View allAll Photos Tagged existential
Therese sits alone. The Mediterranean winds snake around her. Strands of her hair are lifted upon their fingers and gently tousled,warm and soft, like the breath of a lover dancing over her bared shoulders. Sun kissed. She sinks into her chair, slips off her shoes and closes her eyes, the azure Agean sea replaced with the sunrise glow of her closed lids.
The waiter's voice rouses her from this private quietude, presenting her with a herbaceous glass of lavender and bay, rich and ripe. She sips her ambrosia awaiting her meal. In such a place as this, time slips away like pearls on a rosary. Minutes elongate into millennia. Empires could rise and fall in the blink of an eye.
At last, a plate is delivered. She smiles. Beads of jewelled garnets sprinkled in a malachite salad, glistening in their leafy bed as they titillate upon soft pillowy pearls of feta. And yet these gleaming, sweet stabs of pleasure denoted a betrayal. A binding. The seed of Hades – a gift to Persephone. A curse. Her curse. Whispers of the dark things, hiding in the depths of the underworld. Drops of blood, that cleave her to the night, to the winter, to the depths. A woman's lot. Like Eve or Lilith. Red for the feminine innocence deflowered. For wickedness. Temptation. And yet these seeds, a trick. Such miniscule bursts of innocent pleasure, which adorn her plate. Almost too beautiful to consumed. Like femininity, itself. Like girlhood. Like womanhood. And yet.... and yet it is to be consumed. That is the point. She will admire them for a moment and then, like Persephone, she will scoop them up; a flash of silver, the bursting of ruby upon her tongue – yes, She will consume them without another thought. She will hand her money over, and consume. This is, after all, what we all do, isn't it? We gorge ourselves on a system that binds. That binds us all. And we yet still we, consume. And consume and consume.
Therese finishes her meal and leans back in her seat, wine-full and food-engorged, her gaze sliding back to the mesmerising Agean sea. Watching as it dips and swells, stirring a froth of mounting white-stallions upon its surface. She feels the fingers of the warm winds caressing her hair, and the glow of her skin as the sun leaves its rosy stain upon her. Ancient elements that have witnessed the rise and fall of empires in no more than a blink of an eye. She feels the call of the stoney earth beneath her soles and she feels … sated. Satisfied. At one with it all that has gone before and all that is yet to come. In awe of the cycles and the seasons and the existential undulations of humanity. She inhales deeply and is present. Just being.
Story: VLS
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.
The difference between reality and illusion is often only a simple twist of fate. Life can change in a moment.
Image imagined in MidJourney AI and finished with Topaz Studio 2.0 and Lightroom Classic.
he didn’t look back. maybe there was nothing to see. maybe everything was waiting ahead, swallowed by the white. the hallway echoed his steps like a half-forgotten memory – long, metallic, empty. but the shadow on the wall whispered something else: that even when we walk away, a part of us stays behind, watching.
the tree has no opinion about time. it grows in both directions through both moments - roots down into what we call future, branches up into what we call past, or perhaps the reverse. we are the ones who need sequence, who need to know which way time flows. but the water holds no such certainty. it reflects without interpretation, showing that warm and cool, ending and beginning, memory and anticipation exist in the same instant. perhaps this is what stillness teaches: that time is not a line we travel but a point we occupy, that every moment contains all moments, that the only direction is now. the tree already knows this. it has always known.
I got some great bluebell thickets like this one, last year, especially nice in shafted and diffused sunlight.
It might be the timing of things this time, or luck, or the weather, or the general existential malaise, but I haven't seen much this time around.
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.
Taken with Sony Alpha 7.
In the heat dome of a late morning I've found the oppurtunity to realize a the paradoxon of the eye, which can be both seeing and still be blind.
If we can't trust our highest sense (eyes), how to trust our reason?
How does one gain insight into the truth of things? What is the essence of knowledge? And what is this ‘being’ anyway? My thirst for philosophy began with fundamental epistemological and ontological questions. I have written numerous poems on this subject, indeed, at times even with the pride of a bearded man. But lately I have found the moment of the cave-dweller so fascinating and moving – not the one who, as in Plato’s account, emerges from the cave ‘just once’ (in truth, he must even return time and again, as it is his duty to help people reach the true ideas), but rather the moment of the cave-dweller who goes back time and again to forget ‘the true ideas’. For it is painful and uncomfortable to encounter people like Socrates, as history also teaches us. Yet something happens – let us call it an existential awakening – and he can no longer deny that he is blind and must start from the very basics. Even seeing is something that has to be learnt all over again.
//
Dank deinen grünen Augen
Es war, als hätte ich erst
bei Deinem Anblick begonnen zu leben -
Ein Hauch von Dir brachte das Sein zum Beben.
