View allAll Photos Tagged Unmade
#4887 - 2021 Day 138: On waking up feeling slightly dishevelled. Not quite an unmade bed, but a not-quite-with-it head ...
Another attempt for ip 259, for which the requirements are:
1- Something which has outlived its usefulness
2- A hat
3- In the style of Henri Matisse
The silver teapot has outlived its usefulness because the handle wobbles and the knob on the lid has come loose and I can't find a way of fixing it - there's nothing to screw a nut on underneath. But I hold on to it because it was my mother's and belongs to a set.
St Davids church is hidden away half a mile or more down an unmade track in the depths of the Pembrokeshire countryside.
Parts of the building date from medieval times and some pieces of masonry are said to be Roman in origin.
And the sun came out... 😎
Week 18 - Bed
"Unmade bed, unmade day, left my heart on my pillow
And I went outside anyway.
While under this sheets, my heart left to beat
on its own, in the warm and away from the storm
I went oustide anyway"
But I didn't went outside because I feel confort in my little fragile cocoon
and the outside world is way too scary.
Text extract from Girl on the unmade bed, by Lisbee Stainton
I did a little change on the themes order because I was travelling and couldn't fit feathers into it.
I shot this on the Jordan desert, on a bedouin tent: a Jaima. The peacefull sound of the desert, the artisanal feeling of the tents and the warm light filtering throught the thunderstorm...
An experience I'd not likely forget easily!
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Songs on painted shadows / Bleed on broken roads / Paved from here to heaven / With anything but gold / And anything but simple / It always was your kind / From the straight and narrow running / Along the straightest line (Jeffrey Foucault)
*** Only few days left *** Only few days left *** Only few days left ***
UNMADE BEDS // Fotografien von Florian Fritsch
vom 03.04. bis 02.05.2015 in der ZustandsZone, Königstr. 16, 22767 Hamburg
see the original photograph on www.hobokollektiv.net
© Sankt Pauli, Hamburg, 2015, Florian Fritsch
IMGP6569f
crumpled sheets, unmade bed, dust bunnies, dead plant and earbuds. yup, a university student lives here.
the complete bookends set.
Henry Street, Workington, Cumberland. It's 1969 and the bulldozers, framed by a Riley (or Wolseley) 1300 and a Commer van, are preparing to demolish the Quay. An audience is gathering on the corner of Henry Street and Solway Street outside the bookies and opposite Connie Reynolds' corner shop to watch the fun.
I took this pic from the 'Drybread' end of Henry Street, just on the 'cinder path' (unmade ground).
Kodak Brownie 127, B&W negative film.
I dream about you all the time.
I search for you
in the wilderness
of our desire,
the tragic café,
the sinking sofa,
the unmade bed,
made lonely now by your ghost.
I surrender to you here,
like dawn on the river’s lip,
in the mist of my solitude,
where I may open to you
like a cry.
I am lost without you.
Your memory
a distant country,
where all the people,
places,
look the same.
Is this what you wanted from me?
My betrothed beauty
at the mercy of the wolves?
I am yours whether you’ll have me or not.
The burning bride of your deep irreverence.
I come to you now
only in my sleep
where I may know you
as if you were my own.
All these tears and still,
your name is the crucifix,
my body, the flame.
----------------
The poem is a work in progress. Check out before and after and my latest interview with Mattijn on my blog!
Another image from the archive.
In the early 1980's I saw two photo exhibitions that made a huge impression on me.
One was a collection of Santa Fe photographers including works of among others Edward Weston and Imogen Cunningham, - and another rather large solo exhibition with works of Imogen Cunningham.
One of the images that impressed me was her photo The Unmade Bed
Ladies' Reliability Trials, Australia, 1 June 1936, State Library of New South Wales, ON 388/Box 063/Item 239https://collection.sl.nsw.gov.au/record/93QX3qN1
The ‘Reliability Trials’ were car races run on largely unmade roads. The word reliability referred to the fact the cars were unmodified showroom models and breakdowns, rollovers, fires and other mishaps were not uncommon. From the early years of the trials there was a strong female interest, and in 1905, Florence Thomson was the first female driver to enter the Dunlop Reliability Motor Contest. This started in Sydney and finished in Melbourne and Florence was one of only 17 to finish the race. By 1936 there were enough women interested in testing their metal that a separate ‘Ladies Reliability Trial’ had been set up.
These are the four corners of my craftroom. I took these photos in January but forgot to upload them. It certainly looked nice when it was all clean and tidy! I can't see the floor anymore!
As soon as the computer & desk went to my husband's company, I took the opportunity to move our bed into the tiny guestroom/office and the guestbed/couch into the large room.
It works out great because I don't keep my husband up anymore when I am creating in the wee hours of the morning! I also don't have to clean up my mess or stare at the unmade bed! :o)
Now all I need is a new desk so that my machine stops jumping around when I am sewing with the pedal to the metal!
