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I have quite a few bottles that I want to put lights into, but I am struggling to know what colour lights to put in them. I have a couple of blue bottles that I feel would work well with crisp white, and I have a tree-shaped bottle especially for Christmas for which I need to find lights. I am currently thinking 40 green micro LEDs with 20 crisp white micro LEDs because I think our tree has crisp white LEDs - the only problem is that I cannot quite remember what colour lights our tree has. I know that the lights around the house are warm white and that the tree's colour theme is ice blue and silver, but I cannot remember whether the lights on the tree are white or blue. I think I am going to have to take a gamble and say that they are white.
This all sounds very trivial, but in my mind, it is what is bothering me most today. I have days where I can spend hours grappling with big, existential and metaphysical questions, and then days where all I can think about is the colour of a couple of fairy lights.
This photo was taken by Sophie, during her recent visit to this wonderfully sprawling philosophy bookshop in Rome, Italy.
Sophie tells me that "the bookshop's resident cat was very helpful and recommends Kierkegaard for existential crises".
"The strength of certain elements / is they are able to unite"
assemblage, 6x4x4 cm
(c) Drager Meurtant, 2020
The time has come,' the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'
--Lewis Carroll
Image imagines in MidJourney AI and finished with Topaz Studio 2.0 and Lightroom Classic.
When your shadow follows you and also precedes you, you're probably approaching the abyss. It's nice when you have a partner to explore it with.
Image imagined in MidJourney AI and finished with Topaz Studio 2.0 and Lightroom Classic.
These days,
These days I seem to think a lot
About the things that I forgot to do,
And all the times I had a chance to.
-Jackson Browne
Image imagined in MidJourney AI and finished with Topaz Studio 2.0 and Lightroom Classic.
At first glance, it could also be a landscape in France or Germany, but only at first glance ...
Personally, I love cultural landscapes much more than natural ones, as they are much more diverse and interesting, and they all have a historical character that documents the progress of humanity and should be protected for the long term ...
It is not “France, Italy, Germany, America First” that will save us, but “Climate First”.
This is a matter of existential importance that concerns us all, and is a matter of great urgency !
Deutsch
Auf den ersten Blick könnte es auch eine Landschaft in Frankreich oder Deutschland sein, aber nur auf den ersten ...
Ich persönlich liebe Kulturlandschaften viel mehr, als naturbelassene, da sie viel vielfältiger und interessanter sind und alle eine Geschichtsprägung haben, den Fortschritt der Menschheit dokumentieren der nachhaltig geschützt werden müsste ...
Retten wird uns nicht "Frankreich -, Italien -, Deutschland -, Amerika First", sondern "Klima First".
Das ist sehr existenziell, geht uns alle an und zwar sehr dringend !
_MG_1897_09_pt3
light cuts through the darkness.
he reaches out, but touches nothing.
a fleeting silhouette, caught between shadows.
museo de las ciencias, valencia
a fleeting silhouette climbs into the light, framed by brutalist curves and the hush of concrete. the world below watches in shadow, as if remembering a dream it never lived.
The term "the blues" is associated with feeling down or sad due to a combination of historical and cultural reasons. The colour blue has long been linked to sadness and melancholy in various contexts, and phrases like "blue devils" (referring to depression and hallucinations) and "blue Monday" (a term for the sadness of the start of the work week) solidified this association. The blues, as a musical genre, also reflects feelings of loss, loneliness, and existential emptiness, further reinforcing the connection between the colour blue and negative emotions.
Minehead, Somerset, UK.
I've looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all
Joni Mitchell
www.youtube.com/watch?v=7cBf0olE9Yc
Image imagined in MidJourney AI and finished with Topaz Studio 2.0 and Lightroom Classic.
I have been off flickr for a few years. I am trying to revive this account in order to better organize, archive my various photography/printing projects. So pardon the “work in progress” as I clean up and get things updated. I’m excited to see everyone’s work again :-D and I hope I will be motivated to keep this up! I’m still on insta, but it just doesn’t cut it when it comes to archives and organization.
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.
Title: The Final Voyage of the Trawler Hawser and the Rusty Old Shackle
Once upon a briny dusk in the forgotten harbor of Crumpet’s Cove, an aging trawler named Hawser stirred from a decades-long nap. Her hull groaned like a grandmother with gout, barnacles clinging to her underbelly like stubborn regrets.
Beside her, hanging limply from a creaking bollard, was Shackle—a rusty, irritable hunk of iron with a temper like a wet matchstick and a voice like someone gargling gravel and moonshine.
