View allAll Photos Tagged afraid
Hey you..... yes you !!
Afraid of mesh? Not sure what it is? No idea how to wear it?? No idea what viewer you need?
Till last week I didn't like mesh at all !! But now this changed !
MESH IS OUR FUTURE!
Let's find out together with this great new mesh collection of GIZZA, available today at Mimi's. You can find: cardigans, shirts, skirts, trousers, clutches, to mix and match!
Me and my staff will be there to help you out with all your questions !
See you in a couple of hours, let's try it together !
(wearing a dotted mesh shirt and great mesh pants)
skin: Bella, Redgrave
hair: Vanity hair at Mimi's Choice
direct TP
It’s a joyful to watch them having so much fun while sitting on the wall. Their loud giggles brought smiles.
It reminds me of the sweet times when I was young, innocent, and not afraid of anything.
I can climb the tree to the top branch. I can jump off the swing while it is going its highest. At my age? I need a staircase to beat them up.
Maurizio Cattelan
Not Afraid of Love
Avec ”All” au Guggenheim en 2011, on pensait que « tout » avait été dit. Comme souvent avec Maurizio Cattelan, nous étions sur une fausse piste…
Ce qui devait être le salut final d’une carrière éblouissante, faite d’œuvres qui ont marqué l’époque, de scandales, de profondeur, de fracas et d’humour, n’était qu’une (ir)révérence de plus.
Cinq ans plus tard, Cattelan revient au travail. Il a choisi la Monnaie de Paris pour son exposition la plus importante en Europe, et la plus importante depuis sa rétrospective New-Yorkaise. Cette exposition à la Monnaie de Paris, sous le commissariat de Chiara Parisi, est une exposition qui sera profondément « habitée » par Cattelan. Un choix d’œuvres, dont l'image reste pour toujours accrochée à la rétine, seront exposées dans les salons XVIIIème siècle de la Monnaie de Paris.
Irrévérencieux, génial, facétieux, drôle, grave, provocateur, cynique, potache, Maurizio Cattelan n’est jamais là où on l’attend. Les visages de Cattelan sont autant d’uppercuts qui nous laissent KO.
Et c’est là son paradoxe ultime, sa capacité géniale à transformer une fuite en pirouette sublime : Cattelan n’aura jamais été aussi présent dans une exposition, et pourtant chacune de ses œuvres hurle son absence.
L’effigie de Cattelan, l’art de la mise en scène, sera le cœur battant de l’exposition à la Monnaie de Paris.
Un début de réponse à son interrogation aussi pince-sans-rire que métaphysique « y-a-t-il une vie avant la mort ? ».
Still bothers me that I don't know what she was looking at, when I took the picture I was in a hurry and didn't catch the wholeness of the situation, something I deeply regret now.
wish I knew, wish I knew....
Jaipur, India
"I'm Not Afraid Of Anything" thats what he said when i told him not to be afraid "its only a Camera". couldnt decide which version is better so I uploaded both B&W and in Colors
Cathedral, Ely, Cambridgeshire
I used to be afraid of going back to Ely. So many of the memories from the first twenty years of my life are bound up with this place. I still want to step off the bus or train and find that it is still the early 1970s, to wander around the market with my granny, or go to my other grandparents' house in Chiefs Street for dinner before wandering off into the shops to spend my pocket money. But they are all dead now, and although many of my aunts, uncles and cousins still live in and around the city, I have no direct connection with Ely any more.
I was born here, and I still feel a sense of ownership. It is still the touchstone for our family - my children still think of Ely, in a strange way, as where their story started.
And in fact, Ely hasn't changed that much. There are still plenty of independent shops in High Street, Fore Hill and Market Street, there are still lots of the old pubs, the Thursday market is still busy with people who have come in from the Fens on buses, and talk exactly like my grandparents. I was shocked to see that they have pulled down Cutlacks the ironmongers, and I mourn the passing of the cattle market, although that, of course, could be said for many small country towns.
Is there another Cathedral city in England where the cathedral is so utterly entwined with the streets which huddle around it? There are no other tall buildings, apart from the spire of St Mary's church. The Cathedral west tower is always there, peeping above the rooftops, wherever you look towards it.
Ely is a city, and the Isle of Ely was a proud, independent county, but neither of these mean anything now, and neither of them have any political purpose any more. Today, Ely is merely the largest place served by East Cambridgeshire District Council, a completely meaningless division of the overgrown county of Cambridgeshire. I was born in the Grange Maternity Home, some 200 yards from the Cathedral's west tower; today, it is the headquarters of East Cambridgeshire District Council.
The biggest difference from twenty years ago is how quiet the streets are - they used to be so traffic-choked, but today Ely is bypassed.
