Using the last of my Instax via the Lomograflok adapter for the fujifilm. It's a fun experience, although in the cold of about 20 F, the back seems to spit out two images, but not with warmer temps. The clouds were obscuring Pikes Peak but the contrast with the mountains (now once again covered with snow) was a nice contrast to see. I do like the instant gratification, but also since I do like processing, almost always repeat with some LF film as well. My regards to my fellow flickerans who continue to help me observe better.

Long term

Path of the Sun

Delayed gratification

 

I bought a polaroid land camera over spring break, 2007 from a thrift store and noticed it still had some film left in it when i got home, so I went over to the park and had at it. i remember reading the directions thoroughly so the pictures turned out as well as they could. at this time my work was strictly film(as of now i have a nikon d40, which is easier to work with, but i still treasure my n75 ), so i always had to wait to see my results. of course you have to wait with polaroids...it's just different, because it's right there. it's instant gratification, literally.

 

i've always been fascinated by the concept of instant film photography, and if it goes away, what's left?

Transavantgarde Woman On Sofa.

Leagann foighne farraige prionsabail Audacity treallúsach a indiscriminately,

sympathisieren Freuden betrachten Gefühle obskuren Opern Teil,

gradi cattiva condotta feroce contegno comunicazioni affettuoso parlate,

treiddio Morwynig breifat gratifications danteithfwyd hynawsedd niwl mireinio,

Circuitu extrema oratione numeris minor gravitate et sensibus moventur,

wstawienie satysfakcjonujących badających roszczeń ostentacyjny obciążenia za stwierdzonych,

αξιοσέβαστη λογοτεχνική ακρίβεια συνήθως υψίστης βοηθήματα αποκατάσταση αμφιβολίες,

ברכות מילות למשחק האכלת לבבות שבורים מוכנים,

одмах уследили вече јутро прсти ничу,

oraciones burlones desprecio recordado, el desprecio cuervos vanos sueños,

romanttinen harrastuksia valaistunut käsityksiä Korkeapaineruiskuarvot mielissä dissecting haluja,

Bearta luster multitudinous chónaithe stáit primordial glinn elating,

empyrean Dewy dans lifandi vatnsföll brann yndislegu vindar,

認識は多様幻想の一部をスタンザ.

Steve.D.Hammond.

Day 5 image 2

[Once again I’m writing this for the committed photographer.]

 

Review: David Ulrich, “Zen Camera: Creative Awakening with a Daily Practice in Photography” (Watson-Guptill, 2018) 217 pages. creativeguide.com/zen-camera/

 

I do hope that Jim Williams from Canada www.flickr.com/photos/55920888@N08/ doesn’t mind my quoting a recent message from him:

“The way I shoot is very deliberate - almost a Zen exercise.”

 

I responded that this is exactly the way I like to work too and that indeed photography is my therapy. So I said that I would write a brief review of a book I still find a source of much inspiration.

 

“Zen Camera employs the camera for its most noble purpose: to learn to see what is.” (p.3)

 

David Ulrich teaches photography at the Pacific New Media Foundation in Honolulu, Hawai’i. This book is both an inspiration and a practical workbook. Ulrich believes that discipline is required in mastering the craft of photography. The principal discipline in this workbook is to photograph every day. Real progress is only possible he believes by taking 100 to 200 photographs a week following this advice:

“Give yourself the space and luxury of the pure enjoyment of taking pictures for their own sake. Refinement and completion come in their own time. Do not edit. Do not judge. Merely watch with interest what images arise.” (p.17)

 

Ulrich provides the reader with plenty of his own examples, but the work of many other historic and contemporary photographers is featured as well. He is a Zen Buddhist practitioner by conviction, but everyone can learn from his method. Ulrich has a lovely shot of the Tibetan Buddhist monk Matthieu Ricard taken in Hong Kong. Ricard (a former leading French scientist and son of the famous French philosopher Jean-François Revel) also practices photography as a meditative discipline. www.matthieuricard.org/en/photographies

 

LESSON ONE: OBSERVATION

 

“The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera.” – Dorothea Lange (1895-1965).

 

I love that quote. Lange of course gave us some of the most powerful images of The Great Depression. She learned to see things that most other people couldn’t, and that is the essence of great photography. So we must begin by looking.

 

LESSON TWO: AWARENESS

 

Mindfulness and heightened awareness of the world around us are the two key elements of this lesson. Training our minds to be like a camera sensor soaking in the light (both real and metaphorical). Once again Ulrich quotes one of my favourite photographers Henri Cartier-Bresson (1908-2004):

 

“I believe that, through the act of living, the discovery of oneself is made concurrently with the discovery of the world around us which can mold us, but which can also be affected by us. A balance must be established between these two worlds – the one inside us and the one outside us. As the result of a constant reciprocal process, both these worlds come to form a single one. And it is this world that we must communicate.” - From “The Decisive Moment” – one of the most important books ever published on photography.

 

LESSON THREE: IDENTITY

 

“Know thyself.” – Socrates.

 

Here Ulrich deals with two important elements: Personal style and Authenticity. In order to communicate effectively we must find our own voice. But, it’s one voice within a community of voices (so history and context matters).

 

LESSON FOUR: PRACTICE

 

This is the central chapter of the book. All forms of success in art flow from its practice. Ulrich cites Malcolm Gladwell’s research that it takes about 10,000 hours of deliberate practice to gain mastery in a field. Nothing comes easily and one must pay their dues. This is not a popular message in a world of instant gratification. But then, that’s why our photographs are so quickly forgotten.

 

LESSON FIVE: MASTERY

 

“Freedom flourishes in a climate of discipline.” – David Ulrich.

 

It may seem counterintuitive, but true freedom always works within boundaries. The true “master of a discipline” can only push the boundaries once the fundamentals have been established. Two of my examples here: (1) Before ever Picasso became the master of Cubism, he had already mastered classical portraiture, and (2) Jazz musicians can only ever succeed in improvisation when they understand the rudiments of musical form.

 

LESSON SIX: PRESENCE

 

This is by far the most challenging chapter philosophically. I won’t go into detail here, but a few summary thoughts. Ulrich contrasts “spectacle” with “presence”. What do we mean by photographs with presence? We see plenty of spectacle in social media; in earlier days these sorts of pictures were referred to as “chocolate box”, but today they are probably over-processed spectacular sunsets with more than a little post-production fakery. They are made photographs to attract attention (something essential for social media success).

 

But “real presence”, that’s something much more difficult to achieve. It is central for instance to the Christian concept of a sacrament. Here the photograph is a representation of something ineffable behind it. You can’t quite define a photograph with presence, but you know when you see it. Try any number of Ansel Adams’ photographs. A mere landscape is somehow transformed into a meditation on the glories of nature with a minimum of darkroom fuss. The scene is spectacular, but only because the photograph reveals the TRUTH about the scene. We are brought face to face with the essence of Nature. The same with a great portrait: It reveals a truth about the character and personality of the sitter, in a way that a selfie doesn’t.

Annie Leibovitz www.youtube.com/watch?v=kQtXoseZMuo

 

For David Ulrich one of the keys to achieving “presence” in photography is to learn to pay attention. And this takes us back to mindfulness practice. Being awake, alive, attentive, observant, present!

 

It’s a great book with plenty of practical suggestions for exercises in moving beyond the snapshot to mastering the discipline of photography.

 

* Cover photos taken with the Leica D-Lux 7.

 

My good friend and artist extraordinaire, Paul B0udreau approached me recently with an idea for a 2 person challenge. We had had a recent Facebook conversation about the British Progressive Rock band King Crimson and it got him thinking about visual art to connect to some of the songs from the band. We're both admirers of this music so I agreed and, here we go ...

 

Paul's parameters were this: Portrait format, inspired by a King Crimson song, using Pano-Sabotage as the technique and a total of 5 each.

 

This piece I connected to a song from their 1994 album "THRAK". In this Adrian Belew's almost stream of consciousness lyrics seem to be describing the mind that has only these things occupying it all the time. An automatic and obsessive looping of instant gratifications, making this person, blind as a bat, as the saying goes. While he may be in ecstasy with his obsessions, it's clear that his fragmented mental state is causing him a fair bit of suffering. Such is the nature of base level persistent indulgence.

 

There'll be 5 submissions from each of us, and we'll be staggering posts like this: I post then he posts, then I post and then he posts etc ... I've been asked to do the Kick Off so here it is...

 

The "King Crimson - Frame by Frame Series".

 

"Frame by Frame" is a brilliant piece, a perennial live favourite, from their incredible 1981 album, "Discipline". King Crimson's music is thunderously NOT conventional. It is daring, often dark, always experimental and very muscular music. And when they do do it "soto voce", so to speak, it's extraordinarily delicate, lyrical and in immaculate taste. Some of the pieces to follow will connect to that side of Crimson's music as well.

_________________________________________________

 

*** Please note: This is a privately produced series and is in no way connected to Robert Fripp, King Crimson, Discipline Global Moblie in any kind of commission, nor does it involve any approval or official sanctioning by said parties above. They are visual interpretations of King Crimson songs created as a private homage to the songs named and to the band and it's music. No monies will be generated from this project.

_________________________________________________

 

Here is the link to Paul's first and mighty entry. This is going to get "very interesting" ( as Artie Johnson once said ).

