View allAll Photos Tagged provocation
JimmyPaul, Multicolor Care Bears Dress, 2023 (foreground)
AYA TAKANO, The Galaxy Inside, 2015 (background
The exhibition 'CUTE' at Kunsthal Rotterdam explores the global rise and evolution of the concept of "cuteness," from Japanese kawaii culture to modern internet memes and futuristic design. Created in collaboration with Somerset House in London, the exhibition demonstrates how cuteness can be a powerful tool for comfort, manipulation, or provocation. Visitors can experience interactive installations, such as a Hello Kitty disco and a game arcade with digital monsters, and immerse themselves in the multi-layered world of CUTE.
Kunsthal Rotterdam: CUTE exhibition from July 5 to November 23, 2025.
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July 2025. The Israeli Stock Market reached an all-time high of 3,156.35.
We are taking Palestine.
This image is not about provocation, but about truth.
In July 2025, the Israeli Stock Market reached an all-time high of 3,156.35 points, while the war against Palestine kept causing death and devastation.
This is not an invented figure: it comes from financial sources and economic news reports.
Israel profits, Palestine dies.
Artificial Intelligence
no nuke 落實民主 停建核四
Protestors are now sitting down for the night in the latest standoff at the Legislative Yuan. The latest reports from NTU News E Forum show that the police have newly erected large numbers of barricades at the intersection of Zhenjiang St. and Qingdao E. Rd., with police officers moving inside the barricades. Since these new barricades are being dug into the ground (which in itself is of dubious legality), this has ignited the anger of a number of protestors. Lee Ming-tsung (李明璁), an assistant professor at the Department of Sociology at National Taiwan University, arrived on the scene earlier to calm down heightened emotions: "If we respond to police provocation and charge in," he said, "we will do more harm than good to the anti-nuclear movement."
In the boat basin where we keep the pontoon boat we often see turtles basking just below the surface.
This is a map turtle just chillin' in the afternoon sun.
No ipod, I guess they aren't water proof.
Graptemys geographica
Seen up close, the fine light lines on the carapace of the Northern Map Turtle (Graptemys geographica) look like contour lines on a topographic map. But more likely, your view of this species will be brief and distant, since it is extremely wary and will dive at the slightest provocation.
Females are much larger than males and have powerful jaws that they use to crush molluscs with. The smaller males eat mostly aquatic insect larvae.
Female northern map turtles may take more than 10 years to reach maturity.
sources - Ontario Nature, Royal Ontario Museum
Call me Snake offers an optimistic provocation – ‘imagine what could be here’ by Judy Millar. On a walk into the city October 3, 2015 Christchurch New Zealand.
The work is comprised of vibrant graphics of Millar’s looped paintings, which are adhered to five intersecting flat planes, and draws inspiration from the forms found in pop-up books. The colourful piece will add a dramatic and rhythmic counterpoint to the city’s current urban landscape — a mix of flattened sites, construction zones and defiant buildings that have stood through the quakes. The work employs theatricality, playfulness and visual trickery, whereby the viewer is unsure about the work’s flatness or three-dimensionality; and it has been designed to offer a different perspective from each angle. The bright colours interrupt the grey of the work’s surrounds, and as buildings pop up around it,
SCAPE 8, New Intimacies curated by Rob Garrett was a contemporary art event which mixed new artworks with existing legacy pieces, an education programme, and a public programme of events. The SCAPE 8 artworks were located around central Christchurch and linked via a public art walkway. All aspects of SCAPE 8 were free-to-view.
The title for the 2015 Biennial – New Intimacies – came from the idea that visually striking and emotionally engaging public art works can create new connections between people and places. Under the main theme of New Intimacies there are three other themes that artists responded to: Sight-Lines, Inner Depths and Shared Strengths.
For more Info: www.scapepublicart.org.nz/scape-8-judy-millar
The European robin (Erithacus rubecula), known simply as the robin or robin redbreast in the British Isles, is a small insectivorous passerine bird, specifically a chat, that was formerly classified as a member of the thrush family (Turdidae) but is now considered to be an Old World flycatcher. About 12.5–14.0 cm (5.0–5.5 inches) in length, the male and female are similar in coloration, with an orange breast and face lined with grey, brown upperparts and a whitish belly. It is found across Europe, east to Western Siberia and south to North Africa; it is sedentary in most of its range except the far north.
The robin is diurnal, although has been reported to be active hunting insects on moonlit nights or near artificial light at night. Well known to British and Irish gardeners, it is relatively unafraid of people and drawn to human activities involving the digging of soil, in order to look out for earthworms and other food freshly turned up. Indeed, the robin is considered to be a gardener's friend and for various folklore reasons the robin would never be harmed. In continental Europe on the other hand, robins were hunted and killed as with most other small birds, and are more wary. Robins also approach large wild animals, such as wild boar and other animals which disturb the ground, to look for any food that might be brought to the surface. In autumn and winter, robins will supplement their usual diet of terrestrial invertebrates, such as spiders, worms and insects, with berries and fruit. They will also eat seed mixtures placed on bird-tables.
