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A Catawba rhododendron (Rhododendron catawbiense) hangs on, barely. This is part of a disjunct/relict community of typically montane plants, in the Hollow Rock area of New Hope Creek.
Pentax K-1, pixel-shift mode
Mirex tilt/shift adapter
Pentax-A 645 macro 120/4
Iridient Developer
I am in the tedious and exciting process of scanning and editing forgotten and found images from the 50s. It's quite moving to discover places that are no more, people that are most likely gone and parties nobody remembers. I have fallen in love with that wonderful shot and decided it deserved to be shared. It also seemed to illustrate a song I enjoy:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=1dmh1cZQuXk
When I’m traveling far from home
On the wide horizon
I can feel you’re still around
And the dream overtakes me
Then I know, you’ll stay in this moment
We’ll go where it’s flowing
You’ll be what you want to be
Right here, with me
When I’m out here on my own
And it all cuts through me
I see you’re safe alone
Ah, then it hits me
And I know, you’re here in this moment
Right where it’s flowing
You are what you want to be
Right here, with me
Stay in this moment
Go where it’s flowing
You are what you want to be
Right here, with me . . . with me . . . with me. . .
A lone leaf still hangs on a branch of a European Beech tree at the Morton Arboretum on January 2nd, 2021. Snow and freezing rain the previous evening made for a tough night in Chicagoland but a beautiful morning afterwards.
Requested for publication by Mark Batty Publisher
for "Everyman’s JOYCE" of "W. Terrence Gordon, Eri Hamaji & Jacob Albert”
“Picasso merely shrugged and declined the invitation to illustrate an edition of Ulysses, dismissing Joyce as an obscure writer that all the world can understand ... Can, not does.”
Through the power of illustration the Everyman’s Series illuminates complex bodies of work by some of the 20th century’s most vital thinkers. Picasso’s assessment of James Joyce as a writer that “all the world can understand” speaks to how a perspective that favors the visual can see through dense texts, allowing meaning to take shape. W. Terrence Gordon’s examination of the James Joyce canon and its impact on the world, both in terms of literature and culture at large, provides accessible and singular evaluations of why Joyce, no matter how impenetrable his books may seem on the surface, continues to attract readers today. In Everyman's Joyce, Gordon’s close readings and biographical insight gel with contemporary visual cues that usher Joyce into the 21st century.
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Etude du jour:
La bêtise et le cynisme sont-ils les derniers noms d'Entropie ?
En Birmanie ? En Chine ? En Tchétchénie ? A Guantanamo ? A Gaza & Cisjordanie ? . .
Study of the day:
Are silliness and cynicism the last names of Entropy ?
In Burma ? In China ? In Tchétchénie ? In Guantanamo ? In Gaza & West-Bank ?. .
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Camera: Zero 2000 Pinhole
Film: Kodak Ektar 100
Exposure Time: 2 minutes
Location: Japanese Garden, Washington Park Arboretum – Seattle, Washington
I sat down Sunday evening with the intention of writing about my struggle to transform my photography from the negative/scanned image into a print. Twice I got several paragraphs in only to find it long winded and wandering upon rereading it. Frustrated I decided to scrap them and instead let the thoughts flow free and open, and yes I admit it’s still rather long. The short version of the story is I lack confidence in my work when it’s in print form.
Over the past year or so my ability, knowledge and photography style has grown exponentially, more so than the previous four years combined. I feel at ease holding a camera, no longer struggling to comprehend its dials and settings, this has allowed me to slow down and concentrate my efforts in creating the image itself. Sure I still make mistakes…. ok a lot of mistakes, but I no longer see them as failures but rather learning experiences. This attitude has resulted in the best work I’ve ever produced. Nothing makes me happier than getting film back from the lab and realizing I nailed an exposure. One great image negates a roll filled with bad ones in my opinion.
I am still often surprised when viewing some of my better photographs that I actually made them and not someone else. I’ve never considered myself a talented or artistic person. I’m not musically inclined, or possess a natural ability to draw or paint. Heck my drawing skills have failed me more than one during a game of Pictionary. Film for me is a labor of love. Where I lack natural talent I strive to make up for it with patience and persistence.
I think about photography on a daily… almost hourly basis. I am obsessed with it, never in my life have I found something that has interested me so much as film photography. I yearn to hold a camera in my hands peaking at the world through its view finder, hearing the ca-chunk of it’s shutter, and the sound of it advancing the film. But still my photographic process is lacking, where I have grown confident in my ability to create an image with a camera, and satisfaction with my scanning skills, I still lack faith in my work when printed.
