View allAll Photos Tagged glutation
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Well, I won't say that I'm weary of manipulations. I will say that I am weary, thus rendering a manipulation out of the frickin question.
My right glut muscle is killing me, result of landing incorrectly after all that leaping about yesterday that made me the world's loudest upstairs neighbor.....
And most of all, I purchased my domain and some hosting space today, which means I've got my hands full for the next while in figuring out how the hell it was I used to make websites back when I was fluent in html and all that shit.
Used to be so easy....but that was about a decade ago....hum.
But anyways, my bet is that it should be up and running (even roughly) in about a couple weeks of website fiddling by me. :)
And I almost called this "shoot from the hip" but that seemed so passe and indulgent...heh. So instead I made up a story poople quote. What ya'll think, eh?
I dunno...maybe I shoulda just gone with "she shot you from her hip, but only shot herself"
;-P
Hope everyone had a great Friday, and happy 3 day weekend to all you Americans ( and etc.) experiencing labor day. :-D
I lubb bank holidays...hehe.
Random Fact of the Day: I must rescind my previous statement of hating fast food and replace it with "I hate fast food, which isn't to say I don't eat it."
Cos today I ate it for lunch. And I liked it, just don't wanna think about how bad it is for me.
A new species for me, so excuse the glut of shots! What a little beauty this springtail is. About 1.5mm long, it was on the underside of a fallen horse-chestnut leaf just yards into the woods near home. Very pleased to find it, though it's colour made it easy to spot against the wet decaying leaf.
Die Rose liebt die Lilie,
Sie steht zu ihren Füßen;
Bald löst die Glut ihr schönstes Blatt,
Es fällt, um sie zu grüßen.
Die Lilie bemerkt es wohl,
Sie hätt’ das Blättlein gerne;
Der Wind verweht’s, und Blatt nach Blatt
Jagt er in alle Ferne.
Die Rose doch läßt nimmer ab,
Läßt immer neue fallen;
Sie grüßt, und grüßt sich fast zu Tod,
Doch keines trifft von allen.
Das letzte fängt die Lilie
Und tut sich dicht zusammen;
Nun glüht das Blatt in ihrem Kelch,
Als wär’s ein Herz voll Flammen.
Friedrich Hebbel
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
The title of a 1987 Robert Rauschenberg piece at the entrance to his Museum of Modern Art retrospective.
Another serendipitous detail that I don't recall noticing at the time is the woman wearing Van Gogh's "The Starry Night" on her skirt.
A change of style from the recent glut of Egret shots, this is a shot of St Bridget's at Skenfrith, one of my favourite churches, especially with that tower topped with a dovecote belfry.
St Bridget's lies at the north end of the village of Skenfrith, Monmouthshire, Wales. It was listed as a Grade I listed building in 19 November 1953. The church is dedicated to Brigit of Kildare (Welsh: Sant Ffraid), to whom apparently 17 churches are dedicated in Wales, and it contains the tomb of john Morgan who was the last Governor of the Three Castles (Skenfrith, Grosmont and White Castle), an active charity - The Friends of St Bridget's, Skenfrith - raise funds for the maintenance and repair of the church.
Whenever I visit the area with friends who haven't seen this little gem I can't resist dragging them in, and I always wonder how many people do a flying visit to Skenfrith as part of a personal Three Castles tour and never realise that this is tucked just down the road from the castle...
(Please Note: This image not to be used on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © Paul J Fram - All rights reserved.)
Hellrote Glut am Firmament die Wolken stehen in Flammen. Die Sonne will im Westen untergehen. Ein eisiger Schauer von Schnee und Regen der huschte eben noch vorbei. In der Ferne die dunkle Wolkenwand durchtrennt von grellen Blitzen. Auf dem Wege vor dem Haus da glänzen noch die Pfützen, sie wirken wie ein Spiegel in dem das Himmelsfeuer des Abends schwach erleuchtet.
Dung anzünden und zur Glut bringen ...
BONGANI MOUNTAIN LODGE: www.aha.co.za/bongani-mountain-lodge/
SÜDAFRIKA: de.wikipedia.org/wiki/S%C3%BCdafrika
You would not believe how many more pics I have to sort through... hey, there has been a glut of dressing, not a glut of buying :)
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
Continuing the glut of J3 photos with more from another visit and different elements of the design... including cake
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
August 2010
My little Egremont Russet tree produce 19 apples! Not a glut, but more than I expected - and they are delicious!
This was taken in June in the greenhouse and little did we know that these flowers hinted at a veritable tsunami of wonderful tomatoes! What a year for a glut of tomatoes although there has been that many of them I'm now getting a bit fed up of them TBH! :-)
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir
after Halloween we had a glut of balloons so the game for the two day afterwards was make the dog chase and burst them.
