View allAll Photos Tagged existentialism
I just realised something. This very moment it came to me. I doubt I'm the first to come to this conclusion but it's the first time I've noticed what I noticed. Do you see it too? Go on, say what you see. Yes, it's a red button on a bus that stops the bus.
It's a bus stop on a bus.
Now I've said that out loud it's become a bit anti-climactic. At first, it had the makings of a bit of existentialism but then I checked the internet and realised I don't actually know what it means to be existential. Does anyone really know? Well yes, the people who have written books about it probably do.
This might even be the opposite of existentialism if I knew what that was. I looked that up too and got even more confused. Yes, I think I'll forgo the pretentiousness of believing that I can make something seem more interesting than it actually is and come to terms with the fact that it's just a button that tells the driver it's my stop.
And it works too.
© Milan Cvetanovic
All rights reserved!
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SiO_7LhPZFM
A candid packed with existentialism and coming of age insecurity. Snapped at Sunny Beach, Black Sea, Bulgaria.
I’m taking part in an exhibition called Sisyphus Office based out of Skydive, a Houston, Texas gallery. Here’s an extract form the press release:
“The artists involved in the project are collaborating with businesses and offices in and around Houston in order to highlight art as a necessary distraction in our day to day life. The artists and offices involved in Sisyphus Office are working physically and conceptually with the notions of existentialism, capitalism, artistic romanticism and deadpan slapstickism as a means to examine the artifice that keeps us clinging to reality and distracted from the void. Sisyphus Office is about punching the clock, and then punching it again…but harder the second time. It’s about transcending the mundane through the beauty and absurdity of distraction. It’s about recognizing the comedy in the tragedy of the day to day… and then waking up again to do the same thing all over again the next morning.”
Anyway, my contribution is an installation KPFT entitled "What I do at work when I'm supposed to be working." in the offices of Houston radio station 90.1. It consists of a number of small works made entirely from office supplies. That have been pinned up randomly amongst the notices, flyers and memos that were already existing in the office.
You can see more of my artwork here: www.behance.net/Gallery/Sisyphus-Office-Exhibition-Housto...
Gallery website here: www.theskydive.org/
“The body is not a thing, it is a situation: it is our grasp on the world and our sketch of our project”
― Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex
European politicians more and more act versus the Roma / Gypsy / Gitane minority - for example: Sarkozy sent police to dismantle "illegal" Gypsy Camps in France - view also www.youtube.com/watch?v=s9rrvBjIxKU
This epic science fiction film, produced and directed by Stanley Kubrick, follows a voyage to Jupiter with the sentient computer HAL after the discovery of an alien monolith affecting human evolution. The film deals with themes of existentialism, human evolution, technology, artificial intelligence, and the possibility of extraterrestrial life. The screenplay was written by Kubrick and Arthur C. Clarke, and was inspired by Clarke’s 1951 short story “The Sentinel” and other short stories by Clarke.
The film is noted for its scientifically accurate depiction of space flight, pioneering special effects, and ambiguous imagery. Kubrick avoided conventional cinematic and narrative techniques, dialogue is used sparingly, and there are long sequences accompanied only by music. The soundtrack incorporates numerous works of classical music, among them “Also sprach Zarathustra” by Richard Strauss, “The Blue Danube” by Johann Strauss II, and works by Aram Khachaturian and György Ligeti.
The film was nominated for four Academy Awards, with Kubrick winning for his direction of the visual effects. It is widely regarded as one of the greatest and most influential films ever made. In 1991, it was deemed “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant” by the U.S. Library of Congress and selected for preservation in the National Film Registry. [Source: Wikipedia]
Movie Trailer: www.youtube.com/watch?v=oR_e9y-bka0
Well before the very Parisian concept of "philosophy-cafés", based on the idea of a group of friends who enjoy a good discussion, the café Les Philosophes or "the philosophers" offered debating evenings where world matters can be chewed over and discussed...
Subsequently, the concept was put aside and only the dishes remained true to the history of this place: you can have an "Aristotle salad" or a "Plato andouilette".
Also taste the tomato tarte tatin: it might just change your philosophy on existentialism! :)
Merci beaucoup!
every year I visit several DJANGO REINHARDT Festivals in France, Belgium, Germany, and The Netherlands; I am not only attracted by the music, but it's also the lifestyle, the laziness, the laid-back mood, the irony, the steady solidarity, the consistency of the community, making their persistent homages to the great Swing guitarist Django Reinhardt...
Carl W. Goines, with Banksy's controversial "I remember when all this was trees." Carl Jr. is Co-Director and board member of 555 Nonprofit Gallery and Studios in Southwest Detroit. At the unveiling last night, part of me wondered if Banksy showed up. Who would ever know?
