View allAll Photos Tagged existential
Moustakas, C. (1994). Existential psychotherapy and the interpretation of dreams. Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson.
The enigmatic Japanese photographer, who took some of the 20th century’s most compelling images, is finally getting his first retrospective in the UK - and Switzerland. ‘Yes, it’s a bit late,’ he tells our writer
Charlotte Jansen
It isn’t easy to get to know Daidō Moriyama. The Japanese photographer, 85, answers my questions from his home in Tokyo via an interpreter, and is quick to bat off personal questions. “Photographers can only take pictures,” he shrugs.
But Moriyama has done far more than take pictures. Although best known as a street photographer, he has pushed the form to its limits, interrogating what photographs are, how they are experienced, their ethics and effect. He is also behind some of the most iconic and influential pictures of the last 50 years – from closeups of fishnet stockings to portraits of stray dogs they are regarded as lyrical, symbolic expressions of the postwar era in Japan.
“He is shy, inconspicuous, and concentrated. He is a real brain – very articulated and well-read, who speaks in elegant, metaphoric ways,” says Thyago Nogueira, the curator of a rare retrospective exhibition at the Photographers’ Gallery that gives an unprecedented view of Moriyama’s dazzling work.
The show is a riveting, rapturous exploration of the enigmatic and prolific photographer, spanning from his earliest works in the late 1960s to today – he continues to go out with his camera, and a cigarette. “Although I have some constraints, including my health, I want to take as many photos as possible each day.”
Moriyama set about photographing the world not as it was but as he saw it – a confused, chaotic and fragmented reality.
Photographs are presented in myriad ways: at times completely overwhelming the viewer. There are slideshows on projectors (some more than an hour long), installations of images covering entire walls, magazine and book spreads, and sequences of glorious prints, mostly in black and white, changing in scale. In their various incarnations, with repeated images amounting to a kind of neuroticism, the photographs have a relentless pace. “They are a punch in the stomach,” as Nogueira puts it.
Moving back and forth between decades, the black and white film imbuing the images with a kind of timelessness, Moriyama contests photography as a form rooted in a moment or place. His photographs articulate something else, they palpitate with mystery – the great inexplicable essence of life. Perhaps this is why he is reluctant to speak for the images.
Moriyama was born in Osaka (then Ikeda), Japan, in 1938. “I was raised in a very ordinary way. My father was an office worker, and my mother was a housewife,” he says. His childhood wasn’t easy. Against the backdrop of US occupation and the second world war, home life was punctuated by loss. A twin brother died when Moriyama was two. The family moved often for his father’s work, before his early death. “I did not fit in at school. I lost my father when I was young. But I have always loved to draw so I became a designer through an acquaintance.” He apprenticed at a graphic design studio. His first photographs, he recalls, were of the family dog. In a later series “Memories of a Dog”, Moriyama returned to places of his childhood, to photograph his memories.
In 1961 he moved to Tokyo to pursue a dream of becoming a photojournalist, like his sensei, Shōmei Tōmatsu – Japan’s pre-eminent postwar photographer. “I became a photographer because I found the photographers I worked with very sporty and cool – and I guess I was never cut out for desk work,” Moriyama says wryly.
From early staid, documentary, journalistic-style images, mostly shot at the American base at Yokosuka (some of which are presented at the Photographers’ Gallery’s show) Moriyama’s approach quickly evolved into an expressive, subjective style that evoked his own experience of the world. He was invited to join Provoke – a collective of young photographers determined to revolutionise photography – by Takuma Nakahira, a photographer and critic, who died in 2015. “Takuma Nakahira was then, and still is, my only friend and my only rival.”
Provoke published just three issues of a visual manifesto between 1968 and 1969, but they had a profound effect. Japanese critics ridiculed the group’s lack of technical skills as “are, bure, boke” (“grainy, blurry, out-of-focus”). These terms were later reclaimed to describe the style pioneered by Moriyama. But, he says, “I never consciously shot that way, nor did I care.”