"I’ve been thinking," muttered Hawser, her anchor winch twitching with vague purpose, "what if we just... left?"
Shackle squinted. “Left? We’re antiques, Hawser. Artifacts. Fish laugh at us. Seagulls use my eyelet as a public restroom.”
“Exactly,” said Hawser with a glint in her fog-light. “Let’s go out not as scrap, but as legends. One last voyage—for self-discovery!”
Shackle spat out a fleck of rust. “You’ve been listening to the tide-poets again, haven’t you?”
But deep down—beneath the barnacles and the tetanus—they both yearned for something more. Something wet and dramatic.
With a wheeze, a belch of diesel, and an illegal amount of enthusiasm, Hawser heaved herself off the dock. The ropes gave way with a theatrical snap, and Shackle clanged into place like a rusty exclamation mark.
They sailed into the open sea, where waves greeted them with surprise and mild concern.
“Where to?” asked Shackle, now vibrating slightly with existential dread.
“North-by-northeast-by-chaos,” said Hawser. “We follow the jellyfish. They know things.”
Three days in, they found a floating disco run by philosophical squid. Shackle got in a dance-off with a bioluminescent cuttlefish named Kevin and realized he’d been clenching his metaphorical jaw for 43 years. Hawser learned how to feel the ocean, instead of just floating above it. She cried bilge water for the first time since '79.
They sailed further.
They survived a romantic entanglement with a lovesick lighthouse, narrowly avoided being recruited into a pirate-themed reality show, and at one point, accidentally entered a whale’s book club. (Moby-Dick was panned.)
At the edge of the world—a place cartographers refuse to acknowledge due to tax reasons—they met The Great Crustacean, a sentient lobster the size of a small village, who challenged them to a riddle contest.
Shackle won by accident when he sneezed out a bolt that landed perfectly in the lobster’s weak spot. Hawser screamed, “THIS IS WHAT GROWTH FEELS LIKE!” and accidentally triggered her emergency foghorn, summoning every sea creature within 50 nautical miles.
Together, the duo was declared “Honorary Ocean Elders” and gifted a sash made entirely of kelp and unsolicited advice.
They never returned to Crumpet’s Cove.
Some say Hawser became a floating spa for therapy seals.
Others claim Shackle was last seen hosting a podcast about corrosion and emotional vulnerability.
All we know is, somewhere out there on the misty blue, a trawler and a shackle are still discovering themselves—and possibly reinventing maritime jazz.
Fin. And some people about Ai taking their jobs
It's been wet in the Foothills and is forecast to get significantly wetter. It's a godsend for those who have shelter and warmth as the land was dry and parched after an abnormally hot summer. Not so much for the lonely displaced people who wander the streets. Only the lonely wander about on cold, rainy, windy nights.
Image imagined in MidJourney AI and finished with Topaz Studio 2.0 and Lightroom Classic.
My grandfather always told me, "when you have a huge decision to make, it's best to sleep on it." I guess that's why I ponder. My wife calls it procrastination.
Image imagined in MidJourney AI and finished with Topaz Studio 2 and Lightroom Classic.
a bridge, lines fading into the sky. the silhouette of a person, just an outline, without a face, without a name. walking alone, wrapped in shadows and light, a wanderer between worlds. the city in the background blurs, unreal, as if it were just a memory. here, on this bridge, time doesnât exist, only the step into the unknown. the path is clear, the destination hidden.
As much as I love the ocean, I don't get in it! Sure, I enjoy walking in the surf, but I draw the line at knee level. I'm not a strong swimmer and the thought of losing touch with the ground beneath me triggers a shiver of existential terror!
This coast is not a region for ocean swimming anyway. Nobody does it except for the occasional oblivious tourist, who won't stay long in the 45-degree water (7 C). Only the rugged surfers in wet suits are sometimes seen in the water, and I admire their courage and strength.
I stand at the edge of this danger and look at the dark sea that could quietly swallow me. For a moment, like in a dream, I seem to grasp the reality of existence that we all share. The ocean teaches deep respect and awe.
“The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to you, but it is not. It is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of the other person—without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other to a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other.”
~Osho~
The words that inspired this image
“This artistic manifestation, with its rigorous denial of chromatic texture or overt symbolism, offers a compelling deconstruction of the human condition within the post-modern zeitgeist. The total absence of visual or sensory components, and refusal to allude to the socio-political struggles of our era, reveals a deep-seated existential angst that permeates all of contemporary culture. By challenging the viewer's preconceived notions and subverting traditional artistic tropes, this work invites a profound introspection into the core of our being, forcing us to confront the inherent contradictions and uncertainties of our existence. Its sublime beauty and minimal conceptual framework makes it a truly transcendent example of contemporary art, pushing the boundaries of artistic expression and offering a new paradigm for the future of creative endeavour.”