And another thing which has changed is the Lamb Hotel. This is one of those grand coaching inns you often find in small country towns. When I was little, it was dead posh - we would never have gone in there. I always associate it with wedding receptions and commercial travellers. But today, we found it was a very pleasant place to stop for lunch.
Anyone coming back to Ely after half a century away might find the gentrification of the waterside area remarkable. This was where my father was born in the 1930s, in a cheerful slum of barefoot children. Today, the houses are sought after by young professionals - the walk to the station is a couple of minutes, and we are only twenty mimutes by train from the city of Cambridge.
Ely Cathedral is architecturally one of the most magnificent buildings in England. The view from the south-east is world famous, as is the lantern tower. But the interior is rather dull, despite the wonderful unbroken vista down what is England's longest cathedral. Apart from the architecture, very little of medieval origin survives - there is a small cluster of stained glass in one chapel, and the stone carvings of the beautiful lady chapel, but that is about all. The narrow Norman aisles, with their grey, oppressive vaulting, are not really a pleasure to walk, and there are no cloisters. And while the lady chapel is breathtaking, is it any more magnificent than a dozen or more East Anglian churches - Salle, Walpole St Peter or Blythburgh, for example? Ironically, Ely is one of the few English cathedrals which charges an entrance fee, a whacking £5.50 (Lincoln, a much more important and beautiful interior, charges £4, while Norwich and Peterborough, the other two great medieval Cathedrals in this corner of England, are completely free).
I remember how the great west doorway and the north transept doorway would stand open during the day. As a child, I would leave my grandparents house in Chiefs Street, and walk the length of the nave and out through the transept to get to the market place. Everybody used the Cathedral to get from one part of this tiny, beautiful city to another, just as their ancestors and predecessors had for hundreds and hundreds of years. But no longer.
Cathedral, Ely, Cambridgeshire
I used to be afraid of going back to Ely. So many of the memories from the first twenty years of my life are bound up with this place. I still want to step off the bus or train and find that it is still the early 1970s, to wander around the market with my granny, or go to my other grandparents' house in Chiefs Street for dinner before wandering off into the shops to spend my pocket money. But they are all dead now, and although many of my aunts, uncles and cousins still live in and around the city, I have no direct connection with Ely any more.
I was born here, and I still feel a sense of ownership. It is still the touchstone for our family - my children still think of Ely, in a strange way, as where their story started.
And in fact, Ely hasn't changed that much. There are still plenty of independent shops in High Street, Fore Hill and Market Street, there are still lots of the old pubs, the Thursday market is still busy with people who have come in from the Fens on buses, and talk exactly like my grandparents. I was shocked to see that they have pulled down Cutlacks the ironmongers, and I mourn the passing of the cattle market, although that, of course, could be said for many small country towns.
Is there another Cathedral city in England where the cathedral is so utterly entwined with the streets which huddle around it? There are no other tall buildings, apart from the spire of St Mary's church. The Cathedral west tower is always there, peeping above the rooftops, wherever you look towards it.
Ely is a city, and the Isle of Ely was a proud, independent county, but neither of these mean anything now, and neither of them have any political purpose any more. Today, Ely is merely the largest place served by East Cambridgeshire District Council, a completely meaningless division of the overgrown county of Cambridgeshire. I was born in the Grange Maternity Home, some 200 yards from the Cathedral's west tower; today, it is the headquarters of East Cambridgeshire District Council.
The biggest difference from twenty years ago is how quiet the streets are - they used to be so traffic-choked, but today Ely is bypassed.
And another thing which has changed is the Lamb Hotel. This is one of those grand coaching inns you often find in small country towns. When I was little, it was dead posh - we would never have gone in there. I always associate it with wedding receptions and commercial travellers. But today, we found it was a very pleasant place to stop for lunch.
Anyone coming back to Ely after half a century away might find the gentrification of the waterside area remarkable. This was where my father was born in the 1930s, in a cheerful slum of barefoot children. Today, the houses are sought after by young professionals - the walk to the station is a couple of minutes, and we are only twenty mimutes by train from the city of Cambridge.
Ely Cathedral is architecturally one of the most magnificent buildings in England. The view from the south-east is world famous, as is the lantern tower. But the interior is rather dull, despite the wonderful unbroken vista down what is England's longest cathedral. Apart from the architecture, very little of medieval origin survives - there is a small cluster of stained glass in one chapel, and the stone carvings of the beautiful lady chapel, but that is about all. The narrow Norman aisles, with their grey, oppressive vaulting, are not really a pleasure to walk, and there are no cloisters. And while the lady chapel is breathtaking, is it any more magnificent than a dozen or more East Anglian churches - Salle, Walpole St Peter or Blythburgh, for example? Ironically, Ely is one of the few English cathedrals which charges an entrance fee, a whacking £5.50 (Lincoln, a much more important and beautiful interior, charges £4, while Norwich and Peterborough, the other two great medieval Cathedrals in this corner of England, are completely free).
