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Seemingly unrelated photograph but over a year ago before we were dating, my partner and I were working on a project to listen to every album released in 2020 (according to a Wikipedia article). Today on a car ride, we finished 2020 albums!
Seemingly ready to stand against the storm
On its own the lone cypress girds itself for what's in store.
It's not a question of stay or go
It's more a matter of "go ahead and blow, I'll take whatever you throw!"
I doubt you'll ever find one of these giants swim out to sea.
Maybe bend and sway and perhaps even wade,
So best you'd find one of these noble trees
If you'd like to see the sun come up after that terrible breeze
Our hopes and prayers go out to all who live along the Gulf Coast in the path of Issac.
10.05.88
Seemingly crept into the show, did this. It didn't hang about, arriving later and leaving early. Myself nor those I spoke to ever did see the owner of this Stellar, but it drew in an enthusiastic crowd.
The first example I've ever knowingly seen, I thought the wide-and-flat appearance made the car look quite American.
The Gold Medal special edition trim was offered at the time of the 1988 Seoul Olympic Games, based on a top-spec GSL, I'm not too sure what additional spec was included bar a lot of stick-on vinyl.
How many left: Hyundai Stellar 1600 GSL, 6 taxed & 10 SORN, though how many of these bear Gold Medal stickers is unknown!
The Stellar 1600 GSL is also the most 'common' trim of Stellar remaining.
I photographed this seemingly abandoned horse near the Glassamucky Brakes in the Dublin Mountains about a year ago.
Recently I was driving off the mountains near dusk and became aware of some large shapes in the road in the half light which turned out to be this horse and a group of others including two foals. I am not really sure if they are living wild or just being grazed (I have never seen horses grazed in this area before) but they are a nice addition to the landscape.
If they are living wild then I am pleased she got through the Winter and seems to be thriving living free.
The seemingly stinky great blue heron (seen here checking out his "wing"pit--no arms on this guy ) and I wish you all a great week-end :-)
I will be away from internet from Friday afternoon to late Sunday night, so I'll catch up with you the first of the week.
I'm always amazed at how (seemingly) easy is is for heavy trains to restart on the steep and curving line through Tehachapi Pass.
After taking a picture of this stack train exiting Tunnel three, I ambled down to track level with the intention of crossing over to the car after the train had passed me by. But as the lead locos swung around the curve at Cliff, the horn sounded and the train abruptly came to a stop.
Great. I don't want to clamber over doublestack cars to get to the other side, and climbing back over tunnel three would be an effort, so decide to lazily wait and see what happens.
Soon enough, a pair of horn toots indicate that something is about to happen. Brakes hiss off, and with a little creaking, the train, probably close to a mile long and at a guess 6000 tons or more(?) smoothly ups and leaves. I can't hear the lead engines, so to me it seems as if this massive steel snake is silently and effortlessly walking up the 2.2% (1 in 45) grade while strung around two horseshoe curves and through two tunnels, with no drama and just the sound of heavy metal rolling by.
I start taking pictures of the passing freight car trucks as they accelerate to the speed of a runner before a deep booming reveals the train has helpers at the back about to pop through the tunnel.
And what a sight, sound and vibration as two big GEs wheel out of tunnel three, surefootedly shoving their train up to track speed, gently squealing wheels clawing for grip through clouds of pulverised sand.
These seconds will remain lodged in my memory for a long time.
BNSF remote helper pair Dash 9 5618 and C4 6776 push hard on their doubestacks as they pass between tunnels three and four on Tehachapi Pass, California. 18 April 2018
Seemingly it used to be common for trainee officers at Sandhurst to carve their names into the brickwork of Camberley's obelisk. Including a certain W. Churchill, whose name can be seen in this photo - I've looked for it before without success, but it was easy to spot today...
