View allAll Photos Tagged Unmade
As night falls, I find comfort in the serene moments just before succumbing to sleep. Bathed in the gentle glow of muted lights, my surroundings transform into a sanctuary, signaling the peaceful journey that lies ahead. Beyond my window, the world recedes, making way for a tranquil tableau painted with the muted symphony of the night.
Captured within the frame is a snapshot of this tranquil interlude – a ritualistic pause before entering the realm of dreams. The interplay of shadows and the soft warmth of ambient light create a soothing ambiance, inviting a sense of calm that washes over me.
The image is a visual ode to this serene pause, a conscious moment before surrendering to the embrace of slumber. The unmade bed, carefully arranged essentials, and the quiet stillness all contribute to a delicate symphony of tranquility.
In this captured moment, I embrace the quietude, recognizing the beauty often overlooked in the hustle of the day. It serves as a daily reminder of the importance of finding peace amid chaos, offering a gentle prelude to the dreams awaiting in the realm of sleep.
oii on canvas
size 110x136 cm
WARRIORS From WARRIORS
Warriors from Warriors they are made -
When the brightest rays of sun do fade
Into the darkest nights of need -
Imbibing the knights' voices that lead.
Warriors from Warriors they are made
When they step out from the guardian's shade
To stand firm and face the storm
Till the spectres of fear cease to roam.
Warriors from Warriors they are made
When battles are let to fight with plans unmade
Stand along by them till the final breath
Seeing the Warriors, from You, take birth.
by Raaghavi SudhaGenga Friday, July 15, 2016
I passed this beautiful house on my walk last week (Its a cottage according to the Ordnance Survey!) Its in a nice, remote location, the only access being down an unmade track. Somewhere where you would actually need a 4 x 4!
They say that when the city falls fully into darkness and the streets surrender to silence, certain legendary trains begin to run again—not to carry passengers across neighborhoods, but across time itself. Their metal bodies roar against the rails like awakened beasts, echoing through stations long forgotten, where shadows remember names no one speaks anymore. Riding them is not a journey forward or back, but sideways through memory: past autumn nights, vanished lights, and cities that no longer exist except in the vibration of steel on steel. You do not arrive changed by distance, but by the quiet certainty that time, like these trains, never truly stops—it only passes through the night unseen. The unmade
It is the edgy existence within me of these unmade images that is the only assurance that the best photographs are yet to be made :-)
Sam Abell
HMM! Truth Matters! Lies have consequences.
Loebner magnolia, 'Leonard Messel', j c raulston arboretum, ncsu, raleigh, north carolina
I used to photograph cities that never slept.
Now I’m exploring rooms that might be dreaming.
Discover Unmade Beds and Butterflies: bit.ly/4nKK9TJ
Best with Audio on!
© 2025 Markus Lehr
"On assignment for Look magazine to photograph the movie star for its twenty-fifth anniversary cover, Douglas Kirkland shot Marilyn in the intimate confines of an unmade bed."
Tenth and last in a series of ten pictures by Douglas Kirkland, staff photographer for LOOK magazine, of Marilyn Monroe in 1961, a year before her death.
From the LOOK Collection at the Library of Congress
More MM | More pictures from the LOOK magazine collection
(?) The copyright status of this picture is uncertain.
As night settles over the maritime bay, the water becomes a quiet chronicle of departures and returns, holding the city’s lights like whispered promises. Moored boats rest as if listening to the old brick facades across the channel, their reflections trembling with every subtle current. Here, time slows to the rhythm of the tide, and the air tastes of salt, history, and distant journeys. It is a place where sailors, dreamers, and cities alike seem to pause—knowing that every calm harbor exists not to end a voyage, but to prepare the soul for the next one. The unmade.