 

flic.kr/p/Lu5UHb

 

Music Link: "Sex Sleep Eat Drink Dream" - King Crimson, from their album, "Thrak". Live Footage from Japan.

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=KdRePLaS_5A

 

Click on Image to Enlarge !

 

© Richard S Warner ( Visionheart ) - 2016. All Rights Reserved. This image is not for use in any form without explicit, express, written permission.

 

See My Website: visionheartblog.wordpress.com

Figuratively speaking of course.

 

I'm nearing the half way point of my 365 endeavour. At times the Photography Squared Project has felt like a grind, most certainly of late. My long list of ideas I wrote up at the beginning is starting to run thin and I feel quite often at a loss in terms of what to shoot on a daily basis.

 

Of course some of these struggle comes with the terrain, a photo a day for a year isn't as easy as it sounded in the beginning. Its grueling and time consuming. Not so much due to the time it might take to complete the daily photo but the constant strain it creates knowing you still need to figure out something to photograph.

 

My intention of this was not to come off to negative. And I fear I am. I simple yearn for a time where I an not constrained by the parameters of a daily project. Looking back at the first half results of the project on a whole I am quite happy with it. I'd actually say the results have far exceeded my expectations. I've learned a ton about shooting with the Holga and using film in general. It has taught me to keep my eyes open and always carry a camera (generally these days I have two on me) as you never know what something might arise.

 

So here is to grinding out the second half of the year. Can you believe it's half over already? Actually its technically more than half over I am just always behind in posting due to the nature of shooting with film. Delayed gratification at its best.

I'm down to 11 sheets now, and later this afternoon, I'll be down to 10 from this fabulous box of expired Polaroid 809. The clock is really ticking now. The BIG direct influences to my work will be covered, and then I'll have to dig a little deeper to find out just who has that much effect on what I do with a camera.

 

Pictured above is "The Prince of Polaroid", "The Grand Poobah of Pack Cameras", and all around great guy, Michael Raso. In the fall of 2009, Mike and his friends John Fedele and Duane Polcou created an internet radio show called The Film Photography Podcast. I'm sure they couldn't have imagined that it would become such a great hit, but oh boy it has! And thanks to regular correspondence, a super-positive attitude, and an over-the-top enthusiastic outlook on film photography, Michael and John have for nearly the past year allowed me to be a regular co-host of the show.

 

www.filmphotographyproject.com

 

Eastman Commercial B 8x10

Fujinon W 210mm f/5.6

1.5 sec @ f/5.6 + front fall

Polaroid 809, shot @ ASA 64

Calumet hand-crank processor

 

www.matmarrash.com/gallery/

(EXPLORED!) day three-hundred-and-sixty-four. so...it all ends on the morrow, eh?

 

(car. i know. ..i know.

it was the only chance today though, so i had to make do.

i mean, sure i could've stepped outside my car in that instant and taken a photo...but, people stare.

especially around here.

and i'd look like some crazy conceited lunatic, so i resorted to the confines of my vehicle. apologies.)

 

these long school days are killing me.

and it's also making me realize how much of a perfectionist i really am.

not good.

i mean...it ends up being good for my grade because i give every miniscule assignment my all...but it's so tortuous on my well-being.

 

i've noticed lately i've never felt satisfied.

i never feel like something is truly complete...

and that also ties into this project.

ending this tomorrow is going to kill me.

i just don't feel finished.

even though i am.

it doesn't make sense, doesn't seem rational.

and i guess that's because it's not, really.

but i just want that gratification.

that sense of accomplishment i, for some reason, never can truly attain.

 

blab, blab, blab...

 

i don't remember what happened today all that much,

all i know is--

tomorrow i'm getting a cat.

that's all i can think about, honestly.

and that's all that matters!

meroww.

  

Makeup experiments - I got new tips. I received advice from a good professional. There is still a lot to learn - shakiness occurs.....Terrible .... I look like a Russian woman ...I love makeup and sometimes I use a little more than most girl's have to use but that works for me…

 

When fetishwear resurged for its second peak a century later, between 1970 and 2000, leather was the material of choice. On the gay scene, an infatuation with leather was alive and well as early as the 1950s. Today, leather fetishwear is worn by leather tgirl like Me in sex clubs, parties, Pride parades and hook-ups, but some incorporate leather into their everyday lives, too. Common clothes and accessories include leather trousers, boots, jackets, gloves, ties and caps, with harnesses, masks and jockstraps more often worn during sexual encounters.

 

…. how leather became a symbol of masculinity and sexuality ?

Self portrait with Chuck at the Blue Sky Gallery, Portland, OR

Chuck Close’s Tapestries exhibition

Chuck Close self-portrait on the gallery wall © Chuck Close

 

Shot with custom pinhole camera on FujiFilm FB-3000B black-and-white instant peel-apart film.

 

You know those ones when you look at the screen and are just like "HECK YES" ? Well, this would be one of those. I absolutely love how this came out. Definitely my favorite from the summer. I will surely be back out to this corn field.

 

SOOC (as always)

Egotistical Sophism's.

 

Psychologische gefiederte Fenster erhöhten Perspektiven diametral entgegengesetzte Ideen jabbing,

manifeste expressioniste exposés inexacts portraits programmatiques impressions intercalées,

remodelado varios ruidos graves atmósfera estupendas intenciones realizando magníficos días,

عفونة كريه ألسنة مقيت المرايا اهتزازي الصحوة الصعوبات نشوة مصفر,

intense gratifications besatt ønsker munificent utenkelig seremonien lydkommentar geniale plott,

creaturi hidoase dezagreabile îngrozitoare necromantiei uimirea prodigioasă a lui infinita servitute a lui,

obrzydliwe ogromne Kosy nieuchronne rozwiązania zniewalania różne przerywania gąsienice najciemniejsze trafić,

praecipitare ingentem fecerunt scripta continent introgressi miraculosae habitabitur officia domestica,

υπαίτια παρακείμενα απόλυτη γείτονες ανησυχητικό απόκρυψη παρουσία αγωνίζονται ασφυξίας ζηλιάρης,

予期せぬ浮動参照可能な即座のアサーション!

Steve.D.Hammond.

Be advised that the Marc by Marc Jacobs store on Bleeker Street has a chicken that you, family, loved ones, children and/or pets may pose with. You will receive, free of charge and without necessary purchase, a photograph of said pose. The chicken will be in residence all business hours through this Sunday, Easter. Doubles of the prints are on the outside windows--my favourite is the kid playing violin for the chicken in the center.

sorry this could turn out to be self gratification narrative but I think you understand were I am coming from and maybe even you will have the same feelings.

 

Sometimes words are not enough when I stumble across a photo that shows me as I dreamed I would look/

 

Like all of us normally we only ever see ourselves looking back at us from the mirror or the photo before us.

 

Yeah we might have more hair than normal and redder lips and of course our complexation will be less grey and blotchy but the girl before us in our eyes is still us.

 

In the image above I don't see me I see a woman, a girl who is real and has a life, she is the kind of woman I could see myself being attracted to .

 

Her playful flirty pose coupled with her devilish cheeky look is a million miles away from who I know she really is.

 

Yet she is me, I am confused on a daily basis with this life of mine but an image like this puts me in such a spin for everything I know is true becomes false.

 

Those curves are not mine her assets are real (oddly)

her face isn't mine. who have I become ?

 

What I cannot put into words is just how very totally complete I feel when I see myself like this, when I catch a glimpse in a window or mirror when I am out and all I see is a woman I get the feeling of walking on air of being a goddess ( yeah in my dreams lol). Is it no wonder then that being who people think I am has become dull and draining.

 

Yep I love this woman she has given me the life I longed for she has helped me express a side to my personality that makes me a better person.

 

I found myself so angry this morning while reading people’s excuses for using Ai. So many people stating they use it to do creative tasks because they’re “not ✨talented✨ like the rest of us.”

 

I stand behind the idea that with most people whose work you appreciate, it’s not a matter of raw talent blessed to them by the gods. It’s WORK. It’s pure drive, effort, stupidity, and the willingness to do things over and over no matter how bad your results may be until slowly they’re not so bad anymore.

 

I am so tired of seeing Ai and thinking about it, let alone hearing lazy people (and I mean this with as little harshness as I can manage, people are being made lazier by the day by these sorts of things) make excuses why it’s ok for them to not try and to just get a dopamine hit from that social media like/favorite.

 

I spend so much time practicing in different photography conditions, trying different settings on my camera, & experimenting with techniques. I am not just naturally talented, although I know I have an eye for composition/framing. (Which, again, as evidenced from my film scan of a 1995 sunset & powerlines sky photo I recently posted… I’VE HAD TO PRACTICE AT FOR YEARS.) The same goes for my illustrating, my sewing, my style/fashion projects, my writing, and my small forays into music making.

 

I am a creative person who tries everything and does their best to hone various skills so I can best combine all facets of my creativity to create multi-media art. Sometimes that means YouTube videos, sometimes that means collage work, and sometimes that means doing styling/hair/makeup, setting up a scene, photographing it, creatively editing it, and making a collage from all of that or illustrating digitally over my images.

None of it is just raw unfiltered natural talent, it’s skill borne by constantly making bad art, taking bad photos, and writing shitty songs or stories.

