View allAll Photos Tagged obsessions
| ♕ | Fifty Two Weeks ~ 07/52 |
Okay, so it's not really a secret but it's definitely an obsession. For the last 11 months Spadge has been working on an awesome 35mm camera project titled "24-12/3". Each month, with a budget of £10, she's been finding a 35mm film camera & running as much film through it as she can… read more on my blog.
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Strobist:
• 580ex camera right through a Westcott Apollo on 1/16th power/
• 430ex camera left through an umbrella on 1/32nd power
Portions of Wombo AI generated pics and stock photos collaged with overpainting and editing in various painting/photography apps.
"Una fotografia è insieme una pseudopresenza e l'indicazione di un'assenza."
"A photograph is both a pseudopresence and an indication of an absence."
Susan Sontag
Copyright © 2012 Katia Celestini. Tutti i diritti riservati.
Automn test drive for this 1970 Alpine A110 Group 4 waiting for Monte Carlo Historique.
Col du Corbier, Vallée d'Abondance, Haute-Savoie, France.
Morning View of Mount Rainier from the Dock Street Marina, located on the southwest of Tacoma's beautiful Commencement Bay, along the historic Thea Foss Waterway
Photo of light show during Santos City of Light festival spring 2012. For more info feel free to visit my page www.facebook.com/MunzerPhotography
Do not use or reproduce this image without my explicit permission. © All rights reserved.
Hey guys! I'm back from Disney!
It was sooo awesome!! =D
And while I was walking in one of the Disney Stores, I thought of doing this for my Obsessoin shot!
The Teleidoscope - (11/52) Obsession
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The Teleidoscope is a project that inspires 10 photographers to make 52 photos, one every week.
10 people, 10 different ideas for 52 themes, 52 weeks long.
Every week we will post our images on our site and our Flickr group.
You can join us!
Every saturday we will pick a winner whose photo will get a special extra place at our site!
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305/365
Wansink Photography © All Rights Reserved. 2011. Do not use, copy or edit any of my photographs without written permission.
After several hours in the field at Patuxent Research Refuge, I returned to the parked car to find two Brown-headed Cowbirds (Molothrus ater) fascinated with their images in my car's rearview mirror. Patuxent Research Refuge, Anne Arundel County, Maryland.
Simply titled for my obsession with Padley Gorge. This is from one of my favourite parts of the place.
RTM 144
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After 12 years of serious journal-keeping, I have accumulated a huge stack of paper, and quite a chronicle of obsessions. Below, a few excerpts.
Every once in a while a fantastic tiny little victory will come along for which I must be grateful. A tiny victory so small it requires magnification under a lens in order to be understood. This is it: he called tonight, and I didn't talk to him. — 1992
We went this weekend to Little River Canyon and hiked... I looked over the cliff into the white water splashing down below. Owen held both my hands behind my back (this was to brace me as I gazed down into the abyss). Later that night I dreamt of slipping over the edge, falling a merciless distance to the rocks below. — 1993
Every night I come in late and light the candles and play opera music loud in my second-story bedroom. Is that wrong? Now after he kept me up all night I will see him a week from tomorrow. I count down the days like an idiot. — 1994
A million things to remember a million things to whisper in your ear. The cowbell wind chimes next door. Ugh it's so very Jack Kerouac. Empty Old Milwaukee cans as ashtrays. I wanted to go back before the ugly statistic of AM radio wrecked the tranquility, back before the no-color sky brightened the room dismally. I wanted to go back to my wrists on the mattress looking straight up and not knowing what to do, not knowing how my face should behave, back to the sweet tender time when I kissed his face gently again and again telling him I'd take care of him. — 1995
My pain multiplied by his. It's like letting all your weight go as you walk into the sea. You don't realize how much you've invested until you get out of it and your clothes waterlogged weigh eight thousand pounds and you're trudging through sand. — 1996
The dresses in the department stores have already wilted. For two blissed-out weeks in March they danced across the racks in clouds of organza, tulle, silk. Shades from mother-of-pearl, all soft oyster and pink and butter yellow. A tickle of green. And now it's not even June and the tones have all deepened, slipped into stains. Heather has decayed to violet and pink has bled to red. All sober and practical. Whimsy won't get you far. — 1997
Am I being too idealistic? in a word, yes. So I have found the one to take all my crooked treasures. Yes, he cherishes them. So do you ever really know? Well, okay, but doesn't it seem like you should? After all, this is once in a lifetime. At the same time — I have a fear of intimacy. I have a terrible fear of waking up one day and having nothing to say to the person beside me. — 1998
It is hard finding time to write. It's not like before when I had little pockets of time all over in which I could pick up the pen, jot a thought, write a brilliant statement. Life is a shabby flurry of missed phone calls, grocery receipts, thank you notes, dust bunnies, dirty socks, wedding magazines, smiles, sighs, anticipation. — 1999
I was walking through the Farmer's Market alone again tonight (picking up onions, carrots, red peppers, cheese, apples...). I realized that I miss B. I miss being able to go out on our weird semi-romantic dates together or our weird tragic picnics. I miss the sheer physical presence of him. And the fact that while he was sullen, he was never quiet about it. I miss the easy senseless chatter that led nowhere, the meandering dialogue. — 2000
This is very much is very much the same thing that I have been thinking about in regards to leaving East Lake — that it is sucking away the bright seed in the middle of me that made room for whimsy and 'magic' and idiosynchrasies and wildness. And this is all pretty hard to talk about because I feel like it's all very much underwater, a submerged thing, a slippery fish with reflective scales that dazzle. — 2001
I drove up late after work by myself. Friday night is a good one for driving; the radio plays all manner of silly songs and the highways are uncluttered. The tin ashtrays in this Waffle House remind me of the ones they used to have in McDonalds, before smoking in McDonalds was outlawed. I'm glad there's no one here to see me smoking (this fresh pack of Marlboros is entirely ridiculous for a girl like me to be carrying. Girls with my haircut do not smoke, especially not Marlboro Reds). — 2002
Redemption at midnight with L. I arrived to the club alone late last night — came through the chill with my hands shoved in my pockets, looking like one of the boys with cargo pants and a white shirt with sleeves rolled up halfway. And R. was outside the club with T. and P. and some other boys — and there was L. too, wearing a dark brown suede jacket, smoking a Hemingway Short Story. — 2003
Oh the dreams I've been having lately! Last night's was deeply disturbing but also somehow encouraging. In the dream I died. I really died. I died and then I watched myself exit the body. I changed forms in an instant from this dying, struggling person to a fully living person who was now responsible for the custody of this body (I covered my own former body respectfully with a coverlet, but I could still see the graceful curve of my neck, my hair gently spread behind my head.) I had to make arrangements with the airlines to get the body back home so that I could give it a decent burial. — 2004
Tim left the room where we were talking to go join the crowds at the goingaway party, and he sent his dog Don in to take care of me. And Don and I hung out in the little bedroom and I sat next to him on the floor and petted him and cried and told him that he was a very good dog and that he was going to be okay. He just let me pet him and he beat his tail against the floor. — 2005
I'm so glad that U2 decided to use one of my fav photos on their cd cover by Hiroshi Sugimoto. I was able to go to his exhibition a couple of years back with one of my flickr friends when I was in san fran.
I'm really hoping that I'll get to see them live this year
© some[wh]air - Blogged
I think about us every second.
More than you imagine.
Sometimes it afraids me.
That my obsession will turn me to crazyness.
And you just don't care.