Professor Ursula Christensen, University of the Arts, New York
For more AI inspired micro stories please visit neural-narrative.blogspot.com/
This is a darkroom print 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.
If you find yourself preferring to be alone, don't despair, you're probably in good company. From time to time, we all need to recover from social overwhelm. Don't worry, being alone can actually make you a more introspective and interesting person.
Image imagined in MidJourney AI and finished with Topaz Studio 2.0 and Lightroom Classic.
i have been one acquainted with the night
i have walked out in rain and back in rain
i have outwalked the furthest city light
i have looked down the saddest city lane
i have passed by the watchman on his beat
and dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain
i have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
when far away an interrupted cry
came over houses from another street
but not to call me back or say good-bye
and further still at an unearthly height
a luminary clock against the sky
proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right
i have been one acquainted with the night
-Robert Frost "Acquainted with the Night"
I usually prefer to write my own description, but I felt this poem was perfect for the image.
Image imagined in MidJourney AI and finished with Topaz Studio 2.0 and Lightroom Classic.
In another time, when I was a different human altogether, I used to drive all night between upstate New York and Chicago listening to Radiohead’s Kid A, OK Computer, Amnesiac and Modest Mouse’s The Moon and Antarctica. It was a time I couldn’t even possibly conceive of photographing both bands as I drove all night on the thruway and across the winding curves of Cleveland hoping to not fall asleep and become part of a circle. And so, I’ve changed, the bands have changed, the cities have changed. But, did you know, just like a body turns into a new self after 7 years, so does a city? I came to Chicago 20 years ago and it’s about to completely change over for the third time (Math is fun, don’t you think, Karma Police?) Anyway, on a macro level, we’re all seeing the bulldozers and razed buildings, the rent increases, the humans being kicked to the curb like they never mattered. We all internalize this stuff like an infestation about 100x more detrimental and insidious than Coronavirus. And, on the microlevel, we can feel it too. It’s in all the elements of ourselves and the places we visited, the shows we went to, the restaurants we ate in, the people we bonded with who may not be still breathing. We’re still drinking drinking drinking Coca Coca Cola and we’re still heading down that road. We aren’t going to stop changing, a slow evolution or de-evolution until we die.
I chose October to resume this series for a reason. The main reason is this…it’s scary. Disaster Capitalism is the ghost who never stopped living and who you would never invite into your home on purpose, right? You want to avoid the devastation because it’s hard to function without welcoming all the misfits in your city into your home and calling it a day. You know you are a misfit, too. And, there’s a lot of peeling of surfaces, a lot of taking away from the original form. You know there’s a secret tension between those human made constructions and the others-the trees, the grasses, the nature that will also swallow us whole if given a chance. Just like…you know there’s a secret self who went to hundreds of protests to actively resist fascism when Trump was a more than an existential idea threatening all of human kind. It is terrifying to see all the layers. The more you look, the less able you will be to stop looking. And, it’s still happening. Just look at that abortion ban.
And so, if you see me on the street, my long red hair a chaotic tumble around my camera, please know that I am not insane as I crouch low and high on tip toe, capturing all the urban monsters inside ourselves. We may never be reconstructed because we’re not potential high end real estate. Maybe I’m crazy but, then again, what will that make the rest of this world?
Don’t forget to Refuse Fascism today! It’s never too late…
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3EA5b3FNI4w
**All photos, poems, rambles, etc are copyrighted**
the existential struggle of Sartre
photograph by the great Antanas Sutkus
www.ananasamiami.com/2011/04/photography-by-antanas-sutku...
being is not doing
being is not achieving or aspiring
being is not growing
nor is it receding
not ebbing nor flowing
being is not becoming
being is not transformation
being is not the result of some positive fixation
nor is it the consequence of any particularly negative experience
it’s not static
nor dynamic
not passive
not active
being is not existing simply ‘because’
it's not autonomic
not rote
not step by step by step by step
not part of an incomprehensible process
being is not grand
nor is it insignificant
being is not an outward and visible sign
nor is it a higher order of consciousness
nor the zen of zen-ness
being is not egocentric
nor is it selfish
nor is it gracious
it’s not inclusive
nor is it exclusive
it’s not existential
nor is it nihilistic
being is not a method
not a path to connection
nor connection itself
nor disconnection
nor isolation
being is not anti anything
nor is it pro anything
nor is it any thing, really, at all
there is no sadness
there is no joy
no silence
no noise
no color
no shape
there is no light
there is no shadow
no desire
no longing
no brief interruption
no expectation
in being
littletinperson
This one's for the only true Creature of the Light I’ve ever known. Even in absence, you remain the brightest part of my story.
