View allAll Photos Tagged memory.
"A person dies, but his visage remains to create memories. I present my visage to be a memory for the family."
I was in my grandparents' house for a day. Usually, when I go there, I start looking through everything I can find, dig out from old albums, drawers and such. This time I came across family photos I've never seen before and on the back of one of the photos I found this (translation up). I really wondered what kind of person he was, the person on the photo, I wish I had known him. Unfortunately, I forgot to ask my grandpa what our relation to that person is, so I'll ask him next time. I wish I knew my family tree better and I think of trying to get to know it better in the future.
Memory with my Civic CR-Z Style
Taken by Stanley Lê
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Special Thanks To Vu Phi Long, Han Pham for tuning my car...
I used 4 different shirts in this quilt--all the other fabrics were from my stash, including the narrow blue border. Made in 1998.
This shot is in memory of my Uncle Tom. He passed away Tuesday night of cancer. He touched many lives and he will be greatly missed. He visited me at my store almost every day until his body wouldn’t let him. I can’t believe he is gone. I was by his side when he took his last breath. One of his passions in life was shooting. Guns, collecting pennies, and old tractors were very important hobbies to him. He begged me and my brother to shoot up some rounds that he had loaded, and we were more than happy to fulfill his wish. He was able to complete most of what he wanted to accomplish before passing away, and I was able to help him complete some of his wishes. Here’s to you Tom. I miss you very much. :(
Can it be that
memory is useless,
like a torn web
hanging in the wind?
Sometimes it billows
out, a full high gauze –
like a canopy
But the air passes
through the rents
and it falls again and flaps
shapeless
like the ghost rag that it is –
hanging at the window
of an empty room.
It is strange how we hold on to the pieces of the past while we wait for our futures.
~ Ally Condie
A wooden swing tied to an old tree, a parked bicycle waiting to be ridden along the dusty roads of the town. Aren't they good enough to trigger your memories from the past? Those wonderful nostalgic memories still fresh and green somewhere deep in the mind!
Nostalgic Memories | Pasumayana Ninaivugal | Yaadgaar Lamhe
Expected to view Large on Black.
. . . ephemeral moments which become memories or dreams . . .
for paula, who is missing fog *
may all travelers find joy!!
jeanne
scanned and altered image
(a 35mm color slide taken in northern california in 1979... mist)
We began to recognize in them a strange obsession. After all, they are emotionally inexperienced, with only a few years in which to store up the experiences which you and I take for granted. If we gift them with a past, we create a cushion or a pillow for their emotions, and consequently, we can control them better.
Dr Tyrell
(title: Vangelis - text : Philip K. Dick/Hampton Fancher/David Webb Peoples)
The Senior members of the Rebel Football team burn something that symbolizes what Rebel Football has meant to them. #GreatNight
This shape was made by bunch of sticks =)
Great memories that will be never forgetten :D
I did some editing with photoshop ^_^
Info...
Shot by 5D Mark II with EF 85mm f1.2 lens
Transformed mov to avi by CineForm NeoScene
Edited by Adobe Premiere Pro
Output file Mp4 1280x720p
Length 90 sec
Music "Non Mi Ricordo" by Sackjo22
Visit my Vimeo to watch higher quality version!!
I made this Memory Box from scratch using book board, fabric, thread and beads (no glue!)...10" x 13" x 5" high... and stitched my November and July BJP pieces on the lid.
It's not so much a tribute to my parents (although that's part of it). More significantly, this box, with thousands of hand stitches and hundreds of hours in its making, represents a connection with them. In my mind and heart, each stitch binds us together - birth, memories, history, love, good-bad-ugly-quirky-beautiful, death - all that we were and are to each other symbolized by all the stitches in this box. I put me in the box too, in the form of quilted rabbits and hearts all around the inside.
I wrote a tutorial about making this type of box on my blog here: beadlust.blogspot.com/2009/08/memory-box-and-how-to-make-...
Friends are the most important part of your life. Treasure the tears, treasure the laughter, but most importantly, treasure the memories. - Dave Brenner
This is not the picture of an antique jewelry which I gave in present to one of my best friend around 10 years ago, this is the picture of memories. Small things sometimes never let us to be apart from each others... Thank you for being my friend...