Male robins are noted for their highly aggressive territorial behavior. They will fiercely attack other males and competitors that stray into their territories and have been observed attacking other small birds without apparent provocation. Such attacks sometimes lead to fatalities, accounting for up to 10% of adult robin deaths in some areas.
Because of high mortality in the first year of life, a robin has an average life expectancy of 1.1 years; however, once past its first year it can expect to live longer and one robin has been recorded as reaching 19 years of age. A spell of very low temperatures in winter may also result in significant mortality.
For more information, please visit en.wikipedia.org/wiki/European_robin
I snuck down to the waters edge and snapped a few of this guy from my belly.
Normally, I can't get close to the turtles at the wetlands. They are very skittish and dive into the water at the slightest provocation. This little guy, about 4 inches long, seemed to not care at all that I laid down close to him.
You can always tell if I had a good day or bad day shooting, by how dirty I get. Today I was filthy.
Today if ye will hear His voice, harden not your heart as in the provocation, and as in the day of temptation in the wilderness: when your fathers tempted me, proved me, and saw my work. (Psalm 95; 7b,8,9) I often when called to sing, sing the first part of Psalm 95 as a praise song and ignore verses 7b-11. I frequently think of the verses in Psalms pertaining to the Israelites as history and don't always stop to think of how they apply today!
" First Steart Marsh Kingfisher :-)
He is extremely wary and is gone in a heart beat at the least provocation ... this was taken at approx 25 yards while hiding behind a fence :-)) "
The Robin is a year round resident in the UK, but a small minority of female Robins migrate to southern Europe during winter, a few as far as Spain. Both the male and female feature similar plumage, both with the distinctive red breast. The male bird is extremely territorial and will aggressively defend his territory, attacking any similar sized birds that try to muscle in on their patch.
The adult European robin is 12cm long and weighs between 15 to 22 g with a wingspan of 20–22 cm . The male and female bear similar plumage; an orange breast and face lined by a bluish grey on the sides of the neck and chest. The upperparts are brownish, or olive-tinged in British birds, and the belly whitish, while the legs and feet are brown. The bill and eyes are black. Juveniles are a spotted brown and white in colouration, with patches of orange gradually appearing. Male robins are noted for their highly aggressive territorial behaviour. They will fiercely attack other males and competitors that stray into their territories and have been observed attacking other small birds without apparent provocation. There are instances of robins attacking their own reflection. Territorial disputes sometimes lead to fatalities, accounting for up to 10% of adult robin deaths in some areas
Nature claims back what was once an engineering feat. A solitary figure consults charts, while in the obligatory High Viz clothing.
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One of many ongoing approaches, where I move through the world as a harvester of images stumbling, strolling, lurching, equal parts accidental, and intentional. My concerns circumnavigate around questions that resist easy answers: time as texture, presence as performance, possibility as glitch. I trace the contours of decay and growth, hope and entropy, searching for the quiet collisions where meaning might emerge. Each image is less a document than a provocation an invitation to reconsider what we 'see', and what we ignore; and why.
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Blog | Tumblr | Website | pixelfed.au | Instagram | Photography links | my Ko-fi shop | Off Ya Trolley! | s2z digital garden | vero | 180º @ 17:00 | Dpreview albums | reddit | red bubble | newgrain
🇬🇧 This photograph is the natural continuation of the previous one. This time, Michela is no longer just observing the artwork: she is pointing at it, almost playfully, with an expression that seems to say, “Can you believe this once caused a scandal?”
That was the thought behind my shot. Forty years ago, Robert Mapplethorpe’s work challenged conventions, provoked fierce debates, and forced society to confront themes that many preferred to keep hidden. His photographs were not merely images; they were cultural statements capable of dividing public opinion.
Today, standing in front of the same work, the atmosphere is entirely different. The surprise remains, but it is accompanied by curiosity, awareness, and even a touch of humor. The gesture, the glance, and the silent joke shared between photographer and subject become evidence of how profoundly customs and sensibilities have evolved.
What I find fascinating is that the artistic value of the image has not diminished with time. If anything, it has gained a new layer of meaning. The provocation is still there, but it now coexists with historical perspective. We are no longer shocked by the image itself; we are intrigued by remembering that it once had the power to shock.
And perhaps that is one of art’s greatest victories: surviving the controversy that surrounded it and continuing to inspire reflection long after the scandal has faded away.
📍 Ara Pacis Museum, Rome
📷 Robert Mapplethorpe Exhibition
🇮🇹 Questa fotografia è la naturale prosecuzione della precedente. Questa volta Michela non si limita a osservare l’opera: la indica con un gesto quasi scherzoso, accompagnato da un’espressione che sembra dire: “Davvero questa fotografia faceva scandalo?”
Era proprio questo il pensiero che volevo raccontare con lo scatto. Quarant’anni fa le opere di Robert Mapplethorpe mettevano in discussione convenzioni sociali e culturali, suscitavano polemiche accese e costringevano il pubblico a confrontarsi con temi che molti preferivano ignorare. Non erano semplici fotografie: erano dichiarazioni artistiche capaci di dividere l’opinione pubblica.
