View allAll Photos Tagged dissonance
+ Another Story of Secondlife.
- The Anti Heroic Record of Dissonance.
- Location : Arvelheim Laboratory.😜
+ POSE：朔pose/yuzuya.
- beretta 6.
- yzk kumapose-mens -7-2.
流行に踊らされず、わが道を行ってすまん...。
> I ended up getting the flu... bioterrorism?😷
> Thank you,M 👋😊
The sun set incidentally just behind the dome of Kasai Seaside Aquarium.
The entire park area is a reclaimed land, and the pond and the marshland are a man-made biotope attached to the aquarium. Ponds and streams in the biotope are managed by the aquarium to keep fish species.
A signage in the park writes the name of the aquarium is Tokyo Sea Life Park, which is not consistent with the name in Japanese (葛西臨海水族園). There might be a dissonance in management between Tokyo Prefecture and Edogawa City.
Only in Hamilton would one find such an oddity. The wall of the building is angled and creates a small triangular space on a corner on Ontario Street. The city used the space to create a small parkette with the pavers and a line of benches running parallel to Ontario St.
I thought the muralist was quite clever in how they worked around the odd windows pigeon holed into the wall and on the left presents an archway through which we peer with a perspective which echoes but still diverges from that created by the line of benches. On the right they create a stairway up to the window which assumes a yet different perspective.
I found it quite interesting in that somehow despite the dissonance, it seemed to work. It certainly made me pause and look at it.
_DSF0332
Dolmens are strongly associated with the Neolithic and cromlechs with the bronze age, with the image of the chalcolithic buffering hundreds of years between. In truth there is some room for blur. The two smaller dolmens (on the mountain rise behind this outcrop) are situated aside a path that can riddle all the way to the Cromlech de Gurrundué, and are late examples of this megalithic form, with dates in approximate time with an early bronze age cromlech. The main dolmen of Tella (again behind these vivid outcrops) is a little bigger, but still from the very end of the Neolithic. The view from the cromlech and from Tella of the hidden peaks of the three sisters (Las Treserol) is a constant. I have linked images of the three dolmens and the cromlech below. I have also linked a close image of Las Treserol - a truly mythical mountain comparable and contrastable with, for example, Mt Kailash.
Prior to the Neolithic, most all people moved over a year, and replacing the sense of 'landscape' with an act - 'pilgrimage', is perhaps to be expected. 'Las Treserol' is in my opinion the easiest idea of a central peak to the whole Pyrenees mountain range. Its myth is of three sisters. Sisters marry away from the local clan, and in deeper times past, perhaps suffered from a dissonance of sense of place. 'Three sister' myths from mountain peaks that feed water, touch the sky and seem to have power over the elements might offer a greater focus without negating local family and clan stories. There are varieties of the story of the three sisters and with medieval and post medieval pressures one must imagine that these may have changed.
Rock art from a modified cave is also linked below - to illustrate a potential intermediate point for pilgrims. The same style of energetic star image is visible in a second carved space some 270km to the west. The second space did not become a hermitage and remains unclassified. The stars may be icons from a cult that existed in pre Christian ages. With the second site set back behind the Ebro and on a path north to the Atlantic, a cult of water with sparkles of the sun offering dances of 'stars' may be possible. Here the many 'suns' are reflections of the sun via water, with the rock capturing the ripple of the water surface. One sun, many sparking reflections like the twinkling of stars at night. One sun with a capacity to mosaic its influence in multiple ways. I look into ideas of pilgrimage around Tella in many associated posts.
AJM 21.12.21
A passing moment of an old man in contemplation. This is an old shot from 2004 taken on Fuji Veliva slide film that I have dragged out of the archives. The visual dissonance between the squatting man and the empty chair speaks volumes to the modern day minimalism movement. Pashupatinath, Nepal.
www.robertdowniephotography.com
Love Life, Love Photography
God knows, I am dissonance
waiting to be swiftly pulled in to tune.