This winter has been the warmest one I've experienced during my 12.5 years here in Michigan. I am not complaining that much... although sometimes snow does look pretty.
This was taken last year at, you guessed it, Cass Lake
18 Mar 2007 - Renamed "Memories and Flashbacks" by Ms Soccer is Back in the Title Me group.
From this photo it looks like this homeless man is looking at the man pushing a baby & who knows...maybe he is wishing things had turned out different & he had a baby. I took this pix in York, England.
After numerous comments, I ran the pix through Neat Image & then replaced the pix.
Денис Фроловский
... о сырой земле и пронизанной солнечными лучами зелени, о влажных камнях ..., об ароматах антионов и лесных фиалок, о подернутых плесенью, трухлявых стволах упавших деревьев
I rarely get emotional over my work, but these recent paintings have really moved me. Inspired by childhood photographs of my little brother and I recently sent to me by my mother. A time gone by - a lifetime ago - a brother that I miss. These paintings are loose and fragmented like my memories. 5x5 Oil on paper.
Nov. 1, 2015: Memories 2013 In photogene cropped and used b&w high contrast preset. In stackables used soft blur. In photocopier used van gogh sonnenblumen color 0, grain 30, texture 30. In ArtistaImpresso used center detail. In TangledFX used sharpening preset. In Formulas used pestilence 100%. Back in photogene desaturated -.60. In Formulas used aeolian border 15 width.
There are many things that make me happy. One of them is looking at pictures from when I went backpacking through South America last year. The emotion a picture can make you feel, the memories, the laughs, the people we met... time sure flies, and all we keep are these wonderful memories :).
Use of juxtaposition. I am trying to suggest in the photo (by showing two younger versions of the ladies behind) that the ladies in deckchairs are thinking back to the time when they were young, playful, innocent and carefree and slightly less plump. A desire to start again, wind the clock back and do things differently.
No processing except cropping.
Donkey Rides for children were a common sight on many UK beaches when I was a child & I remember the thrill & excitement of shrieking children pestering their parents for rides up & down the beach. Sadly, some of the donkeys were overworked & not very well looked after but this was corrected when animal protection organisations stepped in & rules concerning the working animals were introduced. Nowadays it is a rare sight to see donkeys working on beaches so it brought back many happy childhood memories to see these on the beach in Llanelli, Wales.
“When all is done, you must look in your own heart to know the truth. It lies at some middle depth, half-truths above, half-truths below. Even my truth, what I tell you know, is colored to fit my vision. Find your own truths as best you can, only remember that few are courageous enough to tell a tale of which they are not the hero.” ― Alida Van Gores, Mermaid's Song
Going through the archives and I find myself loving this image more and more. It is as if time makes a photo so much more rich emotionally and artistically for me once time has had a chance to age the memory, the moment, the feeling.
Kellee Dohrman and Jameson Henkle, I plan to be in your area in the middle of July timeframe and would love to make some acro art in the Redwoods. Just saying.
Such a beautiful and graceful Mermaid Kellee Dohrman!!! Flyer: @k.dohrman_acroandyoga
Base: @knalubalance
#EricWardPhotography #AcroYoga #Art #Hawaii #AcroRevolution #TT #Archives #Memories
See Only Love....one of my many mottos.
When we look at life through eyes of love, the world is such a beautiful place.
Blessings to my friends...may you experience many opportunities to create memories of love that you can keep close to your heart.
Textures courtesy of JoesSistah
Remind Me of What I Loved
Recently, a friend shared this story that she had read. I was touched by it's powerful message about what matters most in life. Warning: You may need a tissue handy!
Remind Me of What I Loved
by Caroline Myss
While on my recent book tour for Defy Gravity , I had lunch at the Ritz-Carlton in Philadelphia. Seated at the next table were a mother and daughter. I learned through the fine art of eavesdropping that the daughter had taken her mother out for lunch to celebrate her 92nd birthday. Even though the mother was all dressed up, she still reminded me of a lovely little hummingbird, so tiny and fragile. As is the case with most people in their 90s, they no longer initiate conversation. So it was her daughter who did most of the talking, and since the daughter and I were practically seated back-to-back, it was impossible not to hear her as she reminisced about people who had once filled their lives.
