View allAll Photos Tagged replication
It is a replicator device I constructed to copy 35mm films to digital camera.
It consists of parts of two enlargers set on the same optical bench. on the right side is a filmholder, condenser and 100W lamp to illuminate the negative. on the left there is a macroadapter, Industar 100 110/4 objective and canon 350D body.
There is no glass between the film and objective, however the glass on the other side of the film sometimes creates Newton rings.
Aaron Friedman, M.D., vice president for health sciences and dean of the University of Minnesota Medical School, left, discusses a new method to replicate regulatory T cells for bone marrow transplant patients with Bruce Blazar, M.D., who leads the Clinical and Translational Science Institute at the university. Blazer is Regent's professor of pediatrics in the Division of Blood and Marrow Transplantation, and a pioneer in the discovery and use of T cells to boost success for transplant patients.
A cup and dish shaped in the Adobe Creative Cloud logo and 3D printed using a MakerBot Replicator 2. Original 3D data from Photoshop file.
3D-printed on a MakerBot Replicator 3D printer.
For more information creative-tools.com
Replicate Designs produces Architectural Scale Models and Custom Displays along with props for advertising, movies and more.
Stepper subsystem (left side) remains the same basic design as before (minor layout changes but same ICs).
This is a robot mode only replica of Starscream's look on ROTF.
I tried to replicate every single detail from the CGI model, which differs greatly from the actual figure. I added tons of parts on his chest, arms and legs, for that messy and sharpy decepticon look.
The original canopy section was removed, since it's not there in the movie version, leaving only the canopy itself, for a more accurate look. The whole chest section was redone using mostly new parts to get the right look (much bulkier). The middle section was resculpted to be permanently open, with a few tiny mechanical parts here and there. A few parts were added on his neck as well. Speaking of which, the neck now can be tilted side to side.
I added several wires on his arms, instead of just paiting the sculpted ones, for a much more reallistic look.
I also added articulated fingers, and a ball joint on his right hand. Each finger has a tiny spike added, just like the CGI model has.
I added the jet engines on his back, as well.
His legs were heavily modified, with tons of new parts added, to get that overlapping-transforming -panels look.
The paint job was done with several coats of different shades of gray and metallic enamels, for not so shiny but still metallic look (like the actual F-22. I went through several forums of model builders to get the bet mix of colors and proper techniques to get the Raptor color scheme right).
The final touch is on his head. I resculpted his eyes for a more accurate and meaner "look". (they no longer light up, though)
The MakerBot Filament Case for safe and clean storage of MakerBot XXL or XL filament spools. Fits perfectly with the MakerBot Replicator Z18 Filament Cart.
http:\\makerbot.creativetools.se
Since I have so much sewing to do for the upcoming Patchwork Show in Santa Ana on May 24th, I'm teaching Sibigiri how to replicate herself!
The famous Replicator avatar of Grendel's Children. I did not use one in its entirety but assembled the elements of several of them around Alpha; since in their original state these avatars diverge too far from the human and would probably fall outside the Uncanny Valley's threshold.
I have replaced the "Drow" skin with the "Forge" skin designed by Vry Offcourse. This is not really a "nude" skin in that it covers the entire body with metal plates... I think this skin does actually bring Alpha closer into the threshold range.
Honestly I replicated the idea from this photo a1.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc7/s720x720/405680_3...
It's just for fun and there isn't related with anything commercial..
Small self-replicating bits of nucleic acid are a simple and essential intermediate in the origin of life, but calling them "viruses" is a stretch. The distinction is that so far as I know, every modern virus known to man is a) incapable of making protein and b) requires protein to function. This is no small distinction, because the entire elaborate structure of the ribosome and its associated factors and metabolic machinery are required for usual methods of protein synthesis. (There are some clever alternatives used for making antibiotics - see Nonribosomal peptide - but I'm not aware of any virus making a capsid, etc. using such tricks) I cannot swear to you that no primordial snippet of catalytic RNA could have survived from the beginning of the world until this day without ever having been part of a normal cycle of cell replication, but if it did, it has somewhere along the line developed a great need for ribosomes it doesn't have, and has borrowed enough sequences from ribosome-containing cells to make all the protein-coding genes we identify in it today.