The debate over this one has been interesting to follow, because perhaps more powerful than the piece itself are the seemingly endless arguments for and against what was done AFTER it was painted...
what more can a man ask? freedom and good health to enjoy a day out exploring new places with his sons and a friend in November sunshine ;-)
También puede ser vista como un retrato del existencialismo perruno. Ser o no ser, diría Hamlet.
It can also be seen as a portrait of doggy existentialism. To be or not to be, Hamlet would say.
As I'm sure we all know French existential philosopher Jean Paul Sartre once said 'Words are loaded pistols'. I think we can all appreciate the sentiment behind this statement as surely we've all said something we regret every once in a while. And once those words are said the pistol has been fired and there's no turning back.
This design started life as the image of existential French Jean Paul Sartre's head with his loaded pistol words alongside but as I love an earworm if I can possibly get away with it I took some inspiration from the world of music to see if I could get Cher's seminal 1989 hit 'If I could turn back time' playing unheeded in your brain.
In the song Cher utters the immortal words 'Words are like weapons, they wound sometimes' and this rang a bell in my brain as it seemed close enough to Sartre's words to make use of. Hopefully that will strike a chord in your brain and you'll be singing it all day. Mission accomplished!
Whilst we were painting it some hapless busybody decided to try and let me know that I'd misquoted Sartre but, of course, I hadn't as she had neglected to read my 'Jean Paul Sartre as paraphrased by Cher' small print graffiti. id-iom 1 - random passerby 0. Ha! In your face!
Cheers
id-iom
Hit 'L' to view on large.
A place filled with history including the hospital where a young 17 year old Adolf Hitler was treated in October and November 1916 after he was shot following a leg injury during the Battle of the Somme.
Beelitz-Heilstätten, a district of the town, is home to a large hospital complex of about 60 buildings including a cogeneration plant erected from 1898 on according to plans of architect Heino Schmieden. Originally designed as a sanatorium by the Berlin workers' health insurance corporation, the complex from the beginning of World War I on was a military hospital of the Imperial German Army. In 1945, Beelitz-Heilstätten was occupied by Red Army forces, and the complex remained a Soviet military hospital until 1995, well after the German reunification. In December 1990 Erich Honecker was admitted to Beelitz-Heilstätten after being forced to resign as the head of the East German government.
Following the Soviet withdrawal, attempts were made to privatize the complex, but they were not entirely successful. Some sections of the hospital remain in operation as a neurological rehabilitation center and as a center for research and care for victims of Parkinsons disease. The remainder of the complex, including the surgery, the psychiatric ward, and a rifle range, was abandoned in 2000. As of 2007, none of the abandoned hospital buildings or the surrounding area were secured, giving the area the feel of a ghost town. This has made Beelitz-Heilstätten a destination for curious visitors and a film set for movies like The Pianist in 2002, the Rammstein music video Mein Herz brennt and Valkyrie in 2008.
Another month, another tour. The Benzine tour no doubt on the name. On tour with Camerashy, Wiffsmiff23 and FlashandBlur. Countless hours driving, some iconic places visited and efficient Police and Security encountered and hid from. Not to mention lots of places sealed, trashed or locked down.
My blog:
timster1973.wordpress.com
Also on Facebook
www.Facebook.com/TimKniftonPhotography
online store: www.artfinder.com/tim-knifton
My summer,
There is too much to describe. I experienced so much, love, hate, sadness, reflection, inspiration, tears, fashion, doubt, headaches, sleep, naps, chicago, rush, attention, awe, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, avocados, frienship, confusion, growing, love, love, love, interest, learning, reading, writing, drawing, candy, light, missing, bike rides, dreaming, creeping, google, thinking, doubt, existentialism, words, doubt, motivation,
Love.
Website: www.johanniels.com
Instagram: www.instagram.com/johannielscom/
Facebook: www.facebook.com/johannielscom
LinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/johannielscom
0031612059220
How can we not be in denial when the sunflowers appear at farmers' market? San Diego's farmers' market in Little Italy is so full of color I had to tone it down in my favorite monochrome.
"Hello, my name is Treeson".
I like to say it out loud every morning,
it sounds like I am talking to someone...
Daphne would be the perfect short-haired brunette for a film noir.
Film noir films (mostly shot in gloomy grays, blacks and whites) showed the dark and inhumane side of human nature with cynicism and doomed love, and they emphasized the brutal, unhealthy, seamy, shadowy, dark and sadistic sides of the human experience. An oppressive atmosphere of menace, pessimism, anxiety, suspicion that anything can go wrong, dingy realism, futility, fatalism, defeat and entrapment were stylized characteristics of film noir. The protagonists in film noir were normally driven by their past or by human weakness to repeat former mistakes.
