that transcend billions of universes,
the outsized elephant-room of questions & secrets;
deepak ` the lightwriter's canvas broach in open.
we read our dread, Who if I cried out would hear me?
mind the stillness-mat viz; feelings get encroached; at
first, you praise their dress, then you get ash-dressed.
'ours' keeps breaking - ourselves, within our perimeter.
bully / pulpit alters us; diminishes sickle consciousness.
betwixt the micro spaces of conversation / correctness,
a certain static silence had enshrined in - just all over.
harbinger of tenuous assumptions kept on ossifying
into the experiments with musts, doubts, turncoats.
approvers bare intimacy that bears inching eyes;
and when one is completely inside one's perfidy,
a cover-up mindset suborns a hushed horizon —
pretends - the decisions had been difficult. 'yes'
— deserts us in a forgetting curve that reminds us,
of sti-ff-ness between us, culturing the same sky.
take over air consternates us-sets dreams on fire.
formless hubris viz debris, give themselves to gust
to be e'er scattered betwixt this/that; bedraggled.
zeroing in, insecurity at the heart of human constructs
the displaced shoes let you see, the surface of yore.
a long haul to dig and find, the great heart of our past.
no spin here, to foresee, real ground under our feet.
unchopping a tree, perched on wasteland, silences..
a thousand mile stare, ensouls thousand silhouettes:
anagram—breathy.ed each other to the bridging truth;
and learnedness, endlessly multiplied with curtain call.
where e g /oquence isolates honest assessment, not
being one of their chiliad/st.ic quarters isn't isolation.
not a diminishment, if being exercised more fully -
- truth's episodic memory is tender and unwavering;
ongoing procedure of days - = - simply transformative,
to rain align, all the absorbed moments of illumination.
bathed in light, friendships bear holistic temperament
alert, alert, alter! “after the game is before the game”.
tales shine in via our window of thousand caresses,
where you are sewing a blouse that feeds the spine.
tender paws & sky-ball inside, dashing out of a conch;
over tears-coasts, the white expanse, so kind & clear.
coconut chirping an intrinsic and glorious awakening.
rose dew here, and trouble talk lies beyond the map.
the truth is made real through servitude in affection.
psithurism of intimate revelations recalls clutched keys;
the key did turn. everywhere you turn is full of wonder.
awed to see - the shift inside, shifts deep garden state!
how did a blackbird of the milky way land up here,
that joy glistens in the kaleidoscopic, tent•i•er eyes.
how else to truly trace this landscape of provenance,
a cat following a radiant butterfly to the ringing bells.
※
India ▪ that is Bhāratam
a quiet 'photo meditation' and a poem
to read in the quiet of your days.
and share as we gather around what we love.
© Think Through The — Magic Box Photographie [◎]
* The italicized line is by Rainer Maria Rilke.
At Transcend Health – an exercise physiologist newcastle, we are about inspiring and helping you to move your body, and experience life unrestrained by pain, injury, disease and illness.
In the tunnel...seeing the light?
I took this shot about 100 times while I was there, probably made security think what in the hell was I doing. Finally got a single person at the right point to line up with the light. I love this.
Seen in Explore 7.21.2009
By far, this is not the most perfectly composed shot. The beauty of what Fall represents might make up for some of it, I hope.
When I think of this leaf, it was a unique part of something greater. Maybe it still is in a new way. Being a part of the Plum Tree, it offered shade for the squirrel to sit under and laugh at the dog. It's beautiful color attracted birds to come sing in the tree. A safe haven for the high energy hummingbirds to take a little break. And it's shade even gave yesterday's pic part of it's lovely dimension as it enjoyed a gentle breeze. And it was there to nourish the tree itself.
I'm happy for everything this leaf has brought as we celebrate what Fall means.
. . .
Please!! NO Awards or Large Graphics...Group Buddy Icons are OK. Thank You!
© CPMcGann. All rights reserved. If you are interested in using my images, please contact me first.