Oggi, davanti alla stessa immagine, il clima è completamente diverso. Lo stupore rimane, ma è accompagnato dalla curiosità, dalla consapevolezza e persino da un sorriso. Il gesto di Michela, il suo sguardo e la complicità ironica tra fotografo e soggetto raccontano meglio di tante parole quanto siano cambiati i costumi e la sensibilità collettiva.
Ciò che trovo interessante è che il valore artistico dell’opera non si è affatto attenuato. Anzi, il passare del tempo le ha aggiunto un nuovo significato. La provocazione è ancora presente, ma oggi convive con la prospettiva storica. Non siamo più colpiti soltanto dall’immagine; siamo colpiti dal ricordare quanto fosse rivoluzionaria nel momento in cui venne realizzata.
E forse questa è una delle più grandi vittorie dell’arte: sopravvivere alle polemiche che l’hanno accompagnata e continuare a far riflettere quando lo scandalo è ormai diventato storia.
📍 Museo dell’Ara Pacis, Roma
📷 Mostra di Robert Mapplethorpe, Le forme della bellezza
Created with GIMP
Today John made me a beautiful surprise with this shot: Rows For Rita - writing in his comment these very, very dangerous (!!!) words: "I can only image what you can do with these! (well, I really don't understand this comment! *lol*)
could I resist to this "provocation"??? of course I couldn't!
so, a "brand new kind" of .. mediterranean chairs! has born today: the "KozoChairs"!
thank you again for the lovely dedication and .. for the original shot to play with! ;-)))
please, visit his amazing stream! you will find beautiful things there :-))))
Rail infrastructure decorations, and weeds.
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One of many ongoing approaches, where I move through the world as a harvester of images stumbling, strolling, lurching, equal parts accidental, and intentional. My concerns circumnavigate around questions that resist easy answers: time as texture, presence as performance, possibility as glitch. I trace the contours of decay and growth, hope and entropy, searching for the quiet collisions where meaning might emerge. Each image is less a document than a provocation an invitation to reconsider what we 'see', and what we ignore.
_____________________________________
Blog | Tumblr | Website | pixelfed.au | Instagram | Photography links | my Ko-fi shop | Off Ya Trolley! | s2z digital garden | vero | Dpreview albums | my work archived on trove at the National Library of Australia. | reddit
www.youtube.com/watch?v=B3xgjrFY2K8
“Do not sleep under a roof. Carry no money or food. Go alone to places frightening to the common brand of men. Become a criminal of purpose. Be put in jail, and extricate yourself by your own wisdom.”
The cold war between Armitech Private Defense and the Hidden Demons continues, even if reason prevails with a peace agreement between both organizations, provocations do not cease from either side. Neo Tokyo District and Chinatown, opposing forces ready to clash, will this be a new war in Cocoon Station?
Shot taken at Cocoon, between Sectors Two and Three.
Looking for the Official Cocoon Group? Look no further: www.flickr.com/groups/cocoonrp/
Visit Cocoon Here: maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Esperia/237/170/4086
Cocoon: Come for the Neon, stay for the Intrigue
For one evening, time seemed to slow its pace.
Among soft lights, music, and measured gestures, the stage felt as though it belonged to another era. A suspended world of elegance, mystery, and subtle charm, where every movement told a story without the need for words.
Burlesque still carries that rare flavor of times gone by: not the pursuit of provocation, but the art of presence, anticipation, and glances that suggest more than they reveal.
Watching these figures illuminated by the night, I felt as though I were witnessing a fragment of the past resurfacing for a moment, like a memory kept hidden for years and suddenly brought back into the light.
A brief pause outside of time.
Per una sera il tempo ha rallentato il suo passo.
Tra luci soffuse, musica e gesti misurati, il palco sembrava appartenere a un'altra epoca. Un mondo sospeso, fatto di eleganza, mistero e fascino discreto, dove ogni movimento raccontava qualcosa senza bisogno di parole.
Il burlesque conserva ancora oggi quel sapore raro delle cose d'altri tempi: non la ricerca dello scandalo, ma l'arte della presenza, dell'attesa, dello sguardo che suggerisce più di quanto riveli.
Osservando queste figure illuminate dalla notte, ho avuto la sensazione di assistere a un frammento di passato riaffiorato per un istante, come un ricordo custodito troppo a lungo e improvvisamente tornato alla luce.
Una piccola parentesi fuori dal tempo.
The European robin (Erithacus rubecula), known simply as the robin or robin redbreast in the British Isles, is a small insectivorous passerine bird, specifically a chat, that was formerly classified as a member of the thrush family (Turdidae) but is now considered to be an Old World flycatcher. About 12.5–14.0 cm (5.0–5.5 inches) in length, the male and female are similar in coloration, with an orange breast and face lined with grey, brown upper parts and a whitish belly. It is found across Europe, east to Western Siberia and south to North Africa; it is sedentary in most of its range except the far north.
The robin is diurnal, although has been reported to be active hunting insects on moonlit nights or near artificial light at night. Well known to British and Irish gardeners, it is relatively unafraid of people and drawn to human activities involving the digging of soil, in order to look out for earthworms and other food freshly turned up. Indeed, the robin is considered to be a gardener's friend and for various folklore reasons the robin would never be harmed. In continental Europe on the other hand, robins were hunted and killed as with most other small birds, and are more wary. Robins also approach large wild animals, such as wild boar and other animals which disturb the ground, to look for any food that might be brought to the surface. In autumn and winter, robins will supplement their usual diet of terrestrial invertebrates, such as spiders, worms and insects, with berries and fruit. They will also eat seed mixtures placed on bird-tables.