Of course, you could postulate that self-replicating RNAs developed protein synthesis before the proper cell membrane, and then some never became part of cells. The problem is that it is hard to picture a complete protein biochemistry, at least one of the usual ribosome-oriented type with loose aminoacyl-tRNAs and the wizard's stew of biochemical precursors to amino acids, existing free or within a typical tight-packed viral capsid. One would think that the such a protein synthesis machinery open to the environment would have special adaptations to keep components from escaping, and probably would have use some more rudimentary genetic code than the completed cell. Yet none of these primitive features show up in viruses either.
The bottom line is that viruses by their nature could have picked up snippets of code anywhere, but they are not primordial organisms from the first days of life. Wnt (talk) 15:32, 8 August 2008 (UTC)
DAY 153
There I am, hands on the hips standing butt-naked in a room full of dudes contemplating my next move. Rewind half a day and the sudden jolt of tires screeching on the Tokyo runway resuscitate me from my deep slumber after spending the night in the Manila airport watching movies. One train ride later and I’m walking around this colossal city trying to get my bearings. It takes me an hour to find my hotel; the language barrier is proving to be somewhat difficult and it didn’t help that the signage for the hotel did not replicate the advertised name on the internet. They tell me check-in isn’t for another hour and a locker will cost $3. Not a chance hombre! So I sling my backpack over my shoulder and walk around the city for another hour. Finally time to check into my hotel, I dump my bags and head up to the 9th floor where the public bathroom is located to freshen up. When I walk through the first door I am greeted by a middle-aged Japanese man and his hairy penis. I edge around the perimeter of the room, clutching the walls while his wang locks its gaze on me like the Mona Lisa. Now at this point I’m not entirely sure what awaits me through door number 2, but I can only assume that it’ll be MA15+ containing nudity. Jon of 5 months ago would’ve tucked and rolled, but these days I’m never one to shy away from a new experience. So that brings us back to standing in the middle of the onsen, clothes stuffed into a pigeon-hole and as naked as the day I was born. Do I – A) hop into the shared bath where 2 men quietly simmer in the boiling water, B) pull up a stool next to old mate scrubbing his grundel on the seated showers, or C) join the silver-fox that’s hangin’ brain in the sauna? The answer is D) all of the above. When in doubt, the answer is ALWAYS ‘all of the above’.
Japan, what a crazy, foreign, futuristic out-of-this-world place. I frickin’ love the shit out of this country. It is so awesome in a way that I could just walk around the streets squealing and gawking at the ridiculousness of it all for hours on end. Toilets with 9 additional buttons that I’m not familiar with, conveyor belts for bicycles, cat cafes, pachinko, vending machines…. I spent days in Tokyo exploring the streets and alleys of various suburbs and unwinding in the peaceful gardens.
I love Japan and I cannot wait to come back someday. But when I come back, I won’t do it on a backpacker’s budget. If you’re strict, you can get by relatively cheaply; but sometimes that can be depressingly soul crushing. One night I went to a sushi train for dinner and piled 95cent sush into my gullet. I was a happy man! That is until the $5 plates of squid and salmon start parading past my eyes; it then becomes an internal battle of ‘think long-term Jon, you can’t afford this!’ verses ‘but it looks so tasty, and…I just want it!!!’
In Kyoto I spent a couple of days visiting the various sites around town. It’s all very pretty, but nothing grinds my gears more than going to a site and being herded like a sheep with hundreds of other tourists. The Golden Temple is supposed to be a peaceful place that sits atop a lake, well that’s what the photos make it out to be anyway. But when you’re there it’s more like a festival mosh-pit the way people push and shove in order to get to the front spot for that postcard photo. Then, just to make you feel like you’re getting your $5 worth, the path snakes endlessly through an uninteresting park until you finally reach the exit where money grabbing touts are hawking overpriced souvenirs. Yeah, peaceful temple my arse.