This song made this photo: www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJsF7sHpaPs
Unterwegs im nördlichen Mittelwesten entlang den Großen Seen. (4)
Roaming the upper Midwest along Lake Erie, Lake Michigan and Lake Superior. (4)
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Often your eyes instead of springing green
Are so cold and strange
In sick conversations eyes look elsewhere
They look only where to hide
Your shoulders not crumbling dough
Do not smell of mint ointment
I in your arms irrelevant dissonance
Rain of happiness shot over the precipice
I'll whisper in your ear that
That I I'm renouncing it
Those mornings like a fever at your windows like a beggar
I have sat behind a tree more than once
Those stars falling drunkenly into a pile
At night when I die
I will whisper in your ear
That I renounce it
And when I meet you on death's bends
I'll say it again only to you
And when I meet you on death's bends
I'll say it again just for you
No one has ever said so beautifully that they are afraid of love
No one so beautifully said he was afraid of love
Like you
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Rows of houses
Sound asleep
Only street lights
Notice me
I am desperate
If nothing else
In a holding pattern
To find myself
I talk in circles
I talk in circles
I watch for signals
For a clue
How to feel different
How to feel new
Like science fiction
Bending truth
No one can unring this bell
Unsound this alarm, unbreak my heart new
God knows, I am dissonance
Waiting to be swiftly pulled into tune
I'll go anywhere you want
Anywhere you want
Anywhere you want me
I know the further I go
The harder I try, only keeps my eyes closed
And somehow I've fallen in love
With this middle ground at the cost of my soul
Yet I know, if I stepped aside
Released the controls, you would open my eyes
That somehow, all of this mess
Is just my attempt to know the worth of my life...
Without apology to Edvard Munch, who would understand. Life is just a bed of roses for some, cognitive dissonance for many, and mechanized horror for concentrated groups.
Wishing you ways to find peace.
28 Feb 2022; 10:30 CST; Velvia +; f/8
236;32;9
Yellow telephone booths in Vaduz look like another modern sculptures (you can see a lot of them in the city) and don't make a dissonance in a pretty calm music of these Alpine color combinations...
Please see much better view in large size.
one could say it’s nice to have a dog. but in the end, most walks are just about letting him empty his bowels. makes perfect sense. he has to. still, there’s this dissonance. the coat, the posture, the stride – all elegant, almost refined. the dog, small but proud. two silhouettes blending perfectly into the scene. and yet, one is just walking the other so he can take a dump. i find that funny.
borne. night. palma.
The inevitable result of photographing frontal boundaries is getting soaked in the rain. Not something I relish, but also not something I run from. To me it's part of the storm experience. There's something very liberating standing outside in the rain. It defies natural human tendency to seek shelter, to remain dry. But once I get past the initial shock (and am already soaked), that urge diminishes. I figure I can't get any wetter, so the damage is really done. At that point I can turn my attention back to photography. The key is to keep the outer lens element dry. I use a lens hood for that and try to keep the lens pointed downward. Generally once water droplets form, it's game over. But sometimes the effect is magical as it was on this day. I was shooting in heavy rain as the sun began to emerge in front of me. The frame instantly filled with lens flares, miniature images of my f/6.7 aperture. But even more incredible was the formation of rainbow colors within the water droplets that had settled on the lens. None of this was apparent in my viewfinder, it was all a trick of the light inside (and outside) of the lens elements. No skill at all here really, except realizing the backlight might provide an interesting photo. Beyond that it was pretty much shooting blindly and hoping for the best, standing soaking wet in the middle of a cemetery.
stark..
[cognitive dissonance]
©MadDreamer ©2👽22/All rights reserved. Do not use without written permission from photographer/artist.
It's a quiet day at home; housework and such like.
If you want a laugh, it's just taken me the best part of an hour to make the bed with my new linen. I was baffled not to be able to find the opening for the quilt cover. I was about to get my sewing kit out and open a seam ... and then I found some buttons.
The stripes run horizontally, not vertically, as I had expected. So confused. More signs of cognitive decline? Or just an example of aesthetic dissonance?
If you are also challenged by longitude and latitude, have a read of this. It's excellent:
Henderson's, West Toronto Railpath, Toronto ON 12 Sep 2020
A bit of Dylan Thomas with your patio beer.
Consonance and dissonance.
I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.
I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.
Vincent Gomez :
I admired the singing and voice of Vincent Gomez, who was a choir singer in a local church. Those days, every singer dreamt of becoming a playback singer, and Vincent did accomplish that at a young age. In my childhood, I used to see him ply through the city roads riding a Vijay scooter, wearing a cap with its side flaps let loose that they look like drooping puppy ears.
In my teenage, I was active as a singer and also as a photographer. Photography with film being an expensive hobby, I was eager to contribute my service for free if someone solicits my help to cover events and rituals. While they pay for the film roll, developing and printing, I found out that I can experiment and learn, as well as help them. Hence, I have covered many weddings, baptisms and funerals at the local church where he sings the choir. As I viewed him in recognition of his outstanding achievement as a playback singer, we exchanged greetings when we meet as he knows me as a singer.
He would be at the choir-aisle with methodical movements as required in a choir. Though busy, he often acknowledges my presence with a slight bow of his head. We seldom got the time or chance to talk. His voice is very familiar to me that I can hear him sing right when I remember him.
