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There is something regal about Stanford's campus. Every time I visit, I feel like a country bumpkin who managed to sneak into the palace by hiding in the hay cart. I keep waiting for the palace guards to decent upon me and throw me in the dungeon. Well, until that day comes, I am happy to roam around and take pictures of this beautiful campus.
I'm trying to make a better cow picture than my dad, who created a real cult one that stood the test of time. But for him it was a job, for me it's a stupid side project I do with no real stakes. I'll never top the old man.
"Make a picture that is funny and sad at the same time. A photograph that simultaneously evokes pathos, irony and humour." - Jeff Mermelstein spn 46
Actaeon in Greek mythology, son of the priestly herdsman Aristaeus and Autonoe in Boeotia, was a famous Theban hero. Like Achilles in a later generation, he was trained by the centaur Chiron.
He fell to the fatal wrath of Artemis, but the surviving details of his transgression vary: "the only certainty is in what Aktaion suffered, his pathos, and what Artemis did: the hunter became the hunted; he was transformed into a stag, and his raging hounds, struck with a 'wolf's frenzy' (Lyssa), tore him apart as they would a stag." This is the iconic motif by which Actaeon is recognized, both in ancient art and in Renaissance and post-Renaissance depictions.
Among others, John Heath has observed, "The unalterable kernel of the tale was a hunter's transformation into a deer and his death in the jaws of his hunting dogs. But authors were free to suggest different motives for his death." In the version that was offered by the Hellenistic poet Callimachus, which has become the standard setting, Artemis was bathing in the woods when the hunter Actaeon stumbled across her, thus seeing her naked. He stopped and stared, amazed at her ravishing beauty. Once seen, Artemis got revenge on Actaeon: she forbade him speech — if he tried to speak, he would be changed into a stag — for the unlucky profanation of her virginity's mystery. Upon hearing the call of his hunting party, he cried out to them and immediately transformed. At this he fled deep into the woods, and doing so he came upon a pond and, seeing his reflection, groaned. His own hounds then turned upon him and pursued him, not recognizing him. In an endeavour to save himself, he raised his eyes (and would have raised his arms, had he had them) toward Mount Olympus. The gods did not heed his plea, and he was torn to pieces. An element of the earlier myth made Actaeon the familiar hunting companion of Artemis, no stranger. In an embroidered extension of the myth, the hounds were so upset with their master's death, that Chiron made a statue so lifelike that the hounds thought it was Actaeon.
There are various other versions of his transgression: The Hesiodic Catalogue of Women and pseudo-Apollodoran Bibliotheke state that his offense was that he was a rival of Zeus for Semele, his mother's sister, whereas in Euripides' Bacchae he has boasted that he is a better hunter than Artemis:
ὁρᾷς τὸν Ἀκτέωνος ἄθλιον μόρον,
ὃν ὠμόσιτοι σκύλακες ἃς ἐθρέψατο
διεσπάσαντο, κρείσσον' ἐν κυναγίαις
Ἀρτέμιδος εἶναι κομπάσαντ', ἐν ὀργάσιν.
Look at Actaeon's wretched fate
who by the man-eating hounds he had raised,
was torn apart, better at hunting
than Artemis he had boasted to be, in the meadows.
In François Clouet's Bath of Diana (1558-59) Actaeon's passing on horseback at left and mauling as a stag at right is incidental to the three female nudes.
Further materials, including fragments that belong with the Hesiodic Catalogue of Women and at least four Attic tragedies, including a Toxotides of Aeschylus, have been lost. Diodorus Siculus (4.81.4), in a variant of Actaeon's hubris that has been largely ignored, has it that Actaeon wanted to marry Artemis. Other authors say the hounds were Artemis' own; some lost elaborations of the myth seem to have given them all names and narrated their wanderings after his loss.
