View allAll Photos Tagged existentialism
I've wanted to do some more conceptual-type stuff for awhile now. So, I decided to spend a couple of sleepless nights putting this together.
Strobist's Info
Vivitar 285HV bare bulb above camera left @ 1/16th.
Vivitar 285HV bare bulb below camera right @ 1/16th with three 1-stop ND gels.
Triggered via Pocketwizards
artful stairway painting in Wuppertal, Germany "Holsteiner Treppe" (Gathe) / artist: Professor Horst Gläsker - geotagged - the (German) words on the stairs are describing the relationship between human beings: terror + love, prosecution + trust, despair + hope, revenge + kiss -- and so on... www.horst-glaesker.de/ + view our TRANSLATION project or read my blog article TOWER OF BABEL at flickrcomments.wordpress.com/2012/04/22/tower-of-babel/
There are places where what we see is not necessarily what we are truly looking at.
Forms, architecture, sacred images, a cross, a face, a skull, a figure crossing a doorway… they are only signs. Traces left by humanity in an attempt, perhaps, to give a name to things that cannot be explained.
But the real subject does not always reveal itself.
Sometimes it hides in an almost insignificant detail.
Sometimes it lives in the contrast between two presences.
Sometimes it is found in the light that enters and the darkness that remains.
Sometimes it is simply a question the image refuses to ask.
I tried to remain precisely there, in that uncertain place where what we see stops being merely reality and becomes interpretation.
A church can be a place of faith, but it can also become a place where we question our own existence. A cross can speak of hope, or remind us of the weight of time. A memento mori can be a symbol of death, but also an invitation to look at life differently.
And then there is a threshold.
Two figures meet for an instant, coming from apparently distant worlds. One emerges from the shadow of the sacred, while the other waits in the light of the world.
I do not know whether a true boundary exists between what we call sacred and what we call profane.
Perhaps that boundary exists only in our eyes.
That is why I would rather not give these images an answer.
I would rather leave the viewer free to discover their own true subject — the one that does not immediately appear before the eyes, but slowly emerges within us.
Because perhaps a photograph reaches its deepest meaning precisely when it stops belonging to the person who made it.
And then what I saw no longer matters.
What matters is what you will see, when you are left alone, on the side of silence.
Ci sono luoghi nei quali ciò che vediamo non è necessariamente ciò che stiamo guardando.
Le forme, le architetture, le immagini sacre, una croce, un volto, un teschio, una figura che attraversa una porta… sono soltanto segni. Presenze lasciate dall'uomo nel tentativo, forse, di dare un nome a ciò che non può essere spiegato.
Ma il vero soggetto non sempre si lascia vedere.
A volte è nascosto in un dettaglio quasi insignificante.
A volte vive nel contrasto fra due presenze.
A volte è nella luce che entra e nel buio che rimane.
A volte è una domanda che l'immagine non pronuncia.
Ho cercato di fermarmi proprio lì, in quella zona incerta in cui ciò che appare smette di essere soltanto realtà e diventa interpretazione.
Una chiesa può essere un luogo di fede, ma può anche diventare il luogo nel quale ci interroghiamo sulla nostra stessa esistenza. Una croce può parlare di speranza, oppure ricordarci il peso del tempo. Un memento mori può essere un simbolo della morte, ma anche un invito a guardare diversamente la vita.
E poi c'è una soglia.
Due figure si incontrano per un istante, provenendo da mondi apparentemente lontanissimi. Una esce dalla penombra del sacro, l'altra attende nella luce del mondo.
Non so se esista davvero un confine tra ciò che chiamiamo sacro e ciò che chiamiamo profano.
Forse quel confine esiste soltanto nei nostri occhi.
Per questo non vorrei dare una risposta a queste immagini.
Vorrei piuttosto lasciare a chi le guarda la possibilità di trovare il proprio vero soggetto, quello che non appare immediatamente davanti agli occhi, ma che emerge lentamente dentro di noi.
Perché una fotografia, forse, raggiunge il suo significato più profondo proprio quando smette di appartenere a chi l'ha scattata.
E allora non importa più ciò che ho visto io.
Importa ciò che vedrai tu, quando resterai solo, dalla parte del silenzio.
Ci sono luoghi nei quali ciò che vediamo non è necessariamente ciò che stiamo guardando.
Le forme, le architetture, le immagini sacre, una croce, un volto, un teschio, una figura che attraversa una porta… sono soltanto segni. Presenze lasciate dall'uomo nel tentativo, forse, di dare un nome a ciò che non può essere spiegato.
Ma il vero soggetto non sempre si lascia vedere.
A volte è nascosto in un dettaglio quasi insignificante.
A volte vive nel contrasto fra due presenze.
A volte è nella luce che entra e nel buio che rimane.
