VirtualArtist photos on Flickr

Jade Koltai's virtual interpretation of Panjin not only showcases the area's natural beauty, but also offers an immersive art experience using cutting-edge virtual technology. This immersive experience has been created on the virtual world platform, Second Life.

Using Second Life as a platform, Koltai has created a detailed and lifelike virtual environment that allows users to explore the area in a highly interactive and engaging way. Through the use of virtual reality and other immersive technologies, users can experience the beauty of Panjin through Koltai's art in a more personal and meaningful way. The immersive experience provides a sense of presence that can transport users to a new and exciting world......read more about:

www.facebook.com/virtualpointofview/

Thanks in advance for your support!

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Photography by Maloe Vansant

"Interview with Artist" presents, Harbor Galaxy by Art and Event PR

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Dear art Friends,

"Interview with Artist" presents, Harbor Galaxy

Considering that the Harbor Galaxy exhibition "Figure and Form" in the Dixmix Gallery closes on March 19, 2021, I would like to invite you all to take a look at the wonderful work and to show your support for an fantastic artist!

Dixmix Gallery Teleport:

bit.ly/2HH80FL

The interviews are intended to portray the "soul of the artist" and

I hope you all have fun reading and discover a lot of new interesting information about Harbor Galaxy.

Photography: “There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.” ― Leonard Cohen, Selected Poems, 1956-1968 by Harbor Galaxy

Virtuality Blog: Interview with Harbor Galaxy

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Art Promotion

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Violet Boa PR

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ᴀ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ by princess hienrichs (SLinworld)

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🎧

PARIS AFTER DARK

Act V | A Dance to Remember

"Well then, Madison."

James rose from the little café table "Shall we?" and offered her his hand.

She glanced at her unfinished espresso.

"Okay then, you don't waste any time, do you?"

"Not when there's an entire city to show you." he said.

"An entire city? I thought this was a little tour." she said jokingly.

"It is and it all rather depends on how much you like Paris and me" James teased

She laughed, gathered her handbag and took his hand.

"Very well, Monsieur Mystery. Lead the way."

Paris was settling into evening.

The shop windows glowed warmly against the deepening blue of the sky, and the pavements were crowded with people making their way home or beginning their nights.

James guided her away from the busier streets, through narrow passages and little courtyards she would never have thought to explore.

He seemed to know every twist and turn.

"Are you quite sure you know where you're going?" she asked as they entered yet another little passageway.

"Absolutely." he said

"That's precisely what a man who's lost would say." Madison said squeezing his hand gently

He grinned at her.

"Do you always have so much faith in your guides?" He said teasingly

"Only the ones who refuse to tell me where they're taking me."

"Then I shall endeavor to earn your confidence mademoiselle." He bowed deeply.

They stopped before a narrow shopfront almost entirely concealed by climbing ivy.

Above the door hung an old, weathered sign.

Librairie Laurent.

"A bookshop?" she exclaimed.

James looked pleased.

"I thought you might like it."

"How did you know I like books?" she said curiously.

He hesitated for the smallest fraction of a second.

"Another lucky guess."

Madison gave him a sideways look.

"You're accumulating an extraordinary number of those, James."

He laughed and opened the door. A little brass bell announced their arrival.

Inside, the shop was wonderfully chaotic. Books rose in precarious towers from the floor. Shelves climbed towards the ceiling, and every available surface appeared to have been claimed by some forgotten volume.

An elderly ginger cat slept beneath a green-shaded reading lamp. The air smelled of old paper, leather and furniture polish.

"Oh, James, It's wonderful." she whispered.

"I rather hoped you'd say that."

From somewhere behind a mountain of books came a voice.

"Un moment!"

An elderly gentleman emerged, spectacles balanced precariously on the end of his nose. He looked up at them.

"James!"

His face broke into a delighted smile.

"Mon Dieu! Where have you been hiding yourself?"

"Here and there, Monsieur Laurent." he said.

"Here and there!" the old man repeated indignantly. "Always here and there!"

James laughed.

"And how is business?" James enquired

"Terrible. Nobody reads anymore. They stare at their little telephones all day."

"Some people still read," Madison offered.

