View allAll Photos Tagged reality...set
This abandoned farmstead outside Shabbona,IL. has all the classic elements-decaying farmhouse,collapsing barn,and bladeless windmill-all nestled in falling down trees down a dead end road.Satellite views from the past show it has been abandoned for a long time,with the old barn beginning its descent this past year...
Amazing statistic of the New York City is that in Manhattan alone there are an estimated 280,000 dogs residing on the island and double that quantity in the outer boros of Queens and Brooklyn. Being smitten by dog love myself the proud owner of the two sweet mixed breed pooches, I often find my ‘street’ photography is of lovable canines. In the largely concrete jungle that is Manhattan, it’s amazing to see dogs of all shapes, sizes and breeds being walked. In the few green spaces on the island, many include dog parks within their confines. I seen dogs in the dogs as early as 5 AM (I walk my guys that early if I have to go into the office early or drive my youngest daughter to the train station) and in Washington Square Park after mid-night. Manhattan in particular poses challenges because a larger portion of the population relies primarily on public transportation, unlike us NY suburbanites in northern Jersey, north New York counties (Rockland and Orange) and Long Island, many don’t own motor vehicles. Owning a canine is a wonderful rewarding experience, but also is a large responsibility that requires forethought . My kids and I having moved in the last year, number 1 on the list is, places that will accept pets, then the question is how big. Well Manhattan those queries resonate even more, even if you find a dog friendly building, the bathroom situation, how do you walk the dog? Full time job? Going to be difficult. That’s why budgeted into the care and upkeep of a pooch dog walkers are a must. Added cost is also a factor, the vets, the groomers, tend to charge a bit more. That why it’s important when considering a dog, that a lot of consideration is taken with all the factors that play into having a loyal four legged companion. This consideration and calculation does not happen some times and the city sponsored and private animal shelters in New York City are full of dogs who at first seemed like a good idea, but then reality set in and became sadly expendable. Dogs are loyal, full of love and always happy to see you, I’ve had my two for 8 and 7 years and adore them. They require attention and time, they are living creatures and if they don’t get a decent amount of attention, they will act up.
I love capturing dogs living and interacting in the city. This dog was a bit tired and was on the lap of his female caretaker happy as could be in Washington Square Park people watching; totally cool.
Captured on an Olympus E-5 with an Olympus Zuiko 70-300mm F4.0-5.6 zoom lens processed in Adobe Photoshop Lightroom.
Zan's
e d w a r d i a n
s u i t +
d o t s & s t r i p e s
princess skirt
" Hands touch, eyes meet
Sudden silence, sudden heat
Hearts leap in a giddy whirl
He could be that boy
But I'm not that girl
Don't dream too far
Don't lose sight of who you are
Don't remember that rush of joy
He could be that boy
I'm not that girl
Every so often we long to steal
To the land of what-might-have-been
But that doesn't soften the ache we feel
When reality sets back in
Blithe smile, lithe limb
She who's winsome, she wins him
Gold hair with a gentle curl
That's the girl he chose
And heaven knows
I'm not that girl "
The beautiful and versatile Princess skirt is now also available in a shorter version!! The skirt comes with a separate color - changing HUD with 5 patterns to choose from :D The Edwardian suit comes with two lengths for you to mix&match.
:D :D :D
@ Angel Manor Estate
It was a long night, driving out of Sydney on a Friday night. The weather promised much and the rich agricultural areas of the deep south beckoned. Despite steam almost being extinct there were still many interesting workings down in the South. We passed the Southbound Mail train on our way with a 42 class class leading and several Up freight trains as we went. Daybreak saw us in the rich heartland of the deep south and as we entered Flat Rock there was the wonderful sight of a 41 class idling on a ballast ready to work out on the branch. The CPH would soon be 'fired up' for the run into town for the locals to do their shopping, indeed it was such alovely dream as reality set in as I was passing through the model railway exhibition in Liverpool during my recent trip there.
Photo By Steve Bromley
Dreamworld - St Leonard's churchyard in Downham on a summer's day rendered in infrared creating a dreamworld illusion of reality.
Set at the foot of Pendle Hill, in the picturesque Ribble Valley and part of the Forest of Bowland AONB, the village of Downham is often described as the most beautiful village in England. The Gothic architecture of the local parish church of St Leonard’s takes on a whole new dimension when imaged in infrared.
Downham, Ribble Valley, Lancashire
“I'm only human
I bleed and I breathe
the passion that flows through me
like the wind through the trees
takes hold of my senses
fills up my mind
drives me to paradise
loving and kind.” - AP
Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=HydvceA1PAI
THE AIR THAT I BREATHE – THE HOLLIES
Breathe in
Breathe out
it's as easy as that
to love
or love not
petals fall; raindrops splat
big fat heavy tears
wish on rainbows; stem the fears
for love is a gift
that can heal any rift
and it's free
and it's we
who can love or can drift
like the white snow in Winter
so cold on the tongue
like the pain of a splinter
when love has begun
little by little
small steps … one, two, three
knocked down like a skittle
I long to be free
but you captured my heart
I knew right from the start
that all that I need
is not to be freed
but to be a part of you
walk in your shoes
stand by your side
enjoy the thrill of the ride
arms linked together
brave the storms; any weather
the lightning that struck
brought me love; lots of luck
the twists and the turns
your touch thrills and it burns
warms my heart and caresses
tender kisses; sweet confesses
subtle whispers and looks
it's not like in books
the romance that we live
the love that we give
reality sets in
we feel comfortable and serene
our heads full of dreams
it is more than it seems
we burst at the seams
the pastels and creams
romance and love
gifts from above
but never take for granted
the gifts that we're given
for they come and they go
and may we be driven
to accept what we have
to welcome love in
for to turn it away
would be such a mortal sin
sometimes I'm afraid
and I put up a wall
feel like running away
scared of it all
before I get hurt
and never give it a chance
but now I am learning
love's a beautiful dance.
- AP - Copyright © remains with and is the intellectual property of the author
Copyright © protected image please do not reproduce without permission
My artwork is a compilation of 2 of my photographs
This beautiful rose was found on my little island beach by my friend and held up by him for me to photograph. Later we were having lunch and behind him was the picture of this little bunny rabbit and he ducked while I took it's photograph. Memories are made in our photographs, but most of all they are preserved in our hearts and when I look at this artwork of mine, I smile and remember a very nice day. May we all treasure what we have in front of us and beside us. Time is short and we should make the most of every moment. Good friends are so very hard to find and I am blessed x
In 410 A.D., Roman Emperor Honorius decided to abandon the province of Britannia that made up both England and Wales. The reason for this was that the province, which was already operating on a deficit, became too costly to maintain. This was at a time when the Roman Empire was facing numerous Germanic invasions and the Huns on continental Europe. The province of Britannia was also facing civil strife and invasions from the Gaels in Ireland, the Picts from Scotland, and the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes from Denmark. When the order was given, all government officials, and military personnel left the island, leaving the Romano-British populace to their own devices.
Britain was in total chaos and without any organized government, warlords soon took over to maintain order. Some of these men were either ex-legionaries or Germanic tribal chiefs. The major cities in Britain such as London were completely abandoned. Some buildings would be stripped of valuable materials such as wood and nails. A majority of people soon moved into the ancient hillforts in the countryside that their ancestors once lived in before Roman rule. There were some wealthy aristocrats who continued a "Roman way of life" in their private villas, but this would soon end once reality set in that there was no going back.
Military installations like Hadrian's Wall would be abandoned, except for the forts along the walls. Some of the forts would be occupied by warlords and ex-legionaries up until the 6th century A.D. It's not exactly known when people started to chip away at the wall for building materials, but it would have likely begun around this time. Afterall, the wall was now useless as Britain was being invaded from the south when it was made to prevent invasions from the north.
The chaos would eventually end in the 7th century A.D. when the various Anglo-Saxon and Briton kingdoms would begin to consolidate. The Anglo-Saxons would convert to Christianity, but this would not stop the fighting between them and the Britons, who felt that their homeland was slipping away.
For a while I wanted to do something related to the fall of Rome in Britain, especially after listening to a Fall of Civilizations episode about it. Also, special thank you to Noah for his help with the sky, I could not have done it without him.
My entry to Bricks Calibur's "The Frozen Wilds" category and the CCCs “Forest Fort” category.
“I’d really like to meet her and ask her why we’re who we are” (Dishwalla)
As I compose this shot; I look all around me for the best perspective I can capture. I want to express the beauty and emotions that I’m experiencing at that moment. Capture the clarity and pureness of the water, the color, height and contrast of these magnificent trees, the majestic mountains that surround me, the stillness and calm that overwhelm me. I must be in Heaven.
As I gather my gear and break down my tripod, reality sets in. I’m in Yosemite National Park; where Gang Stalking, Community Based Stalking and Workplace Mobbing are allowed. This is America today.
•The truth about Yosemite: www.nbcbayarea.com/news/local/Sexual-Harassment-Common-in...
Please help stop and expose Gang Stalking, Community Based Stalking and Workplace Mobbing by signing the following petitions. These immoral acts are allowed in Yosemite National Park by Law Enforcement and its Contractors. Thank you for taking the time to visit my photostream.
www.change.org/petitions/attorney-general-kamala-d-harris...
www.change.org/petitions/u-s-congress-outlaw-organized-ga...
www.change.org/petitions/taps-petition-to-investigate-org...
"It's like I'm running in slow motion in a nightmare that never ends. When I try to face it when I wake up, I hate the way reality sets in"
3+ in comments
Sometimes, there's more to an image than simple surface appearance ...
This set is about observations, ideas, concepts or comments expressed in images.