"Well, those people were bad news, Mom. They weren't really that nice to you," said the daughter.
"Oh, I don't remember that," was the mother's response as she kept her eyes on her lunch, reorganizing her salad with her fork. The subject changed to the mother's sister, and though I couldn't hear the details (as I really wasn't eavesdropping in full gear—yet), I then heard the daughter say: "It's true. Your sister was no angel."
Hearing that comment, I glanced over at the mother to see her response.
"Funny, but I can't recall those things," said the lovely birthday hummingbird as she kept her eyes focused on her lunch. Her daughter then shifted the conversation to memories of her mother's marriage to her father. Though I could not hear most of the specifics, it just happened that I heard her say: "Oh, Mom, I could tell you stories about Dad, believe me. You had a rough time with him."
"I did?" the mom replied, never revealing her eyes. "I don't remember."
"You sure did." And just as the daughter began to elaborate on those difficult times, this little hummingbird of a mother put down her fork and made direct eye contact with her daughter. With the most gentle smile on her face, she said: "I don't want to remember those things anymore, Ann. Remind me, now, of what I loved. Remind me of what I loved about your father. I only want to be reminded of love."
That line not only drew the breath out of her daughter; it completely captivated my attention. I sat perfectly still. I could actually feel the impact that request had upon the daughter's heart. The mother had shot an arrow directly into the bitter wounds that were obviously possessing her daughter.
Now my eavesdropping on their intimate conversation was deliberate. I had to hear the daughter's response. I had to watch her face as she grappled with her mother's request to utilize her heart as a means to access memories of love she herself could no longer recall. It was obvious the daughter wanted to refuse her mother's request, but how could she? This was her mother's 92nd birthday. Saying no was not an option. I even found an excuse to adjust my chair so that I could observe the daughter's expressions as she psychically allowed her mother's well-worn heart to board her shattered heart in order to travel back in time. Sojourning into memories in search of love instead of pain was not something the daughter had anticipated. Love, after all, is the most healing of graces. She took a deep breath and with a much softer voice, she said, "Well, Mom," then in a much softer tone of voice, "you loved the way Dad used to tease you."
"I did?" the mother asked.
"Yes, you did. And he always gave you roses on your birthday, Mom. Today Dad would have given you a lovely bouquet of roses because you love roses," the daughter said.
"Oh," said the mother, her smile becoming more illuminated. "I think I remember that."
"And you know that heart [necklace] you always wear, the one around your neck right now? Well, Dad surprised you with that on your 25th wedding anniversary," the daughter said. The mother reached for the small gold heart around her neck, touching it gently with her fingers. "No wonder I never want to take this off," she said.
Then, this exquisite little hummingbird of a mother noticed her daughter was wiping away tears from her eyes. She reached across the table for her daughter's hand and said, "Honey, don't wait until you're my age to have to ask someone else to remind you of what you loved in your life. Be wise enough to remind yourself of that every day because someday those memories might just fade away like mine did and the memories I miss the most are about the people I know I loved."
By this time, I was wiping away tears. As I watched this mother and daughter embrace, I recognized the healing handiwork of grace as only grace could so elegantly and silently transform a conversation filled with pain into one that lifted the weight from a daughter's heart. Only the power of grace could transform a mother into the rare air of the Sage, gifting her daughter wisdom from her soul so powerful as to transform the whole of her life within the content of a couple of sentences.
This conversation captured the essence of what it means to "defy gravity." In an instant, this daughter had released the weight of past wounds, replacing them with the healing force of wisdom and love. Ordinary words could never have accomplished such a feat. Healing is indeed a mystical experience, and one never knows when grace will come to call. I left that lunch having imprinted the request of that precious 92-year-old woman into my heart: Remind me of what I love. What could be a more splendid prayer of reflection than that? And what a gift they were to me on my book tour. I will always believe that being seated next to them was no accident.
Memories are those events where we feel like an individual participating in the world. If you don't consider the participation then you become selfish, if you don't consider the being an individual then you become invisible.
By Trevor Butcher, Artist
For my images as prints, canvases and phone cases: www.ltpphotography.wordpress.com