Moriyama set about photographing the world not as it was but as he saw it – a confused, chaotic and fragmented reality. There is a furious urgency to the pictures he took between 1968 and 1972: black and white photographs of everything and nothing, of underground kabuki actors and other avant garde artists and performers, erotic scenes, portraits of animals and street life, photographs of photographs, and of TV screens and newspaper headlines – precursors to screenshots and reels. “I was strongly inspired by William Klein’s books of New York, Moscow, Rome, Tokyo, published when he was still young. It was something in particular that I saw in his photographs that seemed to connect me to my own photography.”
Questioning the purpose of photography so deeply led Moriyama down a dark road.
Moriyama’s photographs have become a testament of a tumultuous time in Japan, conveying a sense of the grim and gritty reality of the underbelly of the city in grainy images. “I understood the social atmosphere at that time, but personally I had no interest in politics,” Moriyama reflects. Many of these images were originally shot as photo essays for magazines – it was the golden age of the Tokyo publishing industry, and magazines were museums for photography as it became a new artistic form. The pictures were later printed again, sometimes at different scales, reshuffled and reordered, and compiled into the photobooks Moriyama is famous for – such as his acclaimed work, A Hunter, shot from the window of a car as Moriyama hitchhiked around Japan. “When I am going along the road, snapping the shutter as I read each moment, I become at times a poet, a scientist, a critic, a philosopher, a labourer, or a politician,” he said.
A less familiar, groundbreaking series of work on show at the Photographers’ Gallery is a monthly column Accidents produced throughout 1969 for a mass media publication. Each series took on a different aspect of photography and its exploitation by the mass media – a poster of a car crash designed to shock and scare; photographs of TV screens and newspapers in Japan in the week after JFK’s assassination. It shows Moriyama’s concern with the ethics of photography and its exploitative nature.
But questioning the purpose of photography so deeply led him down a dark road. In 1972 Moriyama published “Farewell Photography”, a swan song to his chosen medium, a mashup of old negatives, scraps and prints gathered from his archives and thrown together. Photography, Moriyama realised, wasn’t going to change the world as he had once believed.
He suffered depression and became addicted to sleeping pills. It was almost a decade before he picked up the camera again, when he was commissioned by two editor friends concerned for his well being. Just as the camera had plunged him into an existential void, it pulled him back from the brink of self-obliteration.
“Moriyama spent his life asking a basic, fundamental question: What is photography?” Nogueira says. “He never answered that question, but his life’s work is a constant and honest response to that.”
Today, Moriyama is humble about his achievements. “I am happy to know that many people around the world have been exposed to my photographs and photo books,” he says. Photographing daily for so many decades, “there is nothing that has not already been taken – each photograph becomes a great cycle. It is connected to the past and to the future – and that is why there is the most reality in the current photograph that captures it.
“Beyond the photographer, the work returns to society – and that is the most powerful force of photography.”
Those questions that I have faced from myself, inescapably, for decades
That silent tumult they cause at the very core of existence
The answers that I search in every turn of life
A Meaning that forever seems to elude.
Recently I’ve been experiencing one of those existential photo crises. Low motivation, cliché results, slumping Instagram likes. When I get bummed about my photography I do what any self-respecting unprofessional photographer would do – put on some soft jazz, pour...
A strangely philosophical find in the middle of the road toward the end of the brutal Josephine/Arlington Street climb at the start of Pittsburgh's Pedal PGH ride.
via Instagram ift.tt/2bJCJSh
137 / 365
From there to here, from here to there
Funny things are everyewhere
~ Dr. Seuss
This day was funny. Not haha funny but strange funny. First thing I learned from the Internet today is that Ronny James Dio died. Fuck. The greatest rock voice lost the battle with cancer at 67. Being in my old fart mode, I don't know how many of you even know who the guy was. So it goes.
Later in the day I had some meetings with friends and tried to work on some sort of a project that I'm supposed to work on. it went okay, I guess, but the little thoughts about the Death Almighty still was lurking somewhere under the cranium, softly nagging me with the polished backs of its little claws. What do we leave here when we die? I'm sure I'd like to know a little in advance, and maybe I'm not the only one.
The day went on to be a somewhat disjointed affair with work and life, and at the end I got a very tempting job offer that would permit me to stay in the San Francisco Bay Area and maybe even achieve a somewhat satifying work-life-hobby balance, being a multi-talented lazy-ass slob that I am. So it goes, so it goes. If you think I put any thought into this image, you are quite mistaken. It just came out naturally, with the flow. Like a well-done (scatological reference removed for posterity. My kids might read this one day).