A volte è una domanda che l'immagine non pronuncia.
Ho cercato di fermarmi proprio lì, in quella zona incerta in cui ciò che appare smette di essere soltanto realtà e diventa interpretazione.
Una chiesa può essere un luogo di fede, ma può anche diventare il luogo nel quale ci interroghiamo sulla nostra stessa esistenza. Una croce può parlare di speranza, oppure ricordarci il peso del tempo. Un memento mori può essere un simbolo della morte, ma anche un invito a guardare diversamente la vita.
E poi c'è una soglia.
Due figure si incontrano per un istante, provenendo da mondi apparentemente lontanissimi. Una esce dalla penombra del sacro, l'altra attende nella luce del mondo.
Non so se esista davvero un confine tra ciò che chiamiamo sacro e ciò che chiamiamo profano.
Forse quel confine esiste soltanto nei nostri occhi.
Per questo non vorrei dare una risposta a queste immagini.
Vorrei piuttosto lasciare a chi le guarda la possibilità di trovare il proprio vero soggetto, quello che non appare immediatamente davanti agli occhi, ma che emerge lentamente dentro di noi.
Perché una fotografia, forse, raggiunge il suo significato più profondo proprio quando smette di appartenere a chi l'ha scattata.
E allora non importa più ciò che ho visto io.
Importa ciò che vedrai tu, quando resterai solo, dalla parte del silenzio.
The abandoned coast guard station at Whiskey Island at the mouth of the Cuyahoga River, Cleveland, OH. Look large if you like
"I haven't spoken to anyone for three days.
I even liked it. I think it's good to keep silent for a while.
Words can't express everything."
A. T.
compare my article flickrcomments.wordpress.com/2011/07/19/wuppertal-blues/ or discover, how I'm trying to combine philosophy and photography in my group www.flickr.com/groups/existentialism
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The head is that of James Tillich, the man who never existed. I created him and made him famous. He's everywhere and nowhere at the same time...kind of like enlightenment or nirvana.
Google him!
The James Tillich story is here: jamestillich.wordpress.com/2012/07/01/hello-world/
© Ben Heine || Facebook || Twitter || www.benheine.com
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Update: I've made this small animation based on the above image
Just a joke. Bless our Lord! I took this photo from a plane and
also made the rough sketch. I had tons of ideas for the sentence
on the paper, it was really difficult to make a choice... =D
I still wonder... who are we? What's the real purpose of our
existence? Love and happiness are the 2 main words that
come to my mind. But after? Any answers?
See THIS VIDEO showing 18 Pencil Vs Camera images in
progress (with a small animation and some original music).
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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Limerick
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
There´s a strange man called Cloud
He lives above the crowd,
We thought him God
For he was odd,
But he's just and old man and proud!
Existentialism on Prom Night by Straylight Run
www.youtube.com/watch?v=Neo-I7U1UfI
"Sing me something soft
Sad and delicate
Or loud and out of key
Sing me anything
We're glad for what we've got
Done with what we've lost
Our whole lives laid out right in front of us"
For this photo I was inspired by the following two quotes about the existentialism by Friedrich Nietzsche and Albert Camus:
"It is a folly to pretend intelligence when standing before the abyss, for the abyss neither notices nor cares, and all that remains is the echo of our own vanity. „
"To insist on being realistic in a world governed by uncertainty is itself an act of absurdity, for the only certainty is that nothing is ever truly certain."
In this photo I wanted to depict the essence of absurdity and existential uncertainty along with profound emptiness and meaninglessness of existence. The empty, worn-out chair—repaired countless times—stands as a meeting point between absence and presence. It occupies a space once filled with purpose. Its shadow reflects its form but distorts it thus reflecting the distortions in our perception, questioning the validity of what we think we know, representing the struggle to find meaning in the midst of absurdity.
The advance of the lady sheep. Just reminded me slightly of a Helmut Newton shot. I don't have one of the sheep after shearing though.
18/6/10
Thanks very much to those in the group EXISTENTIALISM! who voted for my image in their competition.
16 Aug 13
A big thank you, especially to my contacts, for pushing my stream over 750k views yesterday! It has been a while coming since 26th May 2007.
15th Nov 2013 Even bigger thank you for 1,000,000 views!
27th Jan 14 Thanks again for 1.3M views
29 th March 1.5 M views
August 13th 2 M thanks
December 8th 2.5 M thanks
Jan 27th 15 3M thanks!
May 20th 2015 4M Thanks!!
July 23rd 4.5M thanks!
October 23rd 2015 5M Thanks!
August 2016 6M!
Sept 17 7M
Nov 18 8m
Sept 4th 2019 9M
Sept 6th 2020 10M
Jan 3rd 2022 11M
Nov 15 2023 12M
Thanks so much!
Larry the Tree Hopper.