Erst durch Deinen Mund habe ich
die Augen geöffnet bekommen.
Mit Deinen Gedanken habe ich
die Sonnenstrahlen erklommen.
Die Zeit begann als ich die Sekunden
zur Ewigkeit wachsen sah
Und mit jedem Staunen
die Philosophie ihre Zündung nahm.
Du warfst den Stein ins Wasser
und sagst die Wellen seien nicht echt
und das erste Mal suchte ich nach dem Wahrem
und wurd' verblendet, ihr Knecht.
[angefangen im März 2026, am 28. Juni beendet]
a child stands alone on the stairs, quietly holding the rail. the line of light above cuts through the space like a thought — clear, silent, and pointed directly at her.
there is no urgency. only form. only stillness.
this is how presence begins:
not with action, but with a line and a pause.
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.
An illuminated vertical axis splits in half an horizon altered by a fiery red. This burning land is not nature, but the footprint of a humanity burning with evil, driven by a blind lust for dominance that destroys the planet and consumes its own kind. A toxic way of acting, dangerous to oneself and to others. In the midst of this hell of prevarication, the lightened pole is not a threat, but stands as a necessary barrier: a boundary of light intervening to try and put a brake on the human being's delusion of omnipotence.
We came across this derelict in the desert in the middle of nowhere in Arizona at the junction of the highway we were travelling on and the famous Route 66 - just after visiting the 'Petrified Forest' back in 2015. Like most Canadians now, the USA is no longer on our list of places to visit not because it isn't beautiful but because their government has become an existential threat to Canada as an independent nation. Who would have thought our best friend would become our worst enemy in just a few short months? To my many American friends, I wish it were otherwise, stay safe and sane during these bizarre times.
- Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Arizona, USA -
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.
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.
the existential struggle of Sartre
photograph by the great Antanas Sutkus
www.ananasamiami.com/2011/04/photography-by-antanas-sutku...
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"
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.
What makes the classic Snoopy look—particularly Charles Schulz's iconic design from the late 1950s through the 1970s—so enduring is its masterclass in minimalist visual character design.
Before he fully stood up and became the ultra-stylized, fantastically hip, pop-culture phenomenon of later decades, classic Snoopy hit an absolute sweet spot between a real beagle's body language and pure graphic expression.
What makes the classic design so brilliant? An elegance in simple geometry. Schulz stripped the character down to essential, highly readable shapes—a stark white oblong head, floppy black tear-drop ears, a button nose, and that single black patch on his back.
It was striking on newsprint and instantly identifiable even from across a room.
And then there was the masterful linework. The organic line weight of Schulz’s pen gave Snoopy warmth. Nothing felt mechanical or mass-produced.
A simple shift in the angle of his head or the droop of his ears could communicate smug triumph, existential dread, or pure joy without a single word of dialogue.
And of course the instantly identifiable, unmistakable silhouette. As Snoopy evolved from walking on all fours to his bipedal stance, his silhouette became endlessly versatile.
Whether resting flat on top of his doghouse as an aviator or dancing wildly with his knees high in the air, his silhouette alone carried the entire narrative weight of the scene.
It’s a design that feels completely timeless—simple enough for a child to draw, yet sophisticated enough to anchor one of the most famous comic strips in history.
⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
A year of the shows and performers of the Bijou Planks Theater.
In our toy collecting, plush is not a strong point and that remains true for our Peanuts collection. The 2001 'Many Lives of Snoopy' series from McDonald's Japan is a plush series that we featured from 2020-2021. Because each plush figure was themed, it was easy to create specific scenes.
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/49369942706/
Also, in Japan we did pick up a nice series of small plush, about 16mm. These plush seem to have the same origin though there are different tags. The Law Label (The label that is sewn to plush toys containing copyright and materials information.) always has 'Peanuts' and a copyright for United Feature Syndicate. The cardboard tag labels vary with many carrying the 'RM' label. All of the plush were manufactured in Hong Kong. So, we think a Japanese company (Perhaps Nakajima Corporation) manufactured these and released them to various distributors.
Most of these plush have no distinguishing themes or names but rather standard figures released in a variety of colors. We've photographed a couple from this series here:
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/54393731518/
And here:
www.flickr.com/photos/paprihaven/53579825200/
So, rather than creating scenes with stories, we decided to feature these lovely plush among the Peanuts collection and provide some fun information.
Peanuts
Standing Snoopy
6" Plush
United Feature Syndicate
RM
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.
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**
taken at the banksy museum in madrid. a child reaching for a balloon just out of reach, mirroring the painted girl who tries to hold on to something already lost. reality and art blend seamlessly, creating a timeless dialogue about innocence, longing, and the things we can’t keep. a silent story of hope and heartache.
The term despair, when used by existentialists, refers to the fact that all the choices we make are based on uncertain information and an incomplete understanding of the world.
