View allAll Photos Tagged existential
The image, titled "Introspection - Midnight," captures a deeply evocative scene that resonates through various artistic and philosophical lenses. In the context of expressionism, the photograph portrays an intense emotional experience rather than physical reality. The use of dark tones and shadows emphasizes inner turmoil or profound introspection. The figure’s hunched posture and the obscured facial features suggest an internal struggle or deep contemplation, aligning with the expressionist emphasis on depicting psychological states.
While impressionism focuses on capturing moments and the effects of light, this photograph leans more toward capturing an emotional rather than a fleeting moment. However, the subtle play of light on the figure's back and the floor introduces an impressionistic element, capturing the transient and ephemeral quality of light in a dark setting.
The image evokes existential themes, particularly through its exploration of solitude and introspection. The figure appears to be in a state of deep reflection, perhaps grappling with existential questions about identity, purpose, or the human condition. The darkness surrounding the figure enhances the sense of isolation, a common theme in existential thought.
The interplay of light and shadow is a significant aspect of this image. The soft, diffused light that illuminates the figure’s back creates a stark contrast with the surrounding darkness, symbolizing perhaps a glimmer of hope or understanding in an otherwise bleak or uncertain environment. The shadows add depth and mystery, enhancing the emotional weight of the scene.
The posture of the figure—hunched over with knees drawn close—conveys vulnerability, introspection, and possibly sorrow. This physical stance speaks volumes about the emotional state of the subject, suggesting a need for self-protection or a moment of profound contemplation. The overall mood of the photograph is somber and introspective. The darkness, coupled with the solitary figure, evokes feelings of melancholy, introspection, and solitude. The light illuminating the figure’s back adds a layer of subtle hope or insight amidst the prevailing darkness.
Despite the somber mood, there is a subtle sensuality in the photograph. The gentle curves of the figure’s back, the soft light highlighting the skin, and the overall intimate setting contribute to a quiet, understated sensuality that speaks to the beauty of the human form in moments of vulnerability. From a Freudian perspective, this image could be interpreted as a visual representation of the unconscious mind. The darkness represents the unknown and the repressed, while the illuminated back of the figure could symbolize the conscious mind’s attempt to bring some of these hidden thoughts and feelings into awareness. The posture may indicate a regression to a more primal state of being, or a retreat into the self to confront internal conflicts.
In summary, "Introspection - Midnight" is a powerful image that utilizes elements of light and shadow to convey deep emotional and psychological states. It speaks to themes of isolation, introspection, and the complexity of the human condition, resonating with various artistic and philosophical traditions.
Italien / Friaul / Julische Alpen - Luschariberg
THE HISTORY OF THE SANCTUARY
On the spot where the little statue of the Mother of God was found, a small chapel arose, and later a church. Despite political and linguistic divisions, Mary of Lussari remains the mother of all nations, queen of Europe.
When we enter the sanctuary of Lussari, we are embraced by a pleasantly dim setting, with thick, sturdy walls and a roof reminiscent of a ship. From the wall dividing the presbytery and the nave, Mary, mother of Jesus and of us all, greets us with open arms. She opens her mantle like a sail, in which warm rays of sunlight – of God – have been caught. With this mantle, a symbol of divine love for mankind, she embraces the pilgrims who arrive at the place where a young shepherd, 650 years ago, found her graceful little statue. Under this mantle there is room for me, for you, and for all the thousands who set out on pilgrimage every year.
***
According to tradition, a small chapel was soon built on the spot where the statue was found, and over time it developed into a church. A rectory and structures to welcome pilgrims were added to it. The church survived every calamity, whether natural or man-made. In the zeal of the Enlightenment it was destroyed by Emperor Joseph II, who wished to root out “backward” popular devotions. In the First World War it burned under artillery fire together with the hamlet. Except for the walls, today only the little statue of Mary and a burnt relief embedded in the eastern wall of the nave recall the old church. But after every catastrophe, whether natural or man-made, the sanctuary has always risen again.
