Metaphor and Analogy - **In Title or Description**
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Le temps et l’eau font lentement leur œuvre, le bois se délitant peu à peu, ne restent que les membrures, et ces squelettes magnifiques se couvrent d’une peau de mousse et d’algues, dans cette dernière demeure, comme un retour à la nature, une métaphore de la chaîne du vivant…(Isabelle Nivet)
Time and water slowly do their work, the wood gradually disintegrating, only the ribs remain, and these magnificent skeletons are covered with a skin of moss and algae, in this last dwelling, like a return to nature, a metaphor of the chain of life…(Isabelle Nivet)
www.lorientbretagnesudtourisme.fr/fr/immanquables/laneste...
I still have a few images from my trip to Lake Tyrell in November 2021.
I did post one of this old grader that sits several kilometers out from the shore of Lake Tyrell. It has been stranded there for almost 30 years, slowly rustling away.
"Rust Never Sleeps" is of course the title from Neil Young's Classic album Some consider the term to be a metaphor for artistic vitality. E.g. by staying the same, one is vulnerable to the corrosive effects of aging and obsolescence.
That works for me.
signalling a new direction
For some time now I've struggled to keep up with flickr...
I try to think of ways to be generous and reciprocal
and also meet my own needs to be more playful...
to have more time and energy for making images
and also for making lucid comments ;-)
For now I'm going to try being more flexible...
embrace a little more imperfection :-)
I'll still respond to comments
(this connection brings me happiness )
and I'll enjoy visiting those who leave them :-)
But I'll be more free about timing...
and not respond to every fave.
Tho I'll try to recognise loyal and wordless fave givers
I am, after all, often one myself.
Not an easy change to make.
But something has to give.
So here's to generosity and freedom.
Meet you
at the intersection ;-)
Forth Road Bridge 13 Dec 2015
The FRB is shrouded in all kinds of things - fog, political smokescreens, uncertainty, to name but a few.
Hopefully the bridge really will open again on 04 January 2016. I feel most sorry for the cancer patients having to travel miles extra for daily treatment in Edinburgh.
Please see my other photos of Edinburgh & the Lothians at www.jamespdeans.co.uk/p399603778
No one remembered to put in their original teeth
at the plant nursing home
so they can’t tell the nurses and aides
to turn off Fox news
and they wither like they’ve been
left for an eternity to suffer
for all their long lost sins.
**All poems and photos are copyrighted**
We can express our feelings regarding the world around us either by poetic or by descriptive means. I prefer to express myself metaphorically. Let me stress: metaphorically, not symbolically. A symbol contains within itself a definite meaning, certain intellectual formula, while metaphor is an image. An image possessing the same distinguishing features as the world it represents. An image — as opposed to a symbol — is indefinite in meaning. One cannot speak of the infinite world by applying tools that are definite and finite. We can analyse the formula that constitutes a symbol, while metaphor is a being-within-itself, it's a monomial. It falls apart at any attempt of touching it.
― Andrei Tarkovsky
A child’s toy and an old bench....childhood and old age.... A visual metaphor? Or maybe just a little boy who got called to lunch and left his trike on the sidewalk!
photography helps me to embrace winter. i was lying down on ice-covered pavement, where i found this fallen leaf. from that angle, i noticed that the tattered leaf seemed to cradle the sun. to me, that’s magic. it’s also a metaphor for being human: we’re small, imperfect, and frayed, yet we have big reach—our actions radiate in ways we can’t imagine.
Unless there is the iPhone icon, all photos were taken with a Nikon or more recently, with a Sony Mirrorless. I ioften import the images to a 12.9 inch iPad for editing.
I admit to having some anxiety about the US elections. There’s a lot at stake, and many people have lost confidence in the process.
I make a point of spending the final sunset of daylight time outdoors. Just another aspect of my compulsive disorder. This one falls somewhere between superstition and pagan ritual. Nightfall this time of year truly is dramatic in its swiftness. The rapid onset of darkness underscores the sense of anxiety that many people feel about transiting into the dark part of the year and the uncertainty of impending winter. Standing outdoors in this desolate farm field heightens the senses. Light and shadow play heavily into my awareness, both as a photographer and as a thinker. It seems only natural to be here, standing on the edge of darkness. The cornstalks rustle in the wind. It's eerie and unsettling, but I know I where I belong.