According to the Latin version of the story told by the Roman Ovid having accidentally seen Diana (Artemis) on Mount Cithaeron while she was bathing, he was changed by her into a stag, and pursued and killed by his fifty hounds. This version also appears in Callimachus' Fifth Hymn, as a mythical parallel to the blinding of Tiresias after he sees Athena bathing. The literary testimony of Actaeon's myth is largely lost, but Lamar Ronald Lacy, deconstructing the myth elements in what survives and supplementing it by iconographic evidence in late vase-painting, made a plausible reconstruction of an ancient Actaeon myth that Greek poets may have inherited and subjected to expansion and dismemberment. His reconstruction opposes a too-pat consensus that has an archaic Actaeon aspiring to Semele, a classical Actaeon boasting of his hunting prowess and a Hellenistic Actaeon glimpsing Artemis' bath. Lacy identifies the site of Actaeon's transgression as a spring sacred to Artemis at Plataea where Actaeon was a hero archegetes ("hero-founder"). The righteous hunter, the companion of Artemis, seeing her bathing naked in the spring, was moved to try to make himself her consort, as Diodorus Siculus noted, and was punished, in part for transgressing the hunter's "ritually enforced deference to Artemis" (Lacy 1990:42). (Wikipedia).
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See also the album: www.albelli.nl/onlinefotoboek-bekijken/3af1427e-1eae-4620...
Pathos, emotional involvement, passionate participation, is part of the religious existence. The utterances of the psalmist are charged with emotion, are outpourings of emotion. Reading the prophets we are stirred by their passion and enlivened imagination. Their primary aim is to move the soul, to engage the attention by bold and striking images, and therefore it is to the imagination and the passions that the prophets speak, rather than aiming at the cooled approbation of the mind.
-Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Prophets, The Philosophy of Pathos, pg. 38
That's the amazing thing about any of the arts . . . you can "see" the naked soul of the artist/performer. I think any of the arts are "visual" as the humour and pathos is always revealed in some way.
This was the entrance to the gardens and villa, right on the lake. The place was built for Carlotta who, sadly, lived here only 5 years and died very young. The decor was delicate and feminine, but to me there was a certain pathos about the place given how it had been inhabited for so few years; it could have been a magnificent family home for generations, given how much love and work went into creating it......
The gardens were a pleasure despite there being little in bloom as it was early March. Winter sun, low in the sky, brightened everything up creating strong shadows at midday.
Now it is thousands of visitors who have the pleasure of seeing the artistry of this spacious villa on a magical lake. The little cherub welcomes everyone equally with his cheerful splashing fountain that sparkles in the light. Indeed lovely!
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I used to live in San Francisco many years ago, but I never really took advantage of it. I mainly spent my time working and planning my next prank on a particularly patient flat mate*, so I never got out to see the many unique sights around the city. I happened to live a block from Grace Cathedral so it was only because I walked by it each day on my way to work that I even noticed it. This was my little sanctuary away from the craziness of city life and I would spend hours there looking up at the impossibly high ceiling, stained glass windows, medieval architecture and intricately carved labyrinths. That may not sound too exciting but it beats driving around the city for hours in search of a parking spot.
* The poor flat mate was a nice software engineer from Hawaii. He would bring home these little cupcakes and put them in the fridge and late at night I would get hungry and slice the tops off of all of them and enjoy them with some milk. The next day he would find the leftover stumps ... hehe.
Véxoo non demasiado lonxe, véxoo demasiado preto, véxoo dende onte e véxoo demasiado cedo.
Paraíso extinguido, xardín das delicias esquecidas, exército do que non queda ninguén vivo, muros derribados por un puñado de vidas.
Deixa que arda ata os alicerces, que non queden nin as lembranzas, que non vexa de novo este espellismo, que todo antes ou despois remata.
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I see it not to far away, I see it too close, I see it since yesterday and I see it too soon.
Extinguished paradise, garden of forgotten delights, army in which nobody remains alive, crumbled walls for a fistful of lives.
Let it burn to the ground, may not even memories remain, may I not see this mirage again, since everything ends sooner or later.
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Lo veo no demasiado lejos, lo veo demasiado cerca, lo veo desde ayer y lo veo demasiado pronto.
Paraíso extinguido, jardín de las delicias olvidadas, ejército del que no queda nadie vivo, muros derribados por un puñado de vidas.
Deja que arda hasta los cimientos, que no queden ni los recuerdos, que no vea de nuevo este espejismo, que todo antes o después acaba.