The strongest mark on the rebuilt church was left by the painter Tone Kralj, who in the 1930s frescoed the presbytery. He finished the work after the Second World War, in 1960. In the presbytery are depicted scenes from the life of Mary: the Annunciation, the flight into Egypt, the finding of Jesus in the Temple, the crucifixion, and the coronation of Mary. On the separating arch he depicted Mary with the mantle, to whom the pilgrims turn. In the side chapel to the north we see the altarpiece with Anna, Joachim, and the young Mary; on the side walls of the nave, instead, two historical depictions: the finding of the little statue and the devastation of the First World War. Also by Kralj is the painting of the Slavic apostles St. Cyril and St. Methodius, in the company of the patrons of the Patriarchate of Aquileia, Saints Hermagoras and Fortunatus.
After 1960, Kralj’s Way of the Cross also found a home in the church, having been created to be placed along the ancient pilgrim’s path. The local inhabitants never finished the work begun in the 1930s. In recent years, together with them, pilgrims have taken up the original idea again and begun building the last structures, in which copies of Kralj’s Way of the Cross will be displayed.
While Kralj’s works are mainly dedicated to Mary, to the church of Lussari, and to the suffering of Jesus, the stained-glass windows instead tell us of the continuation of Jesus’ work in the world, which is the Church. From the windows of the presbytery, Jesus’ predecessor, St. John the Baptist (on whose feast day the pilgrimage season usually began), and his successor St. Peter, the first Pope, greet us. Facing them, in the portal above the main door, are represented two pairs of saints who have marked our history. On the sides are St. Paulinus, an important patriarch of Aquileia, and St. Benedict, patron and teacher of Europe. In the centre are two contemporaries from the 19th century, St. Luigi Scrosoppi of Udine and Blessed Anton Martin Slomšek of Maribor. The side chapel, dedicated to Saints Joachim and Anna, connects us, through the young Mary, to human history, which begins with the exile of our first parents Adam and Eve from earthly paradise. Two biblical women, Judith and Esther, prepare the way for Mary, the woman who bore the Son of God, who redeemed us from the sin of our first parents. In the chapel of St. Joseph, instead, are depicted the patron of the parish of Camporosso, St. Giles, and the patron of woodcutters and foresters, St. John Gualbert.
The sacred place
The church building is a consecrated space. The church is set apart from everyday use because extraordinary things happen within it: it is not merely a physical space, but a particular existential dimension, in which all places and all times are simultaneously present. Here we Christians gather for Mass, that moment in which the Last Supper of Jesus, his suffering, and his crucifixion become present. In church we normally baptise new members of the community and confirm them with the sacrament of confirmation. Here Christians marry and are ordained deacons, priests, and bishops. In church we often gather for prayer, we reconcile with God and with our neighbour; it is the place where we pronounce our vows to God.
The church building and its art seek to bring us into a reality that connects us beyond the boundaries of time and space, in which even death does not mean final separation. In the sacraments, above all the Mass, we enter into the transcendent event of Christ’s work and presence, which began during the years of his life in Palestine, and which, by the power of His death and resurrection, continues until the end of days. The Christian’s life is not limited to the space and time that he directly experiences. When the Christian is connected to God, he enters a reality that transcends space and time. For the Christian, life does not end with death; for this reason he remains in relationship with the deceased, since they live in the same way that Christ lives. This faith and this bond with them are expressed through prayer, especially when we remember them at Holy Mass.
The church building helps us gain access to this reality, greater than our experience of time and space. This is why the church windows are not transparent. They are not meant for looking through at the surrounding space. It is true that they let light into the sacred place, yet their purpose is something else: through the coloured windows God “looks” into our world, into our life. In church our life is literally presented to us in another light: through the windows God looks upon us and upon the community in which we live, and he invites us too to look at ourselves and at the world through his eyes. That this is possible is reminded to us by the saints depicted on the windows. The saints are our brothers and sisters, who knew how to look at the world and at people with the eyes of God.
All the art of the church serves this purpose. The paintings and statues bring us to that dimension of life which escapes our direct experience, both because of its distance in time and because of its transcendent nature. The figures of the saints are not there to awaken the memory of something that was and has passed, but to assure us that they are still with us. Not only through the effects of their own works, but above all because they live in God. The angels and the other symbols of God point to that transcendent reality which we can neither fully understand nor fully experience, but which is, at the same time, part of our life. So, when we cross the threshold of the sanctuary, we enter another world. Or rather: we enter a world that encompasses everything we have brought with us and everything that awaits us outside the sanctuary, but which at the same time transcends all of this, and which therefore allows us to see ourselves and the world with the eyes of God. The church building places us within a greater reality.
