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Dark Souls III - Lanczos2 dowsampled 9MP shot | ReShade Framework 1.1.0 /w custom palettes | jim2point0's and Hattiwatti's cinematic tools.
I slightly cropped this shot. Mere pixels.
Framework
©Copyright 2018 Karlton Huber Photography - all rights reserved.
A short drive from my office in Irvine, CA I found this interesting bit of architectural detail.
Thanks for stopping by and for your comments. You can also find me at:
Turtlepoint, PA... WNYP operates their seasonal stone traffic between Driftwood & Turtlepoint, PA, however the crew starts lite power from Olean. A trip out to the main line and be stuck with the lite power move is unmotivating to me. Upon arrival in Turtlepoint on June 25, 2019, I decided an iced tea was more important until I glanced to my left...
Whether here or anywhere else I'm sure several that take photography seriously have thought of this framework before here or somewhere else, but on this day I got a shot and the iced tea...
Fujichrome Provia 100F
(C) by Ben Martin
This was a bit of a test, for future refinement. 1st exp. [50mm f/5 20s] for window. Swapped to 14mm for 2nd exp. [f/5 25s] Orange flash. Capped. 3rd exp. [f/5 40s] Blue back lighting & mood lamp - MITZ6085
"ABZÛ"
-8640x3600 (SRWE Hotsampling)
-Duncan Harris' CE Table (timestop, free camera, FOV)
-ReShade Framework (deband, levels)
This historical stone and metal artwork is positioned above the entry to Carnegie Library, in Ayr which was built in 1870 and still is a functional library
Flickr Lounge ~ Weekly Theme (Week 17) ... Print It, Frame It!
Stay Safe and Healthy Everyone!
Thanks to everyone who views this photo, adds a note, leaves a comment and of course BIG thanks to anyone who chooses to favourite my photo .... Thanks to you all!
"Mad Max"
-4500x6000 (Windowed Borderless Gaming Hotsampling)
-Duncan Harris' CE Table (FOV, aspect ratio)
-In-game Photomode
A Class 390 Pendolino electric multiple unit in the fleet of Virgin Trains West Coast accelerates away from Carlisle with 1M15, the 14:40 Glasgow Central - Euston service on Thursday 20th October 2016.
On my first visit to Carlisle station for many years my initial thought was "why is it so dark?" The explanation soon became apparent: self-evidently the overall roof is being refurbished, and I'm sure it will look fantastic when it's finished, but I wouldn't want to have to pay that scaffolding bill.
Hamelin / Lower Saxony / Germany
Album of "Doors Of The world":
www.flickr.com/photos/tabliniumcarlson/sets/7215762599909...
Album of Germany (the north): www.flickr.com/photos/tabliniumcarlson/albums/72157712098...
Lies Baas 2011 Framework needs to keep up any structure....balance is needed to hold it all together....mine seems off a bit lately. So there are plans to be made, health to be kept, and an open mind to fine tune the lay out. But most of all...open your shutters to let the light shine in.
Antwerpen, 16-08-2011
TIP: Press L to view in light box
No private group or multiple group invites please!
Oberes Torhaus (in English: "Upper Gatehouse") in the village of Ickelheim, a district of the town of Bad Windsheim, Franconia (Bavaria)
Some background information:
Yes, one of the two gatehouses of Ickelheim, the lower one, to be precise, is available for purchase. However, both are almost identically constructed. Of course, you cannot buy the large building at its site, but only a small model of it for your model railway. The company Busch, a German producer of model railway equipment, has recreated the gate and offers it as a building kit for sale. So if you are the proud owner of a model railway, how about a nice little timber-framed gatehouse for your model railway layout?
With its more than 600 residents the village of Ickelheim is situated just about four km (2.5 miles) south of the district town of Bad Windsheim, in which it is incorporated. It is also located about 50 km (31 miles) west of the city of Nuremberg. Most likely, the settlement was already founded during the so-called Franconian colonisation in the 6th century. However, documented is its existence since the year 741.