Visit my Beyond/Behind Reality set:
www.flickr.com/photos/t_schnitzlein/sets/1486953/
Mosaic compiled for the "Set Announcements" group.
Created with fd's Flickr Toys
Hey diddle diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon,
The little dog laughed to see such sport,
And the dish ran away with the spoon.
Hey!! this is Nebraska!!! Reality sets in here!! Bad economy and all!! I can guarantee you that The cow did NOT jump over any Moon, there is no laughing dog, and no dish ran away with no damn spoon!!!
lol!!! sometimes you have to have a little fun!!
Texture by Skeletal Mess
Was selected for Front Page Feature for "Select Best: Favorites"
Alternate Reality, Part I
In the USA, the first Monday in September is Labor Day, the last chance of the summer to get out and away from home, to hit the road for a new experience, to seek an alternate version of reality from the dreary, stressful hours and days of work.
Labor Day began over 100 years ago as a tribute to the American Labor Movement. This fact is often unknown and at any rate unhonored among the millions of capitalist pawns who hit the highways every September. For many, by the end of the weekend, it surely seems a creation of the Devil himself.
It starts by Mom dropping Dad off at the storage lot, cranking up the motor home and taking it to the gas station for a hundred gallons of the Jurassic’s finest. Then it’s back home to hook the Prius to the towbar. The family loads up and off they go down Eisenhower’s best gift to the nation, the Interstate Highway System. It's off to experience the relaxing freedom and glory of one of our National Parks, a few days of relaxation and indulgence under the bright sun and blue sky, breathing the fresh, clean air.
The bliss soon experiences a minor setback when the kids find that the wifi doesn’t work and they can’t play their games on the DS. But then they switch to 3G and order is restored. While Mom and Dad sit up front, talking about the things to do at the National Park, the kids have their heads and minds buried in their devices.
As they approach the backcountry park, the road narrows and they see more and more copies of themselves. It becomes a virtual conga line of bouncing RVs slowly traversing the curves and bounding over the dips in the pavement.
Finally, after a long and tiring day (Wasn’t this what we were escaping from?), they see the rustic entrance sign to the park. After another interminable interval (SPEED LIMIT 15), they arrive at the campground sign and below it see the dreaded message “CAMPGROUND FULL”. The idea that they are self-sufficient, at least for one night, draws some comfort, and they drive on looking for a place to pull over. Each place they see hopefully from a distance turns out, as they approach, to bear a “No Camping” sign, which, for those who can’t read English, has an iconic shaped teepee with a bold red slash through it. They pass multiple others in their expensive home-away-from-homes, each driving around looking for a place to land like the lakeside gnats flying aimlessly.
It’s getting dark and if they head for the nearest town, they can get there before bedtime. When they arrive, the motels are playing the same old “No Vacancy” song. All the restaurants are closed. The kids cycle through the stages of whining, screaming, and fighting. The adults are beginning to see some perverse merit to this strategy. Two thousand dollars a month loan payment on the RV, five hundred dollars for gas, tired bones and frayed nerves, and all for this?
Alternate reality sets in. The old reality starts to look way better.
Part II tomorrow.
Last night we had to say goodbye to Deacon. He suddenly became ill, an ultrasound found his cancer from three years ago returned and spread throughout his abdomen. This morning the reality sets in. This is the last photo I took of him.😢💙
I set out this afternoon with the rather specific intention of making a self-portrait photograph in a very precise composition with a particular shade of red light. I had thought about it for a while; it was intended to have symbolic resonance, etc. And the image I had imagined looked compelling...
But then reality set in. I had a hard time getting the focus right (since I couldn't see the viewfinder), and the problem seemed to be exacerbated because I was shooting in red light; not only did the red wash throw off contrast settings, it also seemed to throw off the macro autofocus. (I have no idea why red light seemed to complicate the focusing. Any insights from the flickersphere?)
So -- after a "failed" set of self-portraits (which I'll optimistically chalk up to "a learning experience"), I decided to turn the camera back on my glasses to capture a different take on the red light (and a distanced self-portrait).
Received a reminder today that both of our kids will be in high school next year. It is so hard to believe that the last year of high school is right around the corner for Ben. Seeing a graduation date on paper really drives that home. And my baby girl will be a freshman. Where did the time go? I'm going to do my best to savor every day of this upcoming year, because I know it will be over in a flash.
New Reality sets in for many fastfood restaurants. And that means less foot traffic, customers and consequently, sales.
Lately I get this gnawing sense of time slipping away. It seems to get worse each year, as days blend into weeks, and entire months fall by the wayside. It feels as if one big blur. I try to grab meaning out of each day, and for as many moments of this days. It helps to know time is not being wasted, but does nothing to stem the tide. Change of season hasten the feeling. Summer seems like it will last forever in June. But reality sets in by August, and transforms into a dull feeling of panic and loss as September morphs into October. Daylight is decreasing at an alarming rate. The places I visited all summer seem somehow different now; they just don't feel the same. Sunlight does not look the same. The weather is shifting. It is all quite destabilizing and will continue to be as we settle back into winter. I'm struck now by how quickly things change, light, shadow, weather, clouds. There's a sense of rapidity to things that I didn't really notice back in June. I think the sense sharpen a bit as a result. These thoughts and many more swirled in my mind as I stood beneath a giant maple tree in this old cemetery. Gale force winds were lashing the burial ground, causing the tree limbs to bend and sway before me. It seemed the perfect metaphor for what I was feeling. I loved the juxtaposition of solidarity in the old stones (death) with the fluidity of the leaves (life).
J. H. Clarke, Photo, Selkirk, Manitoba.
Manitoba Photographer, John Henry Clarke (1860-1923)
J. H. Clarke was born in England August 6, 1860. He was married and had one son. They came to Winnipeg to partake in the booming city and he was immediately hired as a photographer by a local firm. Some years later, he joined a group of Manitobans going west to find their fortune in the Klondike Gold Rush. He got as far as Victoria B.C. Then reality set in and he returned to Winnipeg. Many believe he had wisely taken his camera with him. On the way home he took a number of photographs later made into very collectible postcards. He did not number his cards, so we have to guess how many he made into postcards. Mr. Clarke prospered in Winnipeg and then moved to Selkirk in 1903. The back of his cards always say “J.H.Clarke Selkirk, Man.” He died of pneumonia at the Winnipeg General Hospital February 14, 1923 and is buried in Elmwood Cemetery in Winnipeg. LINK to the complete article - www.memoriesfromthelake.net/jhclarke
Cathedral Mountain is a 3,189-metre (10,463-foot) complex massif located six kilometres northwest of Lake O'Hara in Yoho National Park, in the Canadian Rockies of British Columbia, Canada. Its shape and structure conjures up a resemblance to a gothic cathedral that has inspired many artists, including Group of Seven's Arthur Lismer, to paint it back in 1928. This picturesque mountain is visible from Highway 1, the Trans-Canada Highway near Kicking Horse Pass. Its nearest higher peak is Mount Stephen, 3.0 km (1.9 mi) to the west. The name Cathedral Mountain was in use as early as 1884 and appeared on George Dawson's 1886 map. The first ascent of Cathedral Mountain was made in 1901 by James Outram, with guides Joseph Bossoney, and Christian Klucker.
My heart is breaking as reality sets in - I'm leaving Israel in less than 10 days. During my two months stay here I've been working hard on a series I photographed during my time in India and Southeast Asia. This is another photo from the series, Love spirit magic adventure .
It was photographed in Dharamsala with a beautiful Californian couple named Mariah and Jahsiah.
The series so far can be viewed here
I shoot the majority of what you see on a camera with a timer. Its not that I don't enjoy my photographers but I want the viewer to see me as I am. I don't retouch these pictures. If I am wearing wig I say it and so on. This is who I am. This is how I look at almost 65. Its not magic and any woman can look like me if not better. Its hard work and there are days I want to say "I Love Ben and Jerry's" three times fast and click my heels with my eyes closed. What fun! But then reality sets in. What helps any woman who wants this is the person behind her. I am talking about Gurls too. Its that special person who keeps telling you how proud they are of you and they acknowledge how hard you are working. I get e-mails all day long and I answer all of them myself. It isn't easy but I do it and I enjoy it very much. This is the question I am often asked and this is the answer I give. There is nothing special about me and I am truly the original girl next door. You want it? You got to go get it and that is the true beauty of it all. It is achievable at any age and at any time in your life.