Chelsea Hotel No. 2
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
You were talking so brave and so sweet
Givin' me head on the unmade bed
While the limousines wait in the street
Those were the reasons
That was New York
We were runnin' for the money and the flesh
And that was called love for the workers in song
Probably still is for those of them left
But you got away didn't you babe?
You just turned your back on the crowd
When you got away
I never once heard you say
I need you
I don't need you
I need you
I don't need you
And all of that jivin' around
I remember you well
In the Chelsea Hotel
You were famous, your heart was a legend
You told me again, you preferred handsome men
But for me you would make an exception
And clenching your fist
For the ones like us
Who are oppressed by the figures of beauty
You fixed yourself
You said "Well nevermind
We are ugly but we have the music"
And then you got away didn't you babe?
You just turned your back on the crowd
When you got away I never once heard you say
I need you
I don't need you
I need you
I don't need you
And all of that jivin' around
I don't mean to suggest
That I loved you the best
I can't keep track of each fallen robin
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
That's all, I don't think of you that often
This photo was taken early one morning when the sun was shining in through a window at an angle onto an unmade bed.
This DMU is taken somewhere in the Skipton to Keighley area. It was taken down a very minor road and the crossing as can be seen has a stile and a gated crossing for an unmade road [out of view]. To the left was a cricket club and there was a match going on at the time.
I suspect the date is July or early August 1981
The train caught me a bit by surprise and it is not totally sharp but a nice scene from a bygone era.
The footpath crossing the River Kennet at Hissey Bridge near Burghfield, Berkshire. Here the towpath crosses the river to the south bank to continue westwards towards Theale. The bridge itself rises over the river as a wooden arch topped with a railing. The Kennet forms part of the 87 mile long Kennet and Avon Canal, constructed between 1794 and 1810 to enable goods - especially Bath Stone - to be carried by boat between Bristol and London via Reading.
Just beyond the hamlet of Lombardo Velha we ran out of tarmac road but the route still continued its course as an unmade track. The countryside definitely got a little wilder and houses had clearly been abandoned...
finally broke the stalemate i had going with all my projects. i win!
made the pleated bits from some striped linen. (and that is a dirty mirror. and an unmade bed.)
This is our first view of the outside world whenever we went out from our holiday cottage in Downton. There is a brick dedicated to Charles and Diana's wedding (29th July 1981) - I guess you could buy one for your house back then. I've never seen one before!
This photo was taken on Christmas Day but it was the same view we saw of the cottage as we packed up our things hurriedly, not realising we'd stayed a day too long! We thought we were booked from Friday to Friday (thinking we might not stay there the full week anyway) but it turned out our change-over day was Thursday! We had to throw all our stuff quickly into our cases and bags so the next people could move in! It was our mistake for staying there too long - we would have been packed up and gone by 10am if we'd realised - but no regrets, cos we saw Andy, who visited that morning, and had a walk round the Moot again after lunch! We left the cottage tidy but would've spent more time over it if we'd known. But as no cleaner turned up to check up and change the bed linen and towels the following people would have discovered unmade beds etc in the cottage!
As so often happens, my original idea for this Iron Photographer gig failed. But while I was gathering the components for the planned photo, the cat began making hacking sounds, leading me to assume she was going to cough up a hairball on the perpetually unmade bed in the den (which is perpetually unmade because the cat has decided to take up residence under the blankets for the winter). So I went in to check on her, she stopped hacking, and became immediately curious about the bucket. So I grabbed my cellphone to shoot a photo, at which point she became immediately uninterested in the bucket.
Even so, this turned out better than my planned Iron Photographer photo.
Ladies' Reliability Trials, Australia, 1 June 1936, Cars ready for the trials lined up along a road, ON 388/Box 063/Item 239 collection.sl.nsw.gov.au/record/93QX3qN1/0g5rQlJwQObqN
The ‘Reliability Trials’ were car races run on largely unmade roads. The word reliability referred to the fact the cars were unmodified showroom models and breakdowns, rollovers, fires and other mishaps were not uncommon.
A happy group of holidaymakers enjoy the sea air at Llandudno from their "toastrack" car number 19. The car is part of the Llandudno and Colwyn Bay Tramway fleet. At the front of the car a little lad looks terrified at his seat behind the motorman. Although on holiday the lad is wearing his school cap, dad has a large flat cap, sister and mum are relegated to the second row.
The Cecil Restaurant occupies the corner and the upper floor over the shops. G.R. Thompson and sons offer a D&P service in order that you can actually bring home you holiday snaps, processed in 24hours, of course you would buy another film whilst you were there. In front of the tram a Crosville Bristol/ECW is partially captured.