In 889, Ickelheim was mentioned in a document as a Franconian royal seat. In the following centuries, the settlement evolved into a so-called Rundling (a circular village) with two gatehouses, which was surrounded by a rampart and a moat. However, the two gatehouses, which exist now, are not the original ones from medieval times. Instead, both were built in 1713 just to flag both accesses to the village. Anyway, the timber-framed gatehouses of Ickelheim are very unusual buildings and I don’t remember ever having seen any gatehouses resembling them – neither in Germany nor anywhere else.
In 1249, Pope Innocent IV put Heilsbronn Abbey and the fortified settlement of Ickelheim under his protection. However, another charter proves that in 1259, Ickelheim was already in possession of the burgraves of Nuremberg. In 1294, burgrave Conrad IV bestowed the municipal area to the German Order. Subsequently, Ickelheim became a minor administrative seat of the German Order, while the major seat of the whole area was in nearby Virnsberg Castle.
In the first half of the 16th century, the reformation in Franconia was in full swing. Many neighbouring communities had already converted to Protestantism, while Ickelheim was still under control of the Catholic German Order. In 1539, the villagers even demanded a Protestant minister, but the reformation wasn’t implemented in Ickelheim before 1565.
The Thirty Years’ War didn’t spare the community. In 1621, Ickelheim was afflicted with lootings and infringements by the Catholic Imperial forces under command of the military leader Peter Ernst, Count of Mansfeld. And in 1631, Imperial forces once again looted Ickelheim and its neighbouring communities Marktbergel and Ipsheim.
In 1806, the village was incorporated into the new Kingdom of Bavaria. In 1811, the rural community of Ickelheim was created. In 1856, a significant part of the commune was destroyed by fire. The fire was caused by arson and fanned by adverse winds. At the end of World War II, American troops tried to occupy the village. But as the resistance was rather fierce, they draw back and shelled Ickelheim with incendiary grenades. As a result, several houses were destroyed and the municipality was finally seized on 15th April 1945.
Today, Ickelheim is a beautiful little village with not less than three inns. In 1987, the commune won a gold medal in the Germany-wide competition "Unser Dorf soll schoener werden" (in English: "Our village should become more beautiful"). Ickelheim, which used to be an agricultural settlement in the past, is now mainly a village of commuters who work in the towns of Bad Windsheim or Ansbach or even in the city of Nuremberg. Only a few farms have survived. However, it’s noteworthy that at the southern slopes of Ickelheim vines are cultivated, which is quite unique in this area.
The straight lines unstraightened, reflected in the water below - organic construction?
The original framework (a slightly different PoV) in the previous upload:
Waiting to go to exercise class and enjoyed looking at the Bus Station lean-to. For the record the aperture was f8.
She arrived like someone from another time —adorned in celestial jewelry, butterfly rings fluttering at her fingers, and an easy, mischievous smile that hinted at mysteries she’d long since made peace with. On April 1st, 2025, at The Interval of the Long Now in San Francisco—a place built for slow thinking and long perspectives—Sara Imari Walker sat across from me and began to unravel the universe.
Sara is one of those rare thinkers who makes the cosmos feel not vast and indifferent, but intimate—alive, even. A physicist by training, she spends her days probing one of the most elusive riddles in science: what exactly is life, and how does it begin? But that’s just the start. Her work reaches far beyond biology or chemistry. Through her development of assembly theory—a framework that attempts to quantify how complex structures come into being—she is carving out nothing less than a new science of emergence.
You get the sense, speaking with her, that the big questions aren’t intimidating to her. They’re magnetic. She describes the universe not as a machine grinding out configurations of matter, but as something more like a poem—or a growing organism. She believes that life is not a cosmic accident but a phenomenon that the universe is, in some sense, biased toward. And while that might sound like philosophy, in Sara’s hands it becomes a set of testable hypotheses, a roadmap for exploring alien biospheres, both real and imagined.