 

The entitlement behind these excuses is infuriating. The more I see people lean into instant gratification demands instead of just being new to something and learning, the more I worry about the fate of people’s mental states. I know it’s disheartening to want to “be a great photographer/illustrator/writer” and start in at it and not instantly be applauded for how earth shattering your work is, but know that the people you admire have been putting in the work.

 

Some mornings I go out to practice night photography and I’m being lazy. I don’t want to take the tripod or use my remote and on those mornings I come back with nothing to share because I took a bunch of blurry grainy photos. Sometimes there is nothing to come of a photo session/walk but a learning experience and I am frustrated but grateful every time.

 

I took 3x as many shots this morning than you’re seeing here but this is all that came out even semi-acceptable for me because I didn’t want to dig out my remote and the settings I was using meant every little wobble, no matter how imperceptible, caused blurriness.

 

Please, when you have someone in your life who is destroying the very planet we live on, the only one we have, and lining the pockets of the corrupt ultra wealthy who run these scam Ai sites to “make art,” sit them down and talk to them. Lead them away from it.

 

Talk openly about your struggles as a creative, show the work that goes into taking your photos that people love. Be transparent and helpful to people who are interested in getting started and please, never ever play it off as just “natural talent.”

Another performance from the 2019 New Music Biennial that took place in Hull and London earlier this month. This features the Scottish writer James Robertson reading three of his 365 stories with Aidan O’ Rourke one of the most talented fiddle players of his generation who had written new music to accompany the stories . James Robertson’s book called 365 is a fascinating project he wrote a short story every day for a year and every story was exactly 365 words in length . I believe the stories are all available to listen to at James Robertson’s website . Just a note on the set its not somebody's house but a room in Hull Central library that they had dressed for the performance . As with all the other commissions for the Biennial the work had to last only 15 minutes . There is always the chance to ask questions of the composer or performers at the end of the first performance then the piece is repeated

 

I have tried to avoid politics of late but could not avoid commenting on recent events . In a hugely democratic process 92,513 members of the Tory party decided who the next UK Prime minister would be that’s slightly less than 1% of the UK electorate .

Our American friends seem very excited about it but I am not sure they understand the man . It was amusing To read the comment by Newt Gingrich “Think Margaret Thatcher with wild hair.” . This may be the only time I praise Thatcher but she was not at all like Johnson. She stuck to her decisions whatever the consequences , she had a deep personal integrity and morality and she did not routinely tell lies. Instead we have a man whose strategic horizon goes no further than his own ego; who does not distinguish between personal gratification and fulfilment of political power .

 

THANKS FOR YOUR VISITING BUT CAN I ASK YOU NOT TO FAVE AN IMAGE WITHOUT ALSO MAKING A COMMENT. MANY THANKS KEITH. ANYONE MAKING MULTIPLE FAVES WITHOUT COMMENTS WILL SIMPLY BE BLOCKED

Water has no taste, no color, no odor; it cannot be defined, art relished while ever mysterious. Not necessary to life, but rather life itself. It fills us with a gratification that exceeds the delight of the senses.

"At watershed moments of upheaval and transformation, we anticipate with terror the absence of familiar parts of life and of ourselves that are being washed away by the current of change. But we fail to envision the unfamiliar gladnesses and gratifications the new tide would bring, the unfathomed presences, for our imaginations are bounded by our experience. The unknown awakens in us a reptilian dread that plays out with the same ferocity on scales personal, societal, and civilizational, whether triggered by a new life-chapter or a new political regime or a new world order. It is the same dread to which the Inquisition gave shape and sinew in punishing all who dared to consider that the universe might be far vaster and more mysterious than the consolations of mythology had preached for millennia. To be a revolutionary is to be in possession of an imagination capable of leaping across the frontier of the familiar to envision a new order in which what is gained eclipses the ill-serving comforts of what is lost."

- from Figuring, Maria Popova.

Polaroid Week day 2 image 2 Blue peel apart film, Hasselblad 501 c/m camera. Tettegouche state park, Minnesota, June 2018

Isn't it awesome to see the twins from this view point? It was rewarding to run up this incline on this hill cut. After many weeks with EMD link, the smoking hot multiple-units from Kalyan reappear with Ernakulam Pune superfast train via Panvel, giving back the gratification of vintage chugging and honks!

Hello again Flickr. A month later and it is good to be home. Three weeks of world travel sounds great on paper and in reality it is great, but it is also exhausting. It is safe to say that my travel bug is scratched for at least a few months. That is a good thing as I have more than 70 rolls of exposed film between the trips to Maui and France to work through. It is going to take several months to plow my way through all that work. But that is a task I am looking forward to. I am looking forward to the delayed gratification that makes film so thoroughly enjoyable to use. I am looking forward to sharing those images with family and friends for the first time and I am looking forward to curating, writing and sharing it all with you through Flickr.

 

I am in my element when I am out in the world (exotic or not) with a camera in hand. And while this past month of whipping around the globe has left me worn out - almost in need of a vacation from my vacation - it has also been an incredibly fulfilling month. Give me a windswept Hawaiian beach with a wooden pinhole camera and a single roll of film and I am a satisfied individual... on several different levels.

 

I have given more than a little thought too on my on-going use of Flickr and on-line presentation in general. But those are thoughts I will share with you on a subsequent post. I am not completely out of vacation mode just yet and mentally it is still difficult to spend too much time in front of the computer. I'm sure you understand. But I had to get a new image up at some point and figured this was as good a place to begin again as any.

 

Secret Beach on Maui by the way. Not a terribly well kept secret mind you, but a beautiful one to be sure.

The other sins offer some gratification, but envy is the meanest of them all, offering only desolate feeling. Part four of the series.

 

Sloth: www.flickr.com/photos/ajfojtik/50047795428/in/dateposted-...

 

Gluttony: www.flickr.com/photos/ajfojtik/50050989551/in/dateposted-...

 

Pride: www.flickr.com/photos/ajfojtik/50055186717/in/dateposted-...

 

As a shameless plug, I would be honored if you all checked out my alternate account, which is participating in a Lego wargame. Your likes help me out in the game: www.flickr.com/photos/188464565@N06 There are some unique quality builds by yours truly over there.

 

Favorite this linked photo to give me a boost! www.flickr.com/photos/188464565@N06/49915197962/in/datepo... Thanks for viewing and be safe.

After my recent San Francisco walkabout, I decided to take the coastal route out of the city in order to check out the new tunnel at Devil's Slide. Devil's Slide near Pacifica has been a particularly troublesome portion of coastal Highway One with mud slides and debris flows quite common during the heavier winter storms. Sometimes the road would be closed for weeks. The solution was to replace the roadway with a tunnel.

 

The tunnel was all well and good--quite impressive actually, and when I exited it near Montara Beach, I saw this incredible field of flowers leading up the ocean. Smack dab in the middle of the field, were a group of painters. Keeping with my philosophy to stop and see what other photographers were up to, I decided to see what the hubbub was here. It seems these painters were looking at the same things we photographers do, it just takes longer for the gratification to appear. My gratification was instantaneous. I bet some of them are still working on theirs.

 

For those of you wondering about Alice. She is back. Check it out:

 

www.flickr.com/photos/126238308@N08/

 

Montara, CA

Better on Black

 

a¹rneÑomai: v. / to deny one's self, to decline the gratification of appetites or desires.

  

note* View Large or Slideshow

"A new beginning

I can't hold back and I can't hold on

It's all about gratification

See me running"

 

I'm sorry for another feet photo! I hope this is the last one. Tomorrow, maybe, I'm going to upload later because I'm gonna be traveling. So, I hope to get a diferent kind of photo!

Thank you guys <3

Day 4 image 1

Her and Philip at the Blue Sky Gallery, Portland, OR

Chuck Close’s Tapestries exhibition

 

Philip Glass portrait on the gallery wall © Chuck Close

 

philipglass.com

 

interesting that its postmarked in las vegas, 130 miles and a whole state to the north from where it was mailed in yucca, az. 86438. polaroid SX-70 camera modified to shoot 600 speed film. scan: epson V750. exif tags: filmtagger.

Bought an instax 210 camera the other day, pretty stoked on seeing results from it! Hopefully it will train me to keep sharpening my photographic eye

From a pretty awesome midnight snowshoe hike with Scott and Erik a while back. We went up under a full moon. It was so bright we hardly needed headlamps. Exposures were still long though, I think it took me a good 20 minutes to expose all the frames for this image. Of course, then it took me about 18 months to scan and assemble it. I'm not terribly hooked on instant gratification.

An insect yields itself to luscious gratifications.

.

**Explore # 391 on Monday, August 17, 2009**

 

.

Australia is full steam ahead for the second stolen generation.

 

And just like the first the verdict is in “...it has been decided, that in a court you are not represented in, that for the benefit of your children, you will not raise them…”

 

Just blame everything on the rich?