The next day I met some people at the hostel and we all decided to get out of the city for the day and climb the Konze Alps. Now this is more my style – killer views, dangerous rock climbs, good company and I don’t have to worry about getting an eye poked out by a selfie stick. We underestimated how long it would take to actually get to the Konze Alps and by the time we reached the peak, the sun was just about ready to call it a day. The descent tested our navigational skills and eventually tricked us into taking a forgotten path of yellow caution tape, crumbling bridges and ankle-busting surfaces. We took so many wrong turns that we ended up discovering an overpass for a highway road that is no longer in use. We ran the length of the overpass, lapping up the peculiar silence that hung over the area before coming to a halt at the entrance to a long, pitch black tunnel which cut straight through the mountain. It was such an eerie feeling, I felt like we just uncovered some government secret or something. As we made our way back to the pathetic fence that did a terrible job of keeping us out, the quiet buzz of a camera adjusting its focus caught our attention; someone somewhere was watching us. There’s something about making discoveries like this that really excites me and ends up leaving a much more lasting impression than any of the touristy sights do.
On our way back down the mountain, I couldn’t stop thinking about a conversation Tom and I had a few nights earlier. In a tiny Japanese bar with dim lights and graphited walls, we sat on cushions getting drunk on Snowballs while Tom told me the story of Nara Dreamland as though it were some urban legend passed down throughout the generations. In 1961 the amusement park known as Nara Dreamland was built and after low visitation numbers, it finally closed its doors in 2006. It’s situated on the outskirts of Nara, but instead of bulldozing the lot and reusing the land, they sealed it with barbed wire and put a big, bad, scary security guard in charge of keeping out any unwanted visitors.
The next day I arrived in Nara and dumped my bags at the hostel that I’d purposefully selected for its proximity to the amusement park. Google Maps guided me for half an hour along the highway then through a suburban area made up of cute little Japanese homes. When I got to Dreamland I walked the perimeter of the entire park, located potential entry points and scoped around for any sign of life. This was merely a reconnaissance mission, I wasn’t to make my move until the morning. That night I charged my camera batteries, cleaned my lenses, synchronized watches and laid out my darkest clothing.
4am the alarm sings its sweet jingle and my eyes are wide open - the sudden reality of all of this is beginning to wrap its hands around my throat. Just like the previous day, I followed my own footsteps down the highway and through the suburbs. I read online that people have entered straight over the main gates at the south-east corner, but I chose the old loading bay on the west side as my entry point, because the entire section had shoulder high shrubbery that I could use for cover. There was only a small section where the barbed wire had been peeled back, so I slowly squeezed my way over the fence and jumped down onto the cold driveway. By this point my heart was pounding out of my chest and the adrenaline was pumping through my veins. Each step I took seemed to slap on the pavement or crunch twigs no matter how careful I was. After 30 metres the overgrown shrubbery parted and I stood out in the open with my jaw dangling from my face. In the corner was a metal rollercoaster wearing a thick layer of blood-orange rust, above me sat a cable car station barely visible through the strangling vines, behind me a river cruise with rotting wooden boats struggled to stay afloat in the green swamp water and in the middle a dusty carousel pleaded for attention like a forgotten toy. Mother Nature has taken back this land in the most hauntingly beautiful way possible. I crept around the sides of buildings, peered around corners before committing and kept my head on a 360 degree swivel. But after a while, I soon realised that the big, bad, scary security guard was either still in bed, or just an old wives tale.