Male robins are noted for their highly aggressive territorial behavior. They will fiercely attack other males and competitors that stray into their territories and have been observed attacking other small birds without apparent provocation. Such attacks sometimes lead to fatalities, accounting for up to 10% of adult robin deaths in some areas.
Because of high mortality in the first year of life, a robin has an average life expectancy of 1.1 years; however, once past its first year it can expect to live longer and one robin has been recorded as reaching 19 years of age. A spell of very low temperatures in winter may also result in significant mortality.
For more information, please visit en.wikipedia.org/wiki/European_robin
Nature and Wildlife photography
Tarantula hawk wasps are relatively docile and rarely sting without provocation. However, the sting—particularly that of P. grossa—is among the most painful of all insects, though the intense pain only lasts about five minutes.One researcher described the pain as "...immediate, excruciating, unrelenting pain that simply shuts down one's ability to do anything, except scream. Mental discipline simply does not work in these situations." In terms of scale, the wasp's sting is rated near the top of the Schmidt sting pain index, second only to that of the bullet ant, and is described by Schmidt as "blinding, fierce[, and] shockingly electric".
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
Four-month-old siblings anxiously hide in plain sight behind a tree while mom chases off a rival female that has wondered nearby. They have not tried to climb the tree, yet, but they have checked it out and glance upward every few seconds. At their mother’s earliest provocation, they will clamor quickly up the tree and to relative safety. They don’t take their eye off her, watching her every move and waiting for her to return to their side. She is their lifeline and the only thing, living or otherwise, that they trust. #BlackBears
Photography for me is savoring of the moment, pondering the now, and willing provocations. As I frame my subject and tell my story, I turn the truth into an object at the mercy of my audience's interpretations including my own.
I told this story in several ways when editing and in the end decided on this version which was the farthest away from what I had captured originally. Hence, I do not represent the world through my pictures as I find it; I represent the world as I wish you contemplate it. In the process, often I become a contemplating audience for my own work.
A textured construction wall in the docklands, if you stare long enough, patterns and shapes emerge.
Use your arrow keys on your keyboard to navigate to the next picture.
______________________________________
One of many ongoing approaches, where I move through the world as a harvester of images stumbling, strolling, lurching, equal parts accidental, and intentional. My concerns circumnavigate around questions that resist easy answers: time as texture, presence as performance, possibility as glitch. I trace the contours of decay and growth, hope and entropy, searching for the quiet collisions where meaning might emerge. Each image is less a document than a provocation an invitation to reconsider what we 'see', and what we ignore.
_____________________________________
Blog | Tumblr | Website | pixelfed.au | Instagram | Photography links | my Ko-fi shop | Off Ya Trolley! | s2z digital garden | vero | Dpreview albums | my work archived on trove at the National Library of Australia. | reddit
Magic light strafes across the urban landscape. This place was still in the throes of construction in the 1990s when I shot this.
Use your arrow keys on your keyboard to navigate to the next picture.
______________________________________
One of many ongoing approaches, where I move through the world as a harvester of images stumbling, strolling, lurching, equal parts accidental, and intentional. My concerns circumnavigate around questions that resist easy answers: time as texture, presence as performance, possibility as glitch. I trace the contours of decay and growth, hope and entropy, searching for the quiet collisions where meaning might emerge. Each image is less a document than a provocation an invitation to reconsider what we 'see', and what we ignore.
_____________________________________
Blog | Tumblr | Website | pixelfed.au | Instagram | Photography links | my Ko-fi shop | Off Ya Trolley! | s2z digital garden | vero | Dpreview albums | my work archived on trove at the National Library of Australia. | reddit
The Robin is a year round resident in the UK, but a small minority of female Robins migrate to southern Europe during winter, a few as far as Spain. Both the male and female feature similar plumage, both with the distinctive red breast. The male bird is extremely territorial and will aggressively defend his territory, attacking any similar sized birds that try to muscle in on their patch.
The adult European robin is 12cm long and weighs between 15 to 22 g with a wingspan of 20–22 cm . The male and female bear similar plumage; an orange breast and face lined by a bluish grey on the sides of the neck and chest. The upperparts are brownish, or olive-tinged in British birds, and the belly whitish, while the legs and feet are brown. The bill and eyes are black. Juveniles are a spotted brown and white in colouration, with patches of orange gradually appearing. Male robins are noted for their highly aggressive territorial behaviour. They will fiercely attack other males and competitors that stray into their territories and have been observed attacking other small birds without apparent provocation. There are instances of robins attacking their own reflection. Territorial disputes sometimes lead to fatalities, accounting for up to 10% of adult robin deaths in some areas
A bit of fun ......
Concentration and a sense of humour required.. ;o))
Enjoy ;o))
La provocation de l'art #10
See the full album "Les provocations de l'art" here:
No Vacancy... really?
This is not meant as a provocation first hand, more of an observation.
