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Da könnte sich so mancher Mensch ein Beispiel nehmen...
Heading home tomorrow for a week! This idea morphed like no other. It's just went from one thing to another.
song.of.the.day
Fantasy colourisation of a blue morpho butterfly (morpho peleides), in the butterfly garden at the Assiniboine Park Zoo in Winnipeg, Manitoba. Shows better larger; press L.
RAW image, handheld with remote shutter release, auto focus, master pixel size 14.6.
Cropped slightly along the bottom & right side (now 14 MP); colour and light adjusted in Aperture 3.
Egretta rufescens
Reddish Egret, white morph
Rötelreiher, weiße Morphe
Rusthejre, hvid morf
New species No. 29
There were times when my September "Volcano Tour" morphed into a "Waterfall Tour". My visit to the Mt. Hood region in Oregon was one of those times. The nearby Columbia Gorge is rich with stunning waterfalls, some viewable just a short walk from the car. This one, however, took a little more effort to see, but the 5-mile hike was just as beautiful as the destination.
... but also picking in the sand like shorebirds do.
carrion crow
Aaskrähe (Nebelkrähen-Morphe)
[Corvus corone]
Buy this photo on Getty Images : Getty Images!
Some individuals in the North Atlantic, known as "bridled guillemots", have a white ring around the eye extending back as a white line. This is not a distinct subspecies, but a polymorphism that becomes more common the farther north the birds breed.
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Manche Trottellummen haben einen auffälligen weißen Augenring, der sich in einem schmalen Strich vom hinteren Augenrand bis hin zu den Ohrdeckeln fortsetzt. Sie werden als "Ringellummen" oder auch als "Brillenlummen" bezeichnet und stellen lediglich eine Farbvariante (Morphe), nicht aber eine eigene Art oder Unterart der normal gezeichneten Trottellumme dar.
Die Farbviante kommt in einem Süd-Nord-Gefälle von Null Prozent in Portugal bis 50 Prozent in den arktischen Populationen vor.
Submitted: 24/05/216
Accepted: 31/05/2016
Published:
- Bloomsbury Publishing Ltd (United Kingdom (Great Britain)) 12-Oct-2017
- Bloomsbury Publishing Ltd (United Kingdom (Great Britain)) 09-Apr-2018
Europe, Netherlands, ZuidHolland, Rotterdam, Centre, Lijnbaan, Forum 2 (slightly cut from all sides).
Back to Rotterdam after a little excursion into the past.
An office building (a former bank) that is being morphed into an apartment block looks like this. It's a part of the Forum 2 redevelopment plan. The versatility of reinforced concrete.
The appearance of another high-rise apartment building in the centre of Rotterdam is no coincidence. It’s part of the Rotterdam ‘high rise’ policy’ that was instigated at the end of the 80s as a way to create more living spaces in the city centre. It’s a way the city redresses the detrimental livability effects of the functionalistic urban plan that was at the base of the redevelopment of the city centre after the destructions of WW2 (a functionalistic urban plan favours shops and offices over living spaces - it seperates the functions a city has ).
The shape of things to come (1) is here and the shape of things to come (2) is here.
This is number 185 of the Urban Frontiers album.
The soundtrack: Einstrürzende Neubauten – Weil weil weil.
I held my dog Kief's queen-size blanket overhead for seven minutes in a fierce wind and heavy ground fog. The Pacific Occean, the Sky above and I, all morphed into the same misty element - as in the Universality of ALL Things - which is the mainstay of my philosophy.
A cloudy afternoon had morphed into a "meh" evening, so we settled down for dinner. Beth looked up from dinner and said "Go have a look at the mountain!" So I had a peek and promptly ran back in and grabbed my camera, The evening sun had poked through a hole on the western horizon and was lighting up the snow on the top of Mount Cheam and Lady Mountain. The light show lasted less than a minute and then started to fade. But for a glorious minute, the mountains were kissed with rosy light.
digital art 2011
This is an experiment I have wanted to do for quite a while.Started a few times but some how they always morphed into something else..........:)
LC10 development car, which morphed into the Austin Maestro.
www.aronline.co.uk/cars/austin/maestro/maestro-developmen...
Day 048/365
week 07:COLOURFUL
A quick shot of one of Sara's Makeup Pallets for this weeks colorful theme
Have a great week friends
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My original idea for this shot was to make a robot gang called "The Bad Motivators" but it somehow morphed into a pissed off and armed GNK droid.
I'm on a quest to pick up all the LEGO variatons of Gonk, and the one pictured here was my first grab.
Forget the Han Solo story, lets get a movie all about these silent (but deadly) power droids.
What do you say?
follow my instagram for more!
(@ghost_vu.sl)
i do custom editing (morphes) for SL only
i have a shop called SCENE on mp and inworld,
castles royalty fantasy medieval magic wizards warriors
Posted by Second Life Resident Torley Linden. Visit Morphe Inc.