These extraordinary, seemingly prehistoric insects belong to the same order of insects as lacewings and owlflies. They get their name from their mantis-like appearance, as their spiny "raptorial" front legs are modified to catch small insect prey and are very similar to the front legs of mantids. The adults are predatory insects that are often nocturnal.
This is a very tiny species of mantisfly. Others are quite large.
Pu'er, Yunnan, China
see comments for additional image (different individual).....
After seemingly years of missing out on the CSX business train, I finally was able to pull off a shot! CSX F40PH 9998 leads the train south through Glenwood, IL
Above: Vultan shrewdly bargains with Ming.
Starring Larry “Buster” Crabbe, Jean Rogers, Charles Middleton, Priscilla Lawson, Frank Shannon, Richard Alexander, James Pierce, John Lipson.
Flash Gordon begins with the strange planet Mongo hurtling towards Earth on a collision course. People across the world, from London to darkest Africa, are panicking as their seemingly certain doom draws near. One of the doomed Earthlings, polo player and all-around athlete Flash Gordon (Larry “Buster” Crabbe) is flying home from college to be with his scientist father (Richard Tucker) at the end. A meteor shower, one of the side effects of Mongo’s ever-nearer approach to the Earth, begins to fall around the plane, and the passengers are forced to bail out. Flash assists pretty fellow passenger Dale Arden (Jean Rogers) with her parachute, and the two land together near a remote laboratory–the lab of brilliant scientist Dr. Zarkov (Frank Shannon). Zarkov, a former colleague of Flash’s father who is regarded as a loony by other members of the scientific community, has been working on a rocket ship in which he intends to fly to Mongo and attempt to find a way to stop the planet’s impending collision with Earth. Zarkov confronts Flash and Dale, and after overcoming his initial suspicion that Flash has been sent to sabotage his project, Zarkov asks Flash to accompany him on the flight, taking the place of Zarkov’s assistant, who has fled rather than assist Zarkov on what seems a fool’s errand. Flash agrees to go along, and Dale (after some objections from Zarkov) comes along too.
Arriving on Mongo, our heroes are shortly taken prisoner by the soldiers of an Emperor Ming, who is the supreme ruler of the universe (at least according to the captain of Ming’s soldiers). The trio is brought before Ming (Charles Middleton) in his enormous castle, and the sinister ruler reveals that he is deliberately directing Mongo towards the Earth, planning to wipe out the planet (apparently from sheer maliciousness). Zarkov, as a delaying tactic, manages to convince Ming to eschew the destruction of Earth and plan a conquest of it instead, but new trouble instant erupts when Ming gets a look at Dale. He promptly decides to marry her, but the Emperor is so unwise as to clutch Dale’s arm, leading Flash to rough Ming up. Ming promptly orders Flash thrown into the Arena of Death, where our hero must fight three humanoid ape-like creatures. Winning the struggle, he is dropped down a trap door by the enraged Ming, but is rescued through the intervention of Ming’s daughter Princess Aura (Priscilla Lawson), who has almost immediately fallen in love with Flash. This is simply the prelude to thirteen chapters’ worth of high adventure on Mongo, as Flash attempts to keep Dale out of Ming’s clutches and Zarkov, slyly maneuvering against Ming even while working in the despot’s laboratories, attempts to figure out a way to block Ming’s ambitions and safely return himself and his friends to Earth. Along the way, our heroes will encounter Lion Men, Shark Men, and Hawk Men, as well as Fire Dragons, giant lizards, Orangopoids, Tigrons, and Octosacs.
Flash Gordon is probably the most popular and certainly the best-known of all movie serials, and both its popularity and its fame are well-deserved. Flash has all the strengths of the other good 1930s Universal serials–strong performances, unabashedly emotional moments, colorful characters, and expansive sets. Add to those strengths fantastic and imaginative props, locales, and creatures, the likes of which are not to be found in any other cliffhanger, and you begin to see why Flash Gordon has remained the best-remembered chapterplay of all. The serial throws one villain, monster or gadget after another at its protagonists, but is so well-paced as never to seem frantic or overcrowded; even its few slow spots are made interesting by the actors, their characters, and the fantastic world that surrounds them.