From humour (yesterday) to pathos. I can't preach about this because I'm not 100% "pure" - from time to time I fall off the wagon, usually when I get invited somewhere. Although if offered a veggie burger alternative to cow parts, I will opt for the veggie burger.
Photographed near Simpson, Saskatchewan. Don't use this image on websites, blogs, or other media without explicit permission © 2016 James R. Page - all rights reserved.
"Make a picture that is funny and sad at the same time. A photograph that simultaneously evokes pathos, irony and humour." - Jeff Mermelstein
Si tratta di un'opera composta da sette figure a grandezza naturale in terracotta con tracce di policromia. L'anno di realizzazione dell'opera e l'identità di chi la commissionò sono avvolti nel mistero, così come l'esatta disposizione delle statue. Le ipotesi di datazione più accreditate oscillano tra il1463 e il 1490. Al centro sta il Cristo morto, disteso con la testa reclinata su un cuscino. Attorno si dispongono le altre figure, tra le quali spiccano le due Marie, Maria di Cleofa e ai piedi del Cristo, Maria Maddalena, straziate dal dolore con le vesti gonfiate dal vento. Più composte sono le altre figure, anche se i loro volti mostrano una dolorosa partecipazione. Si riconoscono poi la Madonna, con le mani giunte, Maria di Giuseppe (madre di Giacomo il Maggiore e Giovanni l'Evangelista) seguiva Gesù come discepola, che stringe le cosce in un gesto di rammarico, mentre san Giovanni è rappresentato in un silenzioso pianto, con un palmo che regge il mento. Staccata dagli altri è una figura inginocchiata in abiti rinascimentali, generalmente collocata a sinistra, che rappresenta Giuseppe D'Arimatea e che guarda verso l'osservatore. It is a work composed of seven life-size figures in terracotta with traces of polychrome. The year of realization of the work and the identity who commissioned it are wrapped in mystery, as well as the exact arrangement of the statues. The most credible dating hypotheses oscillate between 1463 and 1490. At the center is the dead Christ, lying with his head reclining on a pillow. Around the other figures are arranged, among which stand out the two Marie, Mary of Cleophas and at the feet of Christ, Mary Magdalene, torn by grief with clothes swelled by the wind. The other figures are more composed, even if their faces show a painful participation. Then we recognize the Madonna, with folded hands, Mary of Joseph (mother of James the Greater and John the Evangelist) followed Jesus as a disciple, who tightens her thighs in a gesture of regret, while Saint John is represented in a silent cry , with a palm that supports the chin. Detached from the others is a figure kneeling in renaissance clothes, generally placed on the left, which represents Giuseppe D'Arimatea looks towards the observer. www.wikipedia
Pothos
Pentelic marble inv. 1914 no. 261
This statue has been identified as a work described for the first time by the Bolognese scholar Ulisse Aldrovandi (1522-1605) who admired it in the garden of Cardinal Rodolfo Pio da Carpi on the Quirinal Hill in the 16th century. On the cardinal's death it was purchased by the young Ferdinando de Medici, probably in 1584. As with the second "Pothos" in the Uffizi, this one too was initially identified as depicting "Apollo with a Swan" before it was recognised in the early zoth century as a Roman copy of Pothos, the god of yearning and desire, after an original by Skopas of Paros, who worked in the 4th century BCE.
Uffizi Visiting Strategy: Book tickets early, use these top visiting tips, follow a 2-hour highlights route, and don’t miss the key sculptures.
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The North Carolina Museum of Art has a large display of sculptures of French artist Auguste Rodin (1840-1917). This is my favorite. When I was there, the late afternoon sun coming in made every photo almost impossible. Neither the color nor the black and white convey the full impact of this masterful depiction of anguish. I never realized how much emotion can be conveyed in bronze. This viewing experience has enhanced appreciation of sculpture in general and of Rodin in specific.