CATWA
Bento head Catya
Maitreya Mesh Body
Go&See
Birdy Pale Appliers (head&Body)
Truth
Reyane Group Gift
La Perla
Talissa Babydoll
Set
@ @RLD
Violetility
Unmade Bed [Cedar]
Ama
Cocky Toys : Decorative Set {Pastels}
Zen Creations
Book Lover Book Stack 1
Book Lover Book Shelf
Book Lover Table Lamp
hive
simple console table . red
BAZAR
Stockholm-Bedroom Rug
An odd shot taken during a gravestone search this morning . We had two particular gravestones to search out of family members but had no idea where in the whole churchyard to find them , only a rough idea of what they look like . In the end both were located and photographed !
However , for me this churchyard is somewhere that I grew up only three houses away up the road . Here we see a small group of four houses going up the lane ( an unmade single track bridle way ) . The building on the far left is part of the undertakers on the corner of the road and the lane . The house with the note on it was my grandparents house and the view from the upstairs window was entirely that of the graves of the churchyard - even the church was mostly hidden by the yew trees around it .
Seems so long ago when working as a land surveyor that I produced a plan of the church and churchyard with all the pathways and major trees but not individual graves though .
HAPPY SLIDERS SUNDAY !!
This is an explanatory version of the last photo that I posted to Sliders Sunday. Some people had expressed skepticism that a bedroom window had created an astract reality image all by herself with no help from me.
So I waited until my window did it again.
This time I included the window herself in my photo..
Of course, she took advantage of the unmade bed's blue bottom sheet and the nice mellow-tan tone of the wood floor. But that is what a creative artist does when necessary--work with the materials at hand.
All I did was go hard with my sliders to make the image look to you as much as possible like what I saw with my eyes.
Location: My apartment in Riehen BS Switzerland.
In my album: Dan's Abstract Reality.
dall'album di John Cale e Lou Reed dedicato a A. Warhol, SONGS FOR DRELLA .
Andy, it's me, haven't seen you in a while
I wished I talked to you more when you were alive
I thought you were self-assured when you acted shy
hello it's me
I really miss you, I really miss your mind
I haven't heard ideas like that in such a long, long time
I loved to watch you draw and watch you paint
but when I saw you last, I turned away
When Billy Name was sick and locked up in his room
you asked me for some speed, I though it was for you
I'm sorry that I doubted your good heart
things always seem to end before they start
Hello it's me, that was a great gallery show
your cow wallpaper and your floating silver pillows
I wish I paid more attention when they laughed at you
hello it's me
Pop goes pop artist, the headline said
Is shooting a put-on, is Warhol really dead
You get less time for stealing a car
I remember thinking as I heard my own record in a bar
They really hated you, now all that's changed
but I have some resentments that can never be unmade
You hit me where it hurt I didn't laugh
your diaries are not a worthy epitaph
Oh well, now Andy, guess we've got to go
I wish some way somehow you like this little show
I know it's late in coming but it's the only way I know
hello it's me
Goodnight, Andy
Goodbye, Andy
Shot taken for Saturday Self Challenge 05/07/2025 --
All Over .
First idea was to take a shot of the greenhouse covered in ivy , but could not get a good angle on that .Then , I knew what would work so I went back to where I grew up and the nearby parish church has loads of flint walling around the boundary as well as in the structure of the church as well . Here though is a small section of flint wall in what we all knew as The Lane - it is a road but unmade hence the name . I used to park my first car next to the wall although further up The Lane - as can be seen in the first comment box ( this would most likely have been 1973 ) . Please click on the shot to read more about those days !!
Flint has been used as a building material in the UK for thousands of years, particularly in regions where it is naturally abundant, such as East Anglia, Kent, Sussex, and parts of the Midlands.
Prehistoric & Roman Use – Flint was first used in prehistoric structures, such as Neolithic long barrows and defensive walls. The Romans also incorporated flint into their buildings, often combining it with brick or stone for strength.
Medieval Period (11th–16th centuries) – Flint became widely used in medieval churches, castles, and walls, particularly in southern England. Knapped (squared) flint was often combined with limestone or sandstone for decorative effects, as seen in Norfolk and Suffolk churches. The technique of flushwork (flint set in contrast with smooth stone) became especially popular in East Anglia.