Popular amongst the ladies, Larry certainly did hop around.
With horns longer than most, it was easy to see why the ladies melted at the sight of him.
Realizing his God given gifts from a young a age, naturally, Larry went into pornography. Yes...the pornographic industry stretches even into the world of bugs. Talk about man's negative influence....
This picture was taken during Larry's prime. With horns so hard, so long, several of his co-workers had to be hospitalized. Some called him the 'Ron Jeremy of bug porn'.
Unfortunately, the constant nut bustin' and cocaine led to his eventual impotence and heart attack.
Larry's life was short, but hell was it intense. Some envy it, others disgusted by it, either way, Larry, the Tree Hopper, loved to hop around.
Ending the silliness, I've always wanted to capture a tree hopper. My last encounter with one left me frustrated, disappointed, and questioning my skills as a photographer. Not only are they shy and oh so small, the bastards are quick!
Call it 'God's Grace', 'The Universe Aligning' or whatever your existentialism dictates, today was different. A family of hoppers parked on a tree outside my house. I counted 5 in total. You scientists out there feel free to tell me if this is normal behavior, I wouldn't mind having a colony nearby.
Taken with my phone + DIY lens.
3 PANOs layered with James Tiliich insert. A major production, two mornings of work.
James Tillich is known worldwide as "the man who never existed." I ought to know. I created him.
The earth is filled with Your unfailing love, O Eternal One; teach me to observe what You require. Psalm 119:64
Psychiatrist Viktor Frankl – Man's Search For Meaning www.youtube.com/watch?v=B_c1GVRnPUo&t=11328s - speaks of peoples’ existence in concentration camps and triumph of the soul through existentialism. He developed logotherapy. He offers one explanation of existentialism within one striving to find concrete meaning of existence.
Attached is picture I quickly took in early November 2016 – about 5 weeks before I learned that I had stage 4 cancer.
The picture captures a sunny afternoon at False Cape, at the southeastern most point in Virginia, or northernmost point in the Outer Banks. The day was one of beautiful conflict – the chill of Autumn pulled one of my arms while the warmth of Summer love pulled on my other arm. The sandy road beckoned that you and I might ride through coastal pines on mountain bikes. Such is the existential moment unrealized. Ah, to have the seasons and the hint of ocean breezes swirling in my hair while riding along a seldom travelled road. This is something worth living for.
. . . I am feeling blessed, being within the 1 % still alive, searching for something to say; looking forward to many perfect days that God creates.
3 October 19 - While maneuvering among crazies commuting into Northern Virginia suburbs, I listened to NPR segment on Bob Ross. www.npr.org/2019/10/03/766994352/the-world-of-bob-ross
I don't share his vision of painting. My eyes and expression are different. What I did learn from radio presentation, is to view the play of shadows and light, of depth within subjects. I think this otherwise normal picture captures this spirit.
WOLFgang
The Yaddo board first discussed building a swimming pool on September 20, 1959. Due mainly to the insistence of John Cheever, the Board would finally approve the pool in 1961. Cheever would then write the short story "The Swimmer" in 1963 and it appeared in The New Yorker on July 18,1964. The publishing was postponed so that the short story could have a Summer release date.
"The Swimmer" synopsis
In the affluent suburbs of Westchester County, New York, middle-aged Neddy Merrill wants to retain his youth and marvels at his trail-blazing idea of "swimming the county" -by following a chain of pools he can literally swim home. Neddy enters the backyard of his neighbors, sometimes bursting into a party, sometimes engaging in conversation, and most of the time having a drink - but always swimming the length of their pool. At first Neddy is well-received but after finding a dried pool and waiting for a storm to pass, he starts to feel tired and disillusioned. Neddy is upset to find out that the Welchers' pool is dry and their house for sale. He recognizes his memory must be failing him since he cannot remember what happened to the Welchers. At the Halloran residence, Mrs. Halloran tells Neddy she is sorry to hear of his misfortunes (which he cannot remember) and mentions something about his children and selling his house. At the Biswangers’ he is perceived as a party-crasher and even their barman treats him with disrespect. He overhears Mrs. Biswanger saying that someone showed up one day asking for money since he went bankrupt. Further on, Neddy's former mistress tells him that she won't "give him another cent". He slowly observes that each pool is significantly colder and more difficult to swim. He notices that some of the tree leaves are already yellow. At one point he smells wood smoke in the wind, wondering who could be building a fire at that time of the year. At the Sachses', Neddy asks for a drink, but Helen Sachs tells him they don't have alcohol since her husband underwent surgery 3 years before—something Neddy has no memory of. Neddy is unable to recognize the constellations of the midsummer sky, instead finding the northern constellations, implying a change of season. Neddy eventually reaches his own house. As he looks inside a locked and deserted home, he wonders why his family is not there.