I’ve struggled with this for nearly a year now, my inability to make hard copies of my photography. A mental block of sorts that I have come to equate as being similar to what it must feel like to have writers block. It must seem silly to my family and friends who praise a given photograph and suggest I print and frame it, only to have me shrug them off and say I am not ready. What does it mean to be ready anyway? Its strange I can look at one of my photographs, like the one above, on a computer screen and marvel at it, beaming with self-pride. Yet I still can’t bring myself to make a print of it.
I think part of my issue is I have this feeling that to print and frame something is to makes it real. Viewing it on the computer screen is one thing, but on the wall? Now that is something completely different. Its more concrete set in stone if you will. Real things are more open for judgment and ridicule, which is where my lack of self-confidence comes in. I still don’t think on some level that any of my work is worthy of being printed and displayed. And it eats me up inside.
I’ve made a few prints in the past. Most of which have turned out darker than they appear on the computer screen. This is of course an issue everyone deals with as LCD screens display things more vividly than a printer can. There seems to be no easy fix to it, aside from fiddling in postproduction or obtaining various forms of expensive software, which calibrate your screen. Postproduction as a whole is not something I’d say I am overly interested in as it is, so the prospect of having to do more of it has deterred me from making prints.
Hopefully I can overcome these issues, and conquer the unknown. Two years ago I didn’t even know what medium format photography was, and now I shoot it almost exclusively so I have come along way already. I know the only true way to learn something is to dive right in and that’s my goal, right now I’m just waiting for that swift kick in the ass to get me started…
"Ambition is the path to success.
Persistence is the vehicle you arrive in."
Bill Bradley
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Cloudy afternon in Cala S'Aguia (Blanes, Costa Brava),
a difficult but challenging location.
Haida 3.0 + CPL + Black Card
Photographers are always looking for inspiration - it can be elusive - the last couple of weeks I have not felt much inspiration - but I know this feeling comes and goes and the only remedy is to keep shooting.
This image was captured at Little Austinmer about an hour south of Sydney - I have shot this location quite a few times but without much "luck". But persistence is key and so on this day I got "lucky" and we had beautiful light and water flow. It was a terrific shoot and I got a number of keepers and was able to experiment.
Processed in PS CC and captured on my Nikon D810.
Brendan is a amateur photographer based in Sydney Australia who loves exploring and shooting sea/andscapes/nightscapes in different areas sometimes with good mates other times by himself to improve his skills. I'm always after followers so don't be afraid to follow me on my photographic adventures.
A powerful cascade of whitewater thunders down a rocky cliffside in Yellowstone National Park. Sunlight glints off the rushing current as it churns past jagged rocks and fallen logs, framed by rich textures of stone and forest. Captured during a memorable vacation with my son, this moment represents both the awe-inspiring force of nature and the joy of shared exploration.
A scrawny, shade-grown neighborhood impatiens, nearly smothered by late October leaves, still puts out a flower, a bright spot amidst the brown.
Maitreya Mesh Body - LaraX
LOGO M.A.B.E.L.-6 Cybernetic Head
[LANEVO] Midnight robotic parts
A&Y Cyber Queen - Rebirth - White hair
Skin: Astra from Not Found
::WD:: Dress Emery (includes panties) - **New in the Lucky Chairs--other colors are half price** Rigged for Freya, Kupra, Legacy, and Maitreya maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Lyra/162/247/22
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Find them here: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Lyra/189/250/22
/Vae Victis\ - "Gregori" - Ghostly Lawn Flamingo
:LW: Bento Poses - Spring Queen, mirrored
Location: The Wastelands maps: secondlife.com/secondlife/North%20Yard/146/80/57
Windlight: Specter essence PBR
I spied the little fella yesterday as I was cleaning out a flower bed, noted his beauty, and since then at length have considered his lesson. This morning as I set out for another day of yard clean-up, I carried my camera down the stairs with me for I was remembering from yesterday this little creation.
He is trying to be a tree.
He was ordained to be a tree, and somehow in his “guts” he knows he is destined to be such a living thing. It is in his genes, his DNA. Even so, it has not been easy for him. Blog post continues writenow.wordpress.com/2017/05/19/trying-to-be-a-tree/
Taken at the north unit of Theodore Roosevelt National Park in North Dakota, USA. Taken on the buckhorn trail.
You can really just point your camera at random at Theodore Roosevelt and take an interesting picture. There's so much to see everywhere.
In 2023 I'm using as many of my half-frame cameras as I can. This was taken with the new Kodak Ektar 35H half frame camera. Stylistically it's based on the Kodak Instamatic cameras from the 1960s and 70s.
