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"Fresh power of beauty" for VOGUE JAPAN August.
Whole series: alexandrasophiephoto.tumblr.com/
Models: Diana Moldovan, Alexandra Hochguertel, He Cong
Make up: Alice Ghendri @ Art List
Tattoo artists: Camille Osscini & Sess Boudebesse @ mademoiselle MU
Hair: Alessandro Rebecchi @ Artlist
Nails: Laura Forget @ Artlist
Style: Irina Marie @ Artsphere, assisted by Fernando Damasceno
Photography assistant: Paul-Antoine Goutal
Digital assistant: Hugo @ Studio Rouchon
Casting: Piergiorgio Del Moro for DM Casting @ Exposure NY
Production: Artsphere
Copyright © 2018 by Craig Paup. All rights reserved.
Any use, printed or digital, in whole or edited, requires my written permission.
First this phrase was introduced by Herbert Spencer and later used by Charles Darvin in his theory of evolution . By the fittest both meant animals most adaptable to the changing environment . Still later it was added that those survivals pass
their genes on to the next generations.
These days this theory is challenged by various others among which some rather absurd . For instanse , I came across even
"survival of the kindest". But the scientists have to work off their grants ))
I believe that the term the fittest is misintepreted and misleading . From prehistoric dark centures to our days survive the strongest , the merciless , the cruelest ! You have
just study history and analyze what we are witnessing today.
"She was the king's prized daughter, the most breathtaking and sought-after bride in the five kingdoms. Her father knew well her worth, as her hand could permanently unite his family with any other he desired. She was a guarantee of unimaginable power and wealth for all his posterity, if and only if her flawlessness remained untainted.
Not willing to risk marring such a valuable commodity, the king took to extreme measures. He had his daughter wrapped tightly in enchanted silk. This magical cloth was perfectly transparent yet magically resistant to any and all impairments. She was locked in the spire of the inner keep, a sheltered room without a single window for fear of light tarnishing her incomparably fair complexion. There she spent each day and night, her food and drink brought in and out, awaiting the day when her matrimonial sale would be completed.
Her solitude and protective garment led her to feel estranged from servants and kin alike. She took her only solace in the roses her maid brought her from the royal garden. She delicately wrapped them in the same enchanted silk she wore, gently encasing each petal. They became her hope and comfort, sharing her burden and partaking in her lonesome plight." -M.D. Walter
I made this conceptual experiment with a friend. We tried to portray how we feel when we look at old photographs. How overwhelmed we feel, as if memories were caughting us, our feelings coming back to life again. Sometimes remembering good things, as it appears in this photo we took, but, as you know, memories are not always positive.
Inundated.
Stay somewhere long enough, you start becoming it. Window to the soul, eh?
Shot in my room, background is a stock image.
Strobist info: Two flashes, one in a beauty dish with a 20 degree grid and sock diffuser upper CR. One in a reflecor with teal gel aimed at background to create a green screen. Radio trigger.
I bet he was thinking about asking permission from parents to go back swimming.
Children are always happy because, as Mahatma Gandhi wrote about happiness, it is when what one says, what one thinks, and what one does are in harmony.
...and it is much better than wasting time with people who are constantly trying to gain each other's approvals.
Recently I took my second trip to Washington State and am finally pleased to have an image to reflect how it makes me feel to be there. Wandering on the forest trails amid trees that can best be described as monumental, as well as the forest floor laden with moss, lichen and fern, there is such a sense of childlike peace that comes over me. Being in the company of such beauty, you're reminded that the world is an incredibly beautiful place and it's easy to become hyper-aware of your own personal place in that beauty, that you are indeed a big part of it. Many people think of the cicada (which, coincidentally I've been finding a lot of lately) as a symbol of resurrection and change. In so many ways, each of us goes through our own metamorphosis at least once in our lives. And that's a great thing, because it's through self-evaluation and growth that our lives become more fulfilling, and at the end of it all - that's what everyone wants. In whatever form that manifests itself for you.
It's been harder this year to get as many new photos and I'd like done for a variety of reasons. I'm getting ready for a show of my work in two different states in less than 6 months of one another when not working a full time job. I am SO grateful for these opportunities and getting the work ready for shows is and has always been a true labor of love, but unfortunately due to that and juggling a life I have taken less pictures and I want to correct that. Better time management, if you will. Because ALL of it is part of my own life metamorphosis and each aspect is just as important as the rest of its parts.
pt1/3
“The God she worshipped had conveyed His plan to her through the flames. A goat was sacrificed and burned while she read from the Tomb of Thaumaturgy. In the smoke she heard her Lord's voice like a whisper: His bones would rain down from the Heavens in streaks of flames, and she, His most devoted servant, would collect them.
During His last tenure in the mortal realm he had siphoned the life from many of those he deemed 'nonbelievers'. His attacks were made on rival churches and sects, intent on snuffing out any bastion of support for the other Gods. His aggression did not go unnoticed, and the divine pantheon united against him in a conflict of immortals.
After being tracked for weeks and several bloody battles, he was beaten by the other Gods. His body was removed of all skin and muscle and sinew and his bones forcefully pulled apart one by one. They were brought back to the High Heavens and scattered about to prevent his return, but too long had passed and much was forgotten, unlike his anger and desire for revenge.” -M.D. Walter
La muerte de un ser querido es lo más doloroso que tenemos que enfrentar a lo largo de nuestras vidas. Se dice que es algo natural y que debemos aceptarlo, sin embargo, hasta que lo vivImos no somos conscientes de esta dura realidad. Evitamos asumir el vacío de la ausencia y el dolor de la permanencia a toda costa.
Este proyecto se basa en las 5 etapas de un duelo planteado por la psicóloga suiza Elizabeth Kubler-Ross.
(1) Negación, negamos la realidad de que esa persona ya no está con nosotros.
(2) Ira, momentos de ira y frustración por la muerte de un ser querido y no poder hacer nada para evitarlo.
(3) Negociación, sentimos que tenemos el poder de revertir esta situación tratando de negociar con entidades divinas o sobrenaturales.
(4) Depresión, dejamos de fantasear con que podemos revertir esta situación y nos aislamos del mundo para aceptar y aprender a vivir sin esa persona.
(5) Aceptación, etapa en la que se acepta la muerte del ser querido y el dolor emocional desaparece poco a poco volviendo a nuestra vida normal.
Cada una de estas imágenes pretende mostrar un proceso doloroso que duró 4 años y que finalmente me atreví a revivir.
Just uploading some trial shots-slash-outtakes from Mye's shoot for her new studio, The Living Room! :)
Taken without studio lights. *_*
Model: Alodia Gosiengfiao
Makeup: Angela Manhilot
Set: Mye Chung
Photo: Ashley Gosiengfiao
“The desert was a quiet place both when the sun scorched the dirt and the moon made the world metallic in its light. For many, that silence was a tranquility eagerly welcomed into their lives, periods where life's chaos was triumphantly rebuked and the only noises were sounds that were present long before humans arrived.
There was one noise, however ancient and peaceful it may be, that was no one wanted to hear. There was, on rare occasion, a spellbinding melody emanating from the rocky hills. The mystical tune was played by an desert siren, an evil nymph of the parched plains. It was gracefully strummed on a harp made of bone, no doubt the bone of a creature she consumed herself. Plucking and singing, she wandered the barren lands enticing man and beast to seek out the source of the divine harmony.
The hapless souls that followed their possessed ears and hearts to this infernal creature were butchered in manners one would not like to dwell on. And for this reason, may all desert nights be tranquil and still and perfectly devoid of life's organic or demonic chaos.” -M.D. Walter