He looked handsome, but he never cared for his looks. Many singers of those days were envious of him, and some of them mistook his staid attitude as arrogance and ego.
Vincent was busy with choirs and devotional songs when he received the breakthrough in 1988. He got the chance to succeed as a playback singer with a song written and composed by the legends in the Malayalam filmdom. The song 'Number Lesham', written by P. Bhaskaran, had music composed by G. Devarajan for the movie 'Athirukal'. The song situation being comical; the music director wanted him to sing it with apt expression and feeling. He did his job pretty well, but unfortunately, both songs in the movie flopped, including the other one sung by the great K.J. Yesudas. The green-eyed lot who earlier lost their sleep at his accomplishment gleefully celebrated the failure. They jibed that the lyrics of the song has come true. The verse "Entey jeevitham naaya nakki" many times repeated in the song, roughly translated, means, "My life is licked by a dog", else "My life has gone to waste". I am unsure whether he took the mocking and teasing seriously, but I heard that he subsequently led a disquieted life though he remained busy with choirs.
Many years later, when his son, a Popular cricket player, proudly and joyfully called home to share the greatest achievement of his life, Vincent was found dead hanging himself.
Aazhathil Ninnu : Aazhathil Ninnu
"Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord. Let your ears be attentive to my mind's wail."
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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
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________________________________________________
© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.
Consonance and dissonance.
I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.
I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.
Prakash Sathyan:
Prakash is the eldest son of the legendary Malayalam film actor Sathyan.
I met him first at Tharangini Studio (the music company owned by the great musician K.J.Yesudas). I used to visit Tharangini Studio for recordings and meet some artists, and it's there that I entered a studio console for the first time in my life. Prakash occupied the studio's front desk, and though nearly blind, he could easily recognize anyone from their voice.
Tharangini Studio was doing peak business those days, and Prakash was quite busy from early morning till evening. He lived alone in a room that is a portion of a house at Plamood in Trivandrum. Though much senior to me, within a short time, he considered me his best friend.
He had a fascination for colourful poster calendars, as he can see large pictures if held close to his face. I used to collect colourful posters from wherever possible and hand them over to him when I meet him.
His mother, Jessy Sathyan, stayed with his younger brother at his parental home in Manacaud, about 5 km away from where he stayed. As I had a vehicle, I visited the studio and took him to his mother whenever he wanted to meet her. By around 6 pm, he would say, " Anuj, it's 6, right?" and prepare to wind up his work and leave. On the way, we stop at Eastern bakery in East Fort, from where he buys cupcakes for his mother. After spending some time talking and having tea with her, we return, and I leave him back in his room. On the way back, seldom he asked my assistance to visit a tailor but has never sought my help to buy provisions, visit a barbershop or even consult a doctor.
We never talked about his late father, who is one of the greatest actors in Malayalam cinema. In fact, we never discussed movies as he probably might have rightly guessed that I'm not much fascinated with the topic. Yet, one day while talking about music, I mentioned certain marvellous pieces in movies that went unnoticed without receiving the attention they deserve. He grew curious and asked me to name one. I referred to the short song 'Mahal-thyagamey ' from an old Malayalam movie 'Snehaseema' (1954) and a few other songs. Snehaseema is a Malayalam movie based on a Malayalam novel retelling Alfred, Lord Tennyson's 'Enoch Arden'. The mentioned piece is depicted as a background song in melancholy by an empyreal disembodied voice glorifying sacrifice out of love. In astonishment, he asked how I know such old songs, which were released decades before I was born, and apologetically he admitted that he doesn't remember such a song even though it's from a hit movie with his father in the lead. All attentive, his face turned towards me, as his drooping eyelids looked like he's watching the floor; he asked, " Anuj, can you please sing it?". Usually, I never sing if people request me out of the blue, but I sang the first few lines in a soft voice, stopped, and asked him whether he can remember the song. He said, "No, please sing the full song". I sang with my eyes closed, and once over, I opened my eyes to see him weeping. As if I didn't notice it, I diverted the topic to something cheerful before I left his room.
My visits to the studio and our visit to meet his mother continued for a long time, but eventually, I often got busy with my studies, travel and many other activities that I couldn't meet Prakash as I used to. He called my number, and though I got the messages that he conveyed, I couldn't meet him in person for some time. He even left messages hinting at golden opportunities and breakthroughs for me.
On returning home after a long trip, I glanced through the day's newspaper, and right on the front page, I saw the headline, "Jessy Sathyan no more".