 

As much as Elon Musk, and the other space venturing billionaires are criticized for their effort to commercialise space, unless we are successful in finding by an absolute miracle a remarkably similar planet, we will all suffer a horrible and inevitable fate. Mathematically it is a certainty that in the future, there will be no reproductive freedom as is currently known in the west. Unless we find another habitable planet, and exterminate more innocent living things, reproductive freedom as we know it will end. Can we not just terra form like the Weyland corporation of the Alien movies? Well terra forming is going to take an age, and we do not have that much time. It is a scenario, that l contemplated while studying the arts at university, ironically not one I was introduced to while studying the sciences. While studying the arts my lecturer, a doctorate holder in the arts, instructed me that the world population had been predicted to be held, or plateau at fourteen billion, a number l found horrific. The same lecturer once asked a class l was in, if we were a feminist or not, and to raise our hands if we were. Although it seemed like a name and shame process for those that did not, l raised my hand because l was, and it should be noted, l still am. Additionally it must be said that this writing that contains some of my dairy musings, is not an attack on feminism but a defence of it. Why would l be seemingly critical of feminism? Because feminism is floundering. Why was this number of fourteen billion so horrific to feminism in my opinion? I thought it was horrific, not just for the sheer distress it will place on the planet, but for the fact that when we as a planet hit a population of fourteen billion, the beauty of having children will not be available for all women, nor all men. Reproductive freedom will end; and with it, sex as we know it too, thus leaving sexual freedom to become a misnomer.

 

The scenario led me to question both the process and motives for procreation. It led me to explore the politics and motives for state sanctions, state subsidies, and or the construction of the system that takes children away from their parents. In my research and study, l realised, l was not alone, and that much of what l was contemplating was nothing original. Many have contemplated the issues l looked at, and many have considered those issues before me; but l do not think, that it was comprehended that a second stolen generation, had, or would have, occurred. In the supposed emancipation of woman, who would have thought, that in the attempt to achieve it, children would be abducted by the state once again. Mournfully l do not think that it is possible to talk freely about it without ridicule, and the sadness that means for us all. It causes a lot of personal introspection about the motives of the people who perpetrated it, and who would have a vested interest, in a process that lost its way. One that has and manages to cause so much damage. But what has occurred too once again cause the theft of children? What would be the motive for this? Has the scenario of breeding been high jacked with well-meaning state sanctions, and its mutation, promoted with it, the prostitution of motherhood, via well-meaning state subsidies? Was this a repeat of the old colonial system? Despite the necessity for a safety net, the family unit was, and is prostituted with state subsidies here in Australia. And I contemplated heavily about a presumption that it might be said that those involved where both bad men and bad woman. I thought that this thought pattern would be a simplistic one, when the state had caused it, with state overreach. It was, and is promoted with, populist political pork barrelling of the individual…

 

With those in custody of their children paid more money by the state to not stay with the person they had their children with, what other choice was there? I understand the conundrum of the safety net, and the position everyone is in, but the sanctions, and subsidies, have caused a radical shift, and that shift has occurred in a noticeably brief period of time. It has changed where the centre of the gaussian curves to produce children are positioned. Gaussian curves that took thousands of years to position, with both nature and nurture… This new positioning of the centre of the gaussian curves, has widely occurred in countries where neo feminism is practiced, as opposed to where feminism was being applied. It has become a process promoted with postcolonial western dogma, for some countries in the west, including Australia. Is it part of the decolonisation of west? Is part of postcolonialism to take children away from their fathers, and to dismantle the family unit? One of the reasons why l contemplate why it happened, is that it goes against what the world’s greatest feminist, my grandmother, and what she had taught me by her example. She taught me that you do not expect others to pay for your privilege, you earn it. The Questions are, who has, or will shoulder the cost of this new system? Who is paying for the repositioning of those mathematical bell-shaped curves? And as always, there are rhetorical questions, such as. Is, or was it, a finite system, for both monies, and the custody of the children? Did it become a system where you rob Peter to pay Paul? And in this experiment of monumental size, and consequences, are the social scientists making up numbers like the reserve banks of the world? And do they not consider that unlike the digital world where money has no limit, in the real-world people do.

 

The academic narrative is that the old patriarchal system used to run men into cannons in the name of nationalism. The men were called cannon fodder. It was said that they, the patriarchy, were leading lambs to the slaughter. A modern term seemed to morph from this, and it was sheeple. But with the destruction of feminism’s admirable objective, that of equality of opportunity, a new group of cannon fodder or sheeple has been produced, and it has occurred via a second stolen generation. In counting people like numbers of a herd, instead of as individuals with inalienable rights, are the sheeple, being treated anything less than statistical cannon fodder? The question is who or what does this new stolen generation serve? Could the feminists have been deliberately misguided to a non-beneficial objective or was it an initiative-taking result of neo feminist dogma. Neo feminism that is in opposition to my grandmother’s example and the feminists of her era, seems to feature heavily in the neo feminist movement. Were the results inevitable once the contributions that males make to their families were disrespected. The result of that disrespect is that it has produced a second stolen generation. And just like the first stolen generation it comes from the undervaluing of a parent’s right to raise their children, and how valuable that contribution is in the future wellbeing of the child or children. The statistics are that in Australia 45% of court proceedings result in sole custody being awarded to the mother. In contrast only 11% of fathers will receive sole custody. Only 3% of court cases result in a Court Order that mandates no contact with one of the child’s parents, 83% of the time the mother ended up with custody.

 

Like the old government Aboriginal protection board, the new system is weighted in favour of children being taken away from those deemed as unessicary, unessicary for anything other than their labour. In the old protectorate system, children were taken away from Aboriginal mothers who were the predominate raisers of children. And just like the current stolen generation it is was said to have been done for the greater good. To paraphrase the band Midnight Oil’s song and its themes, what a “…Short Memory…” Under the new government child protectorate board, woman are receiving custody, at a rate that makes feminism seem like a pathetic ideal. Feminism was sold as being about equality of the sexes, but this is far from what has been achieved when it comes to who receives child custody of the children. With most children being taken away from their fathers by the court or given up by their fathers due to a financial reality. The reality is that his family, would get more money on single parent benefits while he worked and subsided the family while in isolation. The result of this process involving court rulings and financial stimulus, is that the numbers of this second stolen generation far exceed the first one. The first stolen generation saw approximately 100 000 Australian Aboriginal children taken from their families. And it was horrific. The new system sees 1 in 3 marriages end in divorce, on average, at the 12-year mark. Every year around thirty-nine thousand marriages are broken, a statistic that does not include unmarried couples. (It is a poor statistic, but l tried typing in “…how many children are taken away from their fathers in Australia…” and got back metaphoric crickets chirping. I wanted a definitive number, a number that would drive home the scale of the incident or crime.) Of those marriages that have children they predominantly go to the mother both by court edict, and or end up with the mother, as it is more economically advantages, under the Australian state subsidised system. Yes, the state here in Australia pays a person to separate from their child’s other parent. In Australia, the state pays you to break apart your family.

 

But where is the word sorry? Who will say sorry to a group of people systemically discriminated against, and reduced to nothing more than a pay-packet? Where is the word sorry for repeating the atrocities of the past? It has been said, like a paraphrase of the old system, and to reiterate, “…it has been found, in a court that you are not represented in, that for the benefit of your child, you will not raise them…” How are men not represented in a court that has predominately male judges? Well, it is not certainly their peer group. How many blue-collar men are actively recruited to work at the court other than as guards, let alone employed to give decisions on where children go? No, the decision making is left to university educated individuals. Individuals with the majority of their self-experience of the struggle of modern-day blue-collar males, being their meetings in the court, where the men are under extreme duress. It is not just the court, it is also a state-run social system, ran by a populist mob, with a populist rhetoric all its own. To herd the sheeple, all you need to know are the trigger words, trigger words which enable you to dog whistle the submissive into position. With most separations happening in lower socio-economic groups, there is a chasm between the have, and the have nots. That chasm extends to where the have nots children end up doing their domestic service, or labouring jobs for the rich, and it is starkly statistically evident. Yes, just like the first stolen generation, the stolen children are prepared for a life of service. A life of service to those considered better than them. On the modern-day mission, constructed of state sanctions, is a subsidised commission house, the state subsidised school, the state subsidized childcare, state subsidized health care, and state subsidized and promoted single parent further education. Under this system of reward, where is the incentive to allow children to grow up in close, and constant contact, with their father? The result is state built expectations for the dreams of the children involved. As a parent, Martin Luther King may have had a dream for his children, but in Australia, if you are blue collar, the state does it for you, not the parents. They will on average, never go onto receive equality of opportunity, when it comes to raising their children. Fathers that are someone’s son, uncle, nephew, grandfather, brother, and father, will never see feminism’s final objective, when it comes to equality of opportunity. Because it currently does not exist and has not existed. At lower wages, and lower salaries, there is no financial incentive for a woman to stay with the father of her children. The only incentive is that her children will be statistically less likely to go to jail, and or have better social outcomes on average if she stays with her male partner. Ironically, this does not seem to be enough. The fact is, the math is simple, and commonly known in the lower socioeconomic groups of both woman and men. The subsidies push for a separation of the family. The accounting is not hard, and it is in gross favour of the destruction of the family unit.