The Colwyn Bay to Llandudno Tramway was a 6.5 mile journey between the two towns, the line ran through fields on its own right of way, it ran along an unmade road past a tollgate. The livery was originally red and cream, it changed to green and cream in the late 1920's, the track was 3'6" gauge This toastrack tram was an English Electric product
Sadly on 24th March 1956 car number 8 completed the final journey and the system closed forever.*
Peter Shoesmith Circa 1954
Copyright Geoff Dowling & John Whitehouse: All rights reserved
* Details are from the book "Tramway Twilight" by J. Joyce (Ian Allan 1962.) In that book Mr Joyce uses "toastrack" I would normally have used "toast rack";
I know it’s not the usual skipping in the wild grass pic. I do not care for those. They make you smile but after 3 seconds it’s just teeth. Creepy. I once saw a picture and it has ruined me. It not only erased my memory about art but the memory of my imaginary friends too. The guy deleted it, I dunno why. But what I do know is that i’m gonna juxtapose until i’ll molecularly rearrange your aftershave and you orbit unbridled in space and land in my Are you shaved Gallery where i re-positioned 15 copies of your skipping in the wild grass pics on the floor to protect your feet. Let my pics be deemed uncool. I understand that you want to escape stress but i want to escape a conformist reality. So I want to shave you, peel off your bone deep insecurities you’ve gathered by being constantly exposed to banal. Knowmsayin?
Amputated but unstoppable
They removed your abs off my ribs
They unclutched your fingers from my hips
I think they used a punch in the face scalpel.
They dismantled my voice from your roar
They amputated my arms off your neck
No hug to survive, not anymore.
These monsters, they’re all butchers, I suppose.
They unbraided my cells off your bloodstream
They unmade this beautiful invention that we were
They took away our dream.
These are the ruins to look at and remember
We once had wings.
The circle was never a The circle was never a symbol of return.
It was a wound; a cold geometry carved into the marrow of the world,
where the forest breathes in static
and exhales the memory of machines that were never born.
Inside the ring, the air fractures.
Metallic tendrils convulse toward a blinding core,
not to touch it,
but to deny its escape.
Every blade is a verdict,
every shard a remnant of an empire
that dissolved before it could corrupt the soil.
The trees do not witness.
They endure; their roots drinking the silence
that drips from the spinning monolith.
Their trunks tighten like ribs around a forgotten heart,
as if the forest itself has chosen
to cage the impossible.
Light does not illuminate here.
It interrogates.
It drags the shadows by the throat,
forcing them into confession,
tearing from them the names of abandoned gods
and the coordinates of lost rebellions.
And still the structure turns,
and turns,
and turns; a dissident star collapsing inward,
consuming the breath of the world
in slow, deliberate hunger.
Those who approach it
are unmade gently.
Not with violence,
but with precision:
their memories peeled like old paint,
their voices archived in the cold lumen of the core,
their presence rewritten
as absence with an aftertaste of metal.
This is not an artifact.
Not a beacon.
Not a relic.
It is the fracture that waits.
The fracture that remembers.
The fracture that devours.
And the forest; obedient, bruised, complicit;
leans closer each night,
as if longing
to be swallowed whole.
y2o by Dominique Skoltz @ Arsenal Montreal...
synopsis
y2o navigue en eaux troubles, entre asphyxie et exaltation, entre dévoration et répudiation, entre oui et non, des deux côtés de la peau. Cette œuvre nous donne à voir un amour au bord de la dérive, cellule multimorphe diffractée en de multiples scènes. Chacune de ces scènes triture les nœuds émotifs qui se font et défont dans l’abrasion du quotidien et observe les polarités croisées dont sont faites les amours sans répit.
Dans cet espace-temps élastique, suspendu hors du réel, deux intériorités entrent en collision. Si lui ressent quelque chose, elle ne le ressent pas et vice-versa jusqu’au vide, là où l’on n’éprouve plus rien, à force d’émotions.
y2o trace son sillon dans l’intime, ce territoire hasardeux où l’on hésite sans cesse entre ce que l’on dérobe au regard de l’autre et ce que l’on choisit de montrer. L’un comme l’autre pourrait nous perdre. L’un comme l’autre pourrait nous mener à se retrouver.
y2o navigates troubled waters, between suffocation and exaltation, between consummation and relinquishment, between yes and no, from both under the skin and on its surface. This work allows us to see a love on the verge of drifting, a multimorphic cell that is scattered in multiple scenes. Each of these scenes pummels emotional nodes, which are made and unmade by daily abrasions, observing the crossed polarities from which relentless loves are composed.
In this elastic space-time, suspended outside the real, two inner worlds start to collide. If he feels something, she does not, and vice-versa until a void, where they feel nothing anymore, emptied by the force of their emotions.
y2o finds its rhythm in the intimate, the treacherous territory where we unceasingly hesitate between what we conceal from the other’s gaze and what we choose to reveal. Either could lead us to lose our self. Either could lead us to find our self.
Rassi wasn't too thrilled about the hat, but at least he didn't run away...!
And yes - it's my unmade bed again - perhaps that could be my trademark.....
IMGP6562f
crumpled sheets, unmade bed, dust bunnies, dead plant and earbuds. yup, a university student lives here.
the complete bookends set.