17th–19th centuries During this period, flint remained a common material for rural cottages, barns, and boundary walls. It was often combined with brick or timber frames to create aesthetically pleasing and durable structures.
Victorian Era & Beyond – The Victorians revived flint building in Gothic Revival architecture, using it for churches, civic buildings, and railway stations.
Today, flint remains a popular material in conservation projects and modern homes looking to maintain traditional aesthetics.
Flintwork is also used in the repair of historic buildings, especially churches. This often involves reusing old flints, or visiting a pit to select the required flints.
Of note , I have already said the other side of this wall is the churchyard / graveyard and the ground level is some 4 to 5 feet higher than The Lane - not to worry you but one of those flints over on the left ( see the note box to find it ) does rather look like some spectral pareidolia !!!
A couple of " Stone " tracks for your ears ----
A narrow road advances without hesitation, pulled forward by an unseen force, as if retreat were no longer permitted. On one side, the land sinks into shadow and tangled branches claw at the fading light; on the other, the horizon burns with a sky aflame, heavy with omen and consequence. The trees lean inward like witnesses, stripped bare and solemn, while the air itself seems to thicken with expectancy. This is not a path of travel but of reckoning—a corridor where the earth bows to the sky, and the sky answers with fire. Every step forward feels irrevocable, as though the road has chosen its destination long before the traveler arrived, guiding all who enter toward a final meeting with whatever waits beyond the glow. The unmade
Out looking for " paths & tracks " for next weeks SSC , found this one but of course not suitable as we have to look for unmade ways . Anyway , still took this scene as I liked it so it gets a post now - just got to sift through the other shots to find next week's SSC shot now !!
Dinorwic Quarry employed over 3000 men at its peak and many of these workers lived locally or caught the quarry train on the Padarn Railway to work each day. However men from Anglesey, in particular, required to lodge or barrack at the quarry each week. They left home early on a monday morning and returned on saturday afternoon. Provisions for the week were carried on their journey. One of their homes for the week was the Anglesey Barracks high up in the quarry. Anglesey Barracks consists of two identical blocks of 11 units facing each other across an unmade street. Each unit has a living room with a fireplace and a bedroom with space for four men. Amenities were few - no electricity, soft mattresses, toilets or running water, just basic furniture and little else. Windows were provided only onto the street. This way of life survived until 1948 when an unannounced visit by the local Public Health Inspector saw the barracks condemned as unfit for human habitation. After that the quarrymen from Anglesey travelled daily by bus. The, now derelict and ruined, barracks may still be viewed today by following the marked paths in the Padarn Country Park at Llanberis.
This is the grave of my great-uncle Richard, who was killed in the first world war in France, 8 days before the armistice came into effect - 8 short days too late for this young man. He is buried in the small British cemetery (87 burials) near the village of Brebieres, where he was working in a casualty clearing station.
I promised my father and my two aunts that I would try to find his grave and photograph it during my recent trip through the battlefields of Flanders and France - it was a very personal and moving thing to actually find him.
I think this is a fitting photo for us to remember the 11th of November 1918, and to remember all the brave young men of all armies who so needlessly died during this pointless war.
I would like to finish my own very private dedication to all that fell, with a few lines that I found at the beautiful Island of Ireland Peace Park near Ypres, Belgium:
"It is too late now to retrieve a fallen dream, too late to grieve a name unmade, but not too late to thank the Gods for what is great. A keen edged sword, a soldier’s heart is greater than a poet’s art. And greater than a poet’s fame, a little grave that has no name."
This was a long but enjoyable day. Mark was poorly so I left him at a hotel in the valley before driving to a remote trailhead village in the Pyrenees. With the car abandoned at the end of a dirt track I set off with rudimentary map in hand. Four thousand feet of ascent later I reached the refuge where I would stay the night. This photo was taken nearby and shows my first proper took at my target for the day.