(Lore of Ekelia Part 1) Ekelia was bestowed the duty of protecting an ancient creature known as the great elk, one which blessed the entire woodland region with a holy ore. After it's final rest Ekelia made pact with the exhalted cult expressing her strong affection and dediction to the great elk. With hopes to retain the link between such precious creature the cult engaged in a ritual that would transcend imagination. In contrast to the warped devotee's Ekelia was granted an enchanted form believed to be born again with high faith and knowledge from the deepest memories of the ancient creature. Upon her ancesion a horrific threat began a widespread of bloodshed upon the woodland region where corpses multipled. The forest dwellers we're robbed of all peace and there was no choice but to silence the unpredictable evil.
The study below was derived from facts uncovered while doing research
for the following Doctoral dissertation:
Light to the shadows of their mind:
Criminal tactics and strategies
Criminology Department Dept.
Chatwick University
**************************** Story ***************************
A full moon peeks through the heavy fall clouds, its rays transcending down and bathing in a soft light, the over grown, untended, remains of what once had been a proper English garden. Its soft rays catch the old moss roses, lilacs, and various other old growth flowers, their once still vibrant colours faded now that the fall is approaching.
But something still is vibrant here, brightly flashing a colourful fire as it moves along an old flagstone path.
Two feminine figures in fancy dress move guardedly along the path, gown and jewels are the source of the added fiery colours now caught by the full harvest moon’s rays. The rustle of satin is heard as a long, slinky gown sweeps along the leaf littered flagstone path at the spiked heels of its owners feet. Soft voices carry in murmurs as they walk, breaking up what, until a few minutes, ago had been the hushed silence brought upon by the notice of the pair by the gardens inhabitants.
The twosome finally reaches an old garden shed, its weather-beaten door half ajar, broken remnants of glass still hang in its front window; some ancient, rusty tools still lay up along its side wall. As they stand there the younger one suddenly jumps, giving a little gasp. What is it dear? her companion asks sweetly. She looks into her companions’ deep mesmerizing brown eyes, someone is moving along that path over there, on the other side of the pond. Mother said that no one should be outdoors on this side of town, she add, worry now creeping up on her. The older woman turns her head abruptly, I see him, you had better wait her, and I’ll make sure that whoever it is will not bother us.
A cop on his beat is seen walking along the outer path that lines the old garden leading to the manor house at the opposite end of what is now an inner city block. He jumps a little as a figure steps out of the mist that has now started to spread from a small pond the he is walking by.
Mae looks back at the garden shed that now sits back in the woods a little ways; her youthful companion’s colourful gown is vibrant against the faded walls of the shed. She turns away and looks at the copper walking towards her, unaware as of yet that he is no longer alone. Mae walks out of the mist and onto the sidewalk, noticing with satisfaction that she has startled him. She approaches and walks past the stern copper, as she does Mae tosses his way the sorta glance that she knew would pique the coppers natural distrust, making him turn to follow and see what mischief was going on!
Her long hair streaming down her back, creating a halo in the moonlit garden, her shimmering long jeweled earrings sway gently, watches as her companion walk up to the figure on the path. She is suddenly self-aware of how she is dressed, and how vulnerable they are out here alone, away from the bright lights and safety of the manor they had left some ten minutes ago. She hopes the figure isn’t someone nasty who will harm her friend. Her back is to the old door of the shed. The clouds again cover the moon. The young girl shivers, though it really is not that cold out. Suddenly a quick shadow emerges, a hand is clasped over her mouth, another grabs her by her silky waist, and she is pulled struggling into the darkness of the shed, vanishing from sight like the moon above her. Gradually the night voices of the garden return, chirping, hooting, and such. But as for the garden shed, sounds are no longer heard from within…..
What Led to This?
*************************************************************************************
It had been the boys who had first spotted the ladies in colorfully long shiny gowns. Those gowns fluidly rustling along shapely figures crossing the street leading to ornate front doors of the old Hampton East club Mansion. But it had been their “sparklers” the glittering jewelry the ladies all seemed to be temptingly showing off, that had made their mouths wolfishly drool.
But, what they had seen when stealing peeks through slits in a velvet curtained window, had made them run to find Mae. They then breathlessly babbled on about the halfcocked, half-baked scheme they had dreamed up. “Even the young’uns had jools” they had excitedly told Mae. She figured that most of it was probably paste, who wears anything of value on the eastside she thought to herself. But just a glimmer of a possibility began to take seed, as she maternally continued to listen to the excited pair.
