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Discurso de Bienvenida del Gobernador General Johnston a Embajadores en Canadá / Governor General's Speech to new Ambassadors in Canada
For higher value properties, important documents or for agents who want to make the best presentation Pocket Folders are a valuable aid in presenting and building YOUR brand.
Capacity Pocket Folder, for holding extra volume. This is achieved with a double score and oversized board.
email: info@designhaus.eu | www.designhaus.eu
Final presentation for CAS Type Design / Zurich University of the Arts, June 5 2010. Mucho paper. That anatomical diagram there took me about 3 hours, in the middle of the night no less.
motorchase.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/02/Fiat-Toro-1-770...
The presentation of the new Fiat Toro will finally happen today. The second “mid-compact” pick-up of the Brazilian market will have a major event to mark the start of its sales and promises not to leave the Renault Duster Oroch have any sort of peace in the segment it has...
motorchase.com/en/2016/02/fiat-will-present-today-the-new...
HE Mr Mankeur Ndiaye (left), the Permanent Representative of the Republic of Senegal, presents his credentials to the Executive Secretary of the Preparatory Commission for the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty Organization, on 9 December 2014.
Here at the New Media Consortium (NMC) Directors meeting in Austin, I was doing a reprise of the 5 Minutes of Fame session at EDUCAUSE ELI Conference. This was supposedly highlighting the NMC Horizon Report section on "Phones in Their Pocket" -- the report suggesting cell phone technology is on a 2-3 year horizon for becoming more broadly used in education.
Less a report than being a bit goofy, I arrange for my presentation to be interrupted by a cell phone call (has thay ever happened to anyone else?) - where I am trying to handle a crashed server situation with someone at the other end-- who turns out to have the name "Mom".
The transcript and a link to some of the background flickr photo slide shows are available in the back blog.
Thanks to Barbara Truman for sharing the photo... I usually try to position myself behind the camera rather in front, so thanks again!
Presentation Ultraman Saga Movie 2012
Taigo
Asuka
Musashi
AKB48
Seven
Ultraman
Ultraman Zero
Cosmos
Dyna
and...Ultraman Saga
see you video in:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=QZsvwNBzLLc&feature=player_em...
arigato:
ameblo
Roo Mitcheson and Chris Naunton making the presentation to Patricia Spencer (in front of Alan Lloyd). Photo: Robert Brown
David Forbes Scottish President
Angela Gillis Strath cairns Hospice
John Currie past Scotiish President
HE Mr Gonzalo de Salazar Serantes, Permanent Representative of the Republic of Kingdom of Spain, presents his credentials to the Executive Secretary of the Preparatory Commission for the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty Organization, on 7 July 2014.
SAIFD AIR Program "Form & Structure" with Kenneth Snauwaert, AIFD.
October 23rd, 2011
(Photo Credit: Sandra Austoni)
SAIFD AIR Program "Form & Structure" with Kenneth Snauwaert, AIFD.
October 23rd, 2011
(Photo Credit: Sandra Austoni)
HE Mr Armin Ernesto Andereya Latorre, Permanent Representative of the Republic of Chile, presents his credentials to the Executive Secretary of the Preparatory Commission for the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty Organization, on 4 July 2014.
HE Mr Jaime Alberto Cabal Sanclemente, the Permanent Representative of the Republic of Colombia, presents his credentials to the Executive Secretary of the Preparatory Commission for the Comprehensive Nuclear-Test-Ban Treaty Organization, on 6 May 2014.
Disclaimer: This is not an image created by myself. I found it on the Internet. The inspiration for the story, however, is mine.
Clara’s Morning Routine – A Ritual of Power and Poise
The morning light filters through her curtains, casting soft golden hues across Clara’s bedroom. She stretches, feeling the smooth sheets against her skin, and exhales slowly. Today is important—her presentation on Mark Rothko. She wants to command attention, to be seen, to exude confidence and elegance.
She steps into the bathroom, turns on the shower, and watches the steam rise. As the warm water cascades down her body, she closes her eyes, savoring the sensation. She reaches for her favorite scented body wash, a delicate mix of vanilla and amber, and lathers it across her skin in slow, deliberate motions.
Her hands glide down her legs, feeling the fine stubble. That won’t do. She retrieves her razor, carefully smoothing shaving cream over her legs and underarms. With each stroke, she relishes the silky perfection beneath her fingertips. Smooth skin against fine nylon—she imagines the sensation and smiles.
