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by jwcurry.
one-off test stencilprint made for an exhibition of extralinear poetry curated by bill bissett & Hart Broudy for the Secret Handshake Gallery in Toronto this fall
She opens herself to the air as if it has something to say.
Color sharpens here—cool surroundings answering the heat in her skin, a quiet contrast that makes her glow feel intentional. Her head tilts back, hair caught mid-motion, and the moment stretches between breath taken and breath released. Nothing about her posture asks for permission; it simply follows the path of feeling.
This is not display.
It is response.
The light climbs her body and gathers at her throat and jaw, where awareness turns skyward. She does not chase the warmth; she lets it come to her, knowing it always does. What radiates here is vitality—alive, alert, uncontained.
A sun does not always rest.
Sometimes it rises through her.
A digital painting. My own technique, no commercial program.
View large for best realization of pushed and tweaked painterly texture effect. Subject is a two-nearly-three-year old who loves interacting with Ma Nature... experiencing incredible lightness of being.
She lies turned toward herself, unhurried and complete.
The sheets cradle her with a softness that feels earned, while light drifts across her back and shoulder like a familiar hand. Her gaze is calm, neither inviting nor distant—simply aware. Inked color blooms quietly against skin, a memory held close, while lace marks the place where choice lives.
Nothing presses forward here.
Nothing slips away.
Radiance becomes something quieter in this posture—an afterglow that lingers once the sun has decided it can trust the moment. She remains, composed and present, letting warmth do what it does best: stay.
Some light does not chase the day.
It waits with her.
Les couleurs précèdent le jour,
comme si le ciel écrivait un poème
avant de laisser parler la lumière.
#Girona 15-09-2025
Una calle que asciende como un suspiro. Piedras que guardan historias, balcones que miran en silencio, y una luz que se filtra entre las hojas como si quisiera acariciar el momento. Esta imagen no busca capturar el tiempo, sino invitar a detenerse en él.
#XavierAlejoPhotography #XavierAlejo #Alejo
She looks directly into the warmth without flinching.
There is no softness borrowed here, no gesture meant to soften the impact. Her gaze is steady, unmistakably awake, carrying the calm authority of someone who has already made peace with being seen. Brick and depth fall away behind her; what remains is a face that does not ask for interpretation.
This is not invitation.
It is recognition.
The light does not shape her expression — it confirms it. Color gathers at her lips and eyes like punctuation, precise and intentional, marking the quiet power of restraint. What radiates here is certainty, the kind that needs no motion to be felt.
Some suns do not rise or rest.
They meet you exactly where you stand.
*today it's Women's Day here, so happy women's day for all wonderful flickr girls :) anyway wonderful day for all of you
She rests with her cheek against her own becoming.
The world narrows here—brick dissolving into texture, the bed into quiet support—until only skin, breath, and thought remain. Her gaze drifts sideways, unhurried, carrying the calm of someone who no longer needs to face the light directly to feel it. Color lingers in small, deliberate places: lips, ink, memory.
This is not sleep.
It is peace.
Warmth settles gently along her shoulder and arm, content to stay where it is allowed. What radiates is not desire reaching outward, but a softness turned inward—a private glow that exists whether or not it is noticed.
Some light does not shine.
It rests beside her and breathes.
📷: Fuji X100VI
💻: Lightroom
Explore my stills at:
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the background typing left a lotta holes in the page. it's a combination of random blatherings and some text copped from henry miller's book 'black spring'.
📷: DJI Mavic Air 2
💻: Lightroom
Explore my work at:
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Bookworks 1985 - 1994, installation detail
The Koffler Gallery, Toronto, Canada (2002)
featuring
The Science of Freud/The History of Sleep, A Theory of Cinema, Have You Been Duchamp’d, Hard Drive, The General Knowledge of Idiots, Noah, Dizzy Spells
She lowers her gaze as if listening to something only she can hear.
Sheer light slips through the curtain beside her, diffused and gentle, asking nothing of her body except permission to exist nearby. Her hands gather fabric and breath together, not to hide, but to center. This moment belongs to her alone—quiet, intentional, unobserved even while being seen.
This is not retreat.
It is self-possession.
Radiance narrows here, becoming intimate rather than expansive. What glows is the act of choosing oneself—the calm ritual of holding warmth close, of deciding how much of the world is allowed in.
Some suns do not fill the room.
They stay exactly where she cups them.
Every shot is a small poem without words. Here, I capture fleeting moments that speak louder than any language.
🌿 See more of my work on Instagram: @loud_purple
She stands with a calm that does not need explanation.
Her hand rests where intention lives, not to cover, not to claim—simply to anchor. Light brushes her face and shoulder with familiarity, illuminating certainty rather than softness. The world behind her fades to function; what remains is presence, steady and unbroken.
This is not vulnerability.
It is confidence without armor.