Mae decided to humor the pair of excitable petty thieves, she owed them some favors anyway, and Mae hated leaving a debt unpaid. Besides, business had been slow lately; it seemed that no one well to do these days need their fortune read. So, for no rhythm or reason other than to see what all the chatter had been about, Mae crashed the upscale event. She slipped inside through the large matching oak doors, without even a second glance from the pensioner guard wearing a loose uniform “manning” the entrance.
Mae was amazed, even she could not have predicted the marvelous displays of wealth, so tantalizingly close, and yet seemingly so far out of reach. Even the dangling “jools” worn with careless abandon by the “Young’uns” mostly 18 through 20 year olds, with a few 16 and 17 year olds peppered in among the multitude of guests, appeared to be the real McCoy!
Mae was also surprised that she had been able to get this far, and so had not even begun to think of ways to profit from the situation. A condition that was going to have to be quickly rectified Mae told herself. Itching to somehow lay her greedy hands on some of the expensive jewels she observed being beckoningly worn by the female guests in attendance. Like the royal appearing lady she was just now walking past. She was in an elegantly flowing purple gown, dripping in gems, especially the small diamonds that were glistening on the thin tiara that held up the rich girl’s luxuriantly long hair.
All in all, Mae was glad she had positioned the boys to wait in the old garden shed, promising it would be worth their while. Mainly Mae had wanted to keep them out of mischief, too avoid having them upset her apple cart, and it appeared to have been a canny move on her part, as she surveyed a young lady with a long flowing mane of hair sweeping by, causing Mae to perk up with interest.
So, it was still with no real purpose in mind yet, that Mae had started to shadow the fetchingly gowned young lady of about nineteen who was timidly working her way , weaving in and out amongst the groups of happily chatting guests. Mae’s desire was a closer scrutiny of the prettily dressed young girl’s savory fiery ruby jewelry, so enticingly slippery upon her sweat glistened figure.
***********************
Mae had always been attracted to rubies ever since a poshly dressed young mother had wandered into the carnival sideshow that Mae had been working some years prior. Mae had been the first to try for a share of the young Mother’s dazzling jewelry after spying her predicament from the interior of her tent.
The obviously well-to-do young Mother had been unwisely left alone to tend to a colicky baby. Mae had forced herself on the wretched Mother, using the pretense of giving a helping hand. Unscrupulously, Mae had seized the opportunity to check along the young Mother’s thick satiny clothes for any valuables.
Passing up on a temptingly lovely, lengthy dangling pendent, Mae’s fingers instead whisked down along the slick long sleeve of the young mother’s arm, as all her attention was being given to the thrashing infant. Passing over a thick braided gold bracelet, Mae’s fingers darted to the young ladies’ left ring finger.
The harried Mother struggled to keep a tight hold on the silken clad infant squirming in her mother’s satin covered arms. As the thrashing child bawled, the mother, finding herself being handicapped by the long sleeved slippery satin blouse she wearing was unable to really pay attention to anything else going on around her. Therefore, Mae was easily able to slip off the invitingly large ruby and diamond engagement ring from the mother’s ring finger, conveniently tear moistened from the squealing infants sobbing.
Ring in hand, Mae then finally listened to the mother’s pleas she didn’t need any help, quit caressing down her tingling attire, and retreated to the dark depths of her tent to watch the rest of the drama unfold.
By the time the young mother had gotten her squalling infant daughter to sleep she had fended off about a dozen additional hands offering to help. Mae had watched with professional interest as some of those hands had cunningly been searching the young lady for anything of value…
Mae observed that the distracted mother’s pendent had been nicked next, easily unclasped and slipped away from the ruffled throat of her glossy blouse! Then, as the mother was bent over the baby’s stroller, her long dangling earrings (the pair!) had been whisked away from out of her long mane of straight hair. Soon followed in quick session by the jeweled pin from her satin ascot, her wrists thick braided gold bracelet, a gold pinky ring, and the contents of her velvet purse. Even the mahogany rattle, and silver pacifier had been plucked from the now sleeping infants hand and mouth as her mother’s shiny back had been turned while searching about for the her babies vanished ermine blanket. All in all a very masterful and complete plucking of the erstwhile pretty hen and her downy chick, Mae thought smugly, for nothing else had been as grand as the ruby ring that Mae had slipped off first.