Her background is as eclectic as her intellect. Born with one foot in physics and the other in philosophy, she has made it her mission to collapse the artificial walls between disciplines. She studied theoretical physics in graduate school, but her thinking has always veered into the biological, the informational, the metaphysical. She joined the astrobiology program at Arizona State University, where she now serves as a professor, and she is one of the central figures in NASA’s efforts to define and detect life beyond Earth.
But titles and institutions can only gesture at what makes her work so resonant. Sara is, above all, a synthesizer. She pulls from thermodynamics, evolutionary theory, information science, and even metaphysics to offer a new view of life—not just as a biological category, but as a fundamental feature of reality. Her work has led her to propose that life’s most essential feature is not replication, but memory—systems that retain the past in order to shape the future. It’s a view of the universe that is not frozen and fixed, but open-ended, historical, and creative.
During our session, she picked up a small globe—a prop for the photo, perhaps, but in her hand it became something more: a symbol of the fragility and improbability of everything we know. She looked at it thoughtfully, then glanced back with that same bright smile. “It’s all just matter,” she said, “but not just. It’s matter with history.”
It’s that poetic clarity that defines her. In a field often defined by technical jargon or reductionist thinking, Sara insists on seeing the whole system—and on asking the hardest questions with both rigor and imagination. She’s as comfortable discussing quantum mechanics as she is quoting Octavia Butler, and somehow, in her presence, the boundaries between those worlds dissolve.
The photograph we made together captures something essential about her. Dressed not in the muted tones of the academic, but in bold textures—dark velvet, spiked bracelets, a necklace that looked like a model of spacetime itself—she evokes both the depth of space and the strange beauty of the things that emerge from it. It’s not just an aesthetic choice. It’s a declaration: that science can be sensuous, that big ideas deserve beauty.
Sara Imari Walker is building nothing less than a new cosmology—one in which life is not a footnote to physics, but the main event. She invites us to see ourselves not as anomalies, but as participants in a much larger unfolding. In her universe, we are not isolated observers, but expressions of the same generative force that built stars, molecules, and meaning. And in that universe, there is room for both wonder and understanding.
My current project is the construction of a meter-scale modular origami tower using my ZEBRA construction system. This is the tip of the tower under construction, folded from 250 uncut sheets of 100 g/m² A4 office paper and assembled without glue or other means of fixation. Its base is built on top of the 47 cm x 47 cm framework segment shown here.
Presently, the tower measures 2.25 m from bottom to top (I'm not done yet, but this is as far as my living room allows me to go). Does this already set the world record for the tallest origami object built from standard small-scale paper formats? The tallest comparable object I'm aware of is Jeannine Moseley's business card cube model of Worcester Union Station (shown on this web page), which is less than 2 m high.
Comments and pointers to related work are welcome!
This HYBYCOZO sculpture is titled Axis Mundi. It is in the Lewis Desert Portal and anchors the keystone of the Desert Discovery Trail.
Axis Mundi 2024.
Stainless Steel, Powder Coat Pigment, LED
Axis Mundi draws inspiration from the crystalline structure of fluorite, which contains shapes similar to honeycomb. This artwork is made up of hexagons and squares that efficiently fill space without gaps. These patterns are remarkably elegant and balanced in their division of three-dimensional space.
dbg.org/events/light-bloom/2024-10-12/
www.youtube.com/watch?v=FFelgzzzQqg
LIGHT BLOOM by HYBYCOZO is a limited-time exhibit where nature and light converge. This mesmerizing display invites you to explore the Garden transformed by stunning geometric light installations that illuminate the beauty of the desert landscape in a new way. As the sun sets, LIGHT BLOOM comes to life, casting intricate shadows and vibrant hues across the Garden. Wander the trails and let the enchanting installations transport you to a magical realm where the natural world meets the abstract.