Europe is struggling to accept more refugees every day and is partially doing a good job at it.
But from the refugees standpoint, it's hard to understand a closed door when what they are running from is so much worse than the problems that arise for us by helping them.
We live in Sweden btw. And thanks for liking the MOC. :)
Previously in Chapter 6 The Two Societies
This piece gave me the title to this chapter and was what I listened to much of the time when writing. It perfectly sets the tone for these scenes and the events that take place in our story.
⚜️The voyage had been long, just as Tabitha Kinkade had predicted. And while not terribly eventful overall, there was one mystery that troubled them throughout their journey. Quite often they were watched by an ominous, dark figure. A man in a dark, hooded cloak. He always kept his distance, holding to the shadows. And while he never approached, he loomed over them the entire trip. At one point, Prince Jelani grew tired of the enigma and decided to confront the man. However, Tabitha advised caution, as situations such as these would usually reveal themselves in time. Tabitha had learned long ago in her training, that without provocation most things or people that lingered around her, would eventually proclaim their identity. And if provoked they might flee or be lost, which could result in a costly delay. Besides, he'd done nothing thus far that would warrant a confrontation. And so, they would allow circumstances to run their course.
⚜️Once safely landed at the port in Calcutta both Tabitha and Lexington needed a warm bath and some much-needed rest away from the constant bumping ride of the ship's cabins. One of their porters was from Algeria and spoke Tamazight, a native tongue of the Berber people. It was obvious that Lexington was delighted to talk to someone from his native lands, which made Tabitha smile watching her friend speak in a language she had not heard for so long.
⚜️When the two travelers finally arrived at their hotel, both Tabitha's and Lexington's multilingual skills came into play when dealing with her pets and the porter's fears. Tabitha had taken just two of her wolves on the journey, Rolf and Kiva, as they were natural mates. Neither offered any hostility toward the porters or anyone else for that matter without Tabitha's command. However, aside from their daily walks on board the ship, they'd spent a great deal of time in their cages and were quite restless. Fortunately, with some gentle persuading, they were able to calm the porters and settle into their rooms.
⚜️The next morning was Easter. It was Sunday and their contact from the Cathedral of the Most Holy Rosary had sent a carriage to pick them up for services.
"We're to attend the Christian services, my lady?" Lexington inquired as he held his hand to help her into the carriage.
Tabitha grinned politely before answering him with a lofty and nonchalant demeanor, as was her custom when jesting with her friend,
"But of course, Dear Lexington. It's Easter! You didn't believe we were going to escape services today of all days, did you?"
At which point, she patted the seat next to her in the carriage.
"Now, come along."
Lexington's grumbling, as the rickety carriage made its way along the bustling streets of Calcutta, nearly made her laugh aloud as they rode toward the church. Not having the heart to tease him farther, she looked over at the handsome Berber while placing her gloved hands around his arm.
"Dear Lex, I've gone too far this time."
At which time she did laugh.
"The look on your face.... oh, dear Lexington, I adore you so!"
Lexington began to smile a little himself watching Tabitha giggle then asked. "What has brought this on my lady?"
Tabitha finally composed herself and assured him that she didn't expect him to attend the Easter services at the church as it was not his faith. While Catholic herself, she nor her parents had ever forced Lexington into their religious beliefs. They believed the workings of the soul were God's work.
Lexington breathed a sigh of relief at the news but in the end decided to attend anyway, out of respect for Tabitha and for their host.
⚜️Father Thomas Haskell was a lean man in his sixties. His bald head looked slick and shiny in the bright sun and his white hair gleamed. When he shook Tabitha's hand, she felt how rough and callused they were, and his skin was leathery tan. It was obvious Father Haskell spent much of his time in the gardens around the church. He wore the traditional robes of a parish priest and as with most Catholic holy men of that day, he appeared humble and somewhat trite. After introductions were made, he did not hesitate to reveal to the duo that he not only believed in the evil beings that scoured the earth but were unfeigned in his support of the Shadowhunters.
"You and your kind my dear are destined to rid the world of these heinous creatures. I am at your disposal of course."
As the bells of the church rang and the church doors began to open the priest looked at the church and then smiled when he turned back toward his guest.
"It is a delight to have you both visit us this morning and if you'll forgive me Lady Kindake I must attend to my flock. Services are about to begin, and I am expected inside. I've reserved seats for you both, won't you follow me."
Tabitha nodded and smiled as did Lexington
"Of course, Father Haskell," she responded.
And with that, they both followed the priest toward the grand doors that opened to the church's foyer.
As they approached, both Tabitha and Lexington noticed a striking man standing near a fountain. His hair was dark as a raven's wing and his equally dark beard was neatly trimmed. He wore a very smart-looking cutaway coat and silk vest that gave away his social status and as the man began to walk in their direction Tabitha could see that he was of average height and appeared to be in his peak years. She also noted how mysterious and mesmerizing his eyes were, and it was at that moment a commotion could be heard at the entrance to the church which caught all their attention.
