View allAll Photos Tagged metaphor
A metaphor:
You have a choice... you can be a victim if you chose to be a victim, or anything else you want to be. But just remember that it is your choice.
(A.I. image rendered in Microsoft Designer)
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Self-portrait At The Ghost Town Ruin
(November 2nd, 2020)
Terlingua Ghost Town, Texas, U.S.A.
After the first encounter last year, I returned there again. I had to because it was love at first sight. The desert is not a landscape that shouts. It whispers, inviting you to look closer. I think I found my place on Earth. The Chihuahuan desert, the largest desert in North America and the third most diverse in the world, is where I went for a 10-day road trip in November.
It was a peak season, but I was able to find my solitude, rebuild harmony, and feed my soul. Aride and alive, the fascinating paradox about the Chihuahuan could be the metaphor of my poor existence in this world.
I took this mirrored self-portrait at the Ghost Town Ruin where I stayed the first three days in historic Terlingua Ghost Town. My hosts, Sue and her husband, retired photographers, worked hard nine winters to rebuild the ruin from the miners back in the 40's. It is rustic, and very special at the same time.
I remember I had my first 3-hour hike in the Chisos Mountains that day. It felt relaxing to wander little bit with my camera after returning from the Big Bend National Park.
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About the project:
I wish to look at myself in all reflected streets and places I will be passing by. These self-portraits are inspired by Vivian Maier's self-portraiture: www.vivianmaier.com
I made this two years ago for some digital retard class.
I loved it, minus the text and little girl I threw it in.
So, here it is.
Without any of the dumb stuff.
In Kanarraville, Utah, this old service station has been kept up as a model of what used to be. I wonder how many tourists actually stop and try to buy gas here.
My dad ran service stations for much of his life. I remember helping him pump gas when gas was about 25 cents per gallon in Shoshoni, Wyoming (early 1950s). I've washed a lot of windshields and checked a lot of oil and tire pressures working for him. My dad retired from that work around 1982. That was a little bit before credit cards took over and you could buy gas even when the station was closed. My dad would roll over in his grave if he knew how things have changed.
Someday, maybe I'll post some photos of him in his service station.
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Dès l'aurore
Ma rivière se revet d'or
Devient métaphore
Reflet de ma rivière sauvage …!!!
Un safari photo impressioniste au quotidien concentré essentiellement (ou presque) sur un petit morceau de planète de 55 000 pieds carrés ...!!!
Une démarche "waldennienne" à la Thoreau …!!!
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Metaphor
At the dawn
My wild river is clothed in gold
Becomes metaphor
My wild river reflection …!!!
An impressionnist photo safari concentrated mainly on a daily basis (or almost) on my small piece of planet of 55 000 square feet …!!!
A Thoreau "waldennienne" approach …!!!
We've shot right past the peak daylight of late June here in northern Ohio. Came and went as it always does, unnoticed; simply lost in the blur as days slip into weeks. I'm having to reverse course now on my evening activities...doing the same things, but doing them earlier before darkness sets in. I've been riding my bicycle lately out to the township line. Great stress reliever, great exercise, and more often than not, great life moments. I just love the solitude of the rural roads and expanses of farmland. For me there's always been a high level of spiritual energy surrounding crop fields. It's similar to that Zen feeling I feel in my own tiny vegetable garden. But it's at the steroid level adjacent to multi-hundred acre cornfields. So I'm already predisposed to a metaphysical thought process just being here. But some evenings the sky erupts into insane color and texture as the sun sets. Happened several days in a row last week. No two alike, and extremely dynamic in nature. The color expands and collapses within minutes or even seconds. It ripples across the clouds, and presents hues so vivid and saturated that it seems surreal. I've come to realize the feelings I associate with these moments have less to do with the actual colors, but the sense of awe that overwhelms me as I experience them. I'm not merely witnessing the color, I'm being enveloped in it as the last light is squeezed out of the day.
Figure of speech that implies comparison between two unlike entities, as distinguished from simile, an explicit comparison signaled by the words “like” or “as.”
The distinction is not simple. The metaphor makes a qualitative leap from a reasonable, perhaps prosaic comparison, to an identification or fusion of two objects, to make one new entity partaking of the characteristics of both. Many critics regard the making of metaphors as a system of thought antedating or bypassing logic.