Ricoh GRiii
Ricoh GR Lens 18.3mm/f2.8
When your lost, it's much easier to find your way home, if somebody leaves the lights on for you.
Image imagined in MidJourney AI and finished with Topaz Studio 2.0 and Lightroom Classic.
Tribute to Cesco Dessanti
Tra pochi giorni ricorre l’anniversario della scomparsa, avvenuta un anno fa, del geniale Artista pittore espressionista e poeta Cesco Dessanti. Voglio ricordare e rendere omaggio, per quanto mi sarà possibile, con 7 fotografie che aiutino a comprendere questo grande Artista , particolare persona che ha sempre vissuto con la schiena dritta ed enorme coerenza pagando spesso in prima persona questo difficilissimo percorso esistenziale ed artistico.
PER MAGGIORI INFORMAZIONI VEDERE L 'ALBUM “ Tribute to Cesco Dessanti”
In a few days the anniversary of his death, which took place a year ago, the brilliant artist expressionist painter and poet Cesco Dessanti. I want to remember and pay tribute, as much as I possibly can, with seven photographs that help to understand this great artist, especially someone who has always lived with your back straight and enormous consistency often paying firsthand this very difficult existential and artistic journey.
FOR MORE INFORMATION SEE THE ALBUM "Tribute to Cesco Dessanti"
although I know that Fungi and Shrooms are the existential basis of all life, they often appear to me like beings from outer space.
all rights reserved. use without permission is illegal.
Excerpt from issuu.com/dtkownit/docs/field_guide_for_web:
PEDESTRIAN
Artist: Ted Fullerton
Location: Municipal Parking Garage at Benton and Charles Street
Medium: Bronze and composite
Composite medium (series of six figures) responding directly to the goal of promoting pedestrian first values.
This site-specific commissioned sculpture installation refers to the City of Kitchener’s goal of promoting pedestrian-first values and “the purpose of place”.
The sculpture is in association with the intent of the Diamond Schmitt Architects’ design of a multi-level parking facility. Its symbolic reference is to inspire optimism, aspiration, limitless possibilities and the importance of the independent individual purpose towards the future. It is a work that has been referenced as being “existential”, which refers to the intricacies of human existence.
The New Raemon - Lo Bello y lo Bestia
One of these days I will raise .. and I will explode ..
Existential wound .. Much to my regret, animal consciousness,
my own destruction, the contradiction .. old collision.
Follow my campaign without forgetting that it is possible.
Beauty and beast of living produces a loud noise when leaving,
spinal proud to write, I pressed the crown, is not it ..
Not so ..
Not so ..
The New Raemon - Lo Bello y lo Bestia
golden, hazy sunrise over the Lofoten islands, here on our way to Henningsvaer. This was a true moment when one feels filled to the maximum with awe and wonder.
" When sunny gets blue "
Dow's Lake Ottawa Tulip Festival
Kenny Rankin - When Sunny Gets Blue
www.youtube.com/watch?v=nrt8Y-F3U14...
g
beneath a cathedral of steel and glass, a lone traveler steps forward into converging lines and fading echoes. light pulses across the floor like breath, measuring distance and solitude. this is not an escape â it is an arrival into stillness.
Berber camp for a magical night. Somewhere near Tangier, Morocco.
.....................................................................
"... In the desert everything silences and surprises. Night happens sudden, profound, unfathomable and a massacre of doubts alerts us to become a magical thrilling.
A place with no name that feels as a heart and dresses us with an inviolable, magnanimous solitude, to give character to our existence. Here everything is absolute.
Life is always provisional and seems improvised and loaded on the shoulders of the enchantment of an imortal instant .
Without compromises, everyone is just and only himself.
Thousand ways... all invisible, unsuspected, without traces or footprints pursue routes without hours lost in the restlessness of the dream, in the thrill of the existential own will. Here the soul grows up. As the desert itself.
Eloquence and splendor of the Earth's last secret ... "
Alda Cravo-Saüde, in 'Diário das Águas' ( 'Diary of Waters')
subversolivros.blogspot.pt/2012/05/diario-das-aguas-alda-...