Father Haskell began to walk faster and broke into a run with Tabitha and Lexington close behind him. When they reached the onlookers, the priest was determined, but not overly aggressive as he made his way through the congregation that had gathered there. Once through the crowd, Tabitha was surprised to see that the mysterious man she'd noticed outside was already just inside the large doorway. Lexington reached to touch her arm quietly, his way of letting her know he'd noticed as well. Turning quickly to rejoin the priest, they were greeted with the most morbid sight. At the top of the staircase, hanging from her neck, and high into the massive, vaulted ceiling was a young woman. Her face, though discolored and contorted was still beautiful as her lifeless body swung several feet above the top of the staircase.
Wanting desperately to help, Lexington started to climb the staircase but quickly came back to his senses realizing the poor woman's body was well out of reach. Looking over at Father Haskell, Tabitha watched as he moved his hand over his chest making the sign of the cross. His eyes were filled with dread and tears as he gazed up at the woman's corpse. She thought he might be in shock as she walked over to him.
"Father! Father Haskell!"
Shaking his head, he looked at Tabitha and then back at the woman's corpse.
"Dear God, whatever shall we do?!"
Tabitha motioned for Lex to join her and as he approached, she responded.
"This is your church Father and your congregation. They're depending on you. I'd suggest you postpone services this morning or at least move them to another location as quickly as possible."
Father Haskell nodded, still bewildered when he gazed back up at the woman's body hanging there, but when he looked back at them both again, he appeared to be himself.
"Quite right Lady Kinkade. We can set up chairs and move services to the garden."
Lexington looked back up at the girl's body and then back to Tabitha.
"My lady, the local authorities will be here soon. I'd suggest, well, if Father Haskell would allow us to represent the church in this matter, we could begin an investigation."
Tabitha looked at the girl again then back at Father Haskell.
"Father, do you know this woman?"
He nodded as he answered.
"Yes, she came to me about a week ago, she told me she was having nightmares, very vivid nightmares that were very real to her."
Tabitha and Lex looked at each other then back at the priest.
"She said she'd been sleepwalking as well. I.. well, I just can't think. I must get this situation under control!"
Tabitha nodded, reaching to hold the priest’s hands. "That's quite alright Father. From what you've told us this young woman may hold clues to the mystery that's brought us to Calcutta and you. Will you allow us to represent the church and aid you?"
Father Haskell nodded as he knew the Kinkade name very well and Tabitha's father had been a friend. He also trusted Cardinal Antonio implicitly.
"Yes, yes of course. Cardinal Antonio has sent you to us after all. And as I said before, if there's anything you need, anything at all. Please let me know. For now, however, I have much to do and must leave you."
⚜️Her name was Malini Gadhavi. She had been a mother and wife and her father and mother owned a bakery in town. She helped her parents with the business as did her children. Her husband, Harshad worked on the docks. They had all been notified of her death. Malini's body was taken to a crypt beneath the church where so many people in the community had been taken for decades. Out of respect, Tabitha and Lex had not examined the body yet. When the family arrived, they both bowed their heads, watching as they were escorted to the undercroft. Neither Tabitha nor Lexington were looking forward to questioning them.
⚜️The afternoon wore on and with their interrogations near completion, they'd learned very little. That was until the woman's mother told them about one of Malini's dreams. Sitting with them in Father Haskell's office the poor woman stared blankly at a candle's flame as Tabitha held her trembling hands, listening. She said that on one occasion her daughter had been able to remember one of her dreams completely. Melini had said it was so clear in her mind, and unlike most dreams, it felt as though it had happened. In this nightmare, she had emerged from a cave not far from her home. She also told her mother there was a man there with her in a cloak and a hood over his head. This dark, ominous being followed her to the mouth of the cave. Malini said the man never came close but watched her from the shadows. Her daughter told her that in the dream she roared like an animal and when she peered into the trees, she could feel the forest come alive with the heartbeats and movements of every living creature. And then she told her mother that even at that distance she could not only hear but smell the people in town. It was then her mother began to cry. Tabitha comforted her, giving a nod to Lexington and Father Haskell. The interrogations were now over.
⚜️It had been a long day. Nighttime was upon them, and they all needed rest. Standing there in the small tomb, the air was cool, and the smell of old dirt filled their nostrils as they began to examine Malini Gadhavi's body. Her fingernails and toenails showed no signs of dirt, blood, or flesh. Her body, as well as her hair, was clean as though it had just been washed. There were also no injuries, not even a scar, and when they turned her on her side to look at her back there was no tattoo, no brand of any kind. Holding a candle over the young woman's corpse, Lexington glanced over at Tabitha.
"This is peculiar my lady. She should have some sort of brand on her even if she wasn't a member with the pack we seek."
Tabitha nodded but didn't look up as she continued to scan the woman's body for any evidence and clues.
"Agreed Lex, this is odd. Melini's dream was not an uncommon one for a werewolf, other than the presence of the dark man of course. And yet, I do not see a brand anywhere on her. Or any physical evidence she was Lycan for that matter. We must be missing something."
Lexington pulled his candle away to poor some of the melted wax onto the dirt floor and as he did, Father Haskell brought his lantern closer to help Tabitha see. Then just as Lex brought the candle back Tabitha gasped and cried out.
"Wait! I saw something. When you brought your candle back Lex. It was yellow like, like... It was something on her skin!"