Meanwhile there was a steady stream of Land Rovers arriving carrying other hikers and climbers who had paid for a lift up an unmade mountain road to the refuge. Their use of effectively a mountain taxi to this point frustrated me as in my mind they had cheated. So when everyone else set off on a route that included the ridge to the upper right of this image I chose to go via an alternate ridge on the left. This gave me solitude which I quite liked. It was initially very steep and had no path but lead to a fabulous high level ridge walk until the last quarter of a mile. It was here that I realised why everyone else had taken the other route. Ahead of me lay a scramble equivalent to the Coullin Ridge in Skye. It looked sharp, intimidating and to be honest scary. There were two blokes ahead of me roped up whose route I could follow but they were going particularly slow. My patience ran out again and I passed them as they secured every step of the way with the rope. Somehow after a great number of ungainly moves I managed to reach the summit, relax and contemplate an easy alternative decent route.
That night being the only non English/Spanish speaking hiker in the refuge a few beers soon had me much more relaxed with my new found friends. My pigeon French picked up at school allowed for some basic conversation but it was a great way to end a long long day. My ascent that day totalled 6,500 feet and rather stubbornly I had done it all on my own. This view looks up to the summit and shows the sharp ridge at the top left of the image. At the time I took it I didn’t know what fun and games lay ahead of me.
To walk through Cologne’s old town at night is to step into a whispered accord between shadow and memory. The rain has already departed, yet it lingers everywhere—sealed into the cobblestones, polishing them into mirrors of gold and black. Each stone, worn smooth by centuries of footsteps, carries the quiet dignity of survival. Under the soft glow of streetlamps, the narrow streets draw closer, façades inclining inward like attentive listeners, as if the city itself were leaning in to hear the solitary wanderer breathe. Time loosens its grip here; the present feels suspended, held gently between what has been and what still dares to endure.
This is a romance without declaration, a bohemia born of restraint. The wet streets reflect the light not to dazzle, but to guide—fragmented halos leading the way for those who walk without urgency. Every step becomes an act of trust, every silence a companion. These alleyways ask for nothing yet offer everything: belonging, intimacy, and the rare comfort of moving slowly through history. To wander here is to understand that beauty does not resist the passing of time—it survives it, quietly, faithfully, in the dark. The unmade.
The last UTA commuter rail trains to Pleasant View meet at Ogden, Utah at 7:31 p.m. on Aug. 10, 2018.
The little cottage where I found the milk churns in the previous upload. A lovely area for cykling but a lot of ups and downs on unmade roads.
Flickr Lounge weekly theme -wood
Saturday Self Challenge - Roads.
This is Ridgeway Road in Chesham, an unmade road. I live in one of the closes off it. 5mph maximum speed when driving along it!
Everything is ready ☺️☺️☺️
I am looking forward to the presentation.
Hope to see you tomorrow at 7 PM.
Museum der unerhörten Dinge,
Crellestr. 5-6,
10827 Berlin
More information: bit.ly/4nKK9TJ
© 2025 Markus Lehr
And it is a little house looking at some others in the vicinity - some of which had their own tennis courts , stables and horse exercise enclosures for example . Think some must come out at approx £3,000,000 .
The house here a little more modest just caught my eye as it is set in all the trees with an unmade road .
Mast at Saddleworth aka Windy Hill Transmitter at twilight.
There is a sign here saying that its the highest motorway in England. Despite the fact I've driven past the sign hundreds of times, for some reason it always comes as a bit of a surprise as I would think it was somewhere in Cumbria instead of somewhere between Manchester and Huddersfield.
Am I delighted with this? Not particularly but its OK I suppose. With hindsight I got there too early and in the end I was bored and getting cold, so decided to go home.
The vantage point was a bit off the beaten track and the road surface was in places steep, unmade, bumpy and wet. I was absolutely horrified to find that my "dipped" headlamp bulb had blown. This was manageable if there was nothing coming towards me as I could use high beam but if there was oncoming traffic it was a sheer gamble but not much I could do as I was out "in the middle of nowhere".
