Metaphor and Analogy - **In Title or Description**
View allAll Photos Tagged metaphors
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**
~ The sky is often used as a metaphor
And I suppose that's because it's so big and expansive
When a long strand of cloud sits just above the horizon
Leaving a strip of clear blue beneath it
It becomes the panorama
It'll turn your head three hundred and sixty degrees,
And the same line follows you round if the land is sufficiently flat
Really, nothing can be compared to it
I am not an acrobat…
I cannot perform these tricks for you
Losing all my balance…
Falling from a wire meant for you ~
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© Copyright by Floriana Thor 2013-2015
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!
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.
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?
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∎ Created with Midjourney, further edited with Topaz Photo AI
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{...] Buried by their building lay the hideous bodies; it is said that Mother Earth, soaked in the blood of her children, became wet.
She then filled the still warm blood with life and transformed it into the shape of humans so that the memory of her descendants would not be completely lost.
But that brood also despised the heavenly ones, thirsted for brutal murder and was violent; after all, it was born of blood. [...]
Source: ovid-metamorphosen-giganten
∎ Ovid | 20 March 43 BC – AD 17/18
Seems like just a few weeks since I set out this Halloween decoration in my side yard. Not visible from the street, it was one of those things I did more for myself. I just liked the way it made me feel to encounter this eerie specter when I walked back by the edge of the forest. More than once it startled me as I had completely forgotten about it. Over time it had weathered to the point where it totally blended in with its surroundings. A very organic look that suits my mentality much more than the highly contrived decorations commonly associated with holidays.
If Halloween marks the onset of the dark phase of the year in the northern hemisphere, Groundhog Day certainly delineates the return of brightening. The actual groundhog 'prediction' is meaningless to me. It's really just a time marker; a waypoint on the journey of life. Day length is increasing noticeably. Springtime is roaring upon us just as rapidly as Halloween is receding. I suppose it's time to take down this celebration of darkness and begin to embrace the light. Then again I might just let it go for another week or two.
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.
“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
I've got several folders full of photos that have not yet made the flickr "cut". It's not that they're bad images or that they displease me. The problem is that at any given moment, they just don't seem to fit in. And for me, the concept of fitting in is a moving target. What fits today may not fit tomorrow. And when something finally does fit, it may be totally too late. Just like a witty comeback that does not occur until days after someone says something to you. For me it's often a seasonal issue involving, for example, winter photos that seem wholly out of place once spring arrives. I prefer my photostream reflects the current moment, at least visually in terms of time of year. It's one of many limitations I place upon publication of photos that fortunately has no impact on my creation of them.
This photo's moment finally arrived this morning. A sunset view of nascent winter wheat, barely three inches tall, but appearing to tower under a twilight sky. I love seeing the individuality of the thin stalks. They work together to provide a monolith of green when viewed from a distance. Yet up close, each one seems to express its own shape and character. As always, shooting scenes of vibrant color under diminished lighting appeals to my sense of understating the obvious aspect in favor of a lesser one. It's my way of fitting in.
Even as an adult, I'm still enchanted by the 'winter wonderland' effect of new fallen snow. There's just something about seeing the landscape transformed into shades of brilliant white with layers of snow concealing virtually every defect. One of the downsides of that transformation is the inevitable slog back to spring and summer. It's always a bumpy ridge, and the process is anything but linear. Warm and cold days are interspersed as the temperature vacillates. Rain mixes with snow, sleet and ice. The pristine wonderland is transformed into multiple shades of grime. Where the snow melts away, sickly hues of yellow grass are revealed along with rotting leaves leftover from autumn. On this particular day a thick fog developed amid a light but steady rain. I walked through scenes utterly devoid of both color and cheer. Still I was mesmerized by the fog. I love its immersive quality and the way it alters my view of the landscape. Even sound is altered...muted in the same way as color and visual definition. If one specific weather condition equates to human sadness, this would be it.
I made some wine this fall, and I'm at the point of deciding whether to oak the wines. The wood in wine barrels is cured over a fire, and this changes the wine chemistry somewhat, and imparts a subtle flavor to the wine. You can buy barrels made from French or American oak, and with light, medium and heavy "toast". I don't have enough wine for a barrel, but I'll probably put some medium toast American oak in my cabernet sauvignon and light toast French oak in my white wine made from the Brianna grape. This isn't at all how oak is toasted/cured for winemaking, but it's on my brain this week, so I couldn't escape the metaphor.
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.