Flash Gordon was reportedly budgeted at over $300,000, a practically unequalled budget for a serial, and this alone sets it apart from its competition. The serial’s costumes, props, and miniatures are all on a far more impressive scale than those of other 1930s serials (although the miniatures are not quite as convincing as those at Republic Pictures). The serial also makes good use of some impressive re-decorated sets from Universal’s bigger-budgeted films (among them the Frankenstein and Dracula films and the silent Hunchback of Notre Dame). This lavish–for a serial–deployment of resources gives Flash more atmosphere than any other cliffhanger, helping to make the many weird locales of Mongo–Ming’s gadgetry-filed laboratory and enormous throne room, King Vultan’s floating sky palace with its gigantic atom-furnace room, the Shark Men’s underwater citadel, the monster-haunted tunnels beneath Ming’s fortress–convincingly otherworldly.
The cinematography of Flash Gordon futher augments the serial’s atmosphere with some strikingly stylish camera angles, particularly in Flash’s fight with the “monkey-men” in the first chapter, Zarkov and Ming’s first laboratory conversation, sequences of various characters hurrying through the tunnels, and Ming’s dramatic entrance into the Fire Tunnel in the final chapter. I’d hazard a guess that these unusual shots are the work of director Frederick Stephani, a German-born director whose only chapterplay was Flash; the serial’s cinematographers, Richard Fryer and Jerry Ash, are two cliffhanger regulars whose other entries in the genre never looked like this.
Supposedly Ray Taylor directed many portions of this serial, though he’s uncredited on screen; perhaps Taylor was needed to assist Stephani, who presumably was unfamiliar with the serial format. If Stephani is behind the more artistic-looking moments in Flash Gordon, we probably have Taylor to thank for the serial’s swift pace and for its well-done action sequences. While the serial contains no elaborate fistfights, it is not lacking in derring-do; Flash’s battle with the monkey-men is quite lengthy and exciting, as is a later fight in the water with a group of Shark Men and Flash’s wrestling match with the Shark Men’s King Kala. Flash’s big swordfight with the Masked Champion of Mongo and his subsequent battle with the Orangopoid are also played for all they’re worth, while Flash’s fight with the Sacred Tigron (a very large tiger) is memorable as well, though it’s hard to believe that our hero can emerge from the struggle without even a scratch. The sequence where an invisible Flash, with the help of King Vultan of the Hawk Men, takes on a squad of Ming’s guards is also exciting and rather amusing as well, with the boisterous Vultan laughs heartily while the unseen Flash wreaks havoc among the guards. Some of the stunt work seems to be handled by Crabbe himself, while he is doubled in other scenes by Eddie Parker; Tom Steele, Lane Chandler, and Jerry Frank also participate in the action scenes, while Ray Corrigan turns in another one of his delightful ape portrayals as the Sacred Orangopoid that Flash must fight.
One shouldn’t forget to give the screenwriters–director Stephani and the more experienced Basil Dickey, George Plympton, and Ella O’Neill–credit for the many good things in Flash Gordon. Occasionally the dialogue sounds rather pompous and unnatural, particularly Flash’s challenge to King Kala (“If I could not defeat a weakling like you, I would gladly welcome death!”); such lines sound like attempts to emulate the style of the beautifully-drawn but clunkily-written Flash Gordon comic strip. However, the grandiose dialogue, though it sounds inappropriate for Flash, seems just right and adds to the larger-than-life feel of the serial, when spoken by more baroque characters like Ming, Dr. Zarkov, the High Priest of Tao, or King Vultan. There are some funny lines among the grandiose ones as well, mainly spoken by the roistering King Vultan and occasionally by the sardonic Ming (when he learns that Dale has been carried off by Vultan’s Hawk Men, Ming dryly comments that Vultan will “undoubtedly compel the Earth girl to marry him. He makes a habit of it.”)