The film is Kentmere ISO 100 developed in Rodinal 1:50 for 15mins at 20 degrees.
Giant replica of Salvador Dali's 'Persistence of Time' sculpture in Piazza San Francesco, with the church of San Francesco d'Assisi in the background.
Matera, Italy
IMG_1256-2
==The Dean's Office. Greendale==
Day 12
As Blake's unique teaching style found its footing, the demographic for Greendale's Women's Studies course quickly shifted; as dozens of disgusted women dropped out, a whole slew of men signed up in their place to gawk at his exaggerated diagrams and revel in his misogynistic proverbs; something Chuck vehemently opposed.
"I just- I just don't understand how this was allowed to happen!" he was saying to the Dean, sliding into the plastic chair opposite him.
"Well, I can't stop it now," The Dean shrugged. "His class is the largest on campus. You'd be surprised by how many students want to listen to a 30 year old man ramble about women for an hour."
"But... he's not even a teacher," Chuck stammered.
"Well, these are his credentials," Pelton said, as he slid a piece of paper across the desk.
"This is just a list of women he's slept with. And a surprising amount of men. Huh. I mean he always said but- Good for him," he concluded, and without another word, he left the room.
For a moment, he simply lay against the wall, then he pulled his phone out, and called Drury's number, waiting for his response with bated breath.
"Hi!" the phone replied. "You've reached Drury Walker! Chances are, that, if you've called this number, you're looking for Gar! Or Gaige! Maybe Len? Basically, a lot of people hand out my phone number.... But, if you leave a message, I'll do my best to pass it along! Unless it's spam. Or Dekker. Bye Dekker."
Chuck ended the call and sighed. Six times he'd called Drury, and each time, he'd gone straight to voicemail.
He'd heard nothing from him since he'd overheard him snap at Ten two nights before, and that worried him. And as much as Chuck wanted to believe Drury had a plan, it was getting harder and harder to keep faith in him.
=The Women's Studies Classroom=
Meanwhile, as Blake sat in his classroom, scrolling through his emails, there was a knock at the door. He looked up, waved, and beckoned the three girls, Annie, Britta and Shirley, into the room.
"Ladies!" he cheered, as he leapt to his feet, shaking each of their hands in turn. "You know, I've had a dream just like this. Well, almost. None of you happen to have a cape or a set of wings in your lockers, right? Doesn't matter, doesn't matter... To what do I owe this pleasure?" he said, a seductive smile on his face.
"You need to resign," Annie stated.
"Come off it," Blake scoffed. "No one's getting hurt or nothing."
"Actually, they are," Britta elaborated "You've created a dozen horny, sexist lunatics, and following your so-called wisdom, they're harassing every woman they can get their hands on."
"Please," Blake smirked. "They're great kids, really: look, this one called their paper 'My Faeces on the Disadvantages of Women in the Workplace!' Hah, like damn! That's some kinky, King of Scat malarkey, ammiright?"
Britta paused, as she read the title herself. "That says thesis."
"Oops," Blake blushed, as he sat back down. "Ladies, please," he said condescendingly, his legs outstretched. "Think of it this way; Just as Jesus had his disciples, I too-"
"Oh, no, don't you dare use Jesus to justify your sexist little hustle you've got going on," Shirley interjected, a mad look in her eye. Blake stared back at her dumfounded, then swallowed.
"Yes ma'am," he replied softly. "Can I use Moses?"
"What do you think?" she responded.
...
"I think that's probably a trick question," Blake gulped.
"You'd be right," Chuck's voice advised him, as he posed in the doorway, arms folded.
"Chuck!" Blake smiled cheerily. "You'll tell them, right?"
Chuck raised a bemused eyebrow. "I will do no such thing," he replied. "Ladies," he nodded as the trio made their way past him, each shooting a dirty look back at Blake as they exited.
"That's no fun," Blake responded. "Whatever happened to bros before- That's no fun," he repeated, cautiously changing his trajectory.
"I see you've made yourself at home," Chuck noted, looking at the slew of unsightly posters, including one of Blake's short lived band, adorning the classroom walls.
"Cut me some slack, Chuck," Blake smirked cheekily. "It's my first day."
"Right, and how many days are you planning on staying here, exactly-?"
"As many as it takes! Hell yes!" Blake responded, as he pumped his fist in the air.
"That's not- It doesn't matter..." Chuck sighed. He'd all but given up trying to correct him. "Look, I just think you should reconsider this whole women's studies thing."
"And, I appreciate your concern, really," Blake retorted, his feet up on his desk, "I'm just taking my time, that's all."