When we enter the sanctuary of Lussari, we are embraced by a pleasantly dim setting, with sturdy, thick walls and a roof reminiscent of a ship. From the wall that divides the presbytery and the nave, Mary, mother of Jesus and of us all, greets us with open arms. She opens her mantle like a sail, in which warm rays of sunlight have been caught. The sun is an ancient symbol of God. With this mantle, a symbol of God’s love for mankind, Mary embraces the pilgrims who arrive at the place where a young shepherd, 650 years ago, found her graceful little statue. Under the mantle there is room for me, for you, and for all the thousands who set out on pilgrimage every year.
The church of Lussari speaks of two families. First it presents to us Mary’s family: the lineage from which she was born and the closer family circle in which Jesus Christ was born and raised. At the same time, it surrounds us with the family founded by Jesus through his own suffering, death, and resurrection. This is the community of the faithful, which includes Mary, the apostles, and all Christians – or rather, all people of good will and indeed all of creation. Some of them are depicted on the walls and windows; for others we pray or to them we entrust ourselves.
The side chapels tell us of Mary’s birth and family. The chapel on the left is dedicated to her parents Joachim and Anna. In it are also depicted Adam and Eve, our first parents, who represent the fall of mankind and the estrangement from God and from paradise. Esther and Judith, two important women from the history of the people of Israel, link the first parents to Mary’s family. The chapel on the right is dedicated to St. Joseph. The presbytery, with scenes from their lives, speaks of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. In the presbytery stand the altar, a symbol of God’s offering for us, and the tabernacle, in which the eucharistic bread is kept, the sacrament of Jesus’ continual presence among us.
Key figures from our history present to us renewed humanity: the Christian community, founded by Jesus Christ. Behind, near the entrance of the church, our “patriarchs” greet us – men who proclaimed and communicated the faith in Christ to us. On the left is Patriarch Paulinus, who worked on the proclamation of Christianity in the lands south of the Drava; on the right, Abbot Benedict, founder of monasteries, which were centres radiating Christianity and classical culture in those parts of Europe that gave way to the wave of tribes from the east and north – the wave of our pagan ancestors. In the centre are Luigi Scrosoppi and Anton Martin Slomšek, two contemporaries from the 19th century, who, each in his own place, educated and instructed people, also helping them concretely, according to Jesus’ commandment of love for one’s neighbour. Joining them are the founders of the Christian community in our area: the patrons of Aquileia, Hermagoras and Fortunatus, who marked the area between the Adriatic Sea and the Drava; Cyril and Methodius, instead, transmitted the faith to the Slavs.
The space of the church seeks to help us gain conscious access to that history which the aforementioned people significantly shaped. Our spiritual ancestors are here; we carry their “spiritual DNA” within us. They laid the foundations of our culture; it is because of them that we are what we are. Their choices and their work have consequences for us, today. It is up to us, however, to immerse ourselves in this dimension of our reality and accept it, so as to add our own brick and place our own little stone in the mosaic – or to pass by superficially like a light breeze, which for a moment stirred up a little dust, then vanished and was forgotten.
The church is a construction of a particular kind, and it is good that we realise this. Like any other construction, it must meet the criteria of civil engineering and art. It is made of quality materials and decorated with high-level works of art. Yet science and art are not ends in themselves; they serve so that God and his family may more easily meet in a concrete time and space. Sacred places help us better understand who we are and what we are called to.
(lussari.eu)
Der Luschariberg (italienisch Monte Santo di Lussari, slowenisch Svete Višarje und friaulisch Mont Sante di Lussari) ist ein 1790 Meter hoher Berg in den Julischen Alpen. Er ist ein Teil der Gemeinde Tarvis und der Fraktion Camporosso.
Wallfahrtsort
Nach einer Legende fand ein junger Hirte auf der Anhöhe des Luscharibergs eine Statue Marias mit dem Kind, als er die Schafe zurück ins Tal führte. Er brachte die Statue zum Pfarrer, der sie im Pfarrhof aufbewahrte. Die Statue fand jedoch immer wieder ihren Weg auf den Berg. In Absprache mit dem Patriarchen von Aquileia wurden an der Fundstelle um 1360 eine Kapelle und im 16. Jahrhundert eine Kirche gebaut, die über die Jahre zum Ziel vieler Pilger wurde.