Again following the Gordon comic strip, the serial incorporates romance into its plot far more than any other sound chapterplay does. Ming’s interest in Dale, Flash and Dale’s mutual attachment, Aura’s attraction to Flash, and Barin’s love for Aura, all play important parts in the plot and allow for some unusually emotional moments, particularly in the scene in which a practically hysterical Princess Aura threatens to put out Flash’s eyes with a blowtorch unless he renounces Dale, only to drop the torch in tears when Flash remains unmoved by the threat. Most plot summaries of Flash risk making it sound like an outer-space soap opera at times, but its romantic elements remain muted, bringing added interest to the action but never stifling it.
The serial’s chapter endings are a memorable and varied lot, with Flash being, at different times, apparently drowned by an Octosac, electrocuted in King Vultan’s “sonic room,” crushed by a Gocko (a lobster-like dragon) and fried by a Fire Dragon, among other perils. The Gocko and the Fire Dragon, who seem to bear a family resemblance though they are clearly not identical species, are fairly impressive “suitimation” creatures (to borrow a term from Dave Sindelar of the Fantastic Movie Musings and Ramblings site). Both look a bit unwieldy but genuinely scary (particularly their heads); both were played by Glenn Strange, and both are skillfully made to look bigger than they are through well-done miniature work.
The giant “slurposaurs” (to borrow another Sindelar term)–in other words, iguanas photographed in miniature sets–are also pretty well-done for low-budget effects and are far more effectively integrated into the action than the “slurposaurs” in bigger-budgeted films like Irwin Allen’s The Lost World. The space-ship miniatures, though a bit toylike in appearance at times, are good, and I appreciate the special effects department’s effort to make the ships of the various planets and countries distinct from each other–Zarkov’s Earth space-ship, Ming’s rocket fleet, and the Lion Men’s “gyro-tops” are all differentiated in appearance. The Shark Men’s city too much like what it is, a table-top set (particularly in the shots of its partial destruction by flood), but King Vultan’s floating city is a memorable visual effect.
Although, as mentioned above, Buster Crabbe is occasionally saddled with some difficult dialogue, his Flash is one of the most likable serial heroes of all time. Unlike most cliffhanger protagonists, Flash, though stronger, braver, and nobler than most people, doesn’t seem much smarter or more level-headed than the average fellow, which makes him a lot easier to identify with. He continually rushes into danger head-first, and gets out of trouble either by sheer pluck or through the assistance of Dr. Zarkov or Princess Aura. His good-natured and casual acceptance of danger is also very appealing, as when he cheerily agrees to accompany Zarkov on his possibly suicidal space mission, or when he nonchalantly reassures Dale before asking Zarkov to turn him invisible for a foray into Ming’s throne room. And, of course, Crabbe the champion swimmer can handle the various athletics and acrobatics required of a serial hero quite convincingly.
Jean Rogers’ Dale Arden is a pleasure to watch; her stunning beauty has never been seen to better advantage. Her acting is also excellent, particularly in her reactions to the bizarre terrors of Mongo; critics have always seemed compelled to make silly comments about her propensity to scream and faint in times of danger or emotional stress, but one can hardly blame Dale for reacting with horror to some of the sights she sees (among them giant lizards, the Tigron, and King Vultan’s pet bear). Rogers’ Dale is so sweet and lovable right from the start, and has so much feminine warmth and charm, that I’m left scratching my head over those commentators who have treated her as an annoyance or an irritant. She’s as fully appealing a heroine as Flash is a hero.