"Yeah, and that's time that Carson could be spending burning Gotham to the ground," Chuck said sternly.
...
"You do know how melodramatic that sounds, right?" Blake wondered.
"Yeah, I wasn't too sure about it either," Chuck confessed.
"Listen, you said Killer wanted me on this Kuttler thing, and that's what precisely I'm doing. I'm multitasking! I'm breaking gender norms! Be proud of me."
"Well, Drury also proceeded to have a mental breakdown, so let's not take everything he says to heart, ok, buddy?" Chuck said hesitantly. " I mean, have you even talked to Kuttler yet?"
"I was, um, going to," Blake said unconvincingly, as he started fidgeting with his fingers.
Chuck folded his arms. "Really?"
"Yes. Duh. Obviously!"
...
"I'll go after class," he mumbled.
==The Faculty Lounge==
"Heeeeeeeey buddy!" Blake's boisterous voice called out.
Kuttler looked up from his laptop and groaned, as the Catman strolled into view. "Oh, Jesus Christ."
Blake sat down beside him, pulled a Tupperware container out of his briefcase and waved it in front of Kuttler's face. "Packed lunch!" he declared happily.
"Ah." Kuttler stared at him despondently, and opened his own lunch box beneath the table. Noticing this, Blake grabbed his plastic spoon, and stabbed at Kuttler's ribcage.
"C'mon, then. I showed you mine, you show me yours," he teased playfully.
'It's like high school all over again,' Kuttler thought, as he took in a deep breath, his fingers wrapped tightly around the box's metal lid. "No I-Don't you have friends?"
'Well, no, of course you wouldn't...' he thought to himself.
"Acquaintances? Young people? Youths? There must be someone you'd rather fraternise with," he reasoned.
"Whaaaa-?" Blake replied with appalling insincerity. "Naaaah! 'Sides, thought you and I could hang this afternoon. Get to know each other! Computers, eh?" he added joyfully, tousling his colleague's neatly combed hair.
Kuttler cleared his throat, and placed his lunchbox back on the table, defeated. "That's just... Perfect," he said softly, as he peeled his banana. Enamoured, Blake pointed at the yellow fruit, and burst out laughing.
Kuttler glared back at him, and placed the banana back down, going instead for his sandwich, as though daring Blake to make a mockery out of that.
Changing the subject, Blake let out a deep and clearly fake yawn. "You know," he began, "You and I are not so different."
"We're completely different," Kuttler said dryly.
"Yeah, alright, even I couldn't keep a straight face there, you're absolutely pathetic... But, still, it can't be all bad! Job in computing, that plays to your strengths, doesn't it?"
"Yes, funny how careers work out. It was this or running tech support for PornHub. I should've gone for PornHub..."
=The Women's Studies Classroom=
Day 13
"Sorry, you got bored?" Chuck cried out in utter disbelief, as he circled Blake's desk in despair.
"Well, yeah, he's, like, really boring," Blake said, biting his nails distractedly. "Like, he showed me this thing called a Circus Board, which you'd think would be fun, but it was just a bunch of straight lines and crap. No clowns, no tents, no elephants neither."
Chuck's eye twitched slightly. "I hope you're joking, but I know you aren't."
"He made porn boring, Chuck! Porn! You know that's my favourite!"
"Professor Blake, are we going to start the class soon?" a squeaky voice inquired.
"In a minute, Garrett," Blake replied, flapping his hand down to silence him.
Chuck turned around. Staring back at him, were around thirty students, all taking notes. "Were they always there?" he asked.
"Came in about... five minutes ago?" Blake estimated. "Seemed rude to stop you."
"Fine. Fine!" Chuck grabbed a nearby chair and sat down. "Let's see what all the fuss is about."
~-~
"Jeff, you have to stop Blake."
Jeff stuck his head out from behind his locker, and lowered his notepad. "You know, Annie, part of me will always admire your persistence in tracking me down, and part of me resents you just slightly for it."
"I'm serious, he's turned the class into a hedonistic nightmare," Annie explained.
"Pretty sure that's an oxymoron," Jeff smirked. "Look, I didn't sign up for Blake's class for one simple reason; I don't need his, or anyone else's guidance in order to get women."
"Fine," Annie rolled her eyes. "Maybe I'll ask Chuck."
Jeff's smile faded. "Chuck? He's Chuck to you now?"
~-~
As the lesson continued, Chuck's will to live was sapped, as he sank further and further into his chair.