Lexington and the priest looked at each other then back at Tabitha as she continued.
"The lights... somehow. Father, bring your lantern back to where you had it, and Lex you take the candle away, and then bring it back just as you did before."
Both did as instructed but Tabitha only sighed with disappointment asking them both to try again. Shaking her head, she was both exhausted and frustrated when she pounded her fist on the stone slab. After which time she folded her arms to lay her head down for a moment. Lexington watched her and then offered some sound advice.
"My lady let us retire for the evening and come back in the morning with rested eyes."
Tabitha looked up at him but didn't raise when she answered.
"No Lex, not yet. I know I saw something. We must find it!
With her head still laying on her arms, she looked at them both.
"Now let's do this again. And Lexington when you bring the candle back, do it very slowly please."
Lexington nodded unenthusiastically, then began to move the candle away from the woman's body when Tabitha screamed out.
"Stop! Don't move! Do you see it?! It's there on her shoulder. You must not move, either of you. It's the lights!"
Both men looked at each other, each wondering if the trials of this day had finally gotten the best of the hunter, then listened as she explained.
"It's the lights! Look see, the glass of Father Haskell's lamp is red, and so the flame gives off a deep red hue, while the candle's light of course is much brighter. Obvious of course but, if you carefully peer into the candle's blue flame and with the help of the red glow from Father Haskell's lantern you can see it!"
Taking a candle in hand she invited Lexington to take her place.
"Now as I hold the candle look through the blue of its flame Lex. Can you see it?"
Lex nodded and gasped, then excitedly scrambled for his journal. As he did, Tabitha looked at the priest's bewildered face and offered further explanation.
"My guess is it's phosphorous under the skin Father. The lights set off some sort of chemical reaction allowing it to be seen. Once Lex has studied the tattoo and made a drawing, we'll hold the lantern and candle so you can observe for yourself."
Having to peer through the flame made the study of the tattoo quite difficult, however, Lexington was able to examine it thoroughly.
"How very interesting Ms. Tabitha. The ink leaves no protrusions on the skin, and it's entirely undetectable under normal light conditions."
Tabitha smiled as she listened and nodded.
"Is it our pack Lex?"
"Yes, my lady. She was a member of the pack we're tracking.
Tabitha nodded once more and raised an eyebrow as she spoke.
"I think it's obvious that Malini Gadhavi was not a willing participant. The poor woman. Such torment."
Gathering herself she redirected her attention toward Father Haskell.
"Father, do you know of any caves in the area?"
The priest nodded as he spoke, the radiant red hue of his lantern causing his face to look very macabre under the low ceiling of the underground chamber.
"Why yes of course. There are several smaller caves, but Mawsmai Cave is the largest in the area. It's not far but it will easily be a day’s journey there and back."
Tabitha and Lexington listened intently,
"Could you show us on a map Father?"
"Of course. If you'll follow me to my office, I can set you on the right path."
Gathering their things, they followed Father Haskell from the dank black corridor where Malini Gadhavi's broken body lay. As they wearily made their way up the stone stairwell Tabitha muttered to herself.
"We will avenge you and your children Melini. Whoever did this to you will pay. I promise you."
A soft beam of light showed across the young woman’s corpse from the top of the stairs. From deep in the vault their faint voices could be heard and then the door closed, and all was dark, and all as silent, forever.
🐺🐺🐺🐺
⭐This capture and this chapter of this story could not have been possible without the help of some truly wonderful people who I'm honored to know as friends
.
⭐First of all I'd like to thank my dear friend and mentor Morgan Talbot who not only opened up his beautiful sim to me to I could take this shot but provided the build itself and many of the characters. He also took the time to model for this shot. Morgan's advice and support are always so very special to me. But perhaps calling him my friend is the most remarkable treasure of all. Thank you babes.💓
⭐Next, I would like to thank my dear friend Harper Blackwood for her help and for enduring my rough drafts for this chapter. Thanks for being the lab rat this time babes. Not a rat but like...in a lab. She gets it. lol But mostely I'd like to thank Harper for her support, her encouragement, and her precious friendship. You're the best girl.💓
⭐Lastly and as the say, certainly not least, I want to thank my very dear friend and mentor Marcus Strong. His unwaivering support and encouragement is precious to me. He's has always there to help in any way he can, whether thats advice, modeling, or just to tell me I'm doing a good job. I can never repay this man for all he's done for me. I'm honored to call him my friend. Thank you babes.💓
Ballarat has a university campus. The University is called, Federation University.
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One of many ongoing approaches, where I move through the world as a harvester of images stumbling, strolling, lurching, equal parts accidental, and intentional. My concerns circumnavigate around questions that resist easy answers: time as texture, presence as performance, possibility as glitch. I trace the contours of decay and growth, hope and entropy, searching for the quiet collisions where meaning might emerge. Each image is less a document than a provocation an invitation to reconsider what we 'see', and what we ignore.
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Blog | Tumblr | Website | pixelfed.au | Instagram | Photography links | my Ko-fi shop | Off Ya Trolley! | s2z digital garden | vero | Dpreview albums | my work archived on trove at the National Library of Australia. | reddit
Pals, I have a question:
I have an old photo (about three years old) that for a few months accumulates more and more activity (not like any other photo of mine).