After rinsing, she applies a rich body lotion, massaging it into her skin. She enjoys how the moisture locks in, making her body feel supple and ready for the restrictive elegance of her attire. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and tilts her head slightly, admiring her own curves, the softness soon to be encased in formality.
Hair – Sculpting Perfection
Her hair must be perfect—sleek, controlled, severe. She towel-dries it gently before applying a lightweight serum for shine. She runs her brush through the damp strands, smoothing them meticulously, making sure every strand obeys.
She sections her hair, working with a round brush and a blow dryer, pulling each piece straight and taut until it gleams under the bathroom light. She gathers her locks at the nape of her neck, twists them with precision, and pins them into a sleek, polished bun. The result is a sculpted, no-nonsense style that elongates her neck and enhances her bone structure. It makes her feel powerful—like a woman who commands a room with a single glance.
Makeup & Nails – The Art of Seduction and Control
Her foundation glides on like silk, evening out her complexion. She sets it with a light veil of powder, ensuring a flawless, matte finish. She takes her time contouring her cheekbones, emphasizing the angles that add to her intensity.
Her eyes—sharp, catlike. She lines them carefully with deep black liquid liner, dragging the brush outward into a perfect wing. With each stroke of mascara, her lashes lengthen, framing her gaze with dark intensity.
But the final stroke of power—her lips. She uncaps the red lipstick, watching the vibrant pigment catch the light. As she applies it, she feels the transformation. Red lips—bold, unshakable, seductive. She presses them together, locking in her confidence.
Finally, her nails. She shakes the bottle of bright red varnish and begins painting, each stroke precise, each finger transformed into a statement of control. As the glossy crimson polish dries, she flexes her fingers, admiring how they contrast with the monochrome precision of her suit.
Dressing – The Alluring Restriction of Power
She steps into her lingerie—black satin, luxurious, embracing her like a secret indulgence beneath the authority of her attire. The lace trim of her bra whispers against her skin as she adjusts the straps, ensuring a perfect fit. Her matching panties slide up, hugging her hips in a way that makes her feel both feminine and formidable.
Next, the stockings. She rolls them gently, feeling the delicate nylon between her fingers. She places her foot inside and slowly glides the sheer fabric up her leg, smoothing as she goes. The sensation is intoxicating—the contrast of silk against freshly shaved skin, the shine catching the light just so. She fastens them securely, loving the way they elongate and accentuate every movement.
Her crisp white button-up shirt follows, the fabric structured, cool against her skin. The collar sits stiffly, framing her neck with poise. She tucks it meticulously into her high-waisted pencil skirt, which she zips up slowly, feeling the firm embrace of the fabric contouring her curves. The tightness is deliberate—it forces her posture into perfection, making every step precise and deliberate.
The blazer completes it. She slides her arms into the tailored sleeves, pulls the lapels into place, and fastens the single button. The fitted silhouette, the sharp lines—it’s intoxicating. This outfit is her armor, her weapon, her masterpiece.
Finally, the last touch—her black patent leather stilettos. As she steps into them, she feels the shift. Taller. Poised. Each movement now accentuated by the click of her heels against the floor. She loves the way they make her legs look—long, elegant, powerful.
Final Thoughts – The Woman in the Mirror
She stands before the mirror, her gaze unwavering. She doesn’t just look good—she looks unstoppable. The polished hair, the red lips, the immaculate tailoring. She is precision, she is allure, she is control.
She runs her hands down her skirt, feeling the fabric stretch taut over her hips. Her fingers linger on the button of her blazer, pressing it slightly, ensuring it remains fastened, keeping her silhouette perfect.
A slow smile spreads across her lips. She feels the restraint of her outfit—not as a limitation, but as a source of power. The tightness of the skirt, the crispness of the shirt, the height of the heels—it all makes her feel composed, in control, untouchable. And underneath it all, the silky indulgence of her lingerie, a secret rebellion only she knows about.
She picks up her notes for the presentation, straightens her shoulders, and heads out the door. Today, she is not just presenting on Rothko. She is a masterpiece herself.
Clara’s Presentation – A Masterpiece in Motion
The classroom hums with low conversation as students settle into their seats, shuffling papers, adjusting their postures. The overhead lights cast a crisp glow, reflecting subtly off Clara’s polished black pumps as she steps forward. Each click of her heels on the smooth floor sends a ripple through the room, commanding attention before she even speaks.