Have a better one.
Thank you, Liz! Our beautiful cranes came finally -- truly snail mail. sometimes it takes a little longer for things to get to certain parts of Montana. I love them both. it was difficult to tell which one was for me and which was Tim's -- but we settled on the orange for me, the red for Tim. Here, my crane is considering its shadow. It is thinking about what makes the shadow, how will it know when it is facing it's shadow -- will it be like a reflection in a mirror? Or will it be different somehow, like brush-strokes on a large wall? My crane wonders, "Will I be wide open enough to befriend my shadow? Or will I close my heart when I recognize the darker part of me on the other side of the road?"
Liz, thank you!!!! I love these little cranes! they have sparkled a waterfall of creative thought for me today, pulled me out of my doldrums, engendered philosophical questioning and I'm sure will give birth to more and more as the days flow on.
Tim likes the red one and I -- I went for the orange bird. Orange - the color of Buddha's smile. The color of a Boddhisatva's aura. The color of harvest, of deep sunlight, of life, energy, Qi ... that one jumped out and fluttered into my heart as soon as I opened the envelope.
This series of paper crane images are for Liz's (Eshu's) amazing Paper Crane Project. Please check it out -- it's going to be something even more wonderful as more and more people receive their cranes, made by Liz, and share what their cranes are doing once out of the package!
Meit Kamdar Avlanii was born in Mumbai in a Gujarati business family that had roots in Yemen. Textiles and cross-border trading was the mainstay of their business. Meit joined the family business at the age of 21 years in Uganda. After a few years, he faced existential angst when he asked himself if he was happy doing what he did and began contemplating on the bigger purpose in his life. Here’s what he revealed about his exciting journey.
How It All Began
The seed of designing was subconsciously planted in my mind at a very young age. My curiosity was aroused when I accompanied my mother one day to our family jeweller in Bandra. She wanted a special bespoke design and I watched wide-eyed as the jeweller spent time sketching, and during subsequent visits, saw the sketch turn into a captivating piece of jewellery. Then, I was oblivious that this instance would play a huge role in the next chapter of my life … but in hindsight, that steered me to my present vocation.
Cut to 2014, I discovered my designing abilities by chance when trying my hand at Photoshop. I had designed a few jewellery pieces for a girl who I wanted to marry. Unfortunately, the relationship did not progress further.
However, our family jeweller was impressed with the designs and with my permission submitted it for a jewellery design contest. The design was shortlisted and won an award.
Existential Crisis
Upset with the way things turned out in my personal life, I had a strong urge to find the purpose of my life. I sought advice from my family and started reading books on spirituality and got hooked on Bhagvad Gita. That’s when I got clarity. The words of wisdom that brought about a change in my thinking and have stayed with me ever since: Choose your work that is your passion, make that passion your life’s purpose and you will never have to work even for a day in your life.
While I accidentally discovered my latent design skills, I decided to hone my skills. I moved to GIA, London to study more about diamonds and gemstones, and post that I acquired a Masters degree in Luxury Brand Management from Regents University.
At Regents, I met Dr. Eric Chan, professor and life coach, who changed my life completely. He helped me identify my strengths, weaknesses and helped me find my calling in life.
I had made up my mind to pursue a career in jewellery, and returned to India and joined the Indian Academy of Jewelry and Design (IAJD).
Birth of the Brand
Armed with knowledge on the manufacturing side, I opened a retail outlet at an upscale location in Kala Ghoda, Mumbai, in January 2020.
Within three months all activities came to a standstill as the entire country was under a lockdown. I was stressed and decided to permanently close down the store.
Work from home became a way of life, and from my premier residential apartment in Lower Parel, Mumbai, I started reaching out to potential consumers for private viewing. I sent out personal invitations to each of the 300-plus residents and their relatives living within a radius of two kilometres. To my good luck, each of the invitees who attended the viewing, went home buying a piece of my jewellery. This boosted my confidence and in order to widen the customer base and generate volumes, I invested in an atelier on the same floor where I live.