Left: [Ligeia]
Right: Me
I was super excited to work with Eva this week, because she is awesome. We worked together on She's a Rainbow as well, so we've gotten to know each other even better over the past few weeks/months. :)
The themes were announced and we got "orange". At first, I thought "Ooh! Fun!" Until reality set in and I realized that I own NOTHING orange. I was thinking about 2 possibilities.. either orange make-up or paint, or orange tights. Eva sent me her image and I peeked at it, which led me to pursue my plan of orange tights. This is the first week that I saw my partner's image before shooting my own, but I am glad this time because I was so stumped! Nothing was clicking in my brain for orange! (By the way, yes, my image is a complete fake color-wise. As I said, I own nothing orange. My carpet is light tan, my dress is grey, and the tights are actually pink. So yeah.. I cheated. :P)
See all of the Divine Diptychs on the blog: divinediptychproject.blogspot.com/
J. H. Clarke, Photo, Selkirk, Manitoba.
Manitoba Photographer, John Henry Clarke (1860-1923)
J. H. Clarke was born in England August 6, 1860. He was married and had one son. They came to Winnipeg to partake in the booming city and he was immediately hired as a photographer by a local firm. Some years later, he joined a group of Manitobans going west to find their fortune in the Klondike Gold Rush. He got as far as Victoria B.C. Then reality set in and he returned to Winnipeg. Many believe he had wisely taken his camera with him. On the way home he took a number of photographs later made into very collectible postcards. He did not number his cards, so we have to guess how many he made into postcards. Mr. Clarke prospered in Winnipeg and then moved to Selkirk in 1903. The back of his cards always say “J.H.Clarke Selkirk, Man.” He died of pneumonia at the Winnipeg General Hospital February 14, 1923 and is buried in Elmwood Cemetery in Winnipeg. LINK to the complete article - www.memoriesfromthelake.net/jhclarke
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Frank Rock Slide, Alberta - Nestled into the side of Turtle Mountain in the Crowsnest Pass area of the Albert District of the Northwest Territories of Canada, the small town of Frank, Alberta was established to support the miners who came to work in the Frank Mine. After the Canadian-American Coal and Coke Company opened the Frank Mine in September 1901, the small community of Frank began to grow around it as cottages for the miners and their families were built, a school was established, and four hotels were erected. Named after Henry Frank, one of the founders of the company, by 1903 the town was home to six hundred people. April 1903, most of the residents of Frank were sleeping. Just after 4 am, the quiet of the cold spring morning was shattered by a deafening rumbling sound. Within 100 seconds, 82 million tonnes of limestone broke off the top of the mountain and thundered down the east face at 70 miles per hour, crushing everything in it’s path, and burying everything under dozens of feet of rock. The slide narrowly missed hitting the town of Frank head on, just clipping the eastern end of the community. When Turtle Mountain came down in what would come to be called the Frank Rock Slide, there were twenty miners working at the mine. Three were topside and were killed instantly by falling rock. The remaining seventeen found themselves trapped underground, buried under tons of rock. The river, dammed by the slide had risen and was pouring into the mine through a secondary tunnel. LINK to the complete article - www.thesocialhistorian.com/frank-rock-slide/
As I was processing this photo I started to think back about my life in Las Vegas before I recently moved to the greater Phoenix area. I knew so many people and built so many relationships over the years. I was very comfortable with life in Las Vegas. Life in Las Vegas was good!
That was my life before I got laid off from my old job. After I got laid off from my old job, I had to scramble to find a good paying job because my wife was 7 ½ months pregnant with our first child. Luckily, I found a good job but it was in Phoenix. So, I moved from Las Vegas with my wife and young infant daughter and started a new journey in an unfamiliar place. It was exciting at first but then reality set in and I thought of all the people and places I already missed. Furthermore, my family and I knew no one in Arizona. It was tough to leave my native hometown of Las Vegas.
My relocating experience made me think of a talk given by LDS General Authority Edward Dube. It was titled “Look Ahead and Believe.” www.lds.org/general-conference/2013/10/look-ahead-and-bel... I started to think about how much I was living in the past. The talk made me realize that I wasn't optimistic or even grateful about my family's new life in Arizona. Yes. Life was good but life can be better here in Arizona. I just need to look ahead and have faith!
This image is copyrighted. Please don't use my images in any way without my permission.
I was waiting for a bus in a village near Bangalore when I saw something like a 2 headed Velvet Ant moving very fast on the ground. Took a closer look and realized it was very beautiful spider !!! The front pair of legs had beautiful velvet like tufts which it held out with pride while moving about.
Now the harsh reality set in. The bus i was waiting for would reach any minute. If i miss it, i would have to wait for at least 3 hours for the next one. With this in mind I quickly got my camera out and started photographing this fast little spider from every angle possible. Initially i thought it was a Salticidae. Eye arrangement which i observed in the zoomed in picture proved me wrong.
This spider was a nightmare to photograph. Continuously moving in an erratic manner and turning away from the direction of the camera. I was on the ground struggling for a satisfactory shot when an audience started gathering around me.
I had to take the Spider in my hand so that it wouldn't escape among the many pairs of legs all around me :-D
I had to answer all the curious questions from the watching audience while holding my breath, trying to get the focus right and frame well.
i had to make sure the spider didn't escape among the bushes in a split second while i was reviewing a shot. (Not answering them would be considered rude and I didn't want that).
After a few minutes of epic struggle with this beautiful creature the bus arrived. The spider was now safely among the grass and I clumsily boarded the bus with my tripod in one hand , camera in the other and a half open bag on my back :-D
The bus journey turned into a Q&A session. The interested students and local people taking a closer look at the pictures, asking all kinda questions, narrating their version of spider stories etc.
This is a high ISO shot, didn't have time to set up the lighting.... Not much info is available about this spider, its behavior, feeding and breeding habits.
Any info would be appreciated.
Spider on Steroids : www.youtube.com/watch?v=feXAaGfrrEg
Close-up: www.youtube.com/watch?v=9exsBvhZCCo
This is another from my industrial night series. These steps were welded to one of the silos. Would be just perfect if a worker was walking up the steps, alas reality sets in and the realization that who in the right frame of mind would be out there at 1am in the cold...other than myself. The shadows casted here really caught my attention. More to come...
Much attention is given to the Fourth Plinth in the northwest corner of Trafalgar Square. Do you know the distinction of the world record holding southeast corner of Trafalgar?
Avoiding almost all attention at the south-east corner of Trafalgar Square is a peculiar and often overlooked world record holder; Britain’s Smallest Police Station. It's said this tiny box can accommodate up to two prisoners at a time. Its main purpose was to hold a single police officer. Think of it as a 1920’s CCTV camera! Yes, you were being watched even before 1984 reality set in.
You can be forgiven for missing the world's smallest police station. It looks more like a neoclassical Tardis than a police station. There won't be a crowd of curious tourists gathered around it happily snapping selfies.
The tiny police station was built in 1926 so the Metropolitan Police could keep a close eye on dubious characters creating mischief during demonstrations prevalent at the time. Back in the day, Trafalgar Square was a magnet for London's protestors, rioters, marchers and pigeons. The story behind its construction is also a wee bit secretive.
At the end of World War I, a temporary police box outside Trafalgar Square tube station was due for renovation. Authorities wanted a permanent post to survey the area. The public was having none of that and objected profusely, so the plans were scrapped. Instead, the Metropolitan Police decided to build a less obvious police box. Where? Inside an ornamental light post.
Once the light post was hollowed out, it was then installed with a set of castle-style narrow windows in order to provide a 360-degree vista primarily across Trafalgar Square. If it looked like a lamppost and acted like a lamppost, it must be nothing more, right? Cleverly, the designers went a step further and installed a direct phone line back to Scotland Yard. If reinforcements were needed in times of serious trouble, the authorities could easily be alerted.
In fact, whenever the police phone was picked up, a clandestine signal flashed. The signal? The ornamental light fighting at the top of the police box. Nearby officers could rush in to break up any melee that might take place.
Once the light fitting was hollowed out, it was then installed with a set of narrow windows in order to provide a vista across the main square. Also installed was a direct phone line back to Scotland Yard in case reinforcements were needed in times of trouble. In fact, whenever the police phone was picked up, the ornamental light fitting at the top of the box started to flash, alerting any nearby officers on duty that trouble was near.
Though not confirmed, London legend tells us the ornamental light on top of the box, installed in 1826, is originally from Nelson's historic HMS Victory.
Is London's smallest police station used today? Yes, but not for Trafalgar Square security reasons. The box is not used by the police today but is instead used as a broom closet for Westminster Council cleaners.
Next time you're in Trafalgar Square, be sure to pass by Trafalgar Square and see this tiny marvel for yourself, brooms and all.
I help aspiring and established photographers get noticed so they can earn an income from photography or increase sales. My blog, Photographer’s Business Notebook is a wealth of information as is my Mark Paulda’s YouTube Channel. I also offer a variety of books, mentor services and online classes at Mark Paulda Photography Mentor
All images are available as Museum Quality Photographic Prints and Commercial Licensing. Feel free to contact me with any and all inquiries.
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I was wishing for colder weather as it is extremely hot outside today and I thought of a barren tree in the winter. I created this papercut using multiple layers of colored cardstock. Looking at this papercut made me feel a little cooler but reality set in rather quickly.
ghost surfers on a shingle beach......the other side of the menu, when I saw these I thought all manner of things, but then reality sets in, I am human and very much a subscriber to the human condition, we are what we eat and love it or hate it, we eat all sorts of things, some more selective than others in their consumption......but that too is a part of the human condition, so really this image is all about reality and not to everyone's taste......so if you view and think yuk......pick the bones out of that.
I always wanted to live in a house like this when I grew up. I was not a spoiled kid, but my parents had a house in a very well-to-do area, and I thought everyone lived in houses and places like this. When I got out on my own around age 21, the hard reality set in.
I dreamed so hard and spent so long working on it wanting to get there as the perfect transgendered girl and the more beautiful and feminine the better. Then cancer came along to potentially blow a hole in it all and then being so very lucky made me realise how fortunate I am and how we should appreciate the now and what we have. I'm sure it's only human but we are never totally satisfied or quite content with what we have. Here am I wishing I was twenty again and famous as the most amazing and charismatic trans porn star ever, whilst some of you just wish you hadn't got two left feet were not hairy or built like a gorilla and others just wish they had the chance to put a dress on for the first time. I think we should all take comfort in the fact that dreaming makes things more wonderful and your cup of tea is always sweeter till you sip it. I live a normal life as Jojo but I have a very lively sexual imagination so I need constant stimulation. I'm not gay as such so in a way I've built a high wall around my garden of transgendered delights to keep out all the related things that don't appeal to me keeping my vision pure. Before you all start thinking I'm a 'bit sad' I've over-simplified it just so to explain and I try to be inclusive but in my imagination at least I've chosen the sexual world I want to live in. And yes I'm sure many of you will agree that the favorite girls I choose and the delicously sensual sexual scenes I use in my images conjure up a Jojo sexual paradise. I'm sure that should reality set in and I was to swop places with them much of it would not be as good as it appears to be, a bit live driving needing to entertain and having sex for fun is quite different to doing it every day for a living.