Now, there were still occasions where Mae dared to wear the magnificent ring, but tonight, had decidedly not been one of those occasions.
(Editor’s note:
The incident Mae instigated at the Carnival was not an original part of her story line
It was actually lifted by our author based upon similar experiences of one Lady Eileen St’D , Surry 1910)
************************
Mae plotted a way to at least grab this girl’s attention for a closer look, and so she moved in such a fashion to make it a possibility. At the same time the nineteen year old turned her head away, her long hair swirling to behind her back as someone called out a name. Mae broke off her approach and stood nearby, filing away the girls name for future reference. (It had always amazed Mae that just knowing a person’s name could break down barriers and inspire confidence when a stranger used it. ) Mae watched as an older model of the young girl approached, dressed in a glossy satin gown of mint green and laden with shimmering emerald encrusted jewels. She stuck a finger under the girls nose. Mae followed it, the gold ring she was wearing of a serpent encircling her finger with bright emerald eyes, mystifying her.
The lady lectured her daughter on wandering off , especially when it was only her and her Auntie there to watch her. Mae saw the mothers eyes travel towards the regal lady in the purple gown and tiara. Losing interest Mae wandered off, not caring to hear the rest. She knew a blind alley when she saw one. She paused; she also recognized other quarry when she saw it… A lady wearing a flowing gown of red silk was standing off to one side. Shy and uncomfortable, she was the epitome of a Wall-flower, one who attracted little or no attention, or luck, unless it was of the unfortunately bad kind. One who Mae knew she would have to meet.
Mae walked up to her, and began a conversation. It started out uncomfortably, but Mae soon won her over, enchanting the edgy lady enough so that she actually, with a little hesitation, allowed Mae to pick up her palm: believing it was with the the intention of reading her fortune. As the girl was told that fortune, the mousey miss was totally caught under the enchantment of Mae’s eyes and sing-song way of speaking. Mae could see that she had captured the girl’s imagination as she wove her fortune telling around her like a spider would weave its silky web. Then, with delight, Mae saw a special gleam in the girl’s eyes that she knew all too well. A look she had seen before in previous clients, one that told her they were no longer completely caring of what was going on around them.
Mae ever so slightly tightens her grip on the palm she held. Than, with baited breath, Mae began to work a jeweled ring over the knuckle of a warm slender finger , her practiced eye watching the girls face for any sign that she was catching on to what Mae was up to! Mae smiled broadly as she had a habit of doing when one of her wicked schemes was coming to fruitation. The girl smiled impishly in response, totally misinterpreting what that smile stood for. Never in her wildest dreams would she have guessed what this nice lady: with the deep black eyes from which she could not pull away from, who was so pleasantly stroking her palms while telling her fortune so enjoyably, was smiling about! Nor did she have the slightest of inklings that her Grandmother’s pretty ring was going to vanish!
Mae suddenly felt a noticeable vibe wash over her, and she chanced a look around her. Along a back wall was a row of palm trees, in-between them were a series of small stone benches. A solo figure was walking along them, a slinky, long soft gown, fell flowing down to her feet. The figure of the girl whose name Mae now knew. Mae turned her full attention back to the task at hand, easily maneuvering her captive audience so that the wall was now in her full view. Over a silken shoulder Mae watched as the young miss made her slinky way into a powder room, disappearing with a muted swishing of her gown. . Suddenly Mae had an epiphany, realizing exactly how to ensnare the pretty little miss into her web, at the center of which dangled the old garden shed where there were debts to be paid!
Mae finished her “business” with the shy wall-flower, convincing her to go one her way now that her fortunes were assured to be taking a turn for the “better.” She moved off happily enough, glad that she had met the charming stranger, falling for Mae’s story hook, line and ring less finger!