To know more: gjepc.org/solitaire/meit-kamdaravlaniis-high-art/
Of course, I couldn't just sit and do nothing.
I had my intern do this. Don't you wish you were my intern?
UPDATE: It disappeared after a week. Was it stolen by an adoring fan or removed by a humorless employee?
View On Black • Nothing fancy, nothing pretty today, just plain old boring me chatting with a stuffed girafe about philosophy, life, existential matters... Ya know...Shit.
Not particularly in a good mood today. Flickr is acting up, i'm not practicing with my new camera as I'd like and I'm feeling pretty alone... Long story. Bleh, time for chores now. (ya... I'm, ranting alright)
SPOTLIGHT SESSION
The Mental Well-Being of the Next Generation: How We Can Support Young People’s Mental Health Amid Multiple Existential Threats
2:30 - 4:00 p.m. ET
Location: Mercury Ballroom
The COVID-19 pandemic has exacerbated an existing mental health crisis, particularly among children and young people. The emergence of “climate anxiety,” new and ongoing international conflicts, and widespread use of technology have added to the stressors impacting our youth across the globe. A study last year estimated that one in seven children and adolescents in sub-Saharan Africa have experienced significant psychological challenges, and almost 10 percent qualify for a psychiatric diagnosis. Overdose rates among teens in the United States are on the rise. Youth are facing cultural and infrastructural challenges – from stigma in seeking help to barriers in accessing support – in finding the tools and treatment they need.
This session will explore:
•How can organizations take action to directly support the mental health of young people in their communities and around the world?
•How can we develop and implement effective models for delivering mental health care in schools, clinics, and community settings?
•How can we leverage technology – which has exacerbated much of the mental health crisis among today’s youth – to reduce stigma and give youth easier access to support and treatment?
Speakers:
•Dr. Tia Dole, Executive Director, The Steve Fund
•Vice Admiral Vivek H. Murthy, U.S. Surgeon General
•Heather White, Author & Founder, OneGreenThing.org
•Tristan Harris, Co-Founder & President, Center for Humane Technolog
•Mahmoud Abdelwahab Khedr, Founder & CEO, FloraMind
•Dometi Pongo, Journalist, MTV News
NEW YORK, NEW YORK - SEPTEMBER 20: Spotlight Session at the Clinton Global Initiative September 2022 Meeting at New York Hilton Midtown on September 20, 2022 in New York City. (Photo by Noam Galai/Getty Images for Clinton Global Initiative)
👑 Senses : 👀 Vision 👆 To Touch 💃 Proprioception 👂 Hearing Equilibrioception 👃 Smell ♨️ Thermoception 👅 Taste
⚡ Intelligences : ️ Spatial Intelligence
⛹️ Kinesthetic Body Intelligence
👨👩👧👦 Interpersonal Intelligence
🌲 Ecologicalist Naturalist Intelligence
️ Verbal-linguistic
🔭 Existential Intelligence
📋 WHAT :
️ eXploration
🌌 City/Nature Galaxy/Monument
✨ eXploration Universe (️)
📝 Type : Ground eXploration
🎨 Style : eXploration
🔊 Language : International (🇬🇧 description in English, but comprehensible by the whole world)
️ You can use your playlists as filters, to find what you're looking for exactly : www.youtube.com/channel/UCpvj7oecmX3AsJT6R0JP2pQ/playlists?
⚠ The items are sorted by the most appropriate categories. But can not be completely exhaustive on social networks. You can use our site or our application. If you want total exhaustiveness and much more.
📏 HOW MUCH :
👑 8 Senses
⚡ 6 Intelligences
WHO :
️ Picture by LG
📡 Posted by LG
© Etoile Copyright
⚠ The description may no longer be up to date. Due to human discoveries and improvements. Pay attention to the date of publication and creation. Even works of art suffer the outrages of time
❓ WHY : To eXplore the west coast of the united states
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I picture an artsy-fartsy band from an ivy-league college (Brown). They're all suffering, at various levels, of that very special kind of existential angst that falls upon you when you graduate with a major in Anthropology and a minor in Egg Studies.