 

The result of this neo feminist abuse in the name of feminism, has resulted in most men who separate from their partners being denied the human right, of raising their children. For some men it is deprived even on a part time basis. Most will have their children taken away from them by the state, one way, or another. With what is a rebirth of the processes of the old Aboriginal state protectorate board, children are stolen regardless of race from their parents. It is done under the guise that it is for the benefit of both the children and society. It is part of the state propagated and sponsored system, and it is backed by the social sciences. What type of science relies on statistical outliers for the absolute stifling via political debate on the subject? Given the growth of jails, jails first filled with the males of the first stolen generation, that now filled with males of the second stolen generations, when will this process of child abduction be admitted, that it is an unmitigated failure by the social sciences. If it cannot be seen for what it graphically is, what would be the motives for this? If the plan were to have as many men in jail as possible, they have backed the proverbial winner. If the plan were to produce as many single mothers as possible, they could not have tried harder or been much more successful. How can the raising of children be reduced to political catch phrases, catch phrases that site statistical outliers as the average or the norm? It has produced a state sanctioned system, that with huge sweeps of the political and social broad sword, has decimated the functioning of Australian family units. So, who was put to the metaphoric sword for crimes they did not commit, denied basic human rights, that where legitimized with legal judgments? Legal judgments that ended in deaths for many of those subjected to their mandates? And to be utterly factious. Who would have thought that stealing or abducting a person’s child, or children, would drive so many to commit suicide? If death was an all-too-common outcome, did this new process become a process of statistically generated murder, or wilful collateral damage. Was this the cost for an objective that did not and does not serve the greater good of society? Add in a social narrative, where the patriarchy is responsible for all the world’s past evils, and it becomes highly ironic, that the reality is, that many Aboriginal missions were staffed by mostly woman, and that most schools are currently staffed by a majority of woman. Do not let the labelling or othering misdirect you though, all you need to do is just do a few substitutions for the new perpetrators of the new stolen generation, and you will get the picture. And it should be noted, that trying to find out the number of women involved in the first stolen generation is another statistic that the internet seems to have put off the search engine radar. How many women were involved or were instigators in both stolen generations? Well, the internet does not seem to have a number. It is essentially a narrative omission, one that suits a university spread historical take on the evils of colonialism and the patriarchy. I suppose the women involved where just following orders? An excuse that Nazi prison guards of the World War two death camps where not allowed to use. What will be the excuse, when it is widely recognised, that a second stolen generation has occurred? Who will be blamed, and who will say sorry? And when will it be admitted that the children of the second stolen generation suffer just like the first.

 

The ethical and moral dilemma did not end there, it has turned into a veritable sexual, and reproductive Smorgasbord, with one in five woman having children to more than one father in the west. Just turn the lazy Suzanne past the not so tasty ones. Males once catered for in the antiquated old system of marriage, are not so much anymore. More concerning was, and is, the beath of blood lines, with some men fathering many children to many women, and some men fathering none. These males are among the unseen, and not so readily available statistics, of state sanctioned or generated genocide. A genocide of undesirable breeding males? Why would these statistics be hard to find? It must be unpopular to count the numbers of dead males, and to attribute those dead people a cause of death, let alone to count, all the millions of children, and their descendance, that have been adversely affected. Why would a university, which teaches the universal evil of males, instruct about the abuses inflicted on males? Who will pay for those statistics on crimes against humanity to be generated, and who will make them publicly available? What arts faculty which preaches ad verbatim the evils of the patriarchy, will disseminate those statistics? When will relevant word searches find or highlight those statistics, without wading through irrelevant internet search results, search results carefully worded about the inadequacies of men? Search results, not related to the theft of their children, and the death of those fathers. Men who were someone’s son.

Considering the worst-case scenario is like reading the communist manifesto, of Marx, with a few modern twists. Was it a deliberate act by those in positions of power to create a new proletariat class, and have them used as statistical cannon fodder? Was it a heinous statisticians act to use expendable males in a new form of class warfare? Class warfare where they were written off, and culled with hidden statistics? If the males did not like it, will they be given a metaphoric white feather like those that were non-combatants of the first world war? Ridiculed for their lack of new age moral stoicism? Just like a war, the theft of children has caused many men to die. And to ask a rhetorical question. Does that number exceed some of the West’s modern wars?

 

The theft of children has undoubtably once again caused a deprivation of human rights, in a systemic process, of state sanctioned discrimination. More children than the number who suffer a process of state sanctioned, and state subsidised bastardisation of their children have been affected. Is it systemic state sanctioned discrimination? Yes. And just like the first stolen generation we are seeing a higher incidence of crime and incarceration produced. Additionally, like the first stolen generation, we also see education standards dropping. As a result of the enforcement of this new well-meaning sate sanctioned atrocity, those that instigate and enforce it via law, do it without due regard for the on average poorer outcomes that it produces for all families. For if they cared, why would they keep doing something they know fails. Why would they keep applying dogma, that on average fails to produce good outcomes? It is yet another well-meaning state system that has failed. In the process of its production, they did not shatter the nuclear family; they attacked or mutated all types of families in the west. And like most cellular mutations they were predominantly unfavourable mutations; mutations that resulted in a cancer or a sickness. Is this what has become of the feminist movement? The destruction of the family unit, replaced by the pseudo utopian fallacy that a village raises a child? It made me consider the satirical proposition. Where is this magical Smurf village? In a world where mega cities contain approximately half of the world’s population? Cities so large, that they metaphorically step over the living dead in the street. Where is the humanity in this lie, a lie that sees children once again stolen from their parents? Children stolen from their parents for their best interests, and for the greater good.

 

Is this what feminism has become? Not equality of opportunity like my grandmother taught me, but a process where the males in neo feminists societies pay disproportionality for the privileges of males and females they were never to be included in the lives of? And do those newly acquired rights, include the ability to destroy the lives on average of those stolen children? The rhetorical question is, did a minority of men and the majority of woman gain rights in a finite system, and thus take away justice from the innocent males in their own families? Did they gain their freedoms by taking away rights from someone else’s male children, including their own? What has happened, does not even approach equality of outcome, let alone equality of opportunity. For if that was the objective of neo feminism, it has failed! There is no equality in a system that steals children from their parents, and then sees the children on average worse off.

 

With the race now on to hit fourteen billion, l asked the question who will be allowed to breed when we hit that number? Will it be the children of broken families? Families that on average show a higher chance of both having poor social outcomes, and being burdens on society? Did they, (they, being those that help set up this democratically undebatable hot potato,) know selective breeding will or must happen, and did they not inform the public? If they are not truthful and forth right with the public, how does, or will, democracy work? How will democracy function, when its most fundamental asset its citizens, cannot make an informed decision? When will informed consent be allowed, and thus given? And was, or has informed consent been taken away from lower socio-economic sons, fathers, uncles, brothers, and grandfathers? It is a rhetorical question, as how can they consent when they have no other option? Consent cannot be given when only one option is presented. Without informed consent the neo feminists have done exactly that, they have taken away informed consent. For some men, or sons, it is a death sentence. For some families it is a form of genocide, with no chance of their males having male children.

 

In this now neo feminist western world, is every position of power to be held or filled with a failed neo feminist? One that expects the freedoms they push for, to be paid for by someone other than themselves? Is not that a variation of the old class system? Are all positions of power to be held by a social engineering arts degree holder, as opposed to the mathematician, scientist, or the no academic? Modern day neo feminism has become not about gaining equal personal rights and freedoms like traditional feminism wanted, but taking those rights away from others, and having others pay for those newly acquired rights. It was a finite system, and once equality was exceeded in the family court, it was boys and men in families that paid the price. They paid for it by becoming involuntary subjects in an experiment, an unethical experiment. It saw them become indentured labourers, or logic gated like cattle, for both breeding and function. As a result, they have had their children stolen on mass. Logically it forced me to think of a foul consideration if l had a son, the consideration was, “would I like the chance that my son was to be considered a steer, a steer in a cattle yard, presented with little choice but the slaughter gate in a system that is manifestly designed not to serve them?” Or do we, including me, believe he whomever he is, as in your son, my son, is, or will be, the breeding bull? This degradation of human rights, involving the theft of children, has become about men paying for those newly acquired breeding powers of the state. Not the breeding powers of females. And it has seen many men written off as genetically unworthy, financial burdens, and or unfashionably undesirable.

 

Who paid for this power transfer? In the majority in the west, and to reiterate ad nauseum once again, it was the brothers, the sons, the fathers, the uncles, and the grandfathers, of lower income families. Who does it tax? Mostly, new sons. And who is most likely to die? Mostly, new sons. Just like in the world wars. Recently it was repeatedly and publicly stated in the US, that society should be about emotive feelings and not mathematics. In that math less future that selectively counts the dead, have the West’s female neo feminists and their male sycophants become the ultimate narcissists? What used to be about the feelings of the majority as in democracy, has become the feelings of a minority, and the majority are not being served. And to sight the doctrine of Engels and Marx, there is an oppressor and the repressed. Not so ironically Engels and Marx where right, the ruling class can and sometimes do become the oppressors. Just like the first stolen generation, those in power, took the children away from the those with no power, and the market economy that produced both these travesties was politics. And just like the first stolen generation the second stolen generation are used for sex, and bred like cattle, by those in positions of power. Was this all done in the name of so-called reproductive and sexual freedom? To produce on mass, a modern-day proletariat class. Was it done for feminist rights? Who were these new freedoms for? Freedoms that with absolute mathematical certainty will end unless Musk and Co can find us a new planet? What a dark period in history it will be remember as. What type of blindness sees the facade of reproductive freedom used so that breeding in all countries will be eventually limited, to a certain few. If we extrapolate for its occurrence, it is already happening. And who will be this breeding few? Do the people instigating this system think it is them? In a derivation of Marx and Engle’s conversation on economy, the ruling class no longer deal in money, they deal in children. And if the ruling class’s children are competing against the children of single mothers, they statistically have a better chance of attaining positions of power over them. But unlike the old class system, as identified by Marx and Engels, those classed as better in the future, will have an increased chance of breeding if it comes down to an engineered fallacy of social or genetic merit. Future breeding events may not ironically include neo feminist blood lines regardless of their families’ countries of origin or race. Are these people and their political associates’ regardless of sex, poor at mathematics? Do they believe that they are the chosen ones, as they surround themselves with sycophants, in an echo chamber?