She places her notes on the podium with a controlled, deliberate movement, her red nails a striking contrast against the stark white paper. Lifting her chin, she scans the room—taking them in before allowing them to take her in. The stiff collar of her pristine white shirt sits high against her neck, buttoned to the very top, its crispness a constant presence against her skin. The fabric is taut, structured, smoothing over her torso beneath her fitted black blazer.
She begins.
“Mark Rothko was not just a painter. He was an architect of emotion.”
Her voice is smooth, measured, poised—like the lines of her blazer hugging her frame. She gestures subtly, the crisp sleeve of her jacket shifting slightly, the single button pulling just enough to remind her of the firm embrace of her clothing. She enjoys the way the tightness of her pencil skirt limits her movements, forcing her to be deliberate in every step, every shift of her weight. And always, the high, restrictive collar presses gently against her throat, a perfect emblem of control.
“His color fields are not mere shapes on canvas. They are vast, endless spaces—windows into the human condition.”
She turns to the projected image behind her: No. 61 (Rust and Blue). The deep, layered hues seem to breathe on the screen, pulsating softly like the rhythm of her own controlled breaths. Her lips part slightly, and she feels the presence of her red lipstick—sensuous, bold, mirroring the intensity of Rothko’s work.
“These colors don’t sit still. They envelop, they seduce, they consume. Rothko believed art should not simply be seen but experienced—felt deep within you, as if the canvas were pulling you inside.”
She walks toward the screen, her stockings whispering against her skirt as she moves. The sheen of her nylon-covered legs catches the light, and she imagines herself as one of Rothko’s paintings—layered, complex, powerful in stillness yet captivating in motion.
Stopping at the center of the room, she turns slightly, the structured blazer shaping her every movement with precision. She enjoys the restriction, the way it keeps her posture impeccable. Her heels keep her spine straight, elongating her form like one of Rothko’s towering compositions. Her crisp white shirt, perfectly tucked, remains unyielding against her body, a reminder of her own self-discipline. She lifts her chin ever so slightly, her tightly fastened collar holding her in place like the frame of a masterpiece.
She gestures again, her manicured fingers tracing the air.
“Rothko’s paintings are not decorative. They are demanding. He once said, ‘Silence is so accurate.’ Look too quickly, and you see only color. But pause—let the silence settle over you—and the color reveals something else.”
Her voice lowers slightly, drawing them in. She can feel the tension in the room shift, the way their eyes follow her, the way they hang on her words. She is both the speaker and the art. The formality of her attire—the high, tightly buttoned collar, the sharp shoulders, the impossibly fitted skirt—makes her feel even more like a work of deliberate construction.
“He wanted us to stand before his work and feel small. To be swallowed. To lose ourselves.”
She steps closer to the front row, her heels precise, her presence magnetic. The taut fabric of her skirt resists as she moves, and she relishes the sensation—it heightens her awareness, keeps her utterly composed. The stiff collar at her throat reinforces her control, a constant presence as she tilts her head in thought. Her lips curve into the faintest smile.
“And yet, in that vastness, we find ourselves. Rothko does not give us a subject. He gives us a space—an emotional abyss in which we confront something raw and unknown.”
She lets the words linger. Silence. Control.
A slow breath in, a measured pause.
“That is why his paintings are timeless. Because they are not just seen. They are worn, embodied, felt—like a second skin, molding to us, shaping us, revealing what lies beneath.”
She lets the final words settle, watching as her audience absorbs them. She stands tall, encased in her dark, elegant armor, her red lips a vivid contrast against the crisp whiteness of her shirt—like a Rothko painting brought to life. The high, unyielding collar still presses firmly against her neck, a physical reminder of the control she wields, the poise she maintains.
And then, a single nod. A knowing smile.
“Thank you.”
The room exhales, the applause rising. Clara does not move immediately. She savors the moment, the feeling of complete control, the way her clothes hold her firmly, keeping her poised and composed. She has not just delivered a presentation. She has performed an artwork.
With the final, deliberate click of her heels, she turns and walks back to her seat, feeling utterly powerful, utterly seen.
Scottish, Edinburgh, dated 1835-6 by John McKay. Presented to John Campbell MP. Royal Armouries, Leeds, West Yorkshire, UK.