Source : Wikipedia
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Comments are welcomed.
light cuts through the darkness.
he reaches out, but touches nothing.
a fleeting silhouette, caught between shadows.
museo de las ciencias, valencia
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.
Venice, July 2017. Lorenzo Quinn’s ‘Support’ structure, designed to symbolise both the fragility of human heritage and the existential threat of climate change.
Quinn modelled the hands from those of his own son. The installation was in place for about a year from May 2017 to 2018.
With our hands, we can save or destroy.
———
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.
Fomaton MG 131 24x30cm in Moersch SE5
A + B + H2O = 40+35+1000
Lith Ω - 1 min
Kentmere 400@800 in Ilford Microphen 1+0
📷 Holga 120GN
... that I should not merely survive my everyday life...
I am wandering through a muddy existential swamp, struggling to live through my days, constantly on the verge of physical and psychological exhaustion. I have been in need for a good early morning photographic session for months, but sadly lacking the inner spark to actually ignite it. I forced myself, at last, even "knowing" that it would have been an unsatisfactory trip; I was back to the little enchanted world of the meanders of the river Adda, downstream the Lake Como - my little secret garden. A deep peace pulsed around me, if not within myself, a striking variety of bird calls interweaving with each other to compose a rich living tapestry, a symphony unfolding over the low murmurs of the lazy waters.
We have been experiencing a severe drought for the last months, the major Italian rivers reduced to thin, shallow streams snaking along gravel banks. The rivers are revealing long hidden mementos of the last war and even fossilised skeletons of ancient animals living in the Padan plain when it was a swampy savannah.
I have tread on places usually covered with water, nonetheless the river is still able to show its beauty in this specific location.
The sky was still unnervingly cloudless, as it always is lately, yet there was a beautiful, golden light - and the trees were wearing their springy, festive dress, encrusted with amazingly coloured filigrees of budding leaves.
To be honest, I am posting one of the most flawed photos from that session - technically speaking, at last. Yes, it is endowed with a huge lot of technical flaws, but I have fallen in love with it (and no better alternatives capturing that fleeting moment) so I processed the bracketing and I am posting it, hoping that it can still send positive vibes to your souls.
Explored on 2022/05/01 nr. 34
I have processed this picture by blending an exposure bracketing [-2.0/-1.0/0/+1.0/+2.0 EV] by luminosity masks with the Gimp (EXIF data, as usual, refer to the "normal" exposure shot), then I added some final touches with Nik Color Efex Pro 4.
Along the journey I tried the inverted RGB blue channel technique described by Boris Hajdukovic, which has contributed especially to the trees in the distance and their reflections. As usual, I gave the finishing touches with Nik Color Efex Pro 4. Raw files processed with Darktable.
In the magical realm of advertising, everyone wakes up looking flawless, families never argue, and a single cup of herbal tea can solve all of life’s existential crises.
Meanwhile, back in reality, the rest of us are just trying to remember where we left our keys and why the washing machine is making that ominous rattling noise.
OK, tell me again how buying that "one" moisturiser will transform my entire existence, and that lottery ticket is bound to win.
life in the real world - Wellington, Somerset, UK.
"Dawn in Twilight"
(oil on canvas, 50x40 cm)
(Traditional Painting Meets AI)
Image made using Grok - is a free AI assistant designed by xAI to maximize truth and objectivity.
2006 was my first time walking the trails above a friend's home in Ben Lomond, CA. It was a magical experience. It remains embedded in my senses... the soft air on my skin, the loamy smell rising with every step, the birdsongs and rustle of furry beings, that feeling of being surrounded by beauty beyond comprehension, wanting to hold on to it, but knowing existentially that was impossible.
I believed it was only the moment I could not keep... that everything would remain to return to and enjoy.
And, now, in a flash, all this may be gone. Seventy miles away, safe in my suburban home, I can smell the trees burning. I can see the orange of their embers stain the sky an alien color.
I cry for the wildlife. I cry for my friends not knowing if their home, one that has been in their family through generations, still stands.
I look at my snapshots, remembering that, at the time, I thought I can always go back and take better photos with a better camera and, then, never doing it.
The lesson is, there may never be a next time.
EDIT: My friends' home miraculously survived. The surrounding forest and most of their neighbors' homes did not.
- Cardiacs - Is This The Life?
Following around to see a life that's never in
Always calling itself on its own phone
Though it's never quite at home in the world today
See it to arranging the day
Prepared in its own
Special way
With added loving care
THOUGH IT'S NOT BEEN THERE SINCE YESTERDAY
Looking so hard for a cause
And it don't care what it is
And never really ever seeing eye to eye
Though it doesn't really mind
Perhaps that's why
It never really saw
Never really saw...
Saw...