Edward III, King of England, claimed authority over France at that time. In 1346 he began an 11-month siege of the port city of Calais in an early battle in the Hundred Years’ War. Unable to take the city by attack, Edward decided to starve the city into submission. His plan succeeded. He would spare the lives of the citizens of Calais if six of its prominent leaders would come to his encampment; they would be barefoot and without headwear, nooses around their neck, and hand over the keys to the city and beg for mercy. Six burghers ultimately volunteered in this act of selfless heroism. They expected to be executed but were saved through the intervention of England’s pregnant queen, Philippa of Hainault. She feared the killing of the burghers would be a bad omen for the birth of her child. Pierre de Wissant is one of those six burghers.
To honor this act of self-sacrifice, the city of Calais commissioned Rodin in 1885 to execute a monument. His finished work was The Burghers of Calais (Les Bourgeois de Calais). Rodin used the head of Pierre de Wissant alone in a larger-than life sculpture. The modeling of the head was done in 1884-1885 and enlarged in 1909. The figure in the North Carolina Museum of Art was cast in 1980 by the Musée Rodin.
The bust shows Pierre de Wissant with parted lips, eyes nearly shut, head leaning slightly to the side, and an elongated neck—all features contributing to the pathos of the situation of self-denial and sacrifice. His features reveal the emaciation resulting from the effort to starve out the city. His decision shows in the facial agony to sacrifice his life for his fellow citizens. Rodin remarkably creates a human being in flesh and blood using only bronze.
See also www.flickr.com/photos/universalpops/5714783308/ and www.flickr.com/photos/universalpops/5714221433/
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License
un filo di collegamento che parte:
- Dall’articolo sulla nascita del tempo e dell’ordine dell’universo (secondo autorevoli teorie troppo preciso per non avere una ragione), articolo che ho letto a Giacomo l’altra sera da “Internazionale", capendoci razionalmente molto molto poco entrambi…
ai 13 minuti di Ezio Bosso andati in onda ieri al festivàl di San Remo (che non ho visto se non qualche minuto fa sui rai.tv dopo aver letto, nuovamente commosso, il Buongiorno di Gramellini sulla Stampa di questa mattina)
- Dai pensieri della mia ultima ora di corsa in cui, passando accanto alla barca “Aquila Marina" ho ricordato, (non so il motivo ma sicuramente con tenerezza), quando nel 2007, in piena crisi esistenziale dopo la nascita di Giacomino, decisi di ritagliarmi un pomeriggio a settimana libero dagli impegni lavorativi, credendo di aver così placato qualcosa a cui, ieri come oggi, non riesco a dare un nome e che non è solo "tempo libero”, concetto inesistente sgretolato alla prima telefonata che fu, o alla prima preoccupazione emersa in un orario da me precostituito come di “pausa”...
al fascino con cui subisco le favole (perché così tali le recepisco) sulle stelle, il cielo e i moti a me incomprensibili.
- Dal sorriso di una persona anziana, nelle cui pieghe percepisco qualcosa che mi commuove e che forse mi svela solo concetto del “tempo"
al fatto che già a 36 anni non possa guardare le foto di 4 anni fa senza che mi parta un processo - benché lieve e lontano ma altrettanto chiaro - di commozione
- Dal pathos con cui vivo la nascosta scintilla impazzita che mi trasmette in presa diretta all’emozione e che percepisco avere con un approccio di carattere religioso, una religione senza esseri ma in cui, mai come oggi, riconosco evidente il segno o forse il bisogno.
alle canzoni di de gregori, cui non ho mai precisamente intercettato il senso razionale ma che mi toccano, eccome, al pari di Lucio, e di tante altre poesie e riflessioni.
- Dallo struggimento di tutti i miei viaggi mancati, le cose non fatte, le occasioni perse
allo struggimento di essere una persona non sempre all’altezza di quella che penso di essere, del non vivere sempre appieno, sprecare, diluire.
Un filo
un filo che descrive qualcosa di cui ho interesse prioritario, perché abbraccia, senza bisogno di spiegazione, semplicemente tutto ciò che mi fa battere il cuore, e mette in fila la mia anima, Sara, la libertà, la Famiglia, la fotografia (benché sopita), i viaggi, il passato, la riflessione, il tempo, la morte, le stelle, l’amore, un nuovo profumo,
un nuovo profumo... come quello che due domenica fa aprendo un frigorifero samsung dentro Euronics per vedere come fosse dentro - ero solo - , mi ha fatto piombare nel 2004, quando aprii per la prima volta il mio primo frigorifero della nostra prima casetta, ancora caldo perché spento. Come una finestra temporale, sono tornato indietro ed è scattato di nuovo quel principio che fa emergere… il pizzicore al naso.