Few days after the funeral at LMS church, I visited Tharangini Studio inadvertently at about 6 pm to meet him. As he's always at the reception desk facing the entrance, visitors to the studio may think he's watching them. I approached him and, standing a few meters away, facing him, asked, " Do you remember this voice?". He mumbled, "Anuj", and following a pause, he asked, "Anuj, it's 6, right?" and extended his hand. Without uttering a word, he stood holding my hand. Often, a sigh speaks volumes. He released my hand with a sigh when someone interrupted. I left, promising him that we shall soon meet again. That didn't happen as I was too busy with my activities.
Prakash Sathyan died this day ( 15 April ) in 2014.
Mahal-thyagamey : Mahal-thyagamey
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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
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________________________________________________
© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.
In musical language, tutti marks the moment when the entire orchestra enters as one. Not melody, but texture breaks the silence.
Here, the flock dissolves into a single organism—notes scattered across the white staff of ice. Identity collapses into density.
Where other movements in this series lean toward isolation and order, this frame accepts dissonance. A visual white noise: life compressed into a low, unending hum against the cold.
Consonance and dissonance.
I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.
I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.
Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This):
In my teens, pretty engaged with professional singing, I was eager to try anything that would help me improve.
It was indeed a challenge to stretch my vocal cords in a residential area, and so I decided to give it a try at the local beach. That didn't work, as I soon realised that it's absurd to sit somewhere at the beach and sing aloud. I even doubted that fishers and other visitors to the beach would drop coins near me if I dare try. Finally, I managed to find the right place. Yes, in a boat!
I started visiting the local boat club all alone, hire a rowing boat and row it in the backwaters, as far away as possible from the shore. It became a routine that I would reach the boat club by 3 pm and return by 5 pm.
Most often, I would be the only rower at the specified time slot. The audience consisted of cormorants, egrets, cranes, ducks and moorhens, and I believe I was not a trouble for them. Occasionally a train would vroom through the railway overbridge far above the lake.
The songs I used to scream/sing were ' Sweet Dreams ' and 'Missionary Man'. As my countertenor is close to Annie Lennox's contralto, I preferred singing those Eurythmics songs. Both of them have a punchy rhythm that perfectly goes along with the rowing tempo. In between, 'Let it Be' or 'Eight Days a Week' by The Beatles, 'Still Loving You' by Scorpions, 'Rosanna' by Toto or 'The House Of The Rising Sun' by The Animals, once a day. Occasionally, I 'tried' a few songs of Freddie Mercury and M.K.Thyagaraja Bhagavathar (mostly Amba Manam Kaninthu).
My rowing wont continued for several months till about the onset of the monsoon rains.
Being a daily visitor, the secretary of YMCA who is in charge of the boat club used to have friendly chats with me and once I revealed my honest intention to him, as he drew curious to know why I'm rowing all alone.
Those days, I have often seen a lady, probably in her late forties, at the boat club premises. Sari-clad and carrying a handbag, she had a charming, graceful face. I saw her eagerly observing my activities and watching me until I moved out of sight from the coast. Seldom when I return, I could see her waiting at the shore as if she's expecting someone.
One cloudy evening as I reached the boat club, as usual, I saw her sitting at the shore gazing at the lake. After signing the register at the office, I walked towards the boats, with the oars handed over to me from the office. On seeing me, she stood up and hesitantly approached me with a smile. Though she had her head covered with the palla of her purple sari, a sudden heavy breeze blew a wisp of her hair on to her forehead. Clearing her forehead and adjusting the drape, she asked," Son, where are you from?". When I introduced myself, she apologised for dawdling my time and politely asked me whether I can spare some time to lend an ear to her. I said it's all right, and she said, "Please come," and walked towards a large tree in the compound. We sat on the concrete around the tree seat, and straight away, she asked, "Son, you come here to sing, right?". While I smiled, she continued rather hastily, "Do you know the song 'Manjil Virinja Poove '? " I said, "Yes, I sing it", and I could see her face brighten. She said, " I don't want to waste your time." Pointing to a spot bit far from the shore, almost below the railway overbridge, she said," Many years back, a person dear to me drowned there. He loved this place, and he used to sing. Today is his birthday. Can you please do me a favour?". Perplexed, before I could answer, pointing to the spot that she showed earlier, she continued," When you reach that spot, can you please sing that song for him?. It was his favourite song." As I sat stupefied for a while, I even forgot what I am there for when she abruptly shook my shoulder and repeated the question. I said, "Don't worry, I'll do that", and I could see her soul through her tear-filled eyes. I got up and walked towards the boat as I saw her whimpering uncontrollably.