Keeping an eye on the retreating lady as she swept away, Mae headed towards a stone bench that sat near the back exit leading to the old garden, a stone bench that was in a direct line to the approach that the young miss should be taking on her journey back from the powder room. Mae waited, and when she saw her victim open the door, she buried her hands in her face and acted like she was sobbing, all the while watching the girls approach through a crack made by her fingers.
The girl stopped, You okay Ma’am, she asked with genuine, childishly innocent, concern ( as Mae had predicted), Mae jumped like she had not noticed the girl, and looking up into her face, she called the girl by name, starting to spin a new web of deceit. The young miss offered Mae her embroidered silk handkerchief, which she gladly accepted, holding the girls well ringed fingers for a second showing her gratification. While “drying”her eyes, Mae went into her story full throttle; she knew there would not be much time.
The young miss, nervously looked around, as she played with her shiny necklace, holding it with slender ringed fingers , as she innocently listened to the captivating dark haired stranger. Mae, for a second blinded as the diamonds and rubies flashed in the light, smiled inwardly. Overly pretty teenage girls were so naïve and easy to manipulate, she thought, while weaving another , totally different type of story, then the one she had fed the flowing red silked wall flower.
Mae accurately interpreted the reveries of the young miss now in Mae’s clutches. Now under different circumstances the tale that Mae fed the girl would have not gotten her anywhere. But the fact Mae knew the girls name, knew how to make use of the exchange she had witnessewd between the girl and her mother, and also possessed some knowledge of what attracts a young ladies fancy, the circumstances worked wonderfully in her favor. Then, add in Mae’s fortune telling abilities, and the poor, beautifully adorned soul never stood a chance
Mae hit her with all the talent of a quick change artist. And soon Mae was had lured the girl into following her out the exit and walk with her out into the darkened garden. It happened quite literally before the young thing could catch her breath, or clearly think things through. She had totally fallen for the fortune teller’s fairy tale, and now believed she was aiding this lady in distress, as she believed Mae to be. The young miss, more than a little bewildered, walked obediently alongside Mae, under her dark spell, as they made their way ever closer to a seemingly quiet old garden shed.
Mae looked at the girl now walking next to her, innocently unaware of the fact that she had been led out here for one reason only. Totally oblivious to the fact that she now presented nothing more than to the seemingly sweet lady walking next to her than the value of her expensively flowing gown, the bright jewels she was wearing, and the contents of the small purse dangling by her side. Mae smiled to herself, knowing that in the greenhouse her two muggers would miss nothing, the young girls jewels, , fat silken purse, even the gown would all fetch a sweet price when peddled.
It was when they had reached that shed, that Mae’s captive companion had spotted the figure walking along the path by the pond. A figure that Mae knew she would m have to take care of, else risk having her carefully wrought plan fall to pieces…
Led to This:
******************************************************************************
Mae looked back and smiled smugly at the copper hot on her heels. Someone is going to be in trouble for leaving his post she thought. Just a couple more blocks should give them enough time in the greenhouse, and then Mae would easily give this flatfoot the slip. Mae’s mind went deliciously back to what should now be happening to the luckless lady in the long shiny gown, and how much Mae’s cut of the take would amount to. It was too bad she would miss the boys at work; Mae did so enjoy watching a good mugging.
As Mae happily led the harness bull away from the garden she marveled over her good fortune, wondering over how things had worked to her benefit. As she did she found herself walking along a block populated with small pubs. At the end of which lay an alley which Mae was going to use as passage to slip away from the copper. By then he would then be safely away from the old gardens. Mae would than circle back. She knew the boys would be finishing their job, but she did not want them to leave without her. She was going to take personal possession of the girls most valuable items. There was no way she was going to trust the two nimble headed crooks with not being cheated out of a fair price for the girl’s jewels.
It was as she reached the alleyway and looked back that she realized the copper was no longer tailing her. She swore to herself, what had happened? She cautiously backtracked, looking into the windows of the pubs as she passed. She stopped at one she knew, one appropriately, in Mae’s mind, named the Hook and Fiddle. It was their that she spotted her lost cop, cradling a beer, and sitting next to tall man at a back table.
Mae headed back on her way. She indistinctively knew that the copper would be occupied for a while. Mainly because she knew the cut of man he was sitting next to. Renauld, a man whose hands touched everything from the rackets, extortion, blackmail, down to trafficking and kidnapping, Renauld, to whom Mae owed some personal favors.