 

How quickly, these persecuted pacifists or people of peace, have ascended to positions of power. But if we are permitted, or allowed, to count the dead, or those in prison, they are far from peaceful, nor powerless. Despite the numbers of the dead, and the sure failure of their new breeding system, the fallacy of reproductive freedom is still being sold and wielded by neo feminists. Like snake oil salespeople they and their political associates sell it as one of the panaceas for all the world’s problems. But wholistically, it is a betrayal of their families, themselves, and especially their sons. If they say they cannot do exponential population growth extrapolations, they are either lying or incompetent. It produces a graph, one that l have been instructed at university level, will end at a very blunt fourteen billion. Provided that the narcissist neo feminist’s mirror has an immediate sexual gratification, who should care about the brutal reality of maths, and what will most certainly happen? Provided someone other than mothers pay for the raising of their children, l suppose it is clear sailing till we hit an iceberg, an iceberg that is the size of a mountain sitting in plain sight. An iceberg with two thirds of its body hidden below the surface of the water. An iceberg, hidden in the dark unnoticed due to hard to acquire statistics, and unavailable definitive finite numbers. And to paraphrase Edward John Smith, (the captain of the Titanic), it is “…full steam ahead…”, “…this ship is unsinkable…”, while the rich danced, and the poor where locked in the lower decks to drown.

“Short memory” ...

 

Lomoinstant Wide

Double Exposure

 

Featured in Instant Gratification - Interview for The Idea List Mag

  

check my instagram

For me, wearing these leather jeans is a real treat. It's a feeling of luxury, pleasure, gratification and indulgence, that I can slip into.

 

Plus the satisfaction and contentment of actually fitting into them still.

Another recent finished tumble. I am enjoying the hobby of rock polishing. It is not for those seeking instant gratification!

I found an old film in the cupboard yesterday and it turned out to be a leftover from my Sicily trip in 2023. Delayed (much delayed) gratification is always a fun part of analogue photography

 

I remember all of the steps in Modica and my surprise that my ageing knees got me there and back again,,,

 

Olympus OM2n

Ilford HP5+

Rodinal 1=26 (6 mins)

It won’t be long until artist Josh Foley has completed his pet-inspired mural at the Animal Medical Centre.

 

Launceston’s latest piece of street art was commissioned by the veterinary practice to cover “a very ugly wall that was always getting graffitied” said business partner David Allan. Mr Foley said the piece was a good warm-up ahead of Sheffield’s Mural Fest where he will be one of the artists. “Most of the time I am focused on working in my studio with easel-based things but it’s nice to be out and about,” he said.

 

“It does have its own sense of gratification because it’s on a structure and I’m interested in paintings as objects … when it comes to painting on a building it’s like the ultimate kind of sculptural premise and I was really excited by it.”

The Launceston artist said the work contrasts the hyper-real animals with the surreal and is designed to move along the space almost rhythmically.

The entire process, including more detail and colour to come, will take about two weeks.

Source: The Examiner

 

Naked Creek Waterfall #4 - Shenandoah National Park, Virginia

 

MILE 53.2 SKYLINE DRIVE, NAKED CREEK OVERLOOK. Elevation 3,250 feet.

 

There is a sense of gratification after trekking 1 mile straight down a steep rocky ridge (with no trails) to gain access to wilderness waterfalls that few have seen - a mountain ridge totally untouched by man's ways. This is the #4 waterfall along the wilderness route, accessible only by bushwhack hiking. In my opinion, the waterfalls and cascades found along Naked Creek are some of the most scenic in Shenandoah National Park - a hidden gem of the park. These falls are not mentioned in any SNP waterfall guides, or other park guides for that matter. They don't want people to know of its existence. There are no trails. This hike is pure bushwhacking. The terrain is very rugged with lots of downed trees, MANY rocks and choked with brier patches. I came to know of this waterfall from Henry Heatwole's 'Guide To Shenandoah National Park'.

 

Watch the standard-definition compilation video here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=4a9TSVsMJt8 -- you will see 'true wilderness' scenery in these short clips.

 

March 23rd, 2010: Overcast skies beckoned me to bushwhack down through Naked Creek one more time to hopefully find the other elusive waterfalls that I have only heard of. I encountered a total of 5 significant waterfalls during the hike, so if there are other falls down further from #5, I don't know about them (yet). It is truly rough terrain down through there - so many downed trees, countless rocks and is choked with brier patches. Best bet is not to travel along the creek as you go, but instead go fairly wide away from the creek for the 'path of least resistance'. I've been down both sides of the creek, and the best route is the one on the right side of it. If you use the left side, you eventually end up high above these largest falls. If you decide to bushwhack along this creek, you are at your own risk. This hike is ONLY recommended for experienced sure-footed hikers!

 

Technically the creek is named East Branch Naked Creek, and the West Branch Naked Creek comes in from the right once you arrive near this waterfall.

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The VA Department of Environmental Quality states the following about Naked Creek:

 

It is found to possess exceptional environmental settings and satisfies the criterion of possessing an exceptional aquatic community. East Branch Naked Creek has no trail associated with it. A Skyline Drive overlook is located near the headwaters but cross-country "bushwhacking" is necessary to access the stream. A detailed map of the area is highly recommended. There is no access at the downstream boundary. The terrain of the upper portion near the headwaters is extremely rugged but the environs surrounding the stream are truly exceptional. The stream has, as is the case with most mountainside streams, numerous small waterfalls. A cursory benthic survey was done and stoneflies and caddisflies were observed in the headwaters. Mayflies, stoneflies, caddisflies, and brook trout were observed farther downstream.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

For more Naked Creek Falls photos and video clips, visit this page on my Web site.

 

Scale Is Provided In This Photo

 

THANKS FOR VIEWING!

The study below was derived from facts uncovered while doing research

for the following Doctoral dissertation:

Light to the shadows of their mind:

Criminal tactics and strategies

Criminology Department Dept.

Chatwick University

 

**************************** Story ***************************

 

A full moon peeks through the heavy fall clouds, its rays transcending down and bathing in a soft light, the over grown, untended, remains of what once had been a proper English garden. Its soft rays catch the old moss roses, lilacs, and various other old growth flowers, their once still vibrant colours faded now that the fall is approaching.

 

But something still is vibrant here, brightly flashing a colourful fire as it moves along an old flagstone path.

 

Two feminine figures in fancy dress move guardedly along the path, gown and jewels are the source of the added fiery colours now caught by the full harvest moon’s rays. The rustle of satin is heard as a long, slinky gown sweeps along the leaf littered flagstone path at the spiked heels of its owners feet. Soft voices carry in murmurs as they walk, breaking up what, until a few minutes, ago had been the hushed silence brought upon by the notice of the pair by the gardens inhabitants.

 

The twosome finally reaches an old garden shed, its weather-beaten door half ajar, broken remnants of glass still hang in its front window; some ancient, rusty tools still lay up along its side wall. As they stand there the younger one suddenly jumps, giving a little gasp. What is it dear? her companion asks sweetly. She looks into her companions’ deep mesmerizing brown eyes, someone is moving along that path over there, on the other side of the pond. Mother said that no one should be outdoors on this side of town, she add, worry now creeping up on her. The older woman turns her head abruptly, I see him, you had better wait her, and I’ll make sure that whoever it is will not bother us.

 

A cop on his beat is seen walking along the outer path that lines the old garden leading to the manor house at the opposite end of what is now an inner city block. He jumps a little as a figure steps out of the mist that has now started to spread from a small pond the he is walking by.

 

Mae looks back at the garden shed that now sits back in the woods a little ways; her youthful companion’s colourful gown is vibrant against the faded walls of the shed. She turns away and looks at the copper walking towards her, unaware as of yet that he is no longer alone. Mae walks out of the mist and onto the sidewalk, noticing with satisfaction that she has startled him. She approaches and walks past the stern copper, as she does Mae tosses his way the sorta glance that she knew would pique the coppers natural distrust, making him turn to follow and see what mischief was going on!

 

Her long hair streaming down her back, creating a halo in the moonlit garden, her shimmering long jeweled earrings sway gently, watches as her companion walk up to the figure on the path. She is suddenly self-aware of how she is dressed, and how vulnerable they are out here alone, away from the bright lights and safety of the manor they had left some ten minutes ago. She hopes the figure isn’t someone nasty who will harm her friend. Her back is to the old door of the shed. The clouds again cover the moon. The young girl shivers, though it really is not that cold out. Suddenly a quick shadow emerges, a hand is clasped over her mouth, another grabs her by her silky waist, and she is pulled struggling into the darkness of the shed, vanishing from sight like the moon above her. Gradually the night voices of the garden return, chirping, hooting, and such. But as for the garden shed, sounds are no longer heard from within…..