Aufgrund der bergigen Lage war die Kirche anfangs nur in den Sommermonaten geöffnet. Als Öffnungs- und Schließungsdatum dienten der Festtag der Geburt von Johannes dem Täufer (24. Juni) und der erste Sonntag im Oktober. Auf dem nur zu Fuß erreichbaren Berg entstanden ein Pfarrhof und ein Gasthof, in dem die Pilger übernachten konnten. Zudem waren auch Priester für die Beichte und Messfeiern anwesend. Infolge der Josephinischen Reformen und 1915 während des Ersten Weltkriegs wurde die Kirche zweimal zerstört. Durch die neue Grenzziehung infolge der Pariser Friedenskonferenz geriet der Pilgerstrom ins Stocken, was die Renovierung der Kirche erschwerte. Die Kontrolle über den Luschariberg geriet vermehrt in öffentliche Hand, was zur Entstehung von Souvenirgeschäften und Restaurants führte.
In der 2. Hälfte des 20. Jahrhunderts erlebte der Wallfahrtsort mit dem Bau einer Gondelbahn einen Aufschwung. Zahlreiche Jubiläen sowie der zunehmende Wintersporttourismus führten zudem zu einer wachsenden Bekanntheit.
Neben der Kirche befindet sich eine Gedenktafel an Siegfried Gödl, den langjährigen Pfarrer in Eibiswald, St. Oswald, St. Lorenzen und Soboth, der am 15. Juli 2019 bei einer Fußwallfahrt am Aufstieg zum Monte Lussari verstarb.
Skigebiet
Der Luschariberg ist ein Teil des Skigebiets „Monte Lussari / Tarvisio“. Insgesamt führen eine Gondelbahn, acht Sessellifte und vier kleinere Skilifte zu den 13 verschiedenen Pisten. Das Skigebiet weist 24 Pistenkilometer auf.
Radsport
Im Jahr 2023 wurde der Luschariberg erstmals vom Giro d’Italia befahren. Im Rahmen der 20. Etappe führte ein Einzelzeitfahren von Tarvis auf die Anhöhe des Berges. Die Auffahrt erfolgte vom Val Saisera, von dem eine 7,5 Kilometer lange Straße über elf Kehren auf den Luschariberg führt. Die Steigung lag im Schnitt bei 12,1 %, wobei die ersten fünf Kilometer eine durchschnittliche Steigung von 15,3 % aufwiesen und Passagen von bis zu 22 % beinhalteten. Auf den letzten 2,5 Kilometern flacht die Straße etwas ab, ehe im Finale ein weiterer Abschnitt mit 22 % befahren werden musste. Der Slowene Primož Roglič übernahm mit dem Etappensieg einen Tag vor dem Ende der Rundfahrt die Gesamtwertung von Geraint Thomas, obwohl er im Anstieg einen technischen Defekt hatte und kurzzeitig vom Rad absteigen musste. Er absolvierte den Anstieg in einer Zeit von 30 Minuten und 34 Sekunden, was einer durchschnittlichen Geschwindigkeit von 15,3 km/h entspricht.
(Wikipedia)
The Selkies Call
Selkie mythology, much like existentialist philosophy, grapples with profound questions of identity, freedom, alienation, and the ongoing search for meaning. Selkies, embodying a dual nature that forces them to exist between two worlds, directly confronts the existentialist struggle to find authenticity and reconcile their place in a world that imposes societal expectations. Moreover, these creatures' ability to reclaim their seal skins becomes a powerful metaphor for the existential emphasis on individual freedom and the necessity of autonomous choice in a world devoid of certainty. Yet, as beings caught between the human and animal realms, selkies experience profound feelings of alienation and displacement, mirroring the existentialist exploration of isolation and the longing for connection in a vast and seemingly indifferent world. The rich symbolism inherent in the Selkie myth—their longing for the sea, their struggles with belonging—mirrors expressionism's use of symbolic imagery and allegory to convey deeper truths about the human condition.
One of the things I've always admired about some of my favourite artists is their absolute commitment to truth.
The raw, open honesty that speaks of existential struggle and ultimately the great power beyond ourselves and in our own human spirit.