I had lashed the tripod to my Kawasaki but found that when I pressed the shutter it still came out a bit blurred so luckily I had the remote control with me and even then put a 2 second delay on.
kids were here - my youngest daughter’s bed that I found beautifully captivating one morning
This photo project has been very meaningful and helpful with my efforts to cope with my own intense, moment to moment mental health struggles. It is my hope that perhaps there can be something beneficial, encouraging or inspiring within the project for you as well.
My in the moment | collection 1 zine is now available in print. I am offering my zine for $5 off through December 3, 2022—after that time the zine will only be available for the full price. The order link is in my profile.
If you choose to order a copy of “in the moment,” I’d love to hear your thoughts, ideas and feelings about this project.
You can order your copy here: www.magcloud.com/browse/issue/2357266
19—8 a.m. bedsheets
Wrinkled, unmade sheets at the foot of our bed after we got up on a dark and stormy morning. For me an empty bed is a big victory as it takes a tremendous amount of energy and work just to get out of bed each day.
———————-
#amonthonfilm
This was a month long film photo project with daily prompts that was done on Instagram
photo taken June 19, 2020
Nikon FE
Nikon 35mm f/2
Kodak Portra 400
Developed & scanned by: The Darkroom Lab
Latest version of one of my most successful images......
New residential building on the corner of Vauxhall Bridge London.
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New but old in Quesnel Forks.
Quesnel Forks is a gold rush ghost town in Northern BC. Parts of the town are under renovation with some parts still derelict. I was there on an overcast day with a very white sky so not ideal shooting conditions. If you are ever in the area this is an amazing place for a shoot, I would think early morning and late afternoon would be spectacular on a good day. You have to drive about 25 k on an unmade logging road from Likely to get there but totally worth the drive. I plan to go back and camp there next year in the hope of getting better shooting conditions.
There’s a shine to a night like this / To the way your body moves / And the lines of your silhouette / And the rise of your fragile bones / And the lift of the whispered wind / And a song that you never heard / And you’re riding on silver wings / And you’re leaving the blue world (Anna Tivel)
© Bamberger Str., Berlin, 2021, Florian Fritsch
Just a study of an unmade bed, a symbol, perhaps, of much of my life! ;-) Looked at large, you can see the sheets could use a change.
Another day dawns, cold and thin,
A pale light seeps where night has been.
Shadows stretch like cracks in stone,
A silent world, unmade, alone.
The air hangs thick, a ghostly breath,
A sigh that hums of quiet death.
Yet life stirs on, with weary grace,
In haunted hearts, in hollowed space.
The world stirs awake, yet silence speaks,
In hollow hearts, the emptiness leaks.
Each morning a ghost, haunting the same,
Another day dawns—unchanged, unclaimed.
Taunton, Somerset, UK.
Anglesey Barracks, Dinorwic Quarry.
The gnarly looking oak trees on the outskirts of Anglesey Barracks were just as impressive as the barracks!
A bit of history:
Dinorwic Quarry employed over 3000 men at its peak and many of these workers lived locally or caught the quarry train on the Padarn Railway to work each day. However men from Anglesey, in particular, required to lodge or barrack at the quarry each week. They left home early on a monday morning and returned on saturday afternoon. Provisions for the week were carried on their journey. One of their homes for the week was the Anglesey Barracks high up in the quarry. Anglesey Barracks consists of two identical blocks of 11 units facing each other across an unmade street. Each unit has a living room with a fireplace and a bedroom with space for four men. Amenities were few - no electricity, soft mattresses, toilets or running water, just basic furniture and little else. Windows were provided only onto the street. This way of life survived until 1948 when an unannounced visit by the local Public Health Inspector saw the barracks condemned as unfit for human habitation. After that the quarrymen from Anglesey travelled daily by bus. The, now derelict and ruined, barracks may still be viewed today by following the marked paths in the Padarn Country Park at Llanberis.