Insomma va così… e avrei voluto essere più chiaro e ricominciare con qualcosa di più... ma no.
Forse cambiamo casa. Ma avremo tempo per parlarne.
Insomma, anche se non si è capito nulla… io ho necessità di questo.
E ora sono più felice di prima, per questo appuntamento che ho prima con me stesso, e poi qui. Perché ho interesse di ciò che, per dirla con le semplici parole dalle quali il mondo ha poi riconosciuto una poesia o il senso di tante cose... l’essenziale è invisibile agli occhi.
Ma come si possa avere interesse di qualcosa a cui non si riesce neanche a dare il nome, sfugge dal mio senso… e pertanto restituisce quel senso.
un filo di collegamento
un filo di collegamento che parte … e arriva, ad esempio oggi a Franci.
Anche se forse sembra chiara, garantisco che è lui…
perché la novità è che ho anche scattato nuovamente foto!!!! :) :) :)
Watch the music video here!
+++German below+++
My new music video for the german band Pathos Legal and their symphonized track “Oh, Du mein Wilder Geist" from their album “Du, mein wilder Geist”.
Get the album here: www.pathoslegal.com
The musicvideo was completely shot in raw on a 5D mark iii (thanks to Magic Lantern!). Post Production was done in After Effects, and the editing in Premiere Pro. Lenses used: Yonguo 35mm and Canon 50mm
Director: Denis Carbone
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Mein neues Musikvideo für die Frankfurter Band Pathos Legal und ihrem Song "Du, mein wilder Geist" in einer besonderen Orchesterfassung!
Regie und Umsetzung: Denis Carbone
Unterstützt diese großartige Band! Das Album, Single und die Orchesterfassung von "Du, mein wilder Geist" gibt es hier:
Großen Dank an die Mitwirkenden im Video:
Tobias Niggemann, Quynh-Anh Nguyen-Xuan, Gabi Schrepfermann, Mariam Städing, Lisa Marie Wichern und am Cello Lea-Christina Hengen.
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I recently visited China’s Yellow Mountains (Huangshan) in the southern Anhui province. This place was tough to get to. I took about ten different modes of transportation and hiked my soul out to get up there for a short weekend visit. The jagged mountains rise above the clouds and are connected by a series of pathways that often times simply hang from the side of a sheer wall. When the weather is right, you can watch a sea of clouds pour into the canyons from every direction. It is an amazing natural wonder.
Unfortunately, I was not there during the right season and I only got a chance to see one sunrise and one sunset which were both … meh. Nevertheless, the place has amazing views just about anywhere you look. I took this photo at the Lion Peak lookout as the sun was rising in the opposite direction. If you look closely, you can see a small rock in the center of the frame that resembles a monkey looking over the cliff. They call that lookout point, “Stone Monkey Gazing Over a Sea of Clouds”. Although, I can never be sure of the names for these places since every map I saw had different names for the same locations. Maybe I will call this place “Kick You in the Nuts Hard to Get To But Worth the Hike” lookout. Yeah, that seems appropriate.
I love narrow DOF photography - it's the main reason why I bought a DSLR in the first place. Now I've bought a D700 and Sigma 50mm to take things further!
Taken on the way home this evening having opened the package at work a few hours earlier.
:-D
Made Explore with my first D700 photo :-)
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This is another photograph from my very fruitful trip to the Longsheng rice terraces in China. I had many adventures here including: a stubborn donkey, a mad tofu scientist, the mischievous and lovable little kid that seemed to track me everywhere I went, a chance meeting with a wise old man and a clandestine bootleg rice-wine party with some of the local farmers. Ahh, the memories and adventures that came out of this simple little fog-covered town could fill up a room with warmth and happiness.
I sometimes think about going back, but I know that such experiences are not likely to present themselves again so I simply integrate them into the fabric of my being, and look forward with anticipation for the next fun adventure.