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This is part of my Wanderer series. Which is about a girl who strays from her current life to find a new one.
This was the first time using smoke bombs! Deziree, the girl in the photo and my best friend, brought them along. They are the ones that last very shortly, but it was a ton of fun! I want to order more to use. I also want to try out ones that last a much longer time.
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This is part of one of my series about anxiety. The blurriness is meant to be squeezing in, but surroundings are still affecting her. I haven't really put too many photographs up because it is all done with a 4x5 camera and I have to scan all of them!
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This book I read is filled
Pages of pages that wait for me
Collected, bound and held within
Its message penned and posed to see
Watching eyes look to scan
Horizons brim with each new page
Down the page I fall in line
Pouring over words in its design
Touching and ever turning in the fold
These pages that lay and wait for me
One by one until in finished fashion
I reach and read the end
And there this book I read fills me
© Robert AuBuchon Jr
February 2011
She stands beneath the whispering trees,
a wide-brimmed hat casting shade like a secret.
Lace traces her shoulders,
soft as the breeze that stirs the leaves.
Sunlight filters through green silence,
dancing on her blouse,
catching the warmth in her hair,
and the stillness in her gaze.
A moment untouched by time,
where nature holds its breath
and grace walks quietly.
The seasons flow like life, quietly and relentlessly.
Spring brings awakening, flowers bloom, but we rush by, failing to see the colors.
Summer gives us warmth and light, yet we often feel only the heat of daily life, not the joy of the moment.
Autumn lays golden leaves on the ground, while we're too busy sweeping them away.
Winter covers everything gently in white but we only notice the cold.
And so life passes, in cycles like the seasons, often without realizing that beauty is hidden in every moment.
© 2024 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
Good news is that my film is not messed up!! It is totally workable. Yet at my school the scanning program wasn't working, so I had to use a different one. It came out with a really weird color, but I wanted to edit this photograph anyway and I turned it into black and white, which I like.
I don't know why I am drawn to creepy looking photographs, I always have. I do not watch horror films or any scary movies at all. But even when I am looking at other peoples photographs, I like the darker emotion type photographs, yet I am not a dark person. I guess it is because I like emotions and happy photographs don't give me a long lasting emotion or thought.
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Living Smoke — A Visual Series
This series explores presence without form.
Figures that are not made of bodies, but of movement, density, and absence.
Nothing here is solid.
Nothing here is permanent.
What you see is not meant to be fully understood — only felt.
The images move through a complete emotional spectrum:
• Stillness
• Movement
• Closeness
• Almost-touch
• Contrast
• Fusion
• Dissolution
Each piece captures a moment where something exists briefly,
then fades back into smoke.
This is not a story with a beginning or an end —
but a sequence of encounters.
Seen without seeing.
Felt before it disappears.
These are some little raft bundles I made with red willow, leaves and threads.
I added little snippets of text. They are small, about 3 inches long I think I can use then on journal covers, art quilts, and add them to assemblage pieces. I may be thinking of the tsunami and all the people bundling up their possessions and the little fragments of their life. I find my thoughts are often first revealed in my art work.
Do you find your art is affected by what is happening in your environment?
I know that when it is winter my palette is pale as the snowy landscape. About March, much like a plant, I begin to feel the urge of spring and my palette begins to brighten. The first green pushing up through the earth remind me…Oh yes, there is color! I see the red of the robin’s breast and a flash of bluebird, and their colors begin to appear in my palette. Spring is here.
EN “Roots of Becoming” is a visual meditation on unity, transformation, and the delicate boundary between the human and the natural.
ES “Raíces del Ser” es una meditación visual sobre la unidad, la transformación y la frontera sutil entre lo humano y lo natural.
This is created on hand stamped canvas. I sewed on lots of vintage scraps and Emily's image on a fabric tranfer.
In her "apron" pockets I put little packets of real flower seeds, feathers, a little ruler. On the side are three little bottles with clips of poems and a little spoon. Buttons, a little thread nest with a blue bead, a tiny key, and other items for embellishment. I think these are things Emily might of liked!
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in the quiet room, where the day’s light seeps gently through drawn curtains, the world stands still, save for the abandoned game controller resting on the bed. it's as if the room itself breathes a moment of calm between the rush of gaming, a tranquil intermission. this image captures the essence of a pause, a brief lull before the next adventure begins, where time slows, and reflections form in the simplest of scenes.
Hours pass like playful light, sunny moments fade, but a radiant glow remains.
The leaves fall gently, teaching time to swing, joy and loss mingle, then a new day dawns with new, fleeting situations that shape us.
⁛ In quiet waters, the heart opens its sight.
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
For thousands of years, the Pleiades have inspired reflection rather than direction.
They do not point the way forward — they remind us of rhythm, patience, and balance.
Less a guide through space than a compass through time,
their quiet presence invites us to slow down and look longer.
They draped her in golden chains,
as if she were treasure, not wild.
They thought the weight would silence her wings.
But she didn’t break them
she wore them. And flew.
To remind them Even bound,
a soul born free doesn’t walk it soars.
⁛ Freedom isn’t a condition. It’s a feeling.
© 2025 Lorrie Agapi. All rights reserved.
My heart, my words. Please respect them.
Everything I share here comes from my own soul and my own journey.
Please don’t copy or rewrite my texts as your own.
Your own voice deserves its own space.
within the oculus of the world trade center in manhattan, the early afternoon light casts enchanting patterns on the tiled floor. amidst this interplay of light and shadow, a captivating woman and her majestic poodle stroll gracefully, their silhouettes adding a touch of life to the geometric dance of illumination. the scene captures a fleeting moment of serenity and connection amidst the urban hustle.