 

What Led to This?

 

*************************************************************************************

It had been the boys who had first spotted the ladies in colorfully long shiny gowns. Those gowns fluidly rustling along shapely figures crossing the street leading to ornate front doors of the old Hampton East club Mansion. But it had been their “sparklers” the glittering jewelry the ladies all seemed to be temptingly showing off, that had made their mouths wolfishly drool.

  

But, what they had seen when stealing peeks through slits in a velvet curtained window, had made them run to find Mae. They then breathlessly babbled on about the halfcocked, half-baked scheme they had dreamed up. “Even the young’uns had jools” they had excitedly told Mae. She figured that most of it was probably paste, who wears anything of value on the eastside she thought to herself. But just a glimmer of a possibility began to take seed, as she maternally continued to listen to the excited pair.

  

Mae decided to humor the pair of excitable petty thieves, she owed them some favors anyway, and Mae hated leaving a debt unpaid. Besides, business had been slow lately; it seemed that no one well to do these days need their fortune read. So, for no rhythm or reason other than to see what all the chatter had been about, Mae crashed the upscale event. She slipped inside through the large matching oak doors, without even a second glance from the pensioner guard wearing a loose uniform “manning” the entrance.

  

Mae was amazed, even she could not have predicted the marvelous displays of wealth, so tantalizingly close, and yet seemingly so far out of reach. Even the dangling “jools” worn with careless abandon by the “Young’uns” mostly 18 through 20 year olds, with a few 16 and 17 year olds peppered in among the multitude of guests, appeared to be the real McCoy!

  

Mae was also surprised that she had been able to get this far, and so had not even begun to think of ways to profit from the situation. A condition that was going to have to be quickly rectified Mae told herself. Itching to somehow lay her greedy hands on some of the expensive jewels she observed being beckoningly worn by the female guests in attendance. Like the royal appearing lady she was just now walking past. She was in an elegantly flowing purple gown, dripping in gems, especially the small diamonds that were glistening on the thin tiara that held up the rich girl’s luxuriantly long hair.

  

All in all, Mae was glad she had positioned the boys to wait in the old garden shed, promising it would be worth their while. Mainly Mae had wanted to keep them out of mischief, too avoid having them upset her apple cart, and it appeared to have been a canny move on her part, as she surveyed a young lady with a long flowing mane of hair sweeping by, causing Mae to perk up with interest.

  

So, it was still with no real purpose in mind yet, that Mae had started to shadow the fetchingly gowned young lady of about nineteen who was timidly working her way , weaving in and out amongst the groups of happily chatting guests. Mae’s desire was a closer scrutiny of the prettily dressed young girl’s savory fiery ruby jewelry, so enticingly slippery upon her sweat glistened figure.

***********************

Mae had always been attracted to rubies ever since a poshly dressed young mother had wandered into the carnival sideshow that Mae had been working some years prior. Mae had been the first to try for a share of the young Mother’s dazzling jewelry after spying her predicament from the interior of her tent.

The obviously well-to-do young Mother had been unwisely left alone to tend to a colicky baby. Mae had forced herself on the wretched Mother, using the pretense of giving a helping hand. Unscrupulously, Mae had seized the opportunity to check along the young Mother’s thick satiny clothes for any valuables.

Passing up on a temptingly lovely, lengthy dangling pendent, Mae’s fingers instead whisked down along the slick long sleeve of the young mother’s arm, as all her attention was being given to the thrashing infant. Passing over a thick braided gold bracelet, Mae’s fingers darted to the young ladies’ left ring finger.

The harried Mother struggled to keep a tight hold on the silken clad infant squirming in her mother’s satin covered arms. As the thrashing child bawled, the mother, finding herself being handicapped by the long sleeved slippery satin blouse she wearing was unable to really pay attention to anything else going on around her. Therefore, Mae was easily able to slip off the invitingly large ruby and diamond engagement ring from the mother’s ring finger, conveniently tear moistened from the squealing infants sobbing.

Ring in hand, Mae then finally listened to the mother’s pleas she didn’t need any help, quit caressing down her tingling attire, and retreated to the dark depths of her tent to watch the rest of the drama unfold.

By the time the young mother had gotten her squalling infant daughter to sleep she had fended off about a dozen additional hands offering to help. Mae had watched with professional interest as some of those hands had cunningly been searching the young lady for anything of value…

Mae observed that the distracted mother’s pendent had been nicked next, easily unclasped and slipped away from the ruffled throat of her glossy blouse! Then, as the mother was bent over the baby’s stroller, her long dangling earrings (the pair!) had been whisked away from out of her long mane of straight hair. Soon followed in quick session by the jeweled pin from her satin ascot, her wrists thick braided gold bracelet, a gold pinky ring, and the contents of her velvet purse. Even the mahogany rattle, and silver pacifier had been plucked from the now sleeping infants hand and mouth as her mother’s shiny back had been turned while searching about for the her babies vanished ermine blanket. All in all a very masterful and complete plucking of the erstwhile pretty hen and her downy chick, Mae thought smugly, for nothing else had been as grand as the ruby ring that Mae had slipped off first.

Now, there were still occasions where Mae dared to wear the magnificent ring, but tonight, had decidedly not been one of those occasions.

 

(Editor’s note:

The incident Mae instigated at the Carnival was not an original part of her story line

It was actually lifted by our author based upon similar experiences of one Lady Eileen St’D , Surry 1910)

************************

 

Mae plotted a way to at least grab this girl’s attention for a closer look, and so she moved in such a fashion to make it a possibility. At the same time the nineteen year old turned her head away, her long hair swirling to behind her back as someone called out a name. Mae broke off her approach and stood nearby, filing away the girls name for future reference. (It had always amazed Mae that just knowing a person’s name could break down barriers and inspire confidence when a stranger used it. ) Mae watched as an older model of the young girl approached, dressed in a glossy satin gown of mint green and laden with shimmering emerald encrusted jewels. She stuck a finger under the girls nose. Mae followed it, the gold ring she was wearing of a serpent encircling her finger with bright emerald eyes, mystifying her.

  

The lady lectured her daughter on wandering off , especially when it was only her and her Auntie there to watch her. Mae saw the mothers eyes travel towards the regal lady in the purple gown and tiara. Losing interest Mae wandered off, not caring to hear the rest. She knew a blind alley when she saw one. She paused; she also recognized other quarry when she saw it… A lady wearing a flowing gown of red silk was standing off to one side. Shy and uncomfortable, she was the epitome of a Wall-flower, one who attracted little or no attention, or luck, unless it was of the unfortunately bad kind. One who Mae knew she would have to meet.

  

Mae walked up to her, and began a conversation. It started out uncomfortably, but Mae soon won her over, enchanting the edgy lady enough so that she actually, with a little hesitation, allowed Mae to pick up her palm: believing it was with the the intention of reading her fortune. As the girl was told that fortune, the mousey miss was totally caught under the enchantment of Mae’s eyes and sing-song way of speaking. Mae could see that she had captured the girl’s imagination as she wove her fortune telling around her like a spider would weave its silky web. Then, with delight, Mae saw a special gleam in the girl’s eyes that she knew all too well. A look she had seen before in previous clients, one that told her they were no longer completely caring of what was going on around them.

  

Mae ever so slightly tightens her grip on the palm she held. Than, with baited breath, Mae began to work a jeweled ring over the knuckle of a warm slender finger , her practiced eye watching the girls face for any sign that she was catching on to what Mae was up to! Mae smiled broadly as she had a habit of doing when one of her wicked schemes was coming to fruitation. The girl smiled impishly in response, totally misinterpreting what that smile stood for. Never in her wildest dreams would she have guessed what this nice lady: with the deep black eyes from which she could not pull away from, who was so pleasantly stroking her palms while telling her fortune so enjoyably, was smiling about! Nor did she have the slightest of inklings that her Grandmother’s pretty ring was going to vanish!

  

Mae suddenly felt a noticeable vibe wash over her, and she chanced a look around her. Along a back wall was a row of palm trees, in-between them were a series of small stone benches. A solo figure was walking along them, a slinky, long soft gown, fell flowing down to her feet. The figure of the girl whose name Mae now knew. Mae turned her full attention back to the task at hand, easily maneuvering her captive audience so that the wall was now in her full view. Over a silken shoulder Mae watched as the young miss made her slinky way into a powder room, disappearing with a muted swishing of her gown. . Suddenly Mae had an epiphany, realizing exactly how to ensnare the pretty little miss into her web, at the center of which dangled the old garden shed where there were debts to be paid!

  

Mae finished her “business” with the shy wall-flower, convincing her to go one her way now that her fortunes were assured to be taking a turn for the “better.” She moved off happily enough, glad that she had met the charming stranger, falling for Mae’s story hook, line and ring less finger!

 

Keeping an eye on the retreating lady as she swept away, Mae headed towards a stone bench that sat near the back exit leading to the old garden, a stone bench that was in a direct line to the approach that the young miss should be taking on her journey back from the powder room. Mae waited, and when she saw her victim open the door, she buried her hands in her face and acted like she was sobbing, all the while watching the girls approach through a crack made by her fingers.