She wasn't sure at first but then loved every second of it.
This is a more relaxed at home look that seems to be somewhat acceptable to my other half.
Foi só eu dizer no inicio da semana que hoje iria sair sem ela que a Curimbeira Purple Girl Corta Gluteos & Pés Abduzida do chip da bandeira asteada na orelha do Mundo Torto da Cerva Cintra estrela Marinha Zorra Pereira comecou a bater o tambor e fazer o mantra poderoso, aquele da Coreografia com Secador de Cabelos e dos gritos terriveis no MAC e que a Agente Dana Scully revelou ser uma antiga Dança da Chuva, tudo para que eu não saisse de casa tambem.
Hoje o tempo amanheceu totalmente fechado o que inviabiliza o que gostaria de fazer hoje, então meus amigos vou voltar para Cama, logo mais se o tempo continuar assim volto para devidas visitações.
Beijos e um ótimo Sabado para todas as pessoas de Boa Vontade que diariamente passam por aqui...
Obs: A Praia de Botafogo, assim com o Aterro do Flamengo não pertencem aos respectivos Clubes, mas os Clubes que tem os nomes dos Bairros onde Nasceram, Incrivelmente algumas pessoas se revoltam quanto a isto, principalmente dos times do Vasco da Gama, porque o Fluminense ainda "tem" a Baixada hehehe....
Foto: Praia de Botafogo - Rio de Janeiro - Brasil
I’ve been wanting to grumble about that for a while now, so thanks for indulging me XD Anyway, the rest of the updates I have from this store to share with you aren’t nearly as negative as that last one. In fact, they’re quite the opposite! We begin with this excess of clearance foodstuffs found on not one, not two, but *three* endcaps back on my March 3rd visit to the store. And this isn’t even all of it – there had been even more on a visit a week or two prior, I just didn’t think to get a photo at that time. What struck me here is that 1) usually there’s only one endcap of clearance food at a time, maybe two every once in a blue moon… and 2) a lot of this food was, curiously enough, not anything that this store normally carried (such as all those Mt. Olive pickles [of which there were at least double what you see here on that prior visit I mentioned!], or those croutons, or those Domino sugar boxes).
Personally, I never put two and two together here. But for my mom, it immediately clicked. I’ll tell you what’s up in the next pic, but I’ll leave this one spoiler-free so you can guess!
(c) 2019 Retail Retell
These places are public so these photos are too, but just as I tell where they came from, I'd appreciate if you'd say who :)
Mirit Ben Nun: Shortness of breath
'Shortness of breath' is not only a sign of physical weakness, it is a metaphor for a mental state of strong desire that knows no repletion; more and more, an unbearable glut, without repose. Mirit Ben Nun's type of work on the other hand requires an abundance of patience. This is a Sisyphean work (requiring hard labor) of marking lines and dots, filling every empty millimeter with brilliant blots. Therefore we are facing a paradox or a logical conflict. A patient and effortful work that stems from an urgent need to cover and fill, to adorn and coat. Her craft of layering reaches a state of a continuous ceremonial ritual.
This ritual digests every object into itself - useful or discarded -- available and ordinary or rare and exceptional -- they submit and devote to the overlay work. Mirit BN gathers scrap off the streets -- cardboard rolls of fabric, assortments of wooden boards and pieces, plates and planks -- and constructs a new link, her own syntax, which she alone is fully responsible for. The new combination -- a type of a sculptural construction -- goes through a process of patching by the act of painting.
In fact Mirit regards her three dimensional objects as a platform for painting, with a uniform continuity, even if it has obstacles, mounds and valleys. These objects beg her to paint, to lay down colors, to set in motion an intricate weave of abstract patterns that at times finds itself wandering the contours of human images and sometimes -- not. In those cases what is left is the monotonous activity of running the patterns, inch by inch, till their absolute coverage, till a short and passing instant of respite and than on again to a new onset.
Next to this assembly of garbage and it's recycling into 'painted sculptures' Mirit offers a surprising reunion between her illustrated objects and so called cheap African sculpture; popular artifacts or articles that are classified in the standard culture as 'primitive'.
This combination emphasizes the difference between her individualistic performance and the collective creation which is translated into cultural clichés. The wood carved image creates a moment of peace within the crowded bustle; an introverted image, without repetitiveness and reverberation. This meeting of strangers testifies that Mirit' work could not be labeled under the ´outsiders art´ category. She is a one woman school who is compelled to do the art work she picked out to perform. Therefore she isn't creating ´an image´ such as the carved wooden statues, but she produces breathless ´emotional jam' whose highest values are color, motion, beauty and plenitude. May it never lack, neither diluted, nor dull for even an instant
Tali Tamir