As Mae reached the sidewalk where she had first met the copper, she hastened her step. It would not be long before the girl’s bejeweled mother would be noticing her daughter’s absence…… Mae suddenly stopped, freezing in her tracks. A slow grin spread across her appealing face.
The epiphany that had made Mae stop to think contained the seed of a plan, that was in her opinion, brilliant. The mother should have noticed her daughters absence, and what if someone ,Mae, were to find the wealthy , overbearing lady, as she searched and helpfully divulged to her just what her daughter had been up to. Sneaking off into the garden with a young man, of all the nerve…why I would bet the pair of them is inside the old garden shed in the back snogging away as we speak.
Mae, with a quick stop over at the shed to check on things, hurried back to the manor. And best of all she thought, licking her lips in savoring anticipation as she fine-tuned the story she would use, best of all…, Ladies of that ilk always travel in pairs…
40 minutes later:
Three shadowy figures emerge from an old dilapidated garden shed. Two run off carrying small bundles under their arms. A third follows, taking a look back inside, closes the door and walks almost serenely off in the opposite direction. Something glistens from a finger as the moon once again peeks cautiously from the dark clouds overhead.
*************************************************************************************
Addendum est
In a smoke filled pub that he owns, a man, wicked, is puffing on a long black cigar. He is seated alone at the back table where he has been holding court that late evening.
The door opens and a female enters. Looking neither left nor right she heads directly to the man’s table.
Wotcher, he says, with perhaps a trace of compassion in an otherwise traditionally unemotionally stern deep voice. He spots the ring she is wearing, a gold serpent enter twined around her finger, its arrow shaped head home to a pair of flickering green emerald eyes.
What fresh wickedness have you been up to this evening he asks her expectantly? Adding, even you shouldn’t be sporting something like that around this area.
Mae meets his gaze, knowing full well she had taken a risk wearing the ring. But she knew that she had to make use of it to gain Renauld’s interest quickly, If game, he would not have much time…..
For if Renauld took the bait, not only would Mae be squared with Renauld, but also probably now be in his debt. For as much a Mae loathed to be in debt to someone, she loved to be owed one……
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
Are you rising above the limits of what you can do? How are you overcoming what sets you back?
Your power is defined solely by you. You decide what you are capable of but often times we put a cap on that. It is our duty as humans to transcend beyond the limits we set forth for ourselves.
What will you do today to take one step further?
Educate yourself. If you feel uneasy or uncertain about how to proceed next, do a search for educational content or things to read.
What will you do tomorrow?
Put into practice what you learned today.
What about the rest of the week?
Keep practicing until you master what you learned, then move into the next phase of growth.
Little by little you’ll build something amazing because you worked with one block at a time.
Création artistique Photoshop à partir d´une feuille blanche virtuelle.
Merci pour vos visites et pour vos commentaires.
Ham House is a 17th-century house set in formal gardens on the bank of the River Thames in Ham, south of Richmond in the London Borough of Richmond upon Thames. The original house was completed in 1610 by Thomas Vavasour, an Elizabethan courtier and Knight Marshal to James I. It was then leased, and later bought, by William Murray, a close friend and supporter of Charles I. The English Civil War saw the house and much of the estate sequestrated, but Murray's wife Katherine regained them on payment of a fine. During the Protectorate his daughter Elizabeth, Countess of Dysart on her father's death in 1655, successfully navigated the prevailing anti-royalist sentiment and retained control of the estate.
The house achieved its greatest period of prominence following Elizabeth's second marriage—to John Maitland, Duke of Lauderdale, in 1672. The Lauderdales held important roles at the court of the restored Charles II, the duke being a member of the Cabal ministry and holder of major positions in Scotland, while the Duchess exercised significant social and political influence. They began an ambitious program of development and embellishment at Ham. The house was almost doubled in size and equipped with private apartments for the Duke and Duchess, as well as princely accommodation suites for visitors. The house was furnished to the highest standards of courtly taste and decorated with "a lavishness which transcended even what was fitting to their exalted rank".[1] The Lauderdales accumulated notable collections of paintings, tapestries and furniture, and redesigned the gardens and grounds to reflect their status and that of their guests.