This started as a bit of playtime using Affinity on the iPaddle when on holiday, then morphed into a Sunday Sliders mangle.
The source image was a three-icm multiple exposure in-camera using the camera’s Lighten blend option. It’s of a rusty corrugated tin fence with a slight jiggle and two bigger horizontal ICM movements. The Lighten blend gave a curious mix of blurred horizontal and textured still lines which persist to the final version. The symmetry was corrected using a Perspective filter.
The result was processed twice, once in colour and once in high-contrast black and white. This latter monochrome layer was then blended back over the colour layer using Luminosity blend mode. All the colour came through but used the high contrast tonality of the B&W layer.
It’s not enough, I cried. (Or, more precisely, an ‘ I wonder what happens if…’ moment occurred.)
The crisscross was made by duplicating the resulting look and then rotating it (and resizing it to fit over the original). The rotated layer was blended over the original using Multiply which increased the contrast. The rest was just balancing the tones and colours and adding a slight light vignette.
Thanks for looking. I hope you enjoy the image. Happy Sliders Sunday and 100x :)
One of the coolest looking morphs I've seen on a RTH. This was from my first trip up North. Went back this past weekend and got another nice one. Click for large rendition.
I like this drawing my son made. The bird is covered with lines and wiggles. I didn't know how to translate this drawing into a softie because I first thought I had to use a striped piece of fabric. The lines needed to be seen and appreciated, so embroidering made sense.
This bird is part of the Morphe II Soft Toy Exhibit in Australia, October 2006.
In the past I've used my sewing machine to free hand embroider some of our creations. Here are some examples: Monster Sighting, 2-Grin Robot, and Shark Purse.
Drawing on Bird
recycled fabrics
recycled polyfil
repurposed wire
original drawing by
five-year-old boy
Morphed picture. I can not take credit for the helmet and sword. I simply added my avatars eyes and did some editing.
2020-09-06, Day 2
A deep carpet of red- and golden-tinged dwarf birch and willows lines both sides of the milky blue, glacial waters of Dinwoody Creek as it flows under Ink Wells Bridge, Fitzpatrick Wilderness, Wind River Range, Wyoming.
After saying 'Dinwoody' enough times, I gradually morphed the word into 'Dim Woody', and my hiking partner and I then began to develop the tale of Old Dim Woody whose spirit still roams these parts. Without screens or responsibilities, and with enough time on our hands doing nothing but walking through beautiful country, the mind rapidly unspools into wanton ridiculousness. It seemed likely that Old Dim Woody was a tad fond of his sipping whiskey, and when his spirits were high and besotted, he was prone to bouts of poor decision making. Things only got worse when a neighbor's mare kicked him in the pate one night when the rye was particularly enchanting and he mistook her for a spittoon.
One September after this unfortunate event, an autumn snow-storm blew in when Old Dim Woody was camped at Ink Wells. Sometime during the night his pony became infected with a bit of madness and threatened to break its hobble. The hapless man tried to calm his hoofed companion but to no avail: Dim Woody was never too meticulous about maintenance, and the hobble leather was old and rotted. The pony broke free and headed over the bridge and upstream through the forest at an impressive speed for one with such stubby legs. In fact, its diminutive stature may have helped it avoid some of the boughs already pressed low by the accumulating snow as it heedlessly fled upward toward the headwaters. Pondering the situation for perhaps too-brief a time, Old Dim Woody slapped his battered hat onto his dented head, invigorated his mind with another dram of rye, pushed through the flap of his tent, and began to follow the already-filling tracks of his erstwhile steed.
The tracks wound ever higher and the temperature was cold. Not quite cold enough to tingle and freeze the nose hairs upon the inhale, but cold enough that his toes became numb once the snow that kept knocking into the tops of his boots eventually overwhelmed the capacity of his feet to produce heat. The pony's tracks were faint but continually bore upward, past timberline and toward the giant cirque of peaks that held the glacier that fed the creek. If he stopped for too long, he shivered, sometimes violently. It was difficult to move through the rocks once the snow hid the deep cracks between them. He discovered that the coefficient of static friction between his boots and the icy boulders was perilously low. Once, his foot became tightly wedged between two large, immovable stones and it took him several increasingly panicky minutes to extricate it. The sky was filled with snow and then a surprise clap of thunder sobered him up as waves of kettle-drum sound crashed amongst the ice-clad peaks. The lightning followed immediately and was so bright it lit up the atmosphere. It was like being deep underwater beneath a violent falls under the dazzling sun, bright snow bubbles everywhere and impossible to tell which way was up.
Nobody knows exactly what happened to Old Dim Woody on that fateful night. His empty tent was discovered by some trappers seeking late-season beaver a month or so later. There were fresh pony tracks over the bridge and horse dung inside the tent. The small cache of oats that Old Dim Woody kept in a can near the wood-stove had been raided. They say the moaning wind of the first winter storm is the sound of Dim Woody howling amongst the rocks, looking for tracks and pining for another dram.