The bookseller turned towards her.

And stopped.

For a moment, his expression changed completely. His smile disappeared. He stared at her with an astonishment he seemed unable to conceal.

James noticed.

"Monsieur Laurent, may I introduce Madison?"

The old man's eyes moved briefly towards James.

"Madison?"

"Yes," she answered, smiling.

He looked at her again.

"Forgive me, mademoiselle. You remind me very much of someone I once knew."

"Someone nice, I hope?"

A faint smile returned to his face.

"Very nice indeed."

James cleared his throat.

"Madison has a particular fondness for books. I thought perhaps you might show her some of your treasures."

The old man's expression brightened.

"Ah! Then you have come to the right place!"

And with that, he launched into an enthusiastic account of several rare editions, apparently forgetting his earlier astonishment. Madison was enchanted. She wandered among the shelves, discovering old poetry collections, beautifully illustrated novels and books whose pages had grown soft with age.

James watched her with quiet amusement. At one point she disappeared around a towering bookcase. Along the wall hung a collection of old photographs.

Parisian street scenes.

Writers and artists gathered around café tables. A photograph of the shop itself, taken many years before.

And another, partly concealed behind a stack of books. A young dark-haired man stood beside a blonde woman.

Madison leaned closer.

There was something oddly familiar about the young man's face. She moved one of the books aside.

"Madison!"

James was calling from the other end of the shop.

"I've found something I think you'll like."

She glanced once more at the photograph. Then turned away.

"Coming!" she called back

James was holding a small, beautifully bound volume.

"A first edition," he announced.

She took it carefully.

Her face lit up.

"Oh, James. This is lovely."

"Then it's yours." he said.

She looked up quickly,

"Absolutely not!" she said

"Why ever not?" James said grinning at her.

"Because you've already sent me enough flowers to furnish a botanical garden. You are not buying me rare books as well."

He smiled.

"Very well."

She looked down at the book again. "Although..."

"Yes?" he said.

"I might allow you to buy me a perfectly ordinary second-hand paperback." Madison smiled at him genuinely touched by the offer.

"How generous of you." he said

"I thought so too." she quipped.

Monsieur Laurent chuckled from behind the counter.

As James went to pay, Madison glanced back towards the photographs.

She couldn't quite see the one she'd noticed. How strange.

She made a mental note of the shop's name.

Librairie Laurent.

Perhaps she'd come back another day.

Their next stop was a little restaurant tucked away behind an unremarkable doorway.

There were only six tables, mismatched chairs and a proprietor who greeted James as though welcoming home a long-lost relative.

They ordered wine and shared a plate of cheese, warm bread and whatever else the proprietor insisted they absolutely must try.

Madison soon discovered that James possessed a wonderfully dry sense of humor. He could make the most ordinary observation sound faintly scandalous.

And he listened.

Really listened.

Not with the distracted politeness she'd encountered so often, but with an attentiveness that made her feel as though whatever she was saying was genuinely interesting.

They talked about books, music, travel and the peculiar habits of people in general. She told him about places she'd visited and places she still hoped to see.

He told her stories about Paris.

Some were funny. Some were rather beautiful, and occasionally he spoke of places and people with such familiarity that she found herself wondering just how long he'd lived here.

At one point she laughed so hard she nearly spilled her wine.

James sat watching her.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh nothing." he said

"You're staring." she said

"Am I Madison?"

"Quite shamelessly James."

He smiled. "Forgive me."

She tilted her head.

"You're a very interesting man, James."

"So I've been told." there was that grin again.

"Yes, well, I'm beginning to believe it." she laughed

He laughed.

And Madison found herself thinking that she liked the sound of his laughter very much.

It was nearly ten when James glanced at his watch. "There's one more place I'd like to show you."

"Another bookshop?" she guessed.

"No."

"Another restaurant?"

"No."

"Some mysterious underground society?" she giggled.

"Not quite." he said.

"James, if you produce a blindfold, I'm going straight back to my hotel."

He burst out laughing.

"I promise you won't need one."

A short walk later, they arrived outside an unassuming doorway beneath a faded sign. Music drifted up from somewhere below.

A saxophone.

The low, warm notes of a double bass.