I remember how the great west doorway and the north transept doorway would stand open during the day. As a child, I would leave my grandparents house in Chiefs Street, and walk the length of the nave and out through the transept to get to the market place. Everybody used the Cathedral to get from one part of this tiny, beautiful city to another, just as their ancestors and predecessors had for hundreds and hundreds of years. But no longer.
A Multi Media Performance by Rhodri Hugh Thomas in Collaboration With Carolina Vasquez Based on the poem and art work “Who’s Afraid?” by Susan Richardson and Pat Gregory.First performance in the Willow Theatre. Photo by Valeria Pacchiani
Don't be afraid to ask me about this painting! This is a copy of part of a Terrence Cuneo painting which when I saw it I
just had to have a go at painting it. So here it is - a 20 inch X 16 inch oil painting.
The caption I have for this is that Cuneo painted this scene of Tyesley shed
1967 showing the interior of a typical GWR roundhouse.
The original painting shows 3 engines but I have cropped it. Now just
showing Pendennis Castle 4079 and Clun Castle 7029.
thames-barge-art.co.uk
Ely, Cambridgeshire
I'm always afraid of going back to Ely. So many of the memories from the first twenty years of my life are bound up with this place. I want to step off the bus or train and find that it is still the early 1970s, to wander around the market with my granny, or go to my other grandparents' house in Chiefs Street for dinner before wandering off into the shops to spend my pocket money. But they are all dead now, and although many of my aunts, uncles and cousins still live in and around the city, I have no direct connection with Ely any more.
It is fully ten years since I last visited Ely. But I was born here, and I still feel a sense of ownership. It is still the touchstone for our family - my children still think of Ely, in a strange way, as where their story started.
And in fact, Ely hasn't changed that much. There are still plenty of independent shops in High Street, Fore Hill and Market Street, there are still lots of the old pubs, the Thursday market is still busy with people who have come in from the Fens on buses, and talk exactly like my grandparents. I was shocked to see that they have pulled down Cutlacks the ironmongers, and I mourn the passing of the cattle market, although that, of course, could be said for many small country towns.
Is there another Cathedral city in England where the cathedral is so utterly entwined with the streets which huddle around it? There are no other tall buildings, apart from the spire of St Mary's church. The Cathedral west tower is always there, peeping above the rooftops, wherever you look towards it.
Ely is a city, and the Isle of Ely was a proud, independent county, but neither of these mean anything now, and neither of them have any political purpose any more. Today, Ely is merely the largest place served by East Cambridgeshire District Council, a completely meaningless division of the overgrown county of Cambridgeshire. I was born in the Grange Maternity Home, some 200 yards from the Cathedral's west tower; today, it is the headquarters of East Cambridgeshire District Council.
The biggest difference from twenty years ago is how quiet the streets are - they used to be so traffic-choked, but today Ely is bypassed.
And another thing which has changed is the Lamb Hotel. This is one of those grand coaching inns you often find in small country towns. When I was little, it was dead posh - we would never have gone in there. I always associate it with wedding receptions and commercial travellers. But today, we found it was a very pleasant place to stop for lunch.
Anyone coming back to Ely after half a century away might find the gentrification of the waterside area remarkable. This was where my father was born in the 1930s, in a cheerful slum of barefoot children. Today, the houses are sought after by young professionals - the walk to the station is a couple of minutes, and we are only twenty mimutes by train from the city of Cambridge.
Ely Cathedral is architecturally one of the most magnificent buildings in England. The view from the south-east is world famous, as is the lantern tower. But the interior is rather dull, despite the wonderful unbroken vista down what is England's longest cathedral. Apart from the architecture, very little of medieval origin survives - there is a small cluster of stained glass in one chapel, and the stone carvings of the beautiful lady chapel, but that is about all. The narrow Norman aisles, with their grey, oppressive vaulting, are not really a pleasure to walk, and there are no cloisters. And while the lady chapel is breathtaking, is it any more magnificent than a dozen or more East Anglian churches - Salle, Walpole St Peter or Blythburgh, for example? Ironically, Ely is one of the few English cathedrals which charges an entrance fee, a whacking £5.50 (Lincoln, a much more important and beautiful interior, charges £4, while Norwich and Peterborough, the other two great medieval Cathedrals in this corner of England, are completely free).
I remember how the great west doorway and the north transept doorway would stand open during the day. As a child, I would leave my grandparents house in Chiefs Street, and walk the length of the nave and out through the transept to get to the market place. Everybody used the Cathedral to get from one part of this tiny, beautiful city to another, just as there ancestors and predecessors had for hundreds and hundreds of years. But no longer.