After the Duchess's death, the property passed through the line of her descendants. Occasionally, major alterations were made to the house, such as the reconstruction undertaken by Lionel Tollemache, 4th Earl of Dysart, in the 1730s. For the most part, later generations of owners focused on the preservation of the house and its collections. The family did not retain the high position at court held by the Lauderdales under Charles II, and a strain of family eccentricity and reserve saw the fifth Earl refuse a request from King George III to visit Ham. On the death of the 9th Earl – the last Earl to live at Ham – in 1935, the house passed to his second cousin, Lyonel; he and his son, Major (Cecil) Lyonel Tollemache, donated it to the National Trust in 1948. During the second half of the 20th century the house and gardens were opened to the public, and were extensively restored and researched. The property has become a popular filming location for cinema and television productions, which make use of its period interiors and gardens.
The house is built of red brick, and was originally constructed to a traditional Elizabethan era H-plan; the southern, garden frontage was infilled during the Lauderdales' rebuilding. The architect of Vavasour's house is unknown although drawings by Robert Smythson and his son John exist. The Lauderdales first consulted William Bruce, a cousin of the Duchess, but ultimately employed William Samwell to undertake their rebuilding. Ham retains many original Jacobean and Caroline features and furnishings, most in an unusually fine condition, and is a "rare survival of 17th-century luxury and taste".[2] The house is a Grade I listed building and received museum accreditation from Arts Council England in 2015. Its park and formal gardens are listed at Grade II*. Bridget Cherry, in the revised London: South Pevsner published in 2002, acknowledged that the exterior of Ham was "not as attractive as other houses of this period", but noted the interior's "high architectural and decorative interest".[3] The critic John Julius Norwich described the house as a "time machine – enclosing one in the elegant, opulent world of Van Dyck and Lely".[4]Wikipedia
Je me suis amusée à photographier des montres...Certaines ont plus de 100 ans et fonctionnent encore ! C'est étonnant.
~~~~
I had fun photographing watches ... Some are over 100 years old and still working! This is amazing.
Prawn trawler Transcend BF 61 slowly coming into Buckie on Monday morning at the high tide. Was positioning to work on their nets.
My local doll community friends helped me think of a name for him. One of them mentioned "Ares" - The god of war. I think it's a beautiful name. I just wish it was a little longer.. <3
I understand that this moment has transcended time. I am not the first to rest here; I cannot be the last. My hands are indented with the imprints of moss. I pull my cardigan closer and shiver. I can almost sense the ghosts around me. Time has not been forgiving to your beauty; you are crumbling, lost. You are inanimate but once you must have been so personable that you seemed alive, I know. Your halls filled with laughter. Your ballrooms decorated sensationally, decked out with happiness and antique charm. It makes my heart feel heavy that you've been destroyed this way. Now all that's left of you are the ruins of what once was, but I know. My imagination fills in all the blanks, aided by the whispers of your ethereal spirits. I wish I'd seen you in your grandieur. But I can dream of you.
So today was bizarre. I won't even go into the weirdness of the geography exam. But when I was searching for somewhere to shoot -the first place I found, I did some shots in ivy, but I was afraid I was going to fall down this massive hole, and so I climbed a tree and bumshuffled along it, then decided I was far too afraid of heights to cross it far enough to get the nice light - it was high. So I climbed down it then almost tripped over this furry thing. When I looked back it was this horrific long bird skull, like something from a horror movie. So I packed up and moved on. I ignored a 'private land' sign and found the most beautiful spot to shoot, ever, but I barely dared pause for breath because I didn't know who owned it. I need to go back with someone else. And then I moved on again, into the public woods, but another private land part, and took photos in this gorgeous patch of light. I wasn't there long but two dogs ran up to me, butch and fairly intimidating, and their owner walked up and apologised. Judging on appearances, I'd say he was in his thirties, with a metal chain lead swinging in one hand and his overalls on. He looked kind of like he should be on a construction site, not walking through the idyllic, peaceful woods. He walked on, and a moment later he walked back and asked me what I was taking photos of. I said mostly the flowers, but I explained my 365 project and told him I realised it sounded vain. He smiled and told me that he wished he could have captured the light coming through the trees (which was what I was trying to do) and he hoped that's what I was doing, because it looked so beautiful. I agreed and said that every day in the area I saw change, and that that was beautiful too. He told me he's walked through the seasons and he finds the changes miraculous, all in his gruff voice. He asked me if I lived in the area, and I said not far, just up the farm. He wished me luck with my project and left.