For a while, I have been dumbfounded by this dumpster aside the regular Burrtec dumpsters. I first thought this was a Athens organics dumpster, which would explain those photos from a while back. However, when my mother let me take this photo, reality sets in.
This is a grease dumpster owned by a company named "Darpro". This dumpster isn't compatible with any FL or RL truck, though I think it is collected by a pump truck.
And with advance to REALITY COPY there’s certainly no way of changing this perception only enforcing it, nothing in reality is good enough for “REALITY COPY” that is just another paradox that is not futuristic.
We might be still skeptical about the arrival of REALITY COPY, but its only before its sold at the supermarkets.
What would happen after “Reality Copy” when the progress of all possible levels of true “reality copy” (in technical sense, not psychologically-philosophical) are achieved. The reality hence is copied and sealed.
Technology won’t stop there… one wonders. What is next.
In political sense when reality in representation is something embraced by conservative social power than with “reality copy” the conservative power is the dominating from the social point of view having new level of reality and it’s copy to be controlled.
*seems like the only possibly alternative to REALITY COPY could be ultra radical Invisibility)
In principle the artist aims to deform the reality subjectively to create not the “reality copy” lacking such skills but to convey the artistic poetic goal of expressing whatever given artist wants to express.
In a matter of “reality copy” what is left for the artist to argue with and deform… to question and test… Nothing really changes socially except for more pressure applied to the issue of dealing with self-image and tools to “sell” When a person changes the image the higher the technology the more transformed is the final product.
The progress of mental growth is just as conservative as control on the “visual image of reality” and its copy.
The ongoing technological progress is irreversible as it carries percent of good with bad,
It is common knowledge how for instance internet is benefit and at the same time does damage. A person who knows about the addiction and suffers would acquire the knowledge and hope from the place the person suffers the internet of course.
Same thing is with photography and video. Reality copy would add more psychological problems to the present but create more visual attraction of true-life experience with whatever could be rediscovered in Lifecopy style. Probably is benefits pornography since it will continue same as consumption of food. The basic things… Consumerism benefits since it is super-trained for “instant reach” affect and will commercially exploit the “reality copy” to sell more of “reality copy” gadgets the phones, screens, etc.
New generation of people will repeat the cycle in new technological means of having “reality copy” as nothing new but similar to any visual information currently available.
The creative people are the ones BEHIND the time it seems in a matter of “reality copy” and being unable to have anything is an alternative.
The Invisible alternative is the ONLY ONE to question “reality copy”
That is the power of UNKNOWN.
Techno progress can deal in “reality” bringing higher resolution to the fore to sell new generation of phones and gadgets.
But it really doesn’t change the philosophical issue of questions asked by philosophers, what is life, what is art, why do we live. Questions remain unanswered when techno progress veils those questions with the promise that higher technology would bring the end to all unanswered questions and answer them for people.
So far the techno advance puts the artistic, literary and philosophical field out of business. As when people get the toys (gadgets) and the playground (the podium of internet) the art is irrelevant and completely disconnected from the social phenomenon of self-representation. Art is not interested to question something with no philosophical substance to it.
The commercial art is willing to supply more stuff for consumerism. If its reality-copy than someone empowered by financial wealth (born rich) would come up with more decorative solutions that could serve REALITY COPY in needed fashion, add more details to the “reality set” to those who can afford it.
Same way it is now when people with means live with more things.
“Reality Copy” of people without means would look just as it is in reality, gray and unexciting. To help people without means the software would offer “decoration” solutions to add the faux details able to transform the surroundings to less depressing. It would enter the person into “life copy” of vacation at Caribbean resorts… etc.
What in such situation could be philosophically questioned, if nothing changed in human morality, but techno advance manage to involve people into self-entertainment to such degree that a person is no longer interested to read books about other people or watch movies and hear news. Self-promotion is the ongoing and time-consuming thing. One has to research the “popular” topics.
As to participating in reality activities, there’s the issue of not having time for anything that doesn’t deal with self-promotion and earning a living.
ART commerce is growing commercially going Industrial since supplying consumer goods is always rewarding in sales. On the other hand this and techno revolution reduces interest of writers and philosophers to dig in depths where there is no depth. It makes such people disengaged with the process. When there are no critical voices to the established situation or some few art critics pretend to do what is expected of them – know about current situation not only on the art scene but at large - socially, and have strong voice against the trends that contribute to the lowering of culture. There’s no more liberal freedom since nobody reads the newspapers. Even if the working critics were principal enough to write articles and books they know their voice would not be heard. They are not vociferous about anything at all because there’s a concept of supporting and art endavour since art is in decline and anything that relates to art needs their support.
There are no voices to oppose the current situation for many reasons such as no younger people would be interested in such undertaking also for many reasons of being disoriented in expectation of techno changes or living their me-life.
The young ones are the invisibility movers, every day someone who is young, information and internet savvy adds the invisibility statement to their online identity. I saw it on tumblr and Iheart. (samples year web address – source)
Art consumer goods sell and make the seller get the goods since sale is the rule.
Art critics silently agree and actually it seems if they even try to disagree there is nothing in art that presently shows any direction against the established art situation.
There isn’t anything not saying a serious claim to deny aesthetic values of the art present and past, to turn away from any influence and history by the fashion avant-garde to question than resuscitate (bring back from death) art that lost vitality and practically is a dead art of dominating taste in an authoritarian culture and conformity.
Bring new blood to reinvent the art into weapon against the outlived old and positioning itself as direct opposition AGAINST art that represents culture of the present time.
Culture of consumerism that turned into visual consumerism with the help of internet is hard to oppose and challenge in any attempt of making bid public art spectacle, won’t challenge any concept but serve certain need for entertainment.
Invisible art of Paul Jaisini stands against all that is dominating and culturally regressive in the present, false visual multiplicity that imply democracy and absence of segregation in visual sphere, all inclusiveness.
On so many levels Paul Jaisini brings knowledge of how the present condition reflect on a mind. (non-linear thinking, information processing, constant analysis is the advanced state of high analytical creative mind /osd, adad is the side effect but there are more worse side effects) Shows the burst to create in manifestation of genius mind (can do any task without training) but unable to maintain the creative process as wholesome, bored with the immediate results. Invisibility is theoretical stability and result of high impact activity that gives fast result of creativity and genius realized in art. Then instability in the fact of the created art un--preserved and lost, destroyed.
On a lower level of people who start building some blog with enthusiasm dedicating time, research than abandoning it to become digital graveyard demonstrates inability to continue and search for new. Inability to face what yesterday seemed interesting and capture someone’s mind to give the creative boost.
(fast life, no sleep, high tech knowledge, constant search for new, unsatisfied… new is old – altogether supports “CONSUMERISM” when buying is haul more than physically needed, quantity is the need for new.
Invisible art as a concept seem to attract wide public and elite in such diametrically opposed combination, of people without high aesthetics in mind or the complete opposite illuminati-culturati. People with average or below average taste and aesthetic requirements are as interested and supportive as the elite. When it comes to someone in the middle- another phenomena, quite often those who are educated and intelligent take a stand against even one mention of the art being possibly somehow invisible.
These people respond very well and willing to agree with the concept as Invisible art is brought to them by mass media. In the beginning I was using internet to send out essays and saw the proof that as avant-garde wanted to reach people who never acquired artistically developed taste the invisible art was and now is more than ever suits their taste even to degree of obsession.
That’s adds insult to injury when nobody even pay attention and there’s nothing to offer as the alternative.
They want something tangible as the alternative, the grown philosophy to brew in the minds of people and artists as the sign of time.
The invisibility is the idea that has the power to antagonize the “reality copy” but not in a sense that is widely used in the present time. To express social isolation in case of the teens as seen on tumblr. (examples and variations of Invisibility trend in primitive pictures shared every day in such huge quantities no art publication ever knew, teens and pre-teens are those with passion among the rest of us, when they spread the word it goes far, same as the early internet time, when the word would go far distances to large number of people)
Historically known of the episodes when many artists tried to create the so-called invis art but it really didn’t involve much creativity except for the concepts they came up with, but in reality it involved the reduction of visual means and performance art when the audience came up with more ideas acting around the non-existent artwork than the artist.
Personally I discovered high interactive value of the “PRESUMED” invisible painting when I was getting a lot of responses with very interesting commentaries from the people who actually insisted I was sending them info about the invisible artworks. I never made any claims when sending written essays. People decided for me and probably this is the best way for the interactive dialogue to let people decide.
The only known versions of invisible artworks would be not something that can turn into a philosophical school of thought but random reductions of visual means of various artists. It all came to same MOA that involved frames etc., not the process of creativity or life long creativity that would show how such artistic philosophy develops and what various periods of the artist’s life produce by his belief in his artistic style.
The known precedents of exhibiting so-called invisible art were always random statements that never continued to develop in a distinct style.
What one usually expects is a blank canvas, a picture with some written ideas which is more a topography art, a picture that is in a wrapping of covered up and is a found object art. The only known artists who continued wrapping is Christo but his art is not considered invisible even though he hides or attempts to hide what is inside the wrapping….
Recently same as in more distant periods in time many artists are trying to reduce their visual means. There’s a difference though. In previous times artists ventured into reduction of visual means with more ease. The artworks from older times with reduced visual means had much less labor and look less worked on.
