View allAll Photos Tagged flame
Micro (macro) photographs of lit candles, showcasing the amazing art that's produced when a candle's wick burns and the candle's wax melts into incredible shapes.
The heptagon is the seven-sided shape produced, I believe, as an artifact via reflection or captured lens flare from my camera's lens.
It took me awhile to be able to expose properly for both the burning wick and the flame itself, and it's challenging to get a sharp focus as I shoot these handheld.
Click on the photo to view it large and better see the amazing details.
More in my album, "The Art of the Flame:"
www.flickr.com/photos/motorpsiclist/albums/72177720306094528
I hope you enjoy.
I have been away for a few weeks in Vietnam and Cambodia. When I got back I went to Canberra, a 600km round trip, to specifically look for Flame Robins and was lucky enough to get this lovely fellow. This is my first Flame Robin!
Flame-On Flowers - Sept 2018 - Expressionism Acrylic - TS2 LR
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© Fotografias de John B
© John Edward Bankson
We took a walk to Heather Farm Reserve, aka "The Swamp," yesterday and expected nothing. That's what we got save for the first damselfly of the year. That's still too early because we still have very cool mornings. The damsel was a solid black, and I couldn't identify her. The water's too low and she won't find a mater, so I'm afraid her above water life span will be less than three weeks.
This is NOT a damsel, but a Flame Skimmer Dragonfly, our most frequent flier and the one I'll be looking for to know that the season is truly open. As I walk around the lake with a camera, people assume that I know something, and the most frequent question is not about birds, but dragonflies. I'm going to have to start brushing up for this year. I certainly have the time.
"Don't fear the light within. May it ignite the Sacred Flame in your soul."
- Paulo Coelho
#MacroMondays theme #Flame
Taken for the group #MacroMondays - theme #Flame
An interesting challenge this one, what to take and how to get as close as possible without damaging my camera! I settled on a wax tealight candle with a brushed aluminium background that gives a flame effect behind the candle flame itself.
Measurements: 1 1/2 inches wide x 2 inches high.
(Technical stuff)
Taken using a Nikon Coolpix in macro mode.
f/4.5
10 mm
1/60
ISO 200
Minor clarity tweak with Adobe LR 5.
Flash off.
Dedicated to CH (ILYWAMHASAM)
Thanks very much for any comments and favs. Happy MM!
I saw this bird up at Mount Buffalo and it had me a little confused, but I think it a female juvenile Flame Robin.
We were told to be imaginative for this weeks theme. This happens to be very unimaginative. But, I was far more worried about getting close up to a flame with the Panasonic, that imagination went out the window!
It's also not as close (how strange) as I'd usually go, but it has had a hefty crop.
Better viewed large and thank you for your favourites. :O)
Flame Skimmer again, this one has the resolution and detail of my Sony Alpha gear and some fine glass. In my i-phone post of yesterday, James Page referenced in his comment the "late, great Ethan Winning" for his passion and knowledge of the odonates. Ethan definitely helped foster my interest in them and helped me feel more sure of any ID effort on my part. Not to mention he was so entertaining and gave me lots of smiles.
Cropped a fair amount, but tons of resolution especially compared to the phone pic. Double-click away on it a couple of times.
This fire was kindled with a flame from a Cherokee Council fire that has been burning in Oklahoma since 1838. The original fire was taken to Oklahoma when the Cherokee Nation was removed west over the infamous "Trail of Tears".
In May 1951, four Eastern band of Cherokee Tribal leaders from the Qualla Boundary, North Carolina, retraced that trail of heartbreak and brought live coals from the Oklahoma fire.
The Eternal Flame here at the Mountainside Theatre was kindled from the century old Oklahoma fire on June, 23, 1951.
May this fire burn eternally as a symbol of the strength of the Cherokee People and may it honor those Cherokee who have gone before.
Flame Towers is a trio of skyscrapers in Baku, Azerbaijan, including the tallest in the country, with a height of 182 m. Towers symbolize the long history of fire worshippers that considered Azerbaijan as a birthplace for the prophet Zoroaster.
Got a little too close for comfort for this photo, however I feel the heat and risk of camera damage was worth it!
IMPORTANT: for non-pro users who read the info on a computer, just enlarge your screen to 120% (or more), then the full text will appear below the photo with a white background - which makes reading so much easier.
The color version of the photo above is here: www.lacerta-bilineata.com/ticino-best-photos-of-southern-...
THE STORY BEHIND THE PHOTO:
So far there's only been one photo in my gallery that hasn't been taken in my garden ('The Flame Rider', captured in the Maggia Valley: www.flickr.com/photos/191055893@N07/53563448847/in/datepo... ) - which makes the image above the second time I've "strayed from the path" (although not very far, since the photo was taken only approximately 500 meters from my house).
Overall, I'll stick to my "only-garden rule", but every once in a while I'll show you a little bit of the landscape around my village, because I think it will give you a better sense of just how fascinating this region is, and also of its history.
The title I chose for the photo may seem cheesy, and it's certainly not very original, but I couldn't think of another one, because it's an honest reflection of what I felt when I took it: a profound sense of peace - although if you make it to the end of this text you'll realize my relationship with that word is a bit more complicated.
I got up early that day; it was a beautiful spring morning, and there was still a bit of mist in the valley below my village which I hoped would make for a few nice mood shots, so I quickly grabbed my camera and went down there before the rising sun could dissolve the magical layer on the scenery.
