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I tried to capture a portrait with the flowers from the last shoot and we came up with this. We first started without the flowers covering the eyes and it looked a little... soft. We tried to take petals over the eyes and it gave more of a conceptual twist over the result.
Pt 2/2
“It wasn't just the unusually high occurrence of downed planes in the area that drew attention. It was also the fact that none of the pilots or crew were ever found. Officials often stated that the remains were burned beyond recognition by jet, or that the pilot ejected and has become a missing person. In saying these things they were well aware that they were not the truth, but they also did not know what the truth was.
The women that are seen before every crash are the Sisters of the Sand. Call them ghosts, or spirits, or sirens, or whatever satisfies the ears, but make no mistake they are not of this realm. They are the women of an old native tribe, now long gone. Their sacred burial ground was desecrated to build an airstrip near the town of Hobbs. Ever since then, the inexplicable crashes began to occur.
The apparitions appear wearing nothing but flowing silk dresses, possessing the mind and hearts of the pilots, drawing them towards the earth. The souls of the crash victims are taken to the afterlife without sanctity or ritual, insuring that their spirits rest as uneasily in purgatory as those in the disturbed graves do now. This will continue until each native spirit has taken a body in retribution of their defilement.” -M.D. Walter
After reading the group discussion concerning "Conceptual photography", I started to think, whether one could understand it as an additional dimension of the image, which involves thinking, understanding or some kind of mental processing. Just to give you an example, I saw a beautiful black and white photo of an empty room with only a piano and a chair. It was titled "After the last chords..." , which brought the watcher immediately inside this room and its silence - into the moment that had been. It was maybe closer to the traditional photography, but illustrates the process, which takes place, when we add an additional dimension into the image.
“The Goddess fertility and renewal lived high up above mankind in the Golden Court. She served as part of the cycle paramount to the mortal word's existence - after the God of death and decay brought ends to creatures, plants, and kingdoms, she would begin it all anew, injecting life and vitality into the realms. It was how it had always been, a cycle without morality, necessary for the universe to function.
She herself had hair that could grow miles in a single day. Golden brown and thick as rope, it flowed down her back and extended everywhere, coating the floor like a carpet and climbing walls like ivy. Her revitalizing power was infused in every strand and it was, indeed, how she sowed the seeds of life when she was needed.
With a gentle pull on her mane, she would remove a single hair and cast it down onto the world. Wherever death was, the hair would imbed itself deep in the soil or flesh and within seconds a bloom of rebirth would burst all around. It was said that after a particularly gruesome battle or a sinister plague, the diligent observer could see an entire sky full of her hair descending on the world like sand-color comets marking her ominous presence.” - M.D. Walter
pt3/3
“With the sun moments away from disappearing beyond the horizon, a glowing orb appeared high above. Fire surrounded it and formed a flaming tail behind it as it barreled on, leaving a burning wound that cut the sky in two. Rocketing towards the ground and crackling loudly, it crashed with an immense explosion into the field not far from where she stood.
She scampered across the rugged terrain, her heart pounding from excitement and anticipation. Following the smoke that was rising into the night, she soon found herself on the edge of a crater. She stumbled into it with reckless abandon and began to dig at the earth with her hands. A few seconds and she uncovered what she so desperately coveted - the skull of her beloved God.
Holding it in her hands, she could feel the dark power emanating from it, pulsing from within it. She raised it above her head and offered it up to the Heavens. Together with the skull, she had all of her Lord's bones in her possession. The energy that inhabited them began to pull them together, bones clanking against one another as they combined. She trembled in love and fear as she gazed upon the skeleton of the dark God now standing in front of her.” -M.D.Walter
Copyright © 2014 by Craig Paup. All rights reserved.
Any use, printed or digital, in whole or edited, requires my written permission.
This how i feel now, so light that i could float on water easily, i admit that i had some more ideas to make, but this is gonna be the last one (for now) . I really want to dedicated some time to other things that i love, and give to my creativity a recess.
I can say that i am a happy boy.
LISTEN: www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFzQ7KAVq1w
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Así es como me siento ahora, tan ligero que es como si pudiera flotar en el agua fácilmente, admito que tenia mas ideas para hacer, pero esta va a ser la ultima (por ahora). Realmente quiero dedicar tiempo a otras cosas que me gustan, y darle a mi creatividad un recreo.
Puedo decir igualmente que soy un chico feliz.
ESCUCHEN: www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFzQ7KAVq1w
Some of the flckr members I follow work primarily in SL and I often envy the boundless latitude this medium offers for creating situations and environments. Working primarily in RL, there are inevitably going to be frustrating constraints. I've got a Spielberg imagination, but the budget of a matinee-goer. And in many cases, money isn't even the main limitation. Mostly it is logistics. I have found myself on location in settings that would rival any Hollywood soundstage. Places steeped in atmosphere or energy, good or bad…places with a presence. But these are relatively few and far between. So most often it's a case of trying to conjure up images that have that sense when it isn't really there. Or maybe just accentuate the existing energy. Sometimes I lay in bed before sleep, staring at the ceiling and just imagining dream scenarios to photograph. And in these scenarios there are no limits. Everything and everyone is at my disposal, all for the sake of a single photo. One of those recurring themes is the Victorian era horse-drawn hearse. Probably started with seeing one in an old movie as a kid and sub-conciously it never left me. I walked through countless old cemeteries and can't shake the vision of one of these dark carriages trundling in through the gates followed by a forlorn procession of mourners. Bringing this scene back to reality is an unfulfilled dream of mine, and likely to remain that way for the foreseeable future. The frustration for me is that all of the component pieces exist which makes the dream ever more tangible. The difficulty again is one of logistics; there seems to practical way to orchestrate this piece. So for now anyway, my dreams will have to continue playing out on my bedroom ceiling.
How'd you like to wake up in the middle of the night and find these guys staring at you?
Copyright © 2011 by Craig Paup. All rights reserved.
Any use, printed or digital, in whole or edited, requires my written permission.
“One day, without noise or commotion, the hole appeared. Her older brother found it out in the dry plains surrounding the farm. He ran back to the house yelling at the top of his lungs that he found a hole that went straight to the other side of the Earth, but father didn't give much attention to it. Dinner was made and chores were done, but her brother wouldn't stop ranting about the hole. She went to bed but sleep never took her. Even her own dreams couldn't match the wonder of this mysterious hole.
The next day, she journeyed out to the hole with her brother and her father. As they approached, they all cautiously took up positions around its circumference. For a long while, they all just stared in silence and the black void beneath them. As if breaking a spell, her father suddenly backed away and grabbed a nearby stone. With a nod of approval and flick of his wrist, he tossed it into the crater. Leaning in unison, all three strained their ears for the clatter of the stone hitting the bottom but never had the satisfaction. The stone seemed to still be falling when her father ushered them towards home.
All night she again stayed awake as if the hole had a gravity of its own, drawing her thoughts and her soul towards it. When the morning sun cast enough light on the dusty prairie for her to remember the path back to the hole, she slipped out of her room and took off running. The relief she felt upon finding it was greater than anything she had felt before. She anxiously paced around it, her pounding heart a drum beating a rhythm of encouragement. She placed her toes on the very edge and took a deep breath, only to see her brother ten feet away, staring with terror. "Don't be afraid," she smiled, "they said I'll be fine."
With that, she jumped. For a brief moment she did not fall; instead she hovered just above the opening, her form seeming to oscillate and flicker ever faster before finally being inhaled by the blackness of the pit. Her brother screamed and dove forwards, his outstretched hands only grasping the cracked soil where a moment before the hole had been.” -M.D. Walter