Now the reduction of visual means is something that doesn’t fall under the artistic philosophy when an artists trying to prevent an overkill of the visual imagery.
If Rothko worked on his abstract painting laboriously than in current standards his work would be considered not sale’s worthy. Now to be sale-worthy the abstraction is worked to show a lot of workmanship. Surely Rothko doesn’t want anyone to see a lot of workmanship quite the opposite, he wanted his paintings to look fresh and not overdone. And in current standards he would have to toil on every dot in his painting to perfect it.
Today’s abstract paintings look like very hard-worked on simulations of surfaces that look like some textures (varieties of plain or distressed surfaces /stone and whatever is the decorative surfaces of abstracts, patterns that are used in interior design.
Overworked, machine-like is expensive looking enough to sell in the gallery but it creates a certain amount of fatigue in time. The commerce knows about it, the fatigue would bring the art buyer to buy more to add some new life to the art collection ed infinitum.
Art commerce wants more art collectors in the times when art is selling and makes money and should be called what it is – decorative luxury items.
Art or luxury decorative items was always meant for people with wealth and they always wanted to get their money worth.
When abstract painting is done in a manner to be worthy of selling price it is not creativity of conceptual thought and has no abstracted meaning. The craft of simulating surfaces is widely known and is used in interior design. When it is unique that no other craftsman can repeat it is recognized nearly as jewelry and rag-making, etc. All the items that cost money due to the high workmanship and hours, months and sometimes years of creation. Same way was built the historical hand-made furniture. Same way the current abstract decorations will hold in time. It is made for someone as rich as royalties but it doesn’t mean that it has anything to do with artistic creativity, the most mysterious and unexplained human phenomenon.
So anyone who is interested to earn money as a maker of such luxury items and be able to place them in the store for sale – the art gallery, can come up with own recipe for surface replica and start working will find a paying job on the art scene nowadays...
It doesn’t involve questioning of morals, times and life. It involves many hours of working and ability to produce varieties of the same surfaces in good taste. Instead of questioning human spirituality, or questioning art means that someone considers irrelevant and outdated, not for any breakthrough to create something revolutionary new.
And with advance to REALITY COPY there’s certainly no way of changing this perception only enforcing it, nothing in reality is good enough for “REALITY COPY” that is just another paradox that is not futuristic.
We might be still skeptical about the arrival of REALITY COPY, but its only before its sold at the supermarkets.
What would happen after “Reality Copy” when the progress of all possible levels of true “reality copy” (in technical sense, not psychologically-philosophical) are achieved. The reality hence is copied and sealed.
Technology won’t stop there… one wonders. What is next.
In political sense when reality in representation is something embraced by conservative social power than with “reality copy” the conservative power is the dominating from the social point of view having new level of reality and it’s copy to be controlled.
*seems like the only possibly alternative to REALITY COPY could be ultra radical Invisibility)
In principle the artist aims to deform the reality subjectively to create not the “reality copy” lacking such skills but to convey the artistic poetic goal of expressing whatever given artist wants to express.
In a matter of “reality copy” what is left for the artist to argue with and deform… to question and test… Nothing really changes socially except for more pressure applied to the issue of dealing with self-image and tools to “sell” When a person changes the image the higher the technology the more transformed is the final product.
The progress of mental growth is just as conservative as control on the “visual image of reality” and its copy.
The ongoing technological progress is irreversible as it carries percent of good with bad,
It is common knowledge how for instance internet is benefit and at the same time does damage. A person who knows about the addiction and suffers would acquire the knowledge and hope from the place the person suffers the internet of course.
Same thing is with photography and video. Reality copy would add more psychological problems to the present but create more visual attraction of true-life experience with whatever could be rediscovered in Lifecopy style. Probably is benefits pornography since it will continue same as consumption of food. The basic things… Consumerism benefits since it is super-trained for “instant reach” affect and will commercially exploit the “reality copy” to sell more of “reality copy” gadgets the phones, screens, etc.
New generation of people will repeat the cycle in new technological means of having “reality copy” as nothing new but similar to any visual information currently available.
The creative people are the ones BEHIND the time it seems in a matter of “reality copy” and being unable to have anything is an alternative.
The Invisible alternative is the ONLY ONE to question “reality copy”
That is the power of UNKNOWN.
Techno progress can deal in “reality” bringing higher resolution to the fore to sell new generation of phones and gadgets.
But it really doesn’t change the philosophical issue of questions asked by philosophers, what is life, what is art, why do we live. Questions remain unanswered when techno progress veils those questions with the promise that higher technology would bring the end to all unanswered questions and answer them for people.
So far the techno advance puts the artistic, literary and philosophical field out of business. As when people get the toys (gadgets) and the playground (the podium of internet) the art is irrelevant and completely disconnected from the social phenomenon of self-representation. Art is not interested to question something with no philosophical substance to it.
The commercial art is willing to supply more stuff for consumerism. If its reality-copy than someone empowered by financial wealth (born rich) would come up with more decorative solutions that could serve REALITY COPY in needed fashion, add more details to the “reality set” to those who can afford it.
Same way it is now when people with means live with more things.
“Reality Copy” of people without means would look just as it is in reality, gray and unexciting. To help people without means the software would offer “decoration” solutions to add the faux details able to transform the surroundings to less depressing. It would enter the person into “life copy” of vacation at Caribbean resorts… etc.
What in such situation could be philosophically questioned, if nothing changed in human morality, but techno advance manage to involve people into self-entertainment to such degree that a person is no longer interested to read books about other people or watch movies and hear news. Self-promotion is the ongoing and time-consuming thing. One has to research the “popular” topics.
As to participating in reality activities, there’s the issue of not having time for anything that doesn’t deal with self-promotion and earning a living.
ART commerce is growing commercially going Industrial since supplying consumer goods is always rewarding in sales. On the other hand this and techno revolution reduces interest of writers and philosophers to dig in depths where there is no depth. It makes such people disengaged with the process. When there are no critical voices to the established situation or some few art critics pretend to do what is expected of them – know about current situation not only on the art scene but at large - socially, and have strong voice against the trends that contribute to the lowering of culture. There’s no more liberal freedom since nobody reads the newspapers. Even if the working critics were principal enough to write articles and books they know their voice would not be heard. They are not vociferous about anything at all because there’s a concept of supporting and art endavour since art is in decline and anything that relates to art needs their support.
There are no voices to oppose the current situation for many reasons such as no younger people would be interested in such undertaking also for many reasons of being disoriented in expectation of techno changes or living their me-life.
The young ones are the invisibility movers, every day someone who is young, information and internet savvy adds the invisibility statement to their online identity. I saw it on tumblr and Iheart. (samples year web address – source)
Art consumer goods sell and make the seller get the goods since sale is the rule.
Art critics silently agree and actually it seems if they even try to disagree there is nothing in art that presently shows any direction against the established art situation.
There isn’t anything not saying a serious claim to deny aesthetic values of the art present and past, to turn away from any influence and history by the fashion avant-garde to question than resuscitate (bring back from death) art that lost vitality and practically is a dead art of dominating taste in an authoritarian culture and conformity.
Bring new blood to reinvent the art into weapon against the outlived old and positioning itself as direct opposition AGAINST art that represents culture of the present time.
Culture of consumerism that turned into visual consumerism with the help of internet is hard to oppose and challenge in any attempt of making bid public art spectacle, won’t challenge any concept but serve certain need for entertainment.
Invisible art of Paul Jaisini stands against all that is dominating and culturally regressive in the present, false visual multiplicity that imply democracy and absence of segregation in visual sphere, all inclusiveness.
On so many levels Paul Jaisini brings knowledge of how the present condition reflect on a mind. (non-linear thinking, information processing, constant analysis is the advanced state of high analytical creative mind /osd, adad is the side effect but there are more worse side effects) Shows the burst to create in manifestation of genius mind (can do any task without training) but unable to maintain the creative process as wholesome, bored with the immediate results. Invisibility is theoretical stability and result of high impact activity that gives fast result of creativity and genius realized in art. Then instability in the fact of the created art un--preserved and lost, destroyed.
On a lower level of people who start building some blog with enthusiasm dedicating time, research than abandoning it to become digital graveyard demonstrates inability to continue and search for new. Inability to face what yesterday seemed interesting and capture someone’s mind to give the creative boost.
(fast life, no sleep, high tech knowledge, constant search for new, unsatisfied… new is old – altogether supports “CONSUMERISM” when buying is haul more than physically needed, quantity is the need for new.
Invisible art as a concept seem to attract wide public and elite in such diametrically opposed combination, of people without high aesthetics in mind or the complete opposite illuminati-culturati. People with average or below average taste and aesthetic requirements are as interested and supportive as the elite. When it comes to someone in the middle- another phenomena, quite often those who are educated and intelligent take a stand against even one mention of the art being possibly somehow invisible.
These people respond very well and willing to agree with the concept as Invisible art is brought to them by mass media. In the beginning I was using internet to send out essays and saw the proof that as avant-garde wanted to reach people who never acquired artistically developed taste the invisible art was and now is more than ever suits their taste even to degree of obsession.
That’s adds insult to injury when nobody even pay attention and there’s nothing to offer as the alternative.
They want something tangible as the alternative, the grown philosophy to brew in the minds of people and artists as the sign of time.
The invisibility is the idea that has the power to antagonize the “reality copy” but not in a sense that is widely used in the present time. To express social isolation in case of the teens as seen on tumblr. (examples and variations of Invisibility trend in primitive pictures shared every day in such huge quantities no art publication ever knew, teens and pre-teens are those with passion among the rest of us, when they spread the word it goes far, same as the early internet time, when the word would go far distances to large number of people)
Historically known of the episodes when many artists tried to create the so-called invis art but it really didn’t involve much creativity except for the concepts they came up with, but in reality it involved the reduction of visual means and performance art when the audience came up with more ideas acting around the non-existent artwork than the artist.