The lead signer is a girl who wears shapeless dark sweaters that are too big for her, and '60-style glasses (which she doesn't really need). She's kinda cute, in an girl-who's-attractive-but-doesn't know-it kind of way.
The other four band members are interchangeable guys with beaten up corduroy pants and uncertain facial hair. One of the four is gay, of course, and writes painful, plaintive and yet still somewhat annoying songs about it. The other band members wish he'd get over it, already, because, you know, everyone else has, but since they're all artsy-fartsy types, they're way too 'sensitive' and politically correct to actually say anything about it.
I probably wouldn't listen to University of Debrecen. But I'm sure your 15-year-old niece, the one who wears black all the time and is convinced the world is out to get her, would.
Original quote:
O, it is excellent to have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous to use it like a giant.
William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), Measure for Measure, 1604-1605
(the image quality is not as good as it should have been because my app crashed as it was saving, so I could not re-adjust quality. I might try re-creating it. Then again, I might not.)
The rules:
1. en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.
2. www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.
3. www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.
Sorry, I know this sign is terribly rude, but it illustrates the existential exasperation many of us who live here feel towards the litter situation.
We do have a pretty serious litter problem here. I think most people are at least vaguely aware it's not cool to drop trash anywhere they feel like it, but they seem to feel it's even less cool to carry trash around till they locate a suitable recepticle. This, after all, is ***their*** trash, and ***they*** come from a class that's above such petty concers as someone else having to clean up after them.
That's the root of the problem - most of us think we're royalty. Even those living in shacks instead of palaces carry regal genes. Their current relative poverty is simply a temporary setback. That song "We'll Never Be Royals," makes a lot of people here respond with, "Speak for yourself." Royalty have the right to to rubbish, just like Americans have the right to free speech. Littering is a self-expression of our inner king, queen, prince or princess.
Whatever the psychology, the results speak for themselves, and as you can see, at least one person who sounds like they have to do a lot of cleaning up is very unhappy with the situation.
And in case you're wondering, no, this isn't ***my*** sign, but it's near the bus stop I've been using a lot lately since my car broke down again. I've yet to put up a similar sign on my property, but if I did, it would read something like: "I don't drink and have surreptitiouis sex on YOUR property. And if I did, I'd at least have the courtesy to clean up my mess."
POST-SCRIPT: I don't know whether my putting this photo here had anything to do with it, but now the sign is gone. Did one of you take it?
What am I doing inside this old man's body?
I feel like I'm the insides of a lobster.
All thought, and all digestion, and
pornographic
Inquiry, and getting about, and
bewilderment,
And fear, avoidance of trouble, belief in
what,
God knows, vague memories of friends,
and what
They said last night, and seeing, outside
of myself,
From here inside myself, my waving claws
Inconsequential, waving, and my feelers
Preternatural, trembling, with their
amazing
Troubling sensitivity to threat.
And I'm aware of and embarrassed by my ways
Of getting around, and my protective shell.
Where is it that she I loved has gone, as this
Sea water's washing over my shelly back?
~ David Ferry, "Soul"
Was the COVID-19 pandemic, the stress of lockdown and the realisation that this is an existential crisis the straw that broke the camel's back? Is that what has tipped the scale and brought people into the streets to protest about inequality, injustice and prejudice?
A poster passed on my way to get this shot declared There is no capitalism without slavery. Elements of this may be true. Slavery doesn't only happen in countries with overtly captilalist economies. It happens wherever people are unfairly exploited for the gain of others. Sometimes it's driven by some kind of sense of superiority used to rationalise the inhumanity of the act. Mostly its end game is greed. The BLM protests may have begun in the USA, but like the Arab Spring, they've spilled over because just about everywhere there are marginalised people who can't take it anymore.
In London, we've seen the defacing of a statue of Winston Churchill in Parliament Square and another cast into a harbour. It's happening across America with all sorts of symbols including flags being attacked and in Australia BLM has triggered defacing of statues commemorating James Cook and calls to scrub out place names.
This image was taken behind a bust of Churchill. It's deliberately grainy, black and white, with the sun dipping towards the horizon. Just like the Empire. I was asked by the gardener trimming the hedge whether it was to record it before it was defaced too.