Blake was mid monologue, gesturing to a whiteboard with manic enthusiasm. "And, so, as you can see; you have cute, then pretty, in the middle, you have "pretty cute." Makes sense. From pretty to hot, you've got yourself someone "pretty hot." From hot, you have then have sexy, but be careful. Though the subjects continue to become sexier, sometimes indefinitely, you still peak here. Always here," he said, gesturing at a graph with a laser pointer.
Mayo looked up from his notepad. "I don't get it. Now, you say indefinitely..."
"Yes," Blake nodded solemnly. "And that's just it, see, they can get hotter and hotter, but ultimately- like all good things you hit a point of diminishing returns on the sexiness. What we're aiming for, is the perfect balance of "cute" and "hot." Those in the industry know it as the Kardashian effect."
Sat in the front row, Troy's eyes widened. "There's an industry? Woah."
"Sorry, the Kardashian effect?" Mayo interjected.
"Sure. Butts are sexy," Blake said, pulling out a Venn diagram.
Troy nodded. "He's right, they are."
"And, it stands to reason bigger butts are even sexier."
"Damn straight," another voice concurred.
"But, how big can a butt get before it's an all consuming mass of plastic and flesh? Ask Kim Kardashian, because my god, she's made of beach balls. Sure, perhaps that's sexy to some, maybe those same people have an inflation fetish, but it's not cute."
Chuck rubbed his eyes to make sure he was seeing the board correctly. Regretfully, he was. "Tom, why is Drury's dead wife up there?" he asked weakly.
"She wasn't dead when I made the system, jeez!" Blake cringed, as he turned back to his class. "That's it for today, boys. Your homework; I want you to take this list of 15 celebrities, and categorise them under the following headings! Pretty Cute! Cute! Pretty! Pretty Hot! Hot! Sexy! And Beach Ball!"
Chuck trailed off as his gaze was drawn to a familiar moustachioed figure packing his bag up in the back row. "Otis?" he stammered, as if to say 'Not you too.'
"I was never here," Flannegan blushed, as Drury's fake moustache slid off his face.
'Sorry, Drury,' Chuck muttered. 'But it's time I make an executive decision.'
Hi everyone!
Vincent Van Gogh is my personal hero. I admire his courage and persistence to become the artist he envisioned himself to be. However troubled his life was, he kept on painting and drawing. In many ways his life relates to mine. The quote I picked for today is a good one. It reveals...
For the entire post go to www.danielnovotnyart.com/?p=1995.
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Outlining a Theory of General Creativity . .
. . on a 'Pataphysical projectory
Entropy ≥ Memory ● Creativity ²
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Study of the day:
On s'assoit sur une dune de sable. On ne voit rien. On n'entend rien. Et cependant quelque chose rayonne en silence (...) Ce qui embellit le désert c'est qu'il cache un puits quelque part.
One sits on a sand dune. One sees nothing. One hears nothing. And yet something shines in silence (...) What embellishes the desert is that it hides a well somewhere.
( Antoine de Saint Exupery - Le Petit Prince - 1943 )
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regarde bien petit
© Jacques Brel - 1968
regarde bien petit, regarde bien sur la plaine là-bas à hauteur des roseaux
entre ciel et moulins y'a un homme qui vient que je ne connais pas
regarde bien petit, regarde bien
est-ce un lointain voisin un voyageur perdu
un revenant de guerre un montreur de dentelles
est-ce un abbé porteur de ces fausses nouvelles qui aident à vieillir?
est-ce mon frère qui vient me dire qu'il est temps
d'un peu moins nous haïr ou n'est-ce que le vent
qui gonfle un peu le sable
et forme des mirages pour nous passer le temps
ce n'est pas un voisin son cheval est trop fier
pour être de ce coin pour revenir de guerre
ce n'est pas un abbé son cheval est trop pauvre pour être paroissien
ce n'est pas un marchand son cheval est trop clair
son habit est trop blanc et aucun voyageur
n'a plus passé le pont depuis la mort du père, ni ne sait nos prénoms
ce n'est pas mon frère son cheval aurait bu
non ce n'est pas mon frère il ne l'oserait plus
il n'est plus rien ici qui puisse le servir
non ce n'est pas mon frère, mon frère a pu mourir
cette ombre de midi aurait plus de tourment s'il s'agissait de lui
allons c'est bien le vent qui gonfle un peu le sable
pour nous passer le temps
regarde bien petit, regarde bien....
y'a un homme qui part que nous ne saurons pas...
il faut sécher tes larmes
y'a un homme qui part que nous ne saurons pas...
tu peux ranger les armes
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rectO-persO | E ≥ m.C² | co~errAnce | TiLt