Lesson for today; never judge a book by its cover. And don't climb trees alone. Or convince yourself something's following you.
I'm planning to go far tomorrow. An adventure. I have the day off school. Why not, it'd be fun.
I think this is the most important chart in technology business.
(It's an updated version of Ray Kurzweil's published work, posted with permission, and updated here through 2016. Further UPDATE here, post Tesla AI Day.)
In this abstraction of Moore’s Law, Kurzweil plots computational power on a logarithmic scale, and finds a double exponential curve that holds over 100 years (a straight line would represent a geometrically compounding curve of progress).
In the modern era of accelerating change in the tech industry, it is hard to find even five-year trends with any predictive value, let alone trends that span the centuries.
Ray argues that through five paradigm shifts – such as electro-mechanical calculators and vacuum tube computers – the computational power that $1000 buys has doubled every two years. For the past 30 years, it has been doubling every year.
Each dot is the frontier of computational price performance of the day. One machine was used in the 1890 Census; one cracked the Nazi Enigma cipher in World War II; one predicted Eisenhower’s win in the 1956 Presidential election.
Each dot represents a human drama. They did not realize that they were on a predictive curve. Each dot represents an attempt to build the best computer with the tools of the day. Of course, we use these computers to make better design software and manufacturing control algorithms. And so the progress continues.
Notice that the pace of innovation is exogenous to the economy. The Great Depression and the World Wars and various recessions do not introduce a meaningful change in the long-term trajectory of Moore’s Law. Certainly, the adoption rates, revenue, profits and economic fates of the computer companies behind the various dots on the graph may go though wild oscillations, but the long-term trend emerges nevertheless.
Any one technology, such as the CMOS transistor, follows an elongated S-shaped curve of slow progress during initial development, upward progress during a rapid adoption phase, and then slower growth from market saturation over time. But a more generalized capability, such as computation, storage, or bandwidth, tends to follow a pure exponential – bridging across a variety of technologies and their cascade of S-curves.
Moore’s Law is commonly reported as a doubling of transistor density every 18 months. But this is not something the co-founder of Intel, Gordon Moore, has ever said. It is a nice blending of his two predictions; in 1965, he predicted an annual doubling of transistor counts in the most cost effective chip and revised it in 1975 to every 24 months. With a little hand waving, most reports attribute 18 months to Moore’s Law, but there is quite a bit of variability. The popular perception of Moore’s Law is that computer chips are compounding in their complexity at near constant per unit cost. This is one of the many abstractions of Moore’s Law, and it relates to the compounding of transistor density in two dimensions. Others relate to speed (the signals have less distance to travel) and computational power (speed x density).
Unless you work for a chip company and focus on fab-yield optimization, you do not care about transistor counts. Integrated circuit customers do not buy transistors. Consumers of technology purchase computational speed and data storage density. When recast in these terms, Moore’s Law is no longer a transistor-centric metric, and this abstraction allows for longer-term analysis.
What Moore observed in the belly of the early IC industry was a derivative metric, a refracted signal, from the bigger trend, the trend that begs various philosophical questions and predicts mind-bending futures.
Moore’s Law is a primary driver of disruptive innovation, such as the iPod usurping the Sony Walkman franchise , and it drives not only IT and Communications and has become the primary driver in drug discovery and bioinformatics, medical imaging and diagnostics. As Moore’s Law crosses critical thresholds, a formerly lab science of trial and error experimentation becomes a simulation science and the pace of progress accelerates dramatically, creating opportunities for new entrants in new industries.
This non-linear pace of progress has been the primary juggernaut of perpetual market disruption, spawning wave after wave of opportunities for new companies.
I just watched Transcendent Man, so I have Kurzweil on the mind.