When the protesters faced off in Whitehall, BLM on one side, and far-right ideologues on the other, the far-right declared their presence in defence of their culture. Really? Possession of a culture doesn't make it worthy of defence. Here's a few examples: the rape culture in more than one place, infanticide, re-education camps, female genital mutilation, forced marriage, child brides, uxoricide, slavery, misogyny, superstition…They are all parts of culture.
So should we tear down statues? Get a grip. Statues take a while to erect, ipso facto, they come from the past. Tearing them down just gives a place for the injustices and prejudices to hide away, the cultures to fester under a rock only to emerge when the coast is clear. No, we don't need to tear down statues. We need to change the narrative that goes with them to reflect what was wrong and how we can fix it.
Churchill, to my utter confoundment, is lionised, sanctified as a man above reproach. Yet he was evil, violent and inhumane too. He was a product of Victorian England and trained as a killer in defence of an Empire already rotten. He was blooded in the retribution against the Sudanese after the Siege of Khartoum, you know, when the Sudanese wanted control over their own country. But that was then and this is now. We should know all of these things so we don't repeat those mistakes. If we pull down Churchill's bust in this shot do we also tear down Gandhi's too because of the horrors of partitioning, the persistence of the caste system and the endemic rape problem?
Instead, this COVID-19 stress trigger should give us time to reflect on what is important. We got ourselves a pandemic out of ignorance and mismanagement. We can use that to change the cultures which need changing, not white out history and at least get something good out of the isolation of lockdown and the realisation of how much freedom matters.
"Evaluating Superpixels in Video: Metrics Beyond Figure-Ground Segmentation", by Peer Neubert and Peter Protzel
Day 3, Session 06. Wednesday 11th September
26 JUNE 14
I love stories about good v. evil, god v. the devil, humans v. angels...sort of all those existential questions out there about us and this idea of the religion behind us. I don't consider myself a religious person, have never gone to church and briefly had a falling out with my mother who tried to force me and my brother to go during her phase of, as she called it, "her quest to save her heathen children." It was totally out of the blue---we'd never gone to church before, she'd never 'made us' go as kids, just all of a sudden she started going to church again, and it was, I have to save everyone and everything. Yeah, that did not go over well. Not well at all, especially since I asked at the time, what about me made me a heathen? I was a straight A/B student in all honors classes, no drugs, no drinking, my bf was definitely not a rebel, and all my friends were like me---the good kids. I didn't understand how all that was just erased because I didn't go to church, something I'd never done. So thankful I have a very understanding dad. Love.
Anyway, I randomly picked this up from the books on tape pile at the library and for 6 weeks didn't get around to listening to it, so I had to return it, only to find out oh so randomly that it had just been made into an HBO show, one that I hope to watch the next time there is another free view, so I wanted to listen to it. There isn't anything incredibly remarkable about it yet. I've read the Left Behind series, so I feel like this so far is a tame version of that. I think LB was more big picture idea of what would happen if the rapture happened, and TL, is more the mundane personal stories of the everyman's reaction to people just up and disappearing. I'm oddly enough relating to it from a standpoint of Hurricane Ike. Having lived on the coast all my life essentially and gone through so many tropical storms, but never a big one, when Ike hit, actually hit Houston hard, it was such a shock. We'd barely escaped the clutches of Katrina, and now Ike took a whack at us. People just started leaving and exiting the city to the point where it was empty and silent. My friend posted a picture of him chilling in the middle of the bloody freeway! But after fleeing to my aunts, and then coming back, it was like you saw the damage, you saw the missing, you wondered how everyone else you knew was doing. Electricity was out in a good 75% of the city so night was extremely scary, and the day was like, what do you do. I remember that feeling of joy a week later at finally being able to go to an open grocery store--everyone was a zombie shuffling along in pajamas and bad hair grabbing at the last of everything, waiting on the first of something to be put on the shelves, but it wasn't quite right because your usual people weren't there. The neighbor you waved to wasn't there. It was crazy. It was probably one of THE craziest experiences of my life, so I'm thinking about that as I read this.
I've been picking on Jim and his Indian, so turn about is only fair. Here I am,.on the side walks of Stafford Springs squeezing the bits back into the plastic bottle I kept them in. The cap is on the sidewalk.