HYBYCOZO is the collaborative studio of artists Serge Beaulieu and Yelena Filipchuk. Based in Los Angeles, their work consists of larger than life geometric sculptures, often with pattern and texture that draw on inspirations from mathematics, science, and natural phenomena. Typically illuminated, the work celebrates the inherent beauty of form and pattern and represents their ongoing journey in exploring the myriad dimensions of geometry. HYBYCOZO is short for the Hyperspace Bypass Construction Zone, a nod to their favorite novel (The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy) and was the title of their first installation in 2014. They continue to create under this name. In the novel earth was being destroyed to make way for a bypass. It lead Serge and Yelena to ask what it means to make art at a time where the earth’s hospitable time in the universe may be limited.
dbg.org/meet-the-artists-behind-light-bloom/
Q: Walk us through your creative process?
A: The focus of our creative process is to explore the intricate interplay between geometry, light, space and to inspire contemplation, wonder and a sense of place among our audiences. Geometry and pattern-making serve as the backbone of our creative expression. It is the framework through which we navigate the complexities of form, proportion and spatial relationships. Patterns, both simple and complex, have a profound impact on our perception and understanding of the world. They possess the ability to evoke a sense of order, balance and aesthetic pleasure. Pattern making and geometry offer us a means of storytelling and communication. These patterns serve as conduits for deeper exploration, provoking introspection and contemplation to uncover the underlying symbols embedded within the human psyche.
Q: What inspired the concept of LIGHT BLOOM?
A: Just as many cactus and desert plants have evolved to produce night-blooming flowers, adapting to their environment and thriving in darkness, our sculptures come alive after sunset, blossoming with light and transforming the night into a glowing landscape of art and geometry.
Desert Botanical Garden has an incredible collection of plants and cacti arranged in a beautiful park setting.
"Think the desert is all dirt and tumbleweeds? Think again. Desert Botanical Garden is home to thousands of species of cactus, trees and flowers from all around the world spread across 55 acres in Phoenix, Arizona."
Desert Botanical Garden
DBG HYBYCOZO Light Bloom
Suspended above the city of NeoExtropia, Sky Port Bury hangs in a tangle of steel, secrets, and light. Power is traded in whispers, beauty is engineered, and loyalty runs on voltage.
When casino matriarch Vivienne Ravenwood finds a broken synthetic in a back-alley, she doesn’t call security—she takes it home. What begins as curiosity becomes obsession, and in the city’s electric heart, creation always asks for something in return.
The Ravenwood Construct Book I: Eidolon
A new series of dark cyberpunk stories from the world of NeoExtropia.
Chapter 1 – Vivienne and the First Signal
Sky Port Bury was bracing for a storm. One of the high, thin tempests that hovered instead of falling, turning the air sharp and expectant. Neon flickered against dry steel, and the freight lifts sighed somewhere below. Vivienne Ravenwood moved through the service alleys in a long red coat and a pace that kept the city from catching up.
She’d meant to cut ten minutes off her night. Instead, she found a body.
Not human. Human-shaped.
It sat propped against a dumpster, plating gone in places, framework showing like a graphite sketch under paint. The face, even half-ruined, had been engineered toward beauty—cheek geometry tuned for light, orbital wells proportioned to imply calm. Someone had cared how it would be seen. Someone else had cared less and left it here like a confession they couldn’t finish.
Vivienne crouched. Cold oil and ozone; the city’s perfume. Close up, the chassis revealed quiet wealth in its design: anti-shear anchors at the shoulders, micro-gimbal spine segments, a combat-grade pelvis coupler disguised as grace. Industrial strength folded into elegance. She traced the line of the jaw where dermal mesh had torn back from its seam. The synthetic looked like a statue interrupted.
“Who threw you away,” she murmured, “and why did your worth change?”
A small light flickered deep inside the skull cavity—nothing dramatic, a moth inside a lamp. Not power; a capacitor’s envoi. Then she heard it: two quiet tones in succession, nearly subsonic, more gesture than sound.
Da - dum.
She didn’t believe in omens. She believed in patterns. The two notes repeated, slightly lower. The second slid. A human would call it wistful. A diagnostic would call it noise.
Vivienne stood. “All right,” she told the empty air. “You’re mine.”
She called no one on the casino channels. She didn’t like paperwork in the stormlight.