Film noir was marked by expressionistic lighting, deep-focus camera work, disorienting visual schemes, jarring editing or juxtaposition of elements, skewed camera angles (usually vertical or diagonal rather than horizontal), circling cigarette smoke, existential sensibilities, and unbalanced compositions. Settings were often interiors with low-key lighting, venetian-blinded windows and rooms, and dark, claustrophobic, gloomy appearances. Exteriors were often urban night scenes with deep shadows, wet asphalt, dark alleyways, rain-slicked or mean streets, flashing neon lights, and low key lighting. Story locations were often in murky and dark streets, dimly-lit apartments and hotel rooms of big cities, or abandoned warehouses. [Often-times, war-time scarcities were the reason for the reduced budgets and shadowy, stark sets of B-pictures and film noirs.]
Narratives were frequently complex, maze-like and convoluted, and typically told with foreboding background music, flashbacks (or a series of flashbacks), witty, razor-sharp and acerbic dialogue, and/or reflective and confessional, first-person voice-over narration. Amnesia suffered by the protagonist was a common plot device, as was the downfall of an innocent Everyman who fell victim to temptation or was framed. Revelations regarding the hero were made to explain/justify the hero's own cynical perspective on life. Some of the most prominent directors of film noir included Orson Welles, John Huston, Billy Wilder, Edgar Ulmer, Robert Siodmak, Fritz Lang, Otto Preminger, and Howard Hawks. "
www.filmsite.org/filmnoir.html
I absolutely love dox.media2.org/barista/archives/film noir.jpg' target= pool.
Some Fridays call fro a quick nine hole break from the office, the phone and the computer. For days like that, I try to find nice mellow courses where I can meet with the golf gods and discuss life and existentialism.
Gilded in the oak savanna.
In the leaning hills, where the summer sun turns the grassland to tinder, the savanna is a wind chime, rustling a harmonious lullaby like a new deck of cards in nimble fingers. Grasshoppers and mayflies and the chaff of newly dried seed catch in the sun. A dry, hot blizzard in an amber streetlamp.
The Arastradero Open Space Preserve is home to rattlesnakes, coyotes, and mountain lions and innumerable flavors of insects and birds, yet it is the trees that bring me here time and again. Before the axe and the wheel came to this land, enormous oak savannas like this one stretched across the midwest, the southwest and here along the west coast.
But the axe and the wheel did come and the savannas left. I like to think of the craggy and twisted forms that remain as wounded but unbent descendants of the stalwart soldiers who resisted the blade and the advance of civilization to hold the dusty California soil to the ground and to provide shade for the coyotes and mountain lions and rattlesnakes that weave through the tall grass of the American Veldt. As these sentinels slowly march from mother to child up and down the wind-tousled steppe, we flit about the outskirts of this preserve as insects, building and gnawing and living and dying. I hope that’s all we’ll ever do.
I came to the Arastradero preserve to connect with a particularly beautiful oak I’d passed (and photographed) on hikes before. I found her on the hillside as ever, arms outstretched, singing in the late evening breeze, fluttering fingers of bright green.
As I stood for a while here on the hillside, gilded in the afternoon, alone with my thoughts but for the oak and the whisper of the breeze and the hum-drum clicks and tweets of grassland animals, I thought, “I’ve been away too long,” and was reminded of Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree, and I’ve been thinking about it since.
I came back to the preserve to reconnect with a spot where I’d taken an old photo. Only now do I realize that same photograph was made nearly a year ago to the date. Oliver (who now runs and speaks and laughs) was with us then, asleep as an absolutely tiny three-month-old infant.
The change over the last year in Oliver provided, for me, a stark contrast with the constancy of the natural world, of these stalwart trees. How little they’ve changed. How little indeed will they change over the next century. Long may they roam on these hills and long may they feed my heart.
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In the leaning hills.
I’ve cared a great deal about taking photographs for a long time. When people ask me how long I’ve been “into” photography, I often don’t have an answer. I can vividly remember becoming interested in my father’s camera when I was a kid. No idea how old.
In point of fact, my mother was cleaning house recently and asked that I sort through some old papers of mine. Tucked in a bunch of junk were loads of old prints made with a Vivitar point and shoot given me by my parents sometime while I was in fifth grade. The landscape/candid ideas are all there, but the execution was a long way from developed (and often still is)!
I found a renewed passion for image making when I was in college and then again in graduate school, although if truth be told, it’s been relatively steady for most of my life and those moments of renewed energy are likely just an interpretation of mine in hindsight.
I often return to the question of “Why?” Why should photography feel a bit like breathing and why should I derive so much satisfaction from it? I have loads of standard answers that you see on photoblogs and photo news sites ad naseum, revolving around physical/emotional enjoyment and the risk/reward of creativity and sharing, but these are pretty unsatisfactory.