Most human activity hadn't started yet, and I was engulfed in the sounds of the forest as I was walking the narrow trail along the horse pasture; it seemed every little creature around me wanted to make its presence known to potential mates (or rivals) in a myriad of sounds and voices and noises (in case you're interested, here's a taste of what I usually wake up to in spring, but you best use headphones: www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfoCTqdAVCE )
Strolling through such an idyllic landscape next to grazing horses and surrounded by birdsong and beautiful trees, I guess it's kind of obvious one would feel the way I described above and choose the title I did, but as I looked at the old stone buildings - the cattle shelter you can see in the foreground and the stable further up ahead on the right - I also realized how fortunate I was.
It's hard to imagine now, because Switzerland is one of the wealthiest countries in the world today, but the men and women who had carried these stones and constructed the walls of these buildings were among the poorest in Europe. The hardships the people in some of the remote and little developed valleys in Ticino endured only a few generations ago are unimaginable to most folks living in my country today.
It wasn't uncommon that people had to sell their own kids as child slaves - the girls had to work in factories or in rice fields, the boys as "living chimney brushes" in northern Italy - just because there wasn't enough food to support the whole family through the harsh Ticino winters.
If you wonder why contemporary Swiss historians speak of "slaves" as opposed to child laborers, it's because that's what many of them actually were: auctioned off for a negotiable prize at the local market, once sold, these kids were not payed and in many cases not even fed by their masters (they had to beg for food in the streets or steal it).
Translated from German Wikipedia: ...The Piazza grande in Locarno, where the Locarno Film Festival is held today, was one of the places where orphans, foundlings and children from poor families were auctioned off. The boys were sold as chimney sweeps, the girls ended up in the textile industry, in tobacco processing in Brissago or in the rice fields of Novara, which was also extremely hard work: the girls had to stand bent over in the water for twelve to fourteen hours in all weathers. The last verse of the Italian folk song 'Amore mio non piangere' reads: “Mamma, papà, non piangere, se sono consumata, è stata la risaia che mi ha rovinata” (Mom, dad, don't cry when I'm used up, it was the rice field that destroyed me.)... de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kaminfegerkinder
The conditions for the chimney sweeps - usually boys between the age of 8 and 12 (or younger, because they had to be small enough to be able to crawl into the chimneys) - were so catastrophic that many of them didn't survive; they died of starvation, cold or soot in their lungs - as well as of work-related accidents like breaking their necks when they fell, or suffocatig if they got stuck in inside a chimney. This practice of "child slavery" went on as late as the 1950s (there's a very short article in English on the topic here: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spazzacamini and a more in depth account for German speakers in this brief clip: www.youtube.com/watch?v=gda8vZp_zsc ).
Now I don't know if the people who built the old stone houses along my path had to sell any of their kids, but looking at the remnants of their (not so distant) era I felt an immense sense of gratitude that I was born at a time of prosperity - and peace - in my region, my country and my home. Because none of it was my doing: it was simple luck that decided when and where I came into this world.
It also made me think of my own family. Both of my grandparents on my father's side grew up in Ticino (they were both born in 1900), but while they eventually left Switzerland's poorest region to live in its richest, the Kanton of Zurich, my grandfather's parents relocated to northern Italy in the 1920s and unfortunately were still there when WWII broke out.
They lost everything during the war, and it was their youngest daughter - whom I only knew as "Zia" which means "aunt" in Italian - who earned a little money to support herself and my great-grandparents by giving piano lessons to high-ranking Nazi officers and their kids (this was towards the end of the war when German forces had occupied Italy).
I never knew that about her; Zia only very rarely spoke of the war, but one time when I visited her when she was already over a 100 years old (she died at close to 104), I asked her how they had managed to survive, and she told me that she went to the local prefecture nearly every day to teach piano. "And on the way there would be the dangling ones" she said, with a shudder.
I didn't get what she meant, so she explained. Visiting the city center where the high ranking military resided meant she had to walk underneath the executed men and women who were hanging from the lantern posts along the road (these executions - often of civilians - were the Germans' retaliations for attacks by the Italian partisans).
I never forgot her words - nor could I shake the look on her face as she re-lived this memory. And I still can't grasp it; my house in Ticino is only 60 meters from the Italian border, and the idea that there was a brutal war going on three houses down the road from where I live now in Zia's lifetime strikes me as completely surreal.
So, back to my title for the photo above. "Peace". It's such a simple, short word, isn't it? And we use it - or its cousin "peaceful" - quite often when we mean nice and quiet or stress-free. But if I'm honest I don't think I know what it means. My grandaunt Zia did, but I can't know. And I honestly hope I never will.
I'm sorry I led you down such a dark road; I usually intend to make people smile with the anecdotes that go with my photos, but this one demanded a different approach (I guess with this latest image I've strayed from the path in more than one sense, and I hope you'll forgive me).
Ticino today is the region with the second highest average life expectancy in Europe (85.2 years), and "The Human Development Index" of 0.961 in 2021 was one of the highest found anywhere in the world, and northern Italy isn't far behind. But my neighbors, many of whom are now in their 90s, remember well it wasn't always so.
That a region so poor it must have felt like purgatory to many of its inhabitants could turn into something as close to paradise on Earth as I can imagine in a person's lifetime should make us all very hopeful. But, and this is the sad part, it also works the other way 'round. And I believe we'd do well to remember that, too.
To all of you - with my usual tardiness but from the bottom of my heart - a happy, healthy, hopeful 2025 and beyond.
These photos were taken at my friend's trailer late summer this year. It was for another photography project. I had my camera on slow shutter and moved it around in random patterns. They all turned out fairly well. The last one ended up being in the shape of a cross - entirely unintentional mind you... it's pretty crazy!
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Olympus E-500