At a time of a historic pandemic and racial discord/violence, major league baseball seems to reflect the times. Even as the virus may be waning, the different sides (the teams and the players) cannot agree yet on what's fair compensation for a shortened season. As a baseball fan who loves the idea of the USA...and it's the first country started as an idea if you think about it....I hope the sides can come together. Maybe the stitching's just gotten too loose and we can tighten them up a bit?
Why "fragile"? To me this is a metaphor for what is happening to the earth! Too many people! Climate change! Constant war! Extinction of species! Burning of the Amazon Forest! Gun violence! Greed! Despotic leaders of countries, etc!
Can we turn it around?
Taken on a dog walk!
bird tracks
on a snowy path
a metaphor
Image and haiku by John Henry Gremmer
"The Swamp" is a metaphor for fascism, from the point of view of Meilo Minotaur's actual experience of fascism in Portugal, the Carnation Revolution, and the actual lived experience of CapCat Ragu from post-revolutionary Portugal.
At a time when the crisis is trying to push us back into obscurantism is the moment to resist, to fight against the totalitarianism of capital, but never to return to fascism!
By the artists- Meilo Minotaur & Cap Cat Ragu
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Nordan%20om%20Jorden/182/2...
Original shot I took in Secondlife on 1st comment
#5959 File con nome del file mancante
I thank all the visitors and those who enjoyed this photo ^_^
In una città buia e non invasa dai turisti, spiccano le luci accecanti che filtrano prepotenti dalle grate dell'entrata. I colori dei metalli, della pietra bianca, quella ingrigita dalla corrosione, e le tonalità rosse laterizio traspaiono dai vetri veneziani, quasi a citare J. Ruskin nel suo celebre testo "le pietre di Venezia".
L'intervento di restauro postbellico è stato progettato da Carlo Scarpa nel Palazzo Querini Stampalia.
Ad ottobre 2021 quest'area progettata da Carlo Scarpa, dal ponte all'ingresso non era visitabile, in attesa delle autorizzazioni per l'inizio del cantiere di restauro e del risanamento a causa dei danni subiti dall'acqua alta (marea) del 2019.
Un anno fa questo scatto rifletteva il bisogno di chiudersi, di proteggersi dall'ignoto, all'uscita da Mestre per Venezia campeggiava una gigantesca scritta: "Venezia, obbiettivo Covid Free" ora come un anno fa è una metafora dei giorni correnti, ma con ben altri temi.
Fondazione Querini Stampalia - Carlo Scarpa
play - Britten - Death in Venice - English Chamber Orchestra
________________________________________________
In a dark city not overrun by tourists, the blinding lights that filter overwhelmingly through the entrance grates stand out. The colors of the metals, of the white stone, the one grayed by corrosion, and the brick red tones shine through the Venetian glass, as if to quote J. Ruskin in his famous text "the stones of Venice".
The post-war restoration was designed by Carlo Scarpa in the Querini Stampalia Palace.
In October 2021 this area designed by Carlo Scarpa, from the bridge to the entrance, was not open to visitors, pending the authorizations for the start of the restoration and rehabilitation site due to the damage suffered by high water (tide) in 2019.
A year ago this shot reflected the need to close oneself, to protect oneself from the unknown, at the exit from Mestre to Venice there was a giant sign: "Venice, Covid Free objective" now as a year ago it is a metaphor of current days, but with quite other themes.
“But at times I wondered if I had not come a long way to find that what I really sought was something I left behind”
~ Thomas West
In truth, this umbrella really belongs to a story involving a portrait of a Chinese couple, but that's a rather boring tale. I'd rather ponder this image as a metaphor for needful things left behind. Perhaps a reminder during this Christmas season to treasure the tresures we already have. Too often we leave them behind in the cold.
“I'm tired, boss. Tired of bein' on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain. Tired of not ever having me a buddy to be with, or tell me where we's coming from or going to, or why. Mostly I'm tired of people being ugly to each other. I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world every day. There's too much of it. It's like pieces of glass in my head all the time. Can you understand?”
John Coffey, “The Green Mile” by Stephen King
A clump of wild timothy sways languidly along a rural road in the moments before an ominous thunderstorm storm strikes. I’m always in search of borders and boundaries when out with the camera. I love photographing them, and even more standing astride them. This is one of my many odd behavioral traits that defy rational explanation. As a result, attempts to discuss them often sound irrational (if not downright ridiculous). With that risk in mind, I’ll just say I think at some level, boundary lines represent unseen (yet highly palpable) energy fields. That includes boundaries both real and liminal. It relates to creating photos based upon a reaction to how scenes or situations make me feel.