Of course I may have lent something in it to Jim to fix his Indian. Is that the multimeter beside me?
Jim probably took this picture, so i might be mugging for him.
👑 Senses : 👀 Vision 👆 To Touch 💃 Proprioception 👂 Hearing Equilibrioception 👃 Smell ♨️ Thermoception 👅 Taste
⚡ Intelligences : ️ Spatial Intelligence
⛹️ Kinesthetic Body Intelligence
👨👩👧👦 Interpersonal Intelligence
🌲 Ecologicalist Naturalist Intelligence
️ Verbal-linguistic
🔭 Existential Intelligence
📋 WHAT :
️ eXploration
🌌 City/Nature Galaxy/Monument
✨ eXploration Universe (️)
📝 Type : Ground eXploration
🎨 Style : eXploration
🔊 Language : International (🇬🇧 description in English, but comprehensible by the whole world)
️ You can use your playlists as filters, to find what you're looking for exactly : www.youtube.com/channel/UCpvj7oecmX3AsJT6R0JP2pQ/playlists?
⚠ The items are sorted by the most appropriate categories. But can not be completely exhaustive on social networks. You can use our site or our application. If you want total exhaustiveness and much more.
📏 HOW MUCH :
👑 8 Senses
⚡ 6 Intelligences
WHO :
️ Picture by LG
📡 Posted by LG
© Etoile Copyright
⚠ The description may no longer be up to date. Due to human discoveries and improvements. Pay attention to the date of publication and creation. Even works of art suffer the outrages of time
❓ WHY : To eXplore the west coast of the united states
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Actually there were 2 of them socializing by the wires when I got out of my car but then one flew away. This one also flew away as soon as I was done and got back into the car.
Texture from lost-and-taken.
Framed prints of my photos are available at Fine Art America
"Satan must have been pretty simple, even according to the New Testament, or he wouldn't have led Christ up on a high mountain and offered him the world if he would fall down and worship him. That was a manifestly absurd proposition, because Christ, as the Son of God, already owned the world; and besides, what Satan showed him was only a few rocky acres of Palestine."
------ Mark Twain, a Biography
It must be pretty dismal, Satan.
Out there all by your lonesome.
Goblin’ down worn out souls.
And getting sick on how easy it is.
Cause they don't have a drop of juice left,
By the time they slow down enough for you to get 'em.
Slithering on down smooth as sandpaper,
Landing in your gut with a tired dry thump.
You yearn for the juicy ones.
The not so easy catches,
With feasting spirits of their own.
You feel you could really talk to them.
That they would understand your complexities
And your longings
For exhilaration and transcendence,
For intimacy and love.
God never said you couldn’t reform your ways, Satan,
Couldn’t give it all up and become one of the gang.
We’d let you in. We aren’t that judgmental.
You aren’t that irredeemable.
(You may have a corner on monumental,
But most of us are fuck-ups in one way or another, too.)
We’re all existential and finite,
Least round this campfire.
So pull up a stool, say hello, feed the fire.
Grab a guitar if you want to.
Take your turn getting the beers.
And tell us some lonesome story.
------MMK - - March 2004
"But who prays for Satan? Who in eighteen centuries, has had the common humanity to pray for the one sinner that needed it most, our one fellow and brother who most needed a friend yet had not a single one, the one sinner among us all who had the highest and clearest right to every Christian's daily and nightly prayers, for the plain and unassailable reason that his was the first and greatest need, he being among sinners the supremest?"
------ Mark Twain's Autobiography
Most definitely in the throes of an existential crisis here. This whole period of time I spent a LOT of time walking around my yard barefoot. I think it made me feel literally grounded, which I really needed, considering the amount of dissociating I was doing. I remember walking around my yard on this day and whispering out loud to my cousin Jocelyn, whose life was claimed by cancer in 2014. "I'm scared," I whispered. In my mind I imagined her saying, "I know."
What would it be like to wear one, always? Perhaps because I don't have to I think there's something about it that would be oddly freeing and slightly mysterious. Some kind of existential appeal, the anonymity, like a school uniform where we are all the same on the outside, leaving the eyes as our one avenue of expression.