I’ll tell you that the social networking and community aspects of photography are not what drives me to carry a camera to beautiful places. Neither is building a portfolio of images what puts my feet out the door. Although I run this blog and make every effort to post frequently, I often find myself going to great lengths to make images I find interesting and then leaving them on the hard disk at home for months or years at a time.
This isn’t to say that I don’t enjoy every part of the process, from shooting to publishing; it’s just that, if those weren’t a feature of the photography/photoblog world, I would still shoot.
There is something about images and cameras that has always spoken to me, something in the process of making an extraordinary image that drives me across states and out of bed at strange hours. Images lie at the boundary between real and surreal, between ordinary and fantastic. They can tell the truth, they can lie, but good ones never let you know which. I find it thrilling to compare the different truths of the reality and the image made after. I like to imagine for a moment that the world is as strange as photographs make it seem, then I realize it’s far stranger.
I photograph because that’s who I am, it’s an authentic expression of myself. I mean authentic in the existential sense—that I am doing what comes naturally and being true to who I am. Sometimes explanations and reasons are trite and you just have to accept that you are what you are. Simply put, photography is.
Of course, existentialism takes for granted that, to the mind, the material world presents itself as incongruous and absurd. And maybe that’s what I find so damned rewarding about photography; the world is messy and strange and absurd, but there is a great harmony and undeniable humanity in standing amongst the nodding, tawny, and wind-threshed grain, catching on a wafer of silicon a few trillion photons that have spent eons bouncing around the interior of our sun, all the while inundated with the smells of flowering plants and buzzing insects, luring one another to sex and death in the burning heart of the afternoon, in the leaning hills.
"Danbo's impressive new installation Danbo et les sables du temps - Tate Modern Mar 2015 to Oct 2016 - sees the metallic auteur grappling with his inner-self and exploring conflicting ideas of existentialism and examining the futility of mortality within the context of his time here on earth. It's a powerful exposé of humanity and humility in robot form. An unmitigated triumph. Five stars." - Waldemar Januszczak.
744 stills, interval of 2.5s, 60 fps, TriggerTrap on Time Lapse. Sequence to assemble. iMovie for PP.
listen to me, playing Johann Sebastian Bach, Praeludium BWV 999
profile.ultimate-guitar.com/frizztext/skills/play150281
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portrait done with available (bad) light by my wife Barbara
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Johann Sebastian BACH, Prelude 999, comes into my mind - listen to my guitar at
profile.ultimate-guitar.com/frizztext/skills/play150281
for colleagues: take a look at the tabs at www.chordie.com/chord.pere/?url=http://www.lindesign.se/u...
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compare flickrcomments.wordpress.com/2011/06/25/weekly-photo-chal...
... takes me back to the fire hyrdrant playing days of my youth. This kid will probably never learn how to aim the water with a sawed off soda can, nor will he be allowed to... (comment by joe wig)
Week 2 Dogs (2) (1006 – 1010)10/06 – 10/10/2019 ID 1009
Henry Koerner American (born in Vienna, Austria), 1915-1991
Under the Overpass, 1949
Oil on Masonite
In 1938, Henry Koerner immigrated to America from Vienna to escape persecution by the Nazis. Koerner later learned that his family members were among the millions of Jews who were systematically murdered in Nazi concentration camps during the Second World War. The artist described how that personal trauma and the general destruction wrought by the violence and chaos of the war made him feel that “Reality had turned into surreality…’normal’ life into existentialism.”
Under the Overpass is a meditation on the transience of life and pain of loss and death. The changing colors of the leaves and the streaks of rust on the overpass evoke time and decay. What looks like an urban streetcar or trolley could represent the train that transported the Koerner family to the concentration camp. Scholars believe the artist’s mother is the crying woman in the yellow dress as well as the woman on the train (sitting next to his father). The scene is intentionally ambiguous. His magic realist style—visible in the painting’s hyper-realistic details, improbable shifts in scale, and elimination of shadows—creates a low-frequency sense of confusion and unease in the viewer.
Marion Stratton Gould Fund, 2012.33
From the Placard: Memorial Art Gallery, Rochester, New York
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Koerner
Enlightenment
This is an image of a man nearly completely alone in the vast gallery. The darkness around him emphasises his isolation, reflecting human nature as solitary.
He disregards the gallery's purpose. Is he using his phone for answers, a distraction, or a different connection?
The contrast between his white hair and darkness suggests ageing and the inevitable. Is he using his phone to fill time? The phone, a symbol of modern technology, serves as a connection despite isolating individuals from the physical world. Does it provide a virtual community to counteract his physical isolation? Is he seeking meaning and purpose?
Art may symbolise the vastness of human experience, but the phone symbolises our agency. Even when faced with existential questions, we choose our own worldview.
The photo raises questions but doesn't provide answers. Is the man lost or thinking? Is technology a barrier or a lifeline? The image reminds us that we are human even in apparent isolation.