Back in the moment on the old farm road, I’m already pretty charged up about the storm. It’s what brought me to this spot in the first place. And for my money, it’s one of the best visual and emotional boundaries imaginable, standing right along the leading edge of an intense storm. And on the edge of an expansive farm field which creates a visual effect of multiple boundaries within a single frame. In this case newly mown hay casting a wonderfully warm color contrast against the cool, dark sky. And as I walk along, I stumble upon the timothy grass. The stalks look delicate and tranquil as they gently sway in response to the breeze. Their presence made even more prominent by the raging storm looming in the background. It’s one of those scenes that exists only in this moment, and I could think of no better way to illustrate the fury of the storm than to focus on the calm in its path.
Said goodbye to neighbor and sometimes model Carol last week. She transitioned as friends sometimes do from a physical presence in my life to a tiny number alongside the text icon on my phone. We vowed to keep in touch, but it's never quite the same once neighbors are no longer defined as such. Her new home is just a few hours away, but might as well be across the country. I'm grateful that the universe brought us together for the relative short time we shared. And for the many scenes we were able to capture together. Our final session (neither of us knew it at the time) was last autumn in a parched soybean field under a magnificent sky. At times the low sun virtually electrified the withered crop field, seemingly bringing the plants back to life in a sea of light and texture. And there stood Carol, rendered in absolute shadowy blackness. It was as if someone had taken an X-Acto knife and simply cut her out of the photo. Prophetic indeed. Upon departing I told her we could return here any time for another session as it was literally within walking distance of our homes. But I had an uneasy sense that we never would.
I can’t help it, I love to snap gate or stile. Surrounded with all this beauty and rough manmade wooden construction catches my eye every time. It’s got to be physiology, but what, the mind boggles. An invitation to pastures new, a transition, a way through a life barrier. Who knows, all I know, next time my travels encounters one, more often or not I’ll get the camera out. I wouldn’t care after slogging up to this one I didn’t pass through it, something told me to stay on this side of the wall, may be that’s the metaphor I should ponder.
Looking about for opportunities, this one was actually at my feet. I just wasn't listening when it was crying, "look down here". How many times I have told myself the world is three dimensional. Stop looking straight ahead, look up, look down. Or, in this case, look no farther than your own two feet.
This image struck me as being so very simple and standing out as a metaphor for so many reasons. Alone from the rest, different from the rest, older than the rest. Take your pick, it stood out from the rest.
So my advise is to remember that the world is three dimensional and sometimes a good shot is found at your own two feet. A great and celebrated photographer named Freeman Patterson said, "If you do not see what is around you every day, what will you see when you go to Tangiers?"
I'm very fortunate to live in a rural area with easy access to woodlands, meadows, streams, ridge lines, valleys, and crop fields. I derive a great deal of energy and mental stimulation by entering into these spaces. I used to think it was the result of the oxygen released by plants. But it's much more than that. The visuals are quite often stunning, and motivate my creative mind. However I feel the same energy even if I take no photos at all. For me it's all about being immersed into scenes such as this, both literally and emotionally.
Walking through this meadow filled with dead and withered leaves filled me with a sense of life and vitality. Don't ask me to explain the dichotomy. It just is. There's simply as much (or even more) energy here now as there was months ago when this was all lush and green.
In her day-to-day, ahead seems gray, but with her reflexive gaze, creativity comes to life.
I'm just trying my hand at some fine arts photography. Mosquitoes bit me 27 times while taking this picture. She was bit 12 times before we realized that we were being eaten alive. So much anti-itch spray!
These two halves / taken together / are at greater distance / from one another / than if left apart.
Assemblage, wood, metal, paper, paint, size (WxHxD) 50x48x11 cm (based upon objets trouvés) (2015)
This image is from 2 photostitched images:
Lens: Olympus 14-150mm F/4-F/5.6
Focal Length: 150mm
Aperture: F/8
Shutter Speed: 1/400 second
ISO: 1600
With the dark clouds over the oil refineries, this picture could be a metaphor for our future with fossil fuels, which were great at one time, but which hopefully are ready disappear into the sunset!