But I liked Ely - it was good to be back. And I shall go back again soon.
“I am afraid to show you who I really am, because if I show you who I really am, you might not like it--and that's all I got.”
sorry
I remember ordering this book from Scholastic Books when I was a kid. As a horse-crazy girl, I loved C.W. Anderson's books and illustrations.
I read every horse book I could find--from The Black Stallion to Misty of Chicoteague and Black Beauty.
I don't know what horse-crazy girls read today but I doubt if it's Black Beauty. I suppose they read Saddle Club series books.
Mi pieza para la gran exposición HM8:SHADOWNESS
Ilustración inspirada en un fragmento de la letra de una canción, Death whispered a lullaby, del grupo Opeth.
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My piece for the great art exhibition HM8:SHADOWNESS
Inspired by a fragment from the song Death whispered a lullaby, perform by Opeth.
I'm afraid I suffer from Agraphobia. I was told a black one had been projected to be built on the other side of the river, and I was far more interested in imagining it, looking at its foundations, than I was with the white one... As you see, I was there but looking at shoes.
Cathedral, Ely, Cambridgeshire
I used to be afraid of going back to Ely. So many of the memories from the first twenty years of my life are bound up with this place. I still want to step off the bus or train and find that it is still the early 1970s, to wander around the market with my granny, or go to my other grandparents' house in Chiefs Street for dinner before wandering off into the shops to spend my pocket money. But they are all dead now, and although many of my aunts, uncles and cousins still live in and around the city, I have no direct connection with Ely any more.
I was born here, and I still feel a sense of ownership. It is still the touchstone for our family - my children still think of Ely, in a strange way, as where their story started.
And in fact, Ely hasn't changed that much. There are still plenty of independent shops in High Street, Fore Hill and Market Street, there are still lots of the old pubs, the Thursday market is still busy with people who have come in from the Fens on buses, and talk exactly like my grandparents. I was shocked to see that they have pulled down Cutlacks the ironmongers, and I mourn the passing of the cattle market, although that, of course, could be said for many small country towns.
Is there another Cathedral city in England where the cathedral is so utterly entwined with the streets which huddle around it? There are no other tall buildings, apart from the spire of St Mary's church. The Cathedral west tower is always there, peeping above the rooftops, wherever you look towards it.
Ely is a city, and the Isle of Ely was a proud, independent county, but neither of these mean anything now, and neither of them have any political purpose any more. Today, Ely is merely the largest place served by East Cambridgeshire District Council, a completely meaningless division of the overgrown county of Cambridgeshire. I was born in the Grange Maternity Home, some 200 yards from the Cathedral's west tower; today, it is the headquarters of East Cambridgeshire District Council.
The biggest difference from twenty years ago is how quiet the streets are - they used to be so traffic-choked, but today Ely is bypassed.
And another thing which has changed is the Lamb Hotel. This is one of those grand coaching inns you often find in small country towns. When I was little, it was dead posh - we would never have gone in there. I always associate it with wedding receptions and commercial travellers. But today, we found it was a very pleasant place to stop for lunch.
Anyone coming back to Ely after half a century away might find the gentrification of the waterside area remarkable. This was where my father was born in the 1930s, in a cheerful slum of barefoot children. Today, the houses are sought after by young professionals - the walk to the station is a couple of minutes, and we are only twenty mimutes by train from the city of Cambridge.
Ely Cathedral is architecturally one of the most magnificent buildings in England. The view from the south-east is world famous, as is the lantern tower. But the interior is rather dull, despite the wonderful unbroken vista down what is England's longest cathedral. Apart from the architecture, very little of medieval origin survives - there is a small cluster of stained glass in one chapel, and the stone carvings of the beautiful lady chapel, but that is about all. The narrow Norman aisles, with their grey, oppressive vaulting, are not really a pleasure to walk, and there are no cloisters. And while the lady chapel is breathtaking, is it any more magnificent than a dozen or more East Anglian churches - Salle, Walpole St Peter or Blythburgh, for example? Ironically, Ely is one of the few English cathedrals which charges an entrance fee, a whacking £5.50 (Lincoln, a much more important and beautiful interior, charges £4, while Norwich and Peterborough, the other two great medieval Cathedrals in this corner of England, are completely free).
I remember how the great west doorway and the north transept doorway would stand open during the day. As a child, I would leave my grandparents house in Chiefs Street, and walk the length of the nave and out through the transept to get to the market place. Everybody used the Cathedral to get from one part of this tiny, beautiful city to another, just as their ancestors and predecessors had for hundreds and hundreds of years. But no longer.