I have this reoccurring dream where I'm walking along a railroad track that stretches into an unknown surreal world. As I walk, the landscape morphs and shifts with each passing moment. With each step, I think that the dream is about to reveal its true intentions and I will arrive at a destination. Then I wake up.
Image imagined in MidJourney AI and finished with Topaz Studio and Lightroom Classic.
"I was conscious, and that's all. Beyond my consciousness, there was nothing else.
More time passed. I waited for something to happen. Nothing happened.
I was calm. Or frozen. I felt as if I was on the verge of the most terrifying thought in the world, but I wasn't having it quite yet.
Then I had it."
- Alex Garland, The Coma
Excerpt from www.mississauga.ca/arts-and-culture/arts/public-art/tempo...:
a sky for peoples and a space for us by Karly Cywink are two of over 35 public artworks on display across the City of Mississauga.
Karly Cywink, 2023
Digital Illustration, printed on vinyl
IDEA Square One (Square One Mall, Second Floor)
“a sky for peoples is inspired by my recent obsession with the sky and everything that it can hold. I’ve been taught that the sky provides a place for guidance in many different aspects of life; from practical resources, identity, to the observation of spiritual beings. It’s a place that I often find myself gazing up at subconsciously. It’s a place I know I can sit and stare at and ponder the mundane, like what I should get for groceries this week, as well as the existential question of what our meaning is. I don’t truly know what the skies tell me, but I get lost in thought every time and often come away feeling better. To me, this piece inspires thought and question, innovation and creation, and an overall sense of want and yearning for something new and exciting.
a space for us is both the counterpart and opposite to a sky for peoples. Just like its sister, a space for us is inspired by the thought-provoking beauty of both natural and manmade objects that surround us, in our everyday life. As someone who has spent the better part of my life living and visiting rural spaces, landscapes have always been something that I find quite captivating. They are something that I often find are unfortunately overlooked in the urban spaces, that most of us find ourselves in. There are views that can inspire flow and thinking, in a multitude of contexts. We let go of the privilege to see and marvel at these mundane landscapes, in favour of the busy and sprawling landscape in our urban environments.
I hope these pieces inspire us, as creatives and innovators, to take a step back and revisit the not-so-obvious beauty of the land that allows us to be here.”
– Karly Cywink
Unfortunately there is this TV monitor blocking the view.
The entrance to the Japanese Garden at Huntington Library in San Marino, CA. Photographed 06-09-2018. Processed 11-11-19.
Is the bronze bird jealous of the one who can fly away? Or is the live bird jealous of the daily certainty the other bird has? Am I thinking way too much about this photo?
Supportive turtle checking in on its green heron buddy who seems to be having an existential crisis.
Scene 1: Somewhere in an existential bar in Austin. Loud blues band wailing on the background. Other than that, only two people and the bartender are there.
Chuck: Can I tell you a secret?
Juzno: Sure thing.
Chuck: I'm Superman.
Juzno: Wow. Can I have your autograph?
Chuck: No, it's a secret. Remember?
Juzno: Aha.
Gallery www.justanobserver.com/
Blog www.juzno.com/
sDg
# #man #moody #secret #bar #cocktail #Secondstreet #urban #austin #texas #blackandwhite #BW #BnW #grain #portrait #juzno #RobCastro #juznobsrvr #fujifilm #xpro1 #xmountlens #35mm #night #bar
Like so many abandones schools and farms, this school has a long history of returning students with words and lately more grafittists as its existential isolation allows one to imagine what it must have been like to be so far away from all other touchstones.
These images were created around 2020, in a time marked by Covid, but they do not belong only to that moment. I am republishing them today because reading them again means realizing that their meaning has not been exhausted: the facts change, tragic events change, names and circumstances change, but outside the same violence of human mechanisms, inequalities, intolerance, constraint, and imposed survival continues to hold. That is why these photographs remain contemporary. In the contrast between blue and red, in the purity of white, in the vulnerability of the body and in the harshness of the words, there is still a clear position: not a closed memory, but a thought that is still alive, still exposed, still in conflict with the present. I am republishing them in my Pro account so that they are not lost and so that they can continue to speak.
Complete album of the series:
www.flickr.com/photos/192876881@N08/albums/72157719324029...
I've wanted to do some more conceptual-type stuff for awhile now. So, I decided to spend a couple of sleepless nights putting this together.