Ten minutes later, a plain cargo van eased into the alley. Two of her dockhands—one old enough to know what not to see, one young enough to want a promotion—lifted the chassis under her eye. Vivienne insisted on a blanket around the torso, an absurd courtesy that made the younger man less brave and the older one less curious.
“Workshop A?” the old one asked.
“Beneath Workshop A,” Vivienne said. “And use Route Three. No cameras.”
The van pulled away, leaving the alley to its hum. Da - dum, she thought, and almost smiled.
The private lift smelled like sterilized winter. Vivienne stepped out into a room that appeared on no Ravenwood blueprint: low-lit, three gurneys, a ceiling that remembered silence, a ring of devices named with numbers because names were incriminating. Her security chief had called this place a rumor. That was the point.
“Put it there,” she said. “Arms along the sides. Head turned slightly to the left.”
The dockhands obeyed. She dismissed them with enough pay that would keep them indebted and silent—two conditions she trusted more than loyalty. When the door shut, the room felt like a stage without an audience.
The synthetic lay where she’d wanted it, as if it had chosen the pose. Vivienne circled, cataloguing: servo array graded for torsion, knuckle housings built to take a blade, throat cavity widened for a speech modulator. There was taste in the build. There was money. And there was the violence of a hurried disassembly—cut lines not unscrewed, brackets warped where patience would have sufficed.
“Who were you to them,” she asked, and the question left condensation in the air.
The platform’s diagnostic rails extended with a quiet hydraulic curtsey. She connected three lines: power, data, and truth. Power would be patient. Data would be hungry. Truth would be whatever she could prevent from being a lie.
“Shell only,” she told the system. “No core wake. Map the lattice and stop at thirty percent.” Her voice slowed when she gave orders to machines. People mistook it for tenderness. It was tuning.
Screens bloomed. The lattice unfolded in false color, a cathedral of logic in cross-section. Weathered, yes. Sabotaged, no. And there—like writing under scraped paint—an encrypted partition nested beneath the system’s scheduling layer, mislabeled as inert fabric support. Not corporate. Not Guild. Not any vendor she’d bribed.
The identifier was wrong in a specific way: too short by two characters and too symmetrical to be a mistake.
EIDOLON.
Vivienne tasted the word like a jeweler tests metal—instinct before science. She didn’t touch the encrypted partition. Not yet. Let a thing think you hadn’t noticed it and it would tell you who it was trying to impress.
“Slow copy of the surface layers,” she told the system. “And prep the dermal frame for re-anchoring.”
If she was going to keep it—and she was, after all—she would not parade a ruin. Beauty wasn’t weakness; it was armor. People got hypnotized by beauty and confessed things they didn’t mean to.
She keyed three messages, disguised as unrelated repair orders:
To Kel Foran, who fixed neural lattices because he couldn’t fix his own sleep:
Prototype drone. Mesh burn on scheduler. Need reflow and stitch, no full boot. My lab.
To Lio, who worked the port’s edges where the cameras gave up:
Collector’s piece—frame reinforcement and servo retrofit. Has to run silent. Assume nothing. Tell no one.
To the ex-Arcova engineer who changed names monthly:
Behavioral dampers and etiquette bundles for a civilian face. You don’t know what you’re working on. If you think you do, you’re wrong.
She watched each message send, tracking acknowledgments. When the room was quiet again, she lifted a tray of dermal mesh, midnight-soft and threaded with carbon shimmer. The synth’s cheekbone caught the light at the angle the mesh would lay; the room believed in symmetry and Vivienne obliged.
Then—the two-tone hum again, fainter this time, carried in the transformer’s throat. Da - dum. The second note stepped down.
“I didn’t ask you for a song,” she said.
No answer, of course. The platform hummed and waited for her to invent meaning. Vivienne set the mesh down and let her hand find the curve of its jaw, almost gentle.
“You belong to me,” she said—not loudly, not for the cameras that didn’t exist down here, not for the city that kept its own ledgers. For the room. For the machine. For herself.
Da - dum.
Visit Sky Port Bury at maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Kasieopeia/219/128/534