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Noa Danay as Eponine in Les Miserables.
Performed at the Smithtown Center for Performing Arts in Smithtown, NY on July 3rd, 2010.
Olympus E-3 with 35-100mm/F2.0 lens.
Jean Valjean came from a poor peasant family of Brie. He had not learned to read in his childhood. When he reached man’s estate, he became a tree-pruner at Faverolles. His mother was named Jeanne Mathieu; his father was called Jean Valjean or Vlajean, probably a sobriquet, and a contraction of voilà Jean, “here’s Jean.”
Jean Valjean was of that thoughtful but not gloomy disposition which constitutes the peculiarity of affectionate natures. On the whole, however, there was something decidedly sluggish and insignificant about Jean Valjean in appearance, at least. He had lost his father and mother at a very early age. His mother had died of a milk fever, which had not been properly attended to. His father, a tree-pruner, like himself, had been killed by a fall from a tree. All that remained to Jean Valjean was a sister older than himself,—a widow with seven children, boys and girls. This sister had brought up Jean Valjean, and so long as she had a husband she lodged and fed her young brother.
The husband died. The eldest of the seven children was eight years old. The youngest, one.
Jean Valjean had just attained his twenty-fifth year. He took the father’s place, and, in his turn, supported the sister who had brought him up. This was done simply as a duty and even a little churlishly on the part of Jean Valjean. Thus his youth had been spent in rude and ill-paid toil. He had never known a “kind woman friend” in his native parts. He had not had the time to fall in love.
He returned at night weary, and ate his broth without uttering a word. His sister, mother Jeanne, often took the best part of his repast from his bowl while he was eating,—a bit of meat, a slice of bacon, the heart of the cabbage,—to give to one of her children. As he went on eating, with his head bent over the table and almost into his soup, his long hair falling about his bowl and concealing his eyes, he had the air of perceiving nothing and allowing it. There was at Faverolles, not far from the Valjean thatched cottage, on the other side of the lane, a farmer’s wife named Marie-Claude; the Valjean children, habitually famished, sometimes went to borrow from Marie-Claude a pint of milk, in their mother’s name, which they drank behind a hedge or in some alley corner, snatching the jug from each other so hastily that the little girls spilled it on their aprons and down their necks. If their mother had known of this marauding, she would have punished the delinquents severely. Jean Valjean gruffly and grumblingly paid Marie-Claude for the pint of milk behind their mother’s back, and the children were not punished.
In pruning season he earned eighteen sous a day; then he hired out as a hay-maker, as laborer, as neat-herd on a farm, as a drudge. He did whatever he could. His sister worked also but what could she do with seven little children? It was a sad group enveloped in misery, which was being gradually annihilated. A very hard winter came. Jean had no work. The family had no bread. No bread literally. Seven children! - Victor Hugo
This is a portraiture titled 'Miserable'. My focus within this image was to bring emphasis to the emotions of the child through strong facial expression and engaging eye contact. The natural surrounding allowed me to capture the character in unrefined position looking miserable and strongly dissatisfied reinforcing the honest nature of kids.
It was a bleak Sunday late afternoon in June 2011 with Blue Star Omnidekka 1128 HF58KCE seen in the exit of Winchester bus station.
This then, the site has had a bit of a brush up with the exit onto the Broadway now becoming the entrance and the depot building in the background now demolished, doubtless whilst the site will be sold eventually.
Rancagua
Parque Cataluña
29 de enero
2009
Aprovechen de leer y suscribir el "Manifiesto por un trato digno a los medios metálicos".
This 575 van and Minor 1000 are in a sad state, visible from the road at Reidston on SH1 just south of Oamaru in a paddock full of old cars...
He really had a hard time with the mosquitoes. I had sprayed him with repellent but I must have missed some spots because he counted 46 mosquito bites. Meanwhile, I got none. This is really why we didn't last longer than an hour in there.
in London itself.
the production was fantastic.
I did not live until today / how can I live when we are parted?
Currently, as I look out at the miserable autumn sky in Suffolk, last summer seems a long, long time ago.
Photos taken at the 4th of July parade in Merrillville, IN... there is a local production of the play Les Miserables in August that they were representing here...
Acid washed window effect-achieved with two flex glue, two colors of paint, and spray bottles of water