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Echo is a figure and narrative study using multiple exposures of ink in water. Part of Alan Condrey’s Skin & Inks project.
"Echo" Mestre Valemtim - cópia em bronze do original pertencente ao Jardim Botânico do Rio de Janeiro - Fundição Zani 1997
Pinacoteca do Estado de São Paulo
Second of my Greek mythology series.
Echo was a nymph doomed to only repeat the words of others. Narcissus was an extremely handsome man, and one day, as he was hunting, Echo saw him and fell in love. She followed him around all day, trying desperately to talk to him... but of course, she couldn't. She even caught up with him at one point, and tried to embrace him, but he pushed her away. Echo was left heartbroken. Another deity, Nemesis, heard her cries and decided to punish Narcissus for his cruelty towards Echo. Narcissus then happened to glance upon his own reflection in a pool of water. He fell in love with the beauty of his reflection, and never left the pool. He died, and the nymphs, feeling bad for him, wanted to bury his body. However, they couldn't find it - the narcissus flower had grown in the place where he sat for so long.
No stock photos used in this one, just my own. :)
It's never too late for daffodils. They seem to grow well at 7,000 feet in May. This picture was taken in from of the Echo Lake Chalet, just north of Highway US 50 at Echo Summit.
"Echo" Mestre Valemtim - cópia em bronze do original pertencente ao Jardim Botânico do Rio de Janeiro - Fundição Zani 1997
Pinacoteca do Estado de São Paulo
Psittaculidae, Psittacula eques.
Black River Gorges National Park.
Mauritius.
10 December 2015.
[IF0A6397]
The art above is by my father who was probably 14 when he did it; just before he lied about his age and joined the Navy for WWII. It doesn't exactly fit the mood of the lyric, but, hey, it's by my dad.
Echoes
Music by Will Maples; lyrics by Michael Vance
Written in 1968 when I was 17 years old
We’ve lived a lie, hearts buried in caves of stone
Tears never cried, sorrows hidden and so alone
These are nothing but memory of years
These are nothing but shadows of tears
These are nothing but echoes of love gone its way
Her love has died, empty eyes that never meet
Within we hide, sharing secrets beneath satin sheets
Neither knowing the reasons we lied
Neither living a life of gray that’s died
Years of nothing but echoes of love lost someway
Her laughter’s an empty grave
Within and without, it’s all the same
Wearing masks of steel, always fearing the break of day
There’s nothing lift to feel
Without moving, she turns away
Without moving, she turns away
"Laudata sii pel tuo viso di perla, / o Sera, e pe' tuoi grandi umidi occhi ove si tace / l'acqua del cielo!"
(La sera fiesolana, G. d'Annunzio)
The Echo, Pg. 56, 1901, Archives & Special Collections, Hunter College Libraries, Hunter College of the City University of New York, New York City.
For more information:
library.hunter.cuny.edu/about/archives
Echo & The Bunnymen
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This images is copyright © Enrico Celotto. All right reserved. This photo must not be used under ANY circumstances without written consent.
Queste immagini sono protetta da copyright © Enrico Celotto. Tutti i diritti sono riservati. Le immagini non devono essere utilizzate in nessun caso senza liberatoria scritta dell'autore.
"Death smiled neath his tattered cowl. The game was won, the soul was his."
Echo Linden sporting some new additions to his death avatar in wicked style.