This ended up being one of the best experiences of my life. What’s better than an amusement park you ask? An abandoned amusement park! I hesitantly skulked through the Haunted House with a flashlight, rustled through the souvenir shop for a little memento and climbed to the top of the old wooden rollercoaster before sitting on the carousel and eating my packed breakfast. I spent three hours there searching through every building and inspecting every inch of every ride. As I walked around the park, I could almost hear the children’s laughter, the roar of the rollercoasters and the music jingling from the merry-go-round. What a fascinating place! Just thinking about it now gives me tingles; it felt like a post-apocalyptic ghost town.
Well, I’ve wasted most of this blog talking about Dreamland…other things I did in Japan included a sake tasting in Nara, visiting the peace museum in Hiroshima, climbing Mt Misen, making cup noodles at the Cup Noodle Museum, riding a bike around Kyoto, riding a bullet train (and yes, they are as awesome as you would expect), watching sumo wrestlers train and visiting more temples and shrines than I can count on all my digits.
JGazz – living in Dreamland
I used a solar panel and audacity to capture the bitstream from the original dvd player's remote control.
Then I started with some code from the arduino forum and managed to replicate the pulses.
Thanks to falconphysics and instructables: www.instructables.com/id/Cheap,-Easy-Light-Probe/
Thanks to PlastBox on the arduino forum: www.arduino.cc/cgi-bin/yabb2/YaBB.pl?num=1219758914/4
In this picture of Dalkeith’s newly refurbished Corn Exchange, I am replicating a fantastic old sketch of the Corn Exchange used as a cover of J. C. Carrick’s book ‘Around Dalkeith and Camp Meg’. Originally opened in 1854, the building is of major historic importance in the town and it is just great to see it looking so beautifully restored. It is even better that part of the building is being devoted to the Dalkeith History Society Museum.
I’ve now managed to have a good look at the work that has been done and it is really impressive. In keeping with the use of that original illustration on Carrick's book, the building quite literally stands for history in Dalkeith! It is another feature for Dalkeith to be proud.
John Charles Carrick, MA. BD, is one of the famous names who has interested me in the last few years and so I was really pleased to discover that he was one of the very first to respond positively to Andrew Hope’s letters written in May 1895, seeking subscriptions for the Dalkeith Memorial Fountain to Robert Burns. He was also one of the speakers at the Dalkeith Burns Club’s supper at the Cross Keys in 1896 – the centenary year of the Bard’s death.
Rev. Carrick was the Minister of Newbattle Church from 1885, having earlier served as Assistant at both Newbattle and St Giles, Edinburgh. Born in Glasgow in 1860, he was educated at both Glasgow and Edinburgh Universities and became a prolific author on theological, historical and literary topics. He also edited the Scots Magazine from 1883-1900. He resigned from Newbattle through ill health in 1912 and moved to Liberton.
One hundred and three years ago this month (April 1913), Rev. Carrick was involved in a proposal by Ayr Burns Club to have a bust of Burns in St Giles Cathedral, Edinburgh. Following a suggestion made by Sherriff Guy when proposing the Immortal Memory at the Ayr Club and as an outcome of correspondence between Rev. Carrick, a special meeting of the Club was held on 3 April 1913 at the King’s Arms Hotel, Ayr – Mr J. T. Gouldie, the club president was chair. As with the Dalkeith Burns Monument, it was proposed that subscriptions should be invited from kindred clubs and admirers of the poet with a view to the erection of a suitable bust and that an appeal should be made. Rev Carrick was described to be devoting the proceeds of a new book to the bust fund. The title of the book was ‘Ayr Fort. The Tower of S. John the Baptist at Ayr’.
I have yet to find out what happened to the idea of a bust of Burns at St. Giles but I did visit St Giles a few years ago to photograph the magnificent memorial window dedicated to the Bard and have written separately on the Dalkeith Burns Monument page about it.
Rev. J. C. Carrick was just 54 years old when he died in March 1914 at Liberton.
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An artificial sculpture replicating the thick branches of a tree, on both sides of a short bridge over the water. It even resembles the tree rings and the radial cuts.