I assume it is 'somewhere' but have no idea where is this 'somewhere'.
Do any of you have any ideas?
Thanks
www.flickr.com/photos/ybiberman/47744012342/
p.s.
I must admit it is not a typical photo of mine, and I posted it as a kind of a provocation (it is very colorful)
A pale blue brick wall with two windows, a leaning ladder, and a scatter of pipes; a small, weathered arrangement that feels like a modern echo of Talbot’s early studies in light, surface, and ordinary structures. The graffiti, the dry grasses, and the patched‑on layers of paint all sit in quiet tension with the simplicity of the composition. It’s a corner that I hope seems unremarkable at first glance, yet holds the same slow, attentive stillness that defined those early experiments in looking.
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One of many ongoing approaches, where I move through the world as a harvester of images stumbling, strolling, lurching, equal parts accidental, and intentional. My concerns circumnavigate around questions that resist easy answers: time as texture, presence as performance, possibility as glitch. I trace the contours of decay and growth, hope and entropy, searching for the quiet collisions where meaning might emerge. Each image is less a document than a provocation an invitation to reconsider what we 'see', and what we ignore; and why.
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Blog | Tumblr | Website | pixelfed.au | Instagram | Photography links | my Ko-fi shop | Off Ya Trolley! | s2z digital garden | vero | 180º @ 17:00 | Dpreview albums | reddit | red bubble | newgrain
Gliwice Radio Station
The world's tallest wooden construction and the pretext for Hitler's German invasion of Poland
Gliwice (Gleiwitz) in Upper Silesia, Poland 18.10.2019
www.poland.travel/en/monuments/gliwice-radio-station
Sender Gleiwitz
Die höchste Holzkonstruktion der Welt und der Vorwand für den Überfall Hitlerdeutschlands auf Polen
Gliwice (Gleiwitz) in Oberschlesien, Polen 18.10.2019
www.spiegel.de/geschichte/besuch-im-sender-gleiwitz-a-949...
Despite the lockdowns I did manage at least one road trip.
This site outside Maldon of course piqued my interest for its rusting machinery, abandoned and being slowly engulfed by the surrounding bushland. It is also a reserve, with some basic amenities.
Alluvial gold was discovered in the Maldon district by Captain John Mechosk, a German prospector, in 1853, resulting in a rush of some 20,000 diggers to the alluvial gullies around Maldon. By the following year, only 2000 remained. After the initial rush, companies were set up to mine the rich, but sometimes elusive, quartz reefs. Some alluvial mining was carried out using puddling machines powered by horse or steam. In the 1860s the amount of quartz reef gold produced at Maldon almost rivalled Bendigo (Victoria’s richest quartz mining field). This prosperity was short lived (from 1870-1900), and the last deep mines closed in 1926. As gold production declined, the town’s population dwindled. For most of the last century, Maldon experienced very little growth.
The miners left behind one of the best collections of accessible quartz reef mining relics in Victoria. Many of the mine sites, historic buildings and heritage features have been preserved. source
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One of many ongoing approaches, where I move through the world as a harvester of images stumbling, strolling, lurching, equal parts accidental, and intentional. My concerns circumnavigate around questions that resist easy answers: time as texture, presence as performance, possibility as glitch. I trace the contours of decay and growth, hope and entropy, searching for the quiet collisions where meaning might emerge. Each image is less a document than a provocation an invitation to reconsider what we 'see', and what we ignore.
_____________________________________
Blog | Tumblr | Website | pixelfed.au | Instagram | Photography links | my Ko-fi shop | Off Ya Trolley! | s2z digital garden | vero | Dpreview albums | my work archived on trove at the National Library of Australia. | reddit
A Colombian cowboy on a horse (garrochero) stabs a bull in the neck while being chased in the arena of Corralejas, a rural bullfighting festival held in Soplaviento, Colombia. Every year during the dry season, villages and towns on the Caribbean coast of Colombia hold amateur bullfights, locally known as Corralejas. Families and people from all around meet on wooden bleachers of a temporarily built bullring to eat, drink and watch hundreds of amateur bullfighters risking their lives, taunting bulls, and showing their masculinity and courage in the arena. Unlike the corrida, the bulls in Corralejas are never killed. © Jan Sochor Photography
Fitzroy's lanes never cease to deliver, when I flaneur through them.
This is the cover image from my self published book, "What's the ugliest part of your body". You can purchase it via the MPC website or from the NGV Art Book Fair.
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One of many ongoing approaches, where I move through the world as a harvester of images stumbling, strolling, lurching, equal parts accidental, and intentional. My concerns circumnavigate around questions that resist easy answers: time as texture, presence as performance, possibility as glitch. I trace the contours of decay and growth, hope and entropy, searching for the quiet collisions where meaning might emerge. Each image is less a document than a provocation an invitation to reconsider what we 'see', and what we ignore.
_____________________________________
Blog | Tumblr | Website | pixelfed.au | Instagram | Photography links | my Ko-fi shop | Off Ya Trolley! | s2z digital garden | vero | Dpreview albums | my work archived on trove at the National Library of Australia. | reddit