Personally I discovered high interactive value of the “PRESUMED” invisible painting when I was getting a lot of responses with very interesting commentaries from the people who actually insisted I was sending them info about the invisible artworks. I never made any claims when sending written essays. People decided for me and probably this is the best way for the interactive dialogue to let people decide.
The only known versions of invisible artworks would be not something that can turn into a philosophical school of thought but random reductions of visual means of various artists. It all came to same MOA that involved frames etc., not the process of creativity or life long creativity that would show how such artistic philosophy develops and what various periods of the artist’s life produce by his belief in his artistic style.
The known precedents of exhibiting so-called invisible art were always random statements that never continued to develop in a distinct style.
What one usually expects is a blank canvas, a picture with some written ideas which is more a topography art, a picture that is in a wrapping of covered up and is a found object art. The only known artists who continued wrapping is Christo but his art is not considered invisible even though he hides or attempts to hide what is inside the wrapping….
Recently same as in more distant periods in time many artists are trying to reduce their visual means. There’s a difference though. In previous times artists ventured into reduction of visual means with more ease. The artworks from older times with reduced visual means had much less labor and look less worked on.
Now the reduction of visual means is something that doesn’t fall under the artistic philosophy when an artists trying to prevent an overkill of the visual imagery.
If Rothko worked on his abstract painting laboriously than in current standards his work would be considered not sale’s worthy. Now to be sale-worthy the abstraction is worked to show a lot of workmanship. Surely Rothko doesn’t want anyone to see a lot of workmanship quite the opposite, he wanted his paintings to look fresh and not overdone. And in current standards he would have to toil on every dot in his painting to perfect it.
Today’s abstract paintings look like very hard-worked on simulations of surfaces that look like some textures (varieties of plain or distressed surfaces /stone and whatever is the decorative surfaces of abstracts, patterns that are used in interior design.
Overworked, machine-like is expensive looking enough to sell in the gallery but it creates a certain amount of fatigue in time. The commerce knows about it, the fatigue would bring the art buyer to buy more to add some new life to the art collection ed infinitum.
Art commerce wants more art collectors in the times when art is selling and makes money and should be called what it is – decorative luxury items.
Art or luxury decorative items was always meant for people with wealth and they always wanted to get their money worth.
When abstract painting is done in a manner to be worthy of selling price it is not creativity of conceptual thought and has no abstracted meaning. The craft of simulating surfaces is widely known and is used in interior design. When it is unique that no other craftsman can repeat it is recognized nearly as jewelry and rag-making, etc. All the items that cost money due to the high workmanship and hours, months and sometimes years of creation. Same way was built the historical hand-made furniture. Same way the current abstract decorations will hold in time. It is made for someone as rich as royalties but it doesn’t mean that it has anything to do with artistic creativity, the most mysterious and unexplained human phenomenon.
So anyone who is interested to earn money as a maker of such luxury items and be able to place them in the store for sale – the art gallery, can come up with own recipe for surface replica and start working will find a paying job on the art scene nowadays...
It doesn’t involve questioning of morals, times and life. It involves many hours of working and ability to produce varieties of the same surfaces in good taste. Instead of questioning human spirituality, or questioning art means that someone considers irrelevant and outdated, not for any breakthrough to create something revolutionary new.
Don't spam my photo thread! Comments with award banners will be deleted
Crevier's Classics
My first plan today, 3/29/20, was to go to a carshow and shoot some fresh pics. Then reality set in. I clicked open SoCalCarCulture.com/events and discovered every show in So Cal had been cancelled for some reason having to do with a virus. Ahem.
So I dug out some old shots from August, 2017, and re-edited them this morning and these are them.
Click L, then hit F11
Peace Of My Mind
It would have been the fall of 1970. The White House days, The White House being my lodgings on Weston Road for a few years, located next to the Loblaws store where I’d pilfered my moms Players Plains years earlier and kept the coins to barter for friends with pockets full of candy bought at the shabby corner variety store towards the end of Guestville Avenue on the way to Our Lady of Victory school. The very same home once owned by a Doctor that I would walk by as a boy on the way to school, it had meticulously cared for lawns with an abundance of lilac bushes, rose and peony gardens all set behind a painted black ornamental steel fence placed along the outer edges of the entire property. The fence had pointed Victorian styled dagger fleur de lis finial trim at regular intervals. Behind the fence there were numerous hedges to keep the common folk from looking in at the garden parties held in the warm summer time, it was the grandest house.
The same White House where we had thrown the Beatles Abbey Road lawn party one warm summer night in 1969 after acquiring the first copy in Canada of the new album from an executive (to remain unknown) at Capitol Records on Airport Road near, where else, the airport. The same White House where on one of my first hits of acid, I felt as if I had shrunk into a ‘little man’ and tried, rather unsuccessfully to get under the bed, thinking I was a tiny person. In my mind my voice sounded, to me at least like someone on laughing gas, it was very frightful. That same White House where for years, the guys (Bill, Frank and Jack the Bell brothers, Peter, Frank Herbert, the Count) had come to drink our Saturday Night Libations, we were all serious beer drinkers and at times too poor to go to fratty clubs like the Place Pigalle on Avenue Road or the Embassy Tavern on Belair Street near Bloor and Bay.
The White House where the landlady a thin British woman would chastise us for sneaking cases of warm Molsons and Labatts beer up to the room hidden (not very well) in a crammed hockey bag. The landlady’s name was Mrs. Clark . I recall having a letter size black and white poster/photograph mounted on a faded green wall in the room, of a woman who was bent over leg raised to a wooden chair wearing a pair of white panties adjusting her stockings held up by a garter belt, her generous breasts falling out of a white brassier, voluminous dark hair off to one side, a smoke in one hand, a very sultry poster that in a way resembled Mrs.Clark from the fourties, not a naughty photo at all compared to todays smut. There was lots of other ART in the room, various posters that had been thieved around town, of gigs by now famous musicians, like Downchild playing at the Arlington Bar, as well as the Kendall Wall band appearing at Grossmans Tavern, there was an air raid shelter sign taken from a wall in Buffalo the time we (Bill and I) went to enlist in the marines and told to join our own forces, there was a large 8X10 colour photograph of myself driving the MG Midget down the fabled lanes of Windfields Farm that I had made Billy take while perched on the hood of the tiny car.
That room on the third floor of The White House, where instead of walking down to the can to have a leak on the second floor and having to look at Old John in his pee stained ivory one piece long johns who would leave his rooming house door open for all to see into we would piss in a jar or stubby beer bottle or right out the third floor window that faced north up Weston Road. Across the street there was Renatos Pizzeria where for a five dollar bill you could order an Extra Large Buttered Pizza with nothing on it except the crust and butter, delivered! There was the Glenvalley Variety Store where Les Niremberg the actor worked for his parents. My favourite shop was the New Silver Tip Restaurant where many a Sunday morning the Chicken Rice Soup was better than breast milk for curing a hangover.
Peter was attending St. Lawrence University in upper New York State on a full hockey scholarship. He was home for a one week school break, his mom, Isobel offered to put the gas in the car for us to get him back to school. The car was a gold and cream coloured Austin Healey 3000 Mark III. A powerful vehicle with five speeds and an overdrive. Pilfered large Pirelli tires had been installed on the back wheels, the wheel wells had to be altered slightly for them to fit. One of the Ainsworth boys on Victoria Blvd helped install the tires in the back lane near the York Township sheds. He didn’t mind getting his hands dirty. The car had been purchased off a used car lot in the Yonge and Sheppard area for the sum of $400. There was no insurance, only the government sponsored, Unsatisfied Judgment that you could purchase for $50 at the time of registering the vehicle and obtaining license plates. Cars did not require ‘certification or e tests’ as they do today, there were plenty of cheap cars to be had. The funds to purchase the car may have come from my gig at the Continental Can Company where I worked under the name, Mike Cooper for the summer. There was an elegance to the car, it was more than stylish, it was also in my opinion very classy. Although the body of the Healey was beginning to deteriorate, one could overlook the small patches of rust and look at ‘the bigger picture’ so to speak.
Pete and I left for Canton New York around mid morning on a bright golden fall day in October of 1970. I have fond recollections of us passing around a cooked roast beef provided by Mrs. Brennan for our lunch, she had packed it in a piece of tin foil. I remember how good tasting that hunk of beef was, it was probably a Top Sirloin, it was cooked and spiced perfectly. Each of us would tackle the roast like road kill until it was gone. The ride went without incident we pulled up to a Border Crossing the one that crossed at Prescott, Onatrio over to Ogdensberg, New York. Since Peter was a student we were passed into the States without so much as a drivers license being shown.
Canton was about an hours drive from the border, east a bit then south into the farm belt of New York State. In that small community sits one of the establishments hallowed schools, St. Lawrence University. The town itself was comprised of a typical downtown commercial strip with the usual shops and restaurants, pizzerias for the students, bars for the students, places to get eggs and fries, but no vinegar, they didn’t know about vinegar, two eggs and chips cost $1.50. At the time Pete was staying with some guys at a house not far from the campus it was his second year. He had made buddies with a longhair named Arnie and Arnie’s dog Susan a collie. Arnie and Susan lived on a ramshackle wood heated farm not far from town, they got to town driving a side step light green 1956 Chev pick up. A guy named Peanut would come over to the house on his motorcycle, he was a Vietnam veteran later we would learn he died in a crash. The other roommates never seemed to be home. We stacked the beer in the fridge and I recall drinking the beer out of washed out mustard jars. Boiled Oscar Meyer wieners on rye bread were the food choices on the house menu.