Madison stopped.

"Oh, now this sounds promising."

James opened the door.

"After you, mademoiselle."

The club was small, intimate and wonderfully atmospheric.

Little round tables clustered around a narrow dance floor. Candles flickered in glass holders, casting soft light across the faces of the patrons. A pianist sat beneath an old brass lamp, accompanied by a saxophonist and a double bassist.

The walls were crowded with photographs of musicians, some famous, others long forgotten.

Madison looked around appreciatively.

"James, this place is amazing."

He smiled.

"It's one of my favorite places."

They found a little table near the musicians. A waiter brought wine. The music was infectious, and Madison found herself tapping her fingers against the table.

James noticed.

"Do you dance, Madison?"

She looked at him over the rim of her glass. "Occasionally."

"Only occasionally?" he asked.

"Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"The music. The company. The likelihood of embarrassing myself." she said

He considered this solemnly.

"All perfectly reasonable concerns."

"Of course." she smiled.

Then, without warning, he stood and held out his hand.

"Come along then."

She blinked. "James?!"

"What?" he said

"What are you doing?"

"Dancing." he said

"Here?" she asked.

"Well, I thought the pavement might be a little crowded."

She burst out laughing.

"You're impossible!"

"So I've been told." he smirked

Before she could invent another objection, he'd taken her hand and led her into the little space beside the piano.

The music picked up.

James turned her beneath his raised arm. Her black skirt flared around her legs.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, laughing.

"You're supposed to follow my lead." He grinned at her

"I would if you'd given me some warning!" She said a little flustered

"Where would be the fun in that?" As he spun her round again.

Her blonde hair flew about her shoulders, and she laughed so freely that several nearby patrons turned to watch.

James was laughing too.

And for a little while, there was nothing in the world beyond the music and the sheer fun of being together.

He was a surprisingly good dancer. Infuriatingly good, in fact.

"You've done this before haven't you ," she accused.

"Once or twice." he said.

"With many women, I suppose?"

He grinned.

"Would it make you jealous?"

"Certainly not." she answered a little too quickly.

"Then I shan't tell you then."

He laughed and twirled her again.

Her little skirt flew out around her, and she caught his hand to steady herself.

"You're enjoying this far too much!" she giggled

"Immensely." he grinned, and he was. More than she could possibly know.

For the first time in longer than he cared to remember, James felt something he'd almost forgotten.

Not relief.

Not merely the absence of sorrow.

Happiness.

Simple, uncomplicated happiness. The kind that asks nothing of tomorrow.

He looked at Madison, laughing beneath the soft glow of the club's lights, and something inside him seemed to loosen up.

For once, in a very long time he allowed himself to be happy. Eventually the music slowed.

James drew her a little closer, and they moved together more gently. Madison was still smiling.

"Well," she said, slightly breathless, "I must admit your Magical Mystery Tour has exceeded expectations."

"I'm delighted to hear it." he said.

"Although you might have warned me about the dancing."

"What and risk you refusing?"

"Quite possibly." she countered

"Then I was wise not to mention it."

She shook her head, laughing softly. For a moment, neither spoke. The saxophone played a long, beautiful phrase.

James looked at her.

And something about his expression changed.

Not sadness exactly. Something deeper. Something she couldn't quite understand.

"James?"

"Hmm?" he said softly

"Where did you go just then?"

He looked puzzled.

"Go?"

"You looked very far away."

His gaze softened.

"Did I?"

"Somewhere rather lovely, I hope."

He regarded her for a long moment. Then smiled.

"It was."

She studied him curiously.

There were so many things about this man she didn't understand.

The flowers.

The bookseller.

His strange little pauses.

The way he sometimes looked at her as though she were someone he had been waiting a very long time to see.

And yet, standing there with his hand resting gently on her waist, she found herself remarkably unconcerned. For tonight, at least, she was content to let him remain a mystery.

The music continued.

And Madison rested her hand a little more comfortably against his shoulder.

"Well, James," she murmured, "I think I rather like your Paris."

He smiled.

"I'm beginning to like it again myself."

ᑎOTᕼIᑎG ᑎEᗯ by princess hienrichs (SLinworld)

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