Radiance gathers in her stillness, not as spectacle, but as truth made visible. She does not lean toward the warmth or turn away from it. She allows it to exist alongside her, equal and unchallenged.
Some suns do not persuade.
They are trusted, because she stands.
Bookworks 1985 - 1994, installation detail
The Koffler Gallery, Toronto, Canada (2002)
featuring
The Science of Freud/The History of Sleep, A Theory of Cinema, Have You Been Duchamp’d, Hard Drive, The General Knowledge of Idiots, Noah, Dizzy Spells
CATALOGUE TO AN EXHIBITION.
by bpNichol.
Toronto, [Ganglia Press for] Vivaxis Gallery, for 3 december 1979. 2oo copies issued as grOnk Intermediate Series 23 in 4 known variants of indeterminate edition split:
a) 1st state, unbound;
b) 1st state variant with splits in cover from the folding machine, unbound & ignored but not abandoned;
c) 2nd state stapled thrice for release at the exhibition & trimmed to 5-7/16 x 8-1/4;
d) 3rd (commonest) state, as described below.
5-1/2 x 8-1/2, 4 sheets white wove folded to 16 pp & stapled twice into tan mayfair card wrappers, all except inside covers printed black offset.
contents (visual poetry except as noted):
i) DOORS 2 (front cover)
ii) "title page" (p.1; concrete poem)
iii) MASQUES 2 (p.2)
iv) An Introduction (pp.3, 4, 6; prose)
v) LOVE AFFAIR 1, redrawn by Barbara Caruso (p.5)
vi) ALEPH UNIT OPENED, redrawn by Barbara Caruso (p.7)
vii) Pieces In The Exhibition (pp.8 & 11; catalogue)
viii) PERSONA (p.9)
ix) SYMPHONY: lucky number (p.1o)
x) A Bibliography of Related Works by bpNichol (pp.12, 14, 16; catalogue)
xi) H AT MIDNIGHT (p.13)
xii) MEMORIES OF SUMMER (p.15)
xiii) "This catalogue was printed in an edition" (p.16; prose colophon)
xiv) DOOR TO OZ 5, redrawn by Barbara Caruso (rear cover)
___________________________
She lowers her gaze as if listening to something only she can hear.
Sheer light slips through the curtain beside her, diffused and gentle, asking nothing of her body except permission to exist nearby. Her hands gather fabric and breath together, not to hide, but to center. This moment belongs to her alone—quiet, intentional, unobserved even while being seen.
This is not retreat.
It is self-possession.
Radiance narrows here, becoming intimate rather than expansive. What glows is the act of choosing oneself—the calm ritual of holding warmth close, of deciding how much of the world is allowed in.
Some suns do not fill the room.
They stay exactly where she cups them.
She settles into the moment as if it has been waiting for her all along.
The bed holds her with an ease that mirrors her own, while light drapes across her form in unspoken agreement. An arm supports her thought, a shoulder opens naturally, and her gaze meets the room with calm certainty. Nothing reaches beyond itself here; everything rests exactly where it should.
This is not invitation.
It is arrival.
Radiance becomes something stable in this frame—unfussed, unperformed, simply present. What glows is confidence softened by comfort, a warmth that does not seek attention because it already owns the space it occupies.
Some suns do not wander.
They settle, knowing they are home.
12. Marilyn R. Rosenberg, Wheelwork, Part rag paper, zerox color copy, acid free glue, visual poetry, 1989, $175
The idea for this piece started with a photograph I took of some peeling paint on a picnic table in a park. To me the paint looked like a dragon and I decided to have some fun with the idea.
In stories dragons are usually creatures to be feared, but symbolically they can represent wisdom and the primal forces of nature. They are creators and destroyers. A pregnant dragon is a symbol of future growth and expansion. In this piece I play with the idea of birth--of creation, but also the fear of destruction and loss that inevitably happens during the process.
The form of the dragon is the shape from the peeling paint from the photograph. You can still see the marks...
Autumn walk in Pompeii
📷: Nikon Z6II, iPhone 16 Pro
💻: Lightroom
Explore my work at:
#photonetmagazine #igers_greece_ #neamagazine #noicemag #ignant #contemporaryphotography #somewheremagazine #subjectivelyobjective #lensculture #phroommagazine #modernvisual #visualpoetry #createexplore #artofvisuals #in_greece
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Be Blank Consort performing at Rondo Community Outreach Library in St Paul, MN
From left: Geof Huth, Sheila E Murphy, Wendy Collin Sorin, Tom Cassidy (Music Master), John M Bennett, Scott Helmes (vispo design on white T-shirts is a SEM/JMB collab)
You are the Cause of me,
I – a drop in the Causal Ocean,
An eye amidst a peacock’s plume.
Take me as an atom of You, a molecule,
A sub-atomic structure, a part of You.
Take, but do not throw away,
I’ve rid already.
And the riddance follows me,
Like sub-atomic parts of me,
Or You – chasing me.
- Imaad Majeed.