The school grounds were comprised of this leafy enclave of brick buildings built in the turn of the century style of architecture, some of the buildings had been around since the 1850s. The school had grown considerably since its founding, in all the walking campus was comprised of almost a hundred acres. For the most part the school had a reputation for having intelligent students, taught by top notch professors. Pete was an exception, he was a jock and an import to boot. Drinking seemed to be the national past time. After freshening up Pete took us to a big frat party on the lawn of this football playing fellows parents three story home on the edge of the main street of town. There were hundreds of people there, all drinking warm pissy beer from kegs that had been set up to serve the crowd. Down the road a bit, another party was taking place in a frat house, more people, more warm beer in plastic glasses, I think it was homecoming weekend. At night we went to the Club Tic Toc and drank more beer, then eggs and chips across the street at the Diner. We stopped into Billys Lower Bar and drank a few more beers then made it home in one piece.
Monday morning The Healey was parked near a driveway of a big home on a side street, a car came down the driveway and backed right into the right side fender, leaving a scratch a few inches long, I got out of the car to surmise the damages, an older lady, perhaps in her seventies got out of her sedan to examine the damage, she was very nice, she went, “oh my god, look what I’ve done” she was very upset with herself. She went in the house and called her insurance broker, who came right over, and calmed her down. She invited me in while she made the call, everything was perfect in the home, like a TV show. The Insurance person came and estimated the damages then she wrote me a cheque for the full amount to have the car repaired $85, can you imagine that, paid for the damages on the spot, the police were not informed. I recall paying Pete the $10 bucks I owed him. By this time I was thinking of heading home to Toronto, I was played out and Pete had classes to think about. I stopped at the local ABC store and bought a case of Ripple Wine for less than two dollars a bottle, threw it in the back seat along with my few clothes and headed towards Canada. I made a right turn at the river and headed along the smooth and barren American side of the St. Lawrence River. The Healey was up to the task, I had her in overdrive and the speedometer read 160 MPH…a short while later the motor blew, I must have blown a cylinder or a piston or whatever it is that gives in a car. It was all I could do to coax the car into a service station where I discovered there was very little oil left in the crankcase.
Fortunately, the car did run and after putting in four quarts of oil that I traded four bottle of Ripple for I limped off to Montreal to visit my mothers mother at her home. It was almost dark by the time I got there. All day long the Canadian radio station had been discussing the FLQ crisis, the kidnapping of the minister Quebec minister Pierre Laporte. There were soldiers with rifles on the streets of Montreal, it was as close to war as our country could be. On the doors of the Healey I put two War is Over If You Want It Posters that I had in the boot of the car. With these anti war posters I drove around the city that the Prime Minister had declared an emergency and invoked the War Measures Act. Numerous soldiers were posted at street corners I could see them snarl as they read the message on the posters.
The visit at my grandmother Lauza Lemay’s house did not go well, she may have been in the early stages of Alzheimers, she was confused, her English was very poor, my French no better we had difficulty communicating. It was very stiff and formal, she came from the type of generation that was more comfortable with visitors who had made prior arrangements. One of my mothers sisters Raymonde was present, she was staying at the home as well, she was very obliging and made me feel comfortable, while relaxing in the basement family room they gave me a gift from my deceased grandfather to take to Ontario, it was one of his paintings, he painted under the nom de plume Leon Yamel, his name spelt backwards. I was offered food and a bed to sleep in which I gladly accepted. The day was just beginning. I left the home in the suburb of St. Laurent and took a drive downtown, the Healey did well in low revs, you wouldn’t know it was sick. All along the streets you could see armed Soldiers ready to take action. The FLQ were considered a terrorist threat capable of dark deeds. This was the international news story of the day.
While waiting for a traffic light to change a man introduced himself, he worked as a DJ at a local radio station, he thought the signs on the car doors were cool, he invited me to come to the station to be interviewed for his evening talk show. I was naturally quite excited, I went to the station where I spoke with the host who interviewed me for quite some time, who knows what words I had given them, something I am sure along the lines of John and Yoko’s War is Over if you Want It. While at the station the DJ gave me some John and Yoko photo enlargements from the recent Bed In which made the World News. Afterwards I went driving around the downtown core, not very subtle as I was looking for trouble by displaying the posters attached to the car doors. This created quite a stir. The contrast between the soldiers the scared residents and the cars message was like the difference between light and dark.
It was getting late, I realized my prescription for Valiums, just a small dose of size 5 pills, was almost out. This is a terrible drug, a drug that though legal when prescribed had the worst effects of any that I had experimented with. I can’t recall why my family doctor had prescribed them to me in the first place. In any case in a very short period of time I was physically wired to the blue pills. The withdrawal was very difficult, I have been told as difficult as any illegal substance to wean oneself from. At the hospital emergency room a Doctor read the label on my old prescription bottle and issued me a temporary prescription for twenty or so pills. I was good to go for another week. The effects the pill had on me was almost instant, the addiction very subtle, the pill in my case would turn this introverted quiet person into a Chatty Cathy. I listened to the interview on the radio station at a downtown restaurant where they changed the station for me at my insistence to hear the eight PM broadcast. Today, I have no idea what the interview was about. Peace I suppose. The celebrity of it all was not a lasting matter, but I must say, as an act of protest it remains quite a moment.
The Healey and I pulled into my grandmothers house around 11 that night, frail and confused, dressed in a nighty the sweet woman opened the door and let me in. I slept well, like a child. Who would know that when I kissed her goodbye in the morning, softly spoke to her in my halting French, ‘bonsoir granmere’ that this would be the last time I would see her.
There remain fond memories of visiting the family in Quebec as a child. One time we all piled into a car my dad had borrowed, he said to mother, ‘make sure you go to the bathroom before we leave’ as the eight of us we piled into the car. Early on, Sue Al and myself played a game we invented called Volkswagen. To win you had to be the first one to spot one of the new car sensations driving on either side of the road, when you saw it, you shouted out ‘Volkswagen’ in order to beat the other person. The other two boys, Kevin and Shane would point their toy revolvers out the window emulating Roy Rogers or was it Hop a Long Cassidy or one of the other cowboy heroes of the day whom we would see on Saturday mornings watching the black and white TV. Barbara was less than a year old on this trip, she was all wrapped up in blankets, put to rest between mom and dad on the front seat. We got off the new 401 near Kingston then stopped for a lunch of salmon sandwiches at a picnic rest along the less busy highway two, along the St.Lawrence River. I distinctly recall a large ship passing us going in the opposite direction, dad explained how the canal system allowed ships to travel with their loads of goods from around the world eventually reaching the Great Lakes. Mom had a pee, we piled back into the car, Montreal was not very much further along the road.
When we got to my grandparents home we climbed the side stairs up to their large suite of rooms in the apartment situated above a commercial building. There was a large upper verandah. Nearby, there was a wonderful park with swings and teeter totters that my younger aunts and uncles would take us to. Everyone was very happy to see Gisele and her family, and of course, the new baby. The smiles were genuine, they remain so. At my grandparents home in Montreal they had their big meal at lunch time, this trip was no exception. A large ham was removed from the oven, there were the usual trimmings, boiled carrots, boiled potatoes, French Stick, as well a yellow fish that they thought was a delicacy, cod. I thought it smelt terrible as well as looked terrible. The men as well as the women drank beer poured from large quart size bottles, brands like Dow and Carlings. Everyone smoked, right there in the living room. The men for the most part wore white shirts and ties of all things. Ladies wore dresses or suits, their finery. My grandfather smoked a pipe and to keep his trousers up he wore suspenders.
That week there were many family gatherings. In order to accommodate us all Alex and I were shipped to Aunt Pauline and Uncle Maurice’s new home. It may have been in Laval. I recall Alex and I being bored to death from listening to Aunt Pauline’s record player, over and over we would play the Patti Page hit, Shrimp Boats are a Coming, over and over and over. In the mornings we would accompany her to the shops where she would pick up the milk and dairy products, fresh bread as well as a bottle of whiskey from the staid Quebec Liquor store for Uncle Maurice. He was a handsome well spoken man who favoured the Detroit Red Wings over the home town heroes the Montreal Canadiens team in the ice hockey. I’m pretty sure he supported the Wings just to irritate everyone else. In those days, the Montreal team was full of stars, such as Maurice ‘the Rocket’ Richard, Jean Beliveau, Boom Boom Geoffrion, Doug Harvey, Jaques Plante the goalie and other flashy players. It was a dynasty. Detroit was no slouch either, the Detroit stars were Alex Delvecchio and Mr.Elbows Gordie Howe as well as Terry Sawchuk in goal. Alex and I would entertain ourselves by walking the block or so to a main intersection and waving at the passerby for something to do. A large bridge passed over the river where we could see a huge concrete set of buildings, a prison, very foreboding, it may have been Bordeaux Prison.