Strobist's Info
Vivitar 285HV bare bulb above camera left @ 1/16th.
Vivitar 285HV bare bulb below camera right @ 1/16th with three 1-stop ND gels.
Triggered via Pocketwizards
This was in the rain room at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. 10-15 people at a time were admitted into the room, and could spend up to 15 minutes in it.
The rain poured down in a square core, surrounded by a rain-less perimeter. By approaching the rain slowly, it would stop falling in front of you, creating a dry space for you to move in. By walking slowly, you could create a dry path across the rain field. Well, dry enough....
It was a sensory, philosophical, existential experience.
It was remarkably loud.
And incredibly awesome.
Blended four sabotaged panoramas into one image in Adobe Photoshop, on June 19, 2018.
Made especially for the PANO to the Metal contest on PANO-Vision: www.flickr.com/groups/2892788@N23/discuss/72157667684597037/
Still from the ongoing Existential Production of my life—an unedited reel that unspools like a Faulkner novel gone slightly feral, all run-on sentences and commas scattered like confetti, dashes crowding out the margins, parentheses opening and closing in places where no parentheses should logically be (if logic has anything to do with it), periods appearing late or not at all. One continuous monologue, breathless and unending, with the occasional still-frame—snapped at random intervals—to prove that this whole improbable production is in fact happening.
.
Nikkormat FT
Nikkor 50 mm f1.1,4
Kodak Ektrachrom
Lab processed
Scanned and edited by me
DALLE mini is a AI-based text-to-image software program. I decided to give it some existential prompts. In response to the koan "When you can do nothing, what can you do?" these images rightly display confusion.
These images were created around 2020, in a time marked by Covid, but they do not belong only to that moment. I am republishing them today because reading them again means realizing that their meaning has not been exhausted: the facts change, tragic events change, names and circumstances change, but outside the same violence of human mechanisms, inequalities, intolerance, constraint, and imposed survival continues to hold. That is why these photographs remain contemporary. In the contrast between blue and red, in the purity of white, in the vulnerability of the body and in the harshness of the words, there is still a clear position: not a closed memory, but a thought that is still alive, still exposed, still in conflict with the present. I am republishing them in my Pro account so that they are not lost and so that they can continue to speak.
Complete album of the series:
www.flickr.com/photos/192876881@N08/albums/72157719324029...
Even Barbie, with her perfectly coiffed hair and an impressive resume of dream jobs (astronaut, vet, cupcake chef—what can’t she do?), needs a moment of reassurance now and then. After all, even a gal living her best life in a pink mansion with a pool might occasionally steer her convertible off course. That’s where her pink lighthouse steps in—a beacon of hope for Barbie-sized existential crises. Its glowing light says, "Hey, relax, girl. We’ve got this." It’s less about storms and more about those days when you accidentally mismatch your stilettos or your Malibu dream house Wi-Fi goes down.
Security for Barbie isn’t about braving hurricanes; it’s about staying fabulous through life’s little hiccups. A lighthouse is the ultimate signal to pause, adjust your tiara, and sparkle forward. Because let’s face it—if even Barbie needs a guiding light sometimes, the rest of us are definitely allowed to lose our way, too. Just remember: whatever happens, always accessorize appropriately for the journey.
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Golden%20Village/218/194/22
Man, I Feel Like a Woman
We're Here! : The Three Stooges Existential Balloon Factory
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Best on Black
Location: The Photographer's Workshop: slurl.com/secondlife/Trapper/86/61/39
Revised 4/18/11
"I call a lie: wanting not to see something one does see, wanting not to see something as one sees it... The most common lie is the lie one tells to oneself; lying to other is relatively the exception."
~ Friedrich Nietzsche, 1894/1990, The Anti-Christ (R. J. Hollingdale, Trans.), p. 185
This is an image from my project Aftermath.
Aftermath is a photography series I created during the pandemic, using a range of experimental techniques to explore the human condition in times of crisis. By employing methods such as film soup, developing color film with black-and-white chemistry, and innovative and alternative darkroom printing, I aimed to reflect the uncertainties and disruptions of the era. The work delves into themes of resilience, vulnerability, and the broader existential challenges posed by capitalism, offering a layered social commentary on our shared experiences during turbulent times.