Many serials divide the villainy between a “brains” heavy and an “action” heavy; Flash Gordon is one of the only cliffhangers that features what could be called a brains hero/action hero team. While it’s Flash that always handles the physical challenges, it’s Frank Shannon’s Zarkov who continually handles the mental challenges, whether it be creating various scientific devices to save a situation or formulating a plan to rescue his friends from various dangers. Shannon’s kindly but dignified countenance and his intense, serious delivery help him to bring real credence to the most impossible-sounding technical dialogue and help him to deliver fatalistically determined dialogue and stern, confident commands–like his ultimatum to King Vultan when the Hawk Men’s city is about to fall to Earth–in suitably impressive style.
The serial’s heavy is fully as remarkable as its protagonists. Whether sitting on his throne or stalking about in his flowing robes, always with a perpetual scowl and a hint of a cruel sneer, Charles Middleton’s Ming the Merciless is justly the most legendary villain in serials. Middleton makes Ming properly irritable and domineering, and at the same time very sly and subtle; he seems equally willing to use brute power or craft and misrepresentation to gain his ends. The sardonic “heh” with which Middleton punctuates his lines is priceless, as are the arrogant assertions of supreme power that he hurls at his enemies and his displays of autocratic temper, as when he irritatedly orders his High Priest, who has been badgering him about propitiating the Great God Tao, to the dungeon (“Take this babbling idiot away!”).
Priscilla Lawson is also very good as Ming’s daughter, and conveys as much conviction and believability as it is possible to give to such an oscillating character. Aura can be very unpleasantly aggressive, which is what one would expect of the daughter of a tyrant like Ming, but Lawson does not make the character so hard and mean that her occasional moments of softness–and her ultimate conversion to the side of the good guys–seem out of character.
Richard Alexander has one of the most unusual roles of his career as Prince Barin, the rightful heir to the throne of Mongo who allies with Flash against the usurping Ming. Alexander, usually a rough and tough action heavy (see Zorro Rides Again), handles his atypical part quite well, giving his character a proper air of royal dignity and command. He’s more effective when uttering terse lines, however, since he does seem to stumble over his more high-flown pieces of dialogue at times,. James Pierce, a silent screen Tarzan, is Flash’s other principal ally, Prince Thun of the Lion Men, also an antagonist of Ming. Pierce is likably rough-hewn and not particularly regal in manner–but that seems to fit with his character, since the Lion Men appear to be a more primitive people, “barbarian” holdouts against the technocrat Ming.
As interesting as all these characters are, however, John Lipson’s King Vultan of the Hawk Men nearly succeeds in stealing the serial whenever he’s onscreen. An enormously fat and muscular man, even bigger than Richard Alexander, complete with a huge pair of wings, Vultan’s charisma is equal to his physical presence. The character initially seems to be a villain, terrorizing Dale Arden and forcing Flash and Thun to slave in his atom furnaces, but he’s so jovial and boisterous (with an incredibly hearty laugh) that we rather like him in spite of his actions. The sequence where he treats Dale and Aura to dinner and seems to find it hard to believe that Dale is not interested in food is hilarious, as is his subsequent comment when Dale faints at the sight of Flash in the atom furnace (“Hmm! She is weak; she did not eat enough food!”) Also not to be missed are his impudent defiance of his ostensible overlord Ming and his attempt to entertain the dispirited Dale by making shadow pictures on the wall. Vultan, if a bit of a scoundrel, subsequently proves to be fair-minded where his word of honor is concerned, becoming the Earth people’s champion after Ming cheats on a promise to free them and finally helping our heroes in the defeat of Ming. It’s easy to accept Vultan’s joining the side of good, since we’ve liked him so much even when he was being bad.
Duke York Jr. only appears in three episodes, but is quite good as the smirking, hot-tempered King Kala of the Shark Men, who seems to be a once-powerful ruler reduced to dependence on Ming and determined to forget his reduced circumstances by being as nasty as possible to anyone who crosses his path. Theodore Lorch (who oddly takes over the part from the mild-mannered Lon Poff halfway through the serial) is incredibly but enjoyable hammy as the