  

The girl stopped, You okay Ma’am, she asked with genuine, childishly innocent, concern ( as Mae had predicted), Mae jumped like she had not noticed the girl, and looking up into her face, she called the girl by name, starting to spin a new web of deceit. The young miss offered Mae her embroidered silk handkerchief, which she gladly accepted, holding the girls well ringed fingers for a second showing her gratification. While “drying”her eyes, Mae went into her story full throttle; she knew there would not be much time.

  

The young miss, nervously looked around, as she played with her shiny necklace, holding it with slender ringed fingers , as she innocently listened to the captivating dark haired stranger. Mae, for a second blinded as the diamonds and rubies flashed in the light, smiled inwardly. Overly pretty teenage girls were so naïve and easy to manipulate, she thought, while weaving another , totally different type of story, then the one she had fed the flowing red silked wall flower.

  

Mae accurately interpreted the reveries of the young miss now in Mae’s clutches. Now under different circumstances the tale that Mae fed the girl would have not gotten her anywhere. But the fact Mae knew the girls name, knew how to make use of the exchange she had witnessewd between the girl and her mother, and also possessed some knowledge of what attracts a young ladies fancy, the circumstances worked wonderfully in her favor. Then, add in Mae’s fortune telling abilities, and the poor, beautifully adorned soul never stood a chance

  

Mae hit her with all the talent of a quick change artist. And soon Mae was had lured the girl into following her out the exit and walk with her out into the darkened garden. It happened quite literally before the young thing could catch her breath, or clearly think things through. She had totally fallen for the fortune teller’s fairy tale, and now believed she was aiding this lady in distress, as she believed Mae to be. The young miss, more than a little bewildered, walked obediently alongside Mae, under her dark spell, as they made their way ever closer to a seemingly quiet old garden shed.

  

Mae looked at the girl now walking next to her, innocently unaware of the fact that she had been led out here for one reason only. Totally oblivious to the fact that she now presented nothing more than to the seemingly sweet lady walking next to her than the value of her expensively flowing gown, the bright jewels she was wearing, and the contents of the small purse dangling by her side. Mae smiled to herself, knowing that in the greenhouse her two muggers would miss nothing, the young girls jewels, , fat silken purse, even the gown would all fetch a sweet price when peddled.

  

It was when they had reached that shed, that Mae’s captive companion had spotted the figure walking along the path by the pond. A figure that Mae knew she would m have to take care of, else risk having her carefully wrought plan fall to pieces…

  

Led to This:

 

******************************************************************************

Mae looked back and smiled smugly at the copper hot on her heels. Someone is going to be in trouble for leaving his post she thought. Just a couple more blocks should give them enough time in the greenhouse, and then Mae would easily give this flatfoot the slip. Mae’s mind went deliciously back to what should now be happening to the luckless lady in the long shiny gown, and how much Mae’s cut of the take would amount to. It was too bad she would miss the boys at work; Mae did so enjoy watching a good mugging.

 

As Mae happily led the harness bull away from the garden she marveled over her good fortune, wondering over how things had worked to her benefit. As she did she found herself walking along a block populated with small pubs. At the end of which lay an alley which Mae was going to use as passage to slip away from the copper. By then he would then be safely away from the old gardens. Mae would than circle back. She knew the boys would be finishing their job, but she did not want them to leave without her. She was going to take personal possession of the girls most valuable items. There was no way she was going to trust the two nimble headed crooks with not being cheated out of a fair price for the girl’s jewels.

 

It was as she reached the alleyway and looked back that she realized the copper was no longer tailing her. She swore to herself, what had happened? She cautiously backtracked, looking into the windows of the pubs as she passed. She stopped at one she knew, one appropriately, in Mae’s mind, named the Hook and Fiddle. It was their that she spotted her lost cop, cradling a beer, and sitting next to tall man at a back table.

 

Mae headed back on her way. She indistinctively knew that the copper would be occupied for a while. Mainly because she knew the cut of man he was sitting next to. Renauld, a man whose hands touched everything from the rackets, extortion, blackmail, down to trafficking and kidnapping, Renauld, to whom Mae owed some personal favors.

 

As Mae reached the sidewalk where she had first met the copper, she hastened her step. It would not be long before the girl’s bejeweled mother would be noticing her daughter’s absence…… Mae suddenly stopped, freezing in her tracks. A slow grin spread across her appealing face.

 

The epiphany that had made Mae stop to think contained the seed of a plan, that was in her opinion, brilliant. The mother should have noticed her daughters absence, and what if someone ,Mae, were to find the wealthy , overbearing lady, as she searched and helpfully divulged to her just what her daughter had been up to. Sneaking off into the garden with a young man, of all the nerve…why I would bet the pair of them is inside the old garden shed in the back snogging away as we speak.

 

Mae, with a quick stop over at the shed to check on things, hurried back to the manor. And best of all she thought, licking her lips in savoring anticipation as she fine-tuned the story she would use, best of all…, Ladies of that ilk always travel in pairs…

 

40 minutes later:

Three shadowy figures emerge from an old dilapidated garden shed. Two run off carrying small bundles under their arms. A third follows, taking a look back inside, closes the door and walks almost serenely off in the opposite direction. Something glistens from a finger as the moon once again peeks cautiously from the dark clouds overhead.

 

*************************************************************************************

 

Addendum est

 

In a smoke filled pub that he owns, a man, wicked, is puffing on a long black cigar. He is seated alone at the back table where he has been holding court that late evening.

 

The door opens and a female enters. Looking neither left nor right she heads directly to the man’s table.

 

Wotcher, he says, with perhaps a trace of compassion in an otherwise traditionally unemotionally stern deep voice. He spots the ring she is wearing, a gold serpent enter twined around her finger, its arrow shaped head home to a pair of flickering green emerald eyes.

 

What fresh wickedness have you been up to this evening he asks her expectantly? Adding, even you shouldn’t be sporting something like that around this area.

 

Mae meets his gaze, knowing full well she had taken a risk wearing the ring. But she knew that she had to make use of it to gain Renauld’s interest quickly, If game, he would not have much time…..

 

For if Renauld took the bait, not only would Mae be squared with Renauld, but also probably now be in his debt. For as much a Mae loathed to be in debt to someone, she loved to be owed one……

Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives

 

We live in a time of instant gratification and rapid building. It is rather refreshing to find that the church San Petronio that was started in 1390 remains unfinished. The church would have been larger than St Peters in Rome had not Pope Pious IV put a stop to construction. The façade of pink Verona marble was begun in March 1425 but never completed. My understanding is that the locals quite like the look of their incomplete church and are not minded to finish it. As it is, it dominates one side of the huge Piazza Maggiore in the heart of the city.

 

One thing to say about the image I had to crop part of the left hand side so as not to include a large cinema screen. I also had to avoid the fixed seating that fills the Piazza Maggiore. In July and August is the site of a major film festival every evening after dark the square would be packed with people watching Black and White Italian neo realist films.

  

THANKS FOR YOUR VISIT AND FOR TAKING THE TIME TO WRITE A COMMENT IT’S MUCH APPRECIATED AND SO MUCH MORE INTRESTING THAN JUST GIVING A FAVE

 

Il Gruppo del Cristallo

Is it a retreat or a far away prison?

I don't know.

 

Here's another take from the night out with Darren and Aaron. Crazy stuff going on with colors in sky and lighting all around.

 

I really enjoyed my time out there with those guys. I have been apprehensive about going out shooting stars with people because most times I'm really zeroed in on what I am intent on trying and tromp off to some weird locations or setups. But also, I just get lost and enraptured in the stars. All the more so when my camera is with me. So, it's a bit of hesitation that someone coming along would get bored, cold, or generally unimpressed. And, that would be a personal blow.

 

But, I'm finding that's hardly the case and most people, especially landscape photographers, share a deep wonder for a night sky full of stars. So, this night, out with # Aaron and Darren was a blast because we were all running around like goofy schoolkids at a playground. I'd be setting up a comp in one direction excited about what I was seeing, then I'd hear Darren behind me, "NO WAY!" And then Aaron would immediately say, "Dude, what have you got?" and he and I would come trompin in our snowshoes over to Darren to look at his screen. This process was repeated by all of us checking out each others preview screens, each caught up in the fun of shooting this clouded starry night.

 

For me, there's excitement in shooting at night because you don't know what you'll get. I know that's the case with just about all photography. But in our digital world, we have instant gratification and feedback for the shots were composing and taking. At night, that gratification is masked first by the dark and our own eyes. We HAVE to use our camera to see into the night. And secondly, long exposures take time :-)

It's annoying, but rewarding setting up a shot and then having to wait 30 seconds or 5 minutes for an exposure to take and see what you actually got.

 

I know, I know, this is still pretty much instant feedback compared to film days- but for a digital shooter, there is a wait. And I like it. And, I enjoy experiencing a beautiful night of stars with others who share that wonder.

 

If you want to know how to take the first step in taking pictures of the stars, I've made an introductory video tutorial on shooting stars. It's meant to give you a heads up on what to expect, what to bring, and save you from making the most common mistakes I do when I go out shooting.

You can watch it here:

vimeo.com/16833554

 

Thanks guys!

Porto. 2017.

 

instagram.

___________