After saying good by at my families home in Montreal I headed towards Toronto and by chance took the wrong turn towards Ottawa, I always, to this day get turned around on the Montreal express routes. I said to myself, ‘oh well, there are people in Ottawa to visit attending school”. The car would falter every now and then and I would pull into remote gas stations and trade Ripple wine for oil. Finally the car struggled to the Ottawa downtown where this girl we knew from high school was staying, she and Peter had a thing going at one time. Mickey, reluctantly gave me her couch to crash on for a few days. The car was left at a garage for analysis, I said several hail marys and our fathers before leaving it there. We drank a few beers and a jug of wine at Mickeys place, took it easy, smoked some reefer. A couple of days later the garage gave me the bad news, “your car needs a new motor”. Well, we all knew I was in no position to pay for that, I agreed to sell it to two guys who saw it at the garage for the sum of $200. Great, except they sent the money to an address in Toronto via post and it never arrived, no amount of pestering the postal authorities would get me satisfaction. The train ride to Toronto from Ottawa was uneventful. I got back to town, flat broke, not a penny in my pocket, I even think Mickey may have paid for my ticket home, to get rid of me. Reality set in, I was fucked up big time on the valiums and didn’t even know it. The rest is history….At one time on top of the world, driving around Montreal in a car festooned with posters that mocked the position of both warring parties, the FLQ and the governement of Canada, there was no crown of roses in Ontario as most folk paid more attention to the baseball and hockey scores than they did the dangerous game of politics being played in their country, we have continued to grow apathetic in regards to politics, I hear an awful lot of vicious language about our current government, much dislike. This week on Facebook, there was a quote from John Lennon, it surprised me, it went something like, "If you want Peace, just declare it, as they do when there is a war, just declare it." In the light of the shambles quickly taking over parts of the Ukraine and the seeds of unrest in Iraq I find his words to have more meaning than ever. Just Declare It........................
Castles traditionally hold the title for fantastical tale’s manmade favorite locations, especially during Middle Ages. Huge structures, made up grey and cold stones, have been witness of the grandeur and the decay, as so as the main target for invaders. In the green land of mysticism, these buildings are still present in many of the towns and cities, keeping the country even more bound to the past. And I know that especially you, can feel that up there the air have more than physical particles. There is much more than humidity and grey skies, there is abstraction and mistery.
Once we crossed the door of that small coffee shop, we were getting in the universe of that old woman even without noticing it. We had never seen a house like that. The carpet of the stairs, the surprisingly low that all the doorknobs were and the view of the Cashel Castle on the hill. Again, there was something different in the atmosphere. We politely bid farewell, and went back to the street. Raindrops started to pour, making us walk faster and get inside the car, which was parked right in front of the door twenty-five in Ladyswell Street. The front glass was wet, and I realised that the water made the view tremendously beautiful. Even more it was. I picked up my camera and everything happened so fast. I spoted this woman, set my eye on the viewfinder and wait the reality set things in the right place. And it wonderfully happened, invisible to me during 1/250 of a second. We couldn’t believe the image that Cashel had just gave us. A single penny in kilometres of fresh grass.
Listening to: Let it go, by Linnea M.
In 2012 I was in shape. I wanted to see how my present self measured up to my younger self who in 2003 had run to the summit of Mt. Olympus in a day, after work. It's 45 miles with glacier travel and some rock scrambling.
My friend Ben, on the 2003 adventure, had written me an email mid-day at work. It said something to the effect of, "Let's go climb Mt. Olympus in a day. I'll be at your house at 10PM."
At the time, I was just beginning my stint as a desk jockey. With enough time behind the desk, you can talk yourself into all kinds of foolishness.
"Sure," I wrote back with a hell yeah grin, "Let's do it!"
Then reality set in. What shoes will I wear? A stop at REI on the way home and I was set-up with new shoes, straight from the box onto my baby soft feet. Perfect. I'll break them in while walking around the supermarket.
That first adventure was amazing. Ben and I were so unbelievable stoked. To have gone from an office to the summit of Olympus in the heart of Olympic National Park's nearly million acres was whack. The brain had crossed wires and reality had been skewed, but in a fantastic way.
One moment that sticks out was when, just before daybreak, in the pitch black, a herd of elk had crossed the Hoh River. It was a big gang by the sounds of their hoofs in the river. To either side of us, the animals crashed through the wood and from a few feet away to hundreds of feet away, elk would bugle their high pitched wail. As far as animal encounters go, it was memory-gold for the soul. I will NEVER forget it.
Recapturing that trip wouldn't be easy.
In 2012 my friend Juya wanted to go on a day trip of her own up Olympus, so like an idiot I said, "Sure, I'll go."
A few things were learned in the proceeding years. My shoes were broken in. I actually ran for about a month beforehand. And I LOVE my sleep, so I got half a night's worth before starting.
Top memory of this second adventure was this moment pictured here, where I am atop Mt. Olympus. It's sunny. It's mid autumn. The weather is gorgeous. And I have no blisters ;) In sight is half of Washington State and nothing but the moment and memory swirling in my thoughts and vision.
“That familiar noise reaches my ears. *click* *click* *click* followed by the even more familiar scent. I realize just how stoned I am when turning over to see whose sparking seems near impossible. Within a few seconds the circle is formed again. I’m trying to remember how much I’ve smoked today, but we all knew at this point that focusing on a tiny fact like that isn’t possible. My turn to hit. I start with a small hit to see how strong the stuff actually is. Next I hit back as much as my lungs can hold. Before I even begin to exhale I can feel my fingers start to tingle. I can’t determine whether this is the pot, or if this is the copious amounts of morphine I ingested just so that I could make it through last class. Before I know it, the joint is finished and someone is pulling out the bong. Willy Bongka we call it. As I look around I realize that in a few weeks I won’t be able to come here anymore. When the rest of the leaves fall of the trees it will expose us all to the string of backyards and little children playing in them. Next thing I know, back to reality, or at least what my reality looks like. The bong is sitting in my lap; apparently it’s my turn for a hit. I ask someone to light me. After a few attempts I watch the green glow red and the thick smoke fill the glass. The bowl comes out and my lungs are hit with all the smoke. My eyes start to drop as the smoke rolls gracefully from my nose. I hear a few more clicks, but can’t open my eyes just yet. I go in for another hit as I’m cheered on by these people I call friends. Finally, the bong leaves my hands. I fumble through my tin trying to find my pipe. I load up a bowl and get it lit. I take a few tokes and pass it on. We finish up and gather our energy as we head to the next spot. Even when this intoxicated it takes no thought to follow the routine. We get to the next spot, my turn. I pull out a joint and spark it. Halfway through I have to back out. My throat hurts too much to continue. Again we leave this area of the woods and head for the next. What feels like hours later we arrive at the fort. I check my phone, amazed that it is only 5. I turn my left to see someone hitting the bong again, the routine continues here as well. We start to head home in our different directions. As I reach my house I give my eyes a few drops and head upstairs get hanged. Now it’s time for the best acting performance all day. I greet my parents and take my long awaited seat on the couch. As I sit there, I feel my legs trying to separate from me. They are slowly sinking to the floor. Next thing I know I am awoken to go to bed. As I head upstairs I feel uplifted knowing that I am far too high to even consider the knife tonight. I lay down in my bed dreading the morning. Dreading the time when reality sets in. I try to say a quick prayer before I nod off to sleep.”
- written by a very close friend of mine
We are like children, our mind is blank and our heart is yearning to be filled. We fill it with so many things, the need for love, drugs, drinking, wearing a whole bunch of make up, cutting, exercise. Everything. Anything. And through it all we even know it’s not right. “Now it’s time for the best acting performance all day” or “dreading the time when reality sets in.” Isn’t it funny how we do things that we don’t want to face afterwards.
Here’s something you should live by - if you don’t want people knowing about it, you shouldn’t be doing it.
The thing is though, we make mistakes. We do stupid things and honestly I think it’s important that we go through these things. Because only after that can we realize what we’re missing and whether or not we like who we’ve become. I’m not saying what my friend did is wrong or his lifestyle but knowing him, I know he wasn’t happy being that way.
The best part? As nostalgic as we become over our pasts, the real truth is we are children of God. Children. Kids. Young. Forgiven. Whether you have parents that make you happy or whether they hurt you or have hurt you. The fact is you have a father that will always love you no matter how many times you screw up, fall down, and scream and shout at him.
Psalm 16:1-5 “In you, O LORD, I have taken refuge; let me never be put to shame; deliver me in your righteousness. Turn your ear to me, come quickly to my rescue; be my rock of refuge, a strong fortress to save me. Since you are my rock and my fortress, for the sake of your name lead and guide me. Free me from the trap that is set for me, for you are my refuge. Into your hands I commit my spirit; redeem me, O LORD, the God of truth.”
You may not hear from God right away. You many not feel him. Yet the moment you collapse into him and into the fact that you’ve done wrong I promise you your life with turn around. We ask God to come to our rescue and he never fails us because his love never neglects however you can’t stand there and expect miracles. Just like a real Father, you cannot treat him poorly and ignore his existence then expect him to bless you with gifts and love and affection. It’s a two way street, he’s willing to be the signs but the question here is, are you ready to put away your self drawn map and follow what he gives you? God will save you from your troubles, I don’t doubt that one bit but you need to be ready to give up those troubles. You need to WANT to be saved. You need to allow yourself to be vulnerable and like a child. Let God love you.
Painted in the middle of the summer of 1999. Freestyle on a local yard engine. Painted with a bunch of the crew and some younger members coming up at the time. This side was Intel, me and Sever TCI. The flip side was Heat and I believe, Logik. This was a last minute decision that just came about when the Railroad decided to leave a fresh little engine parked right in front of a great graffiti wall. It's something that I normally wouldn't recommend doing because it really pisses the Railroad off. This thing remained painted and rolled through the yards and did work for atleast 2 months after being hit. Not really sure what happened after that, I just don't think anyone really saw it after that, which probably means it got repainted. I always have dreams of painting more of these, then the reality sets in that it really isn't a smart thing to do. Granted they may not care too much about rusty, crusty, old, boxcars but engines, them engine mother fuckers are expensive. So, youngsters, stay away from those unless you really want to have them hunt you down and also blow your spot up. The Good Ole' Days!