I know the song very well, and I often sing it, but I have never sung any song in such an exigent situation. Oblivious of what I am doing, I unfastened the boat and set off from the shore with involuntary movements. Even though I was far from the coast, I didn't sing my usual songs.
I could see the dark clouds looming, along with heavy winds.
In a soliloquy, I asked," Does Nature read one's mind?" and I turned to check whether she is watching me from the shore. No, she's not there. Perhaps she's communicating with her beloved, else crying her heart out. I nearly reached the place that she pointed to, and I sang the song in my sonority. Felt that my regular audience is more attentive than usual, felt everything around, and the whole eternity is listening keenly. As I stopped rowing, the vessel just drifted along the lake. Back to my senses, I took control of the boat and thought of returning.
I was pretty sure that she would be waiting underneath the tree, awaiting my return and was keen to inform her that I fulfilled her desire. Eager to see her smile, quickly I fastened the boat to the shore and hurriedly walked towards the tree. No, she was not there. It started drizzling when I came out of the office after handing over the oars. With the song still reverberating in my mind, I left the place as the drizzle turned to a downpour.
The next day, another sunny day, I reached the boat club as usual and set out with my routine exercise. I sang my songs aloud as always and returned by about 5 pm, as earlier. That day, I inquired about her to the secretary. He said she's a frequent visitor and usually keeps gazing at the lake for hours. Though not clear about the circumstances of the death of her lover, he's sure it's drowning, and it occurred rightly at the spot that she pointed. He said that she remained a spinster following the death of her beloved, and people say she's mad.
I continued my routine for a few more weeks, and I nevermore saw that lady again. Soon the monsoon showers followed, and my rowing and singing practice stopped forever. Later one day I visited the boat club and found a new secretary has taken charge. I walked towards the lake and found that the rowing boats have vanished. It was a sunny day, and the lake appeared to be smiling in glee.
Very soon, the sky turned dark and cloudy. A heavy wind blew away dead leaves and fallen flowers from the ground as I walked back humming 'Manjil Virinja Poove '.
"Sweet Dreams are made of this, Everybody's looking for something."
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Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This): Sweet Dreams
Manjil Virinja Poove: Manjil Virinja Poove
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© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
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________________________________________________
© 2020 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.
Consonance and dissonance.
I the body would be sharing certain events cached in its data files.
I shall remove the text if anybody feels hurt, offended or humiliated by its contents.
M. K. Arjunan ( Arjunan Master)
One of the legends in the Malayalam filmdom, he has composed more than 500 songs for movies and more than 800 songs for dramas. Most of his compositions turned into hit songs.
I first met Arjunan Master in 1998 while recording my song 'Priya Ragam' in the studio run by his son Ani Arjun. A soft-spoken gentleman, he laughs loud and heartily, even for small jokes and quirky incidents. Without a doubt, he is the most humble senior musician I have ever met in my life. Despite knowing the faults in my work, without interfering, he encouraged me and just provided suggestions to help me improve.
Those days, he had the habit of placing chewing tobacco beneath his lower lip. He would occasionally move out to spit into the flowerpots kept at either side of the studio door. Once, while standing at the entrance, I saw a young musician doing the same. The next time when Arjunan Master came out to spit, I told him that youngsters admire him and so they are imitating him. After his hearty loud laugh, he went inside, and I accompanied him. There were only three people inside, and in all seriousness, addressing them, he said, "I have a bad habit, and I am stopping it. Those who imitate me have to do the same".
He has often narrated many incidents about his bitter experiences in the industry. Once, he mentioned that the director of a movie doubted his talent and suspected whether he's having the compositions done by somebody else. To validate it, he was provided with a room to compose the songs. After describing the required song situation, the director left, locking the room from outside. He didn't have food or even water, and yet, when the director turned up, he was ready with the compositions. Those songs later became big hits.
He composed the song 'Chembaka Thaikal ' in ghazal form without knowing what ghazal is. He had never heard a ghazal before when he made it, and yet his composition is so beautiful that it's one of my favourite songs.
I thought of him, prepared this text late at night yesterday, and woke up to hear that he passed away this morning.
Chembaka Thaikal : Chembaka Thaikal
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© 2019 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
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________________________________________________
© 2019 Anuj Nair. All rights reserved.
All images are the property of Anuj Nair. Using these images without permission is in violation of international copyright laws (633/41 DPR19/78-Disg 154/97-L.248/2000).All materials may not be copied, reproduced, distributed, republished, downloaded, displayed,posted or transmitted in any forms or by any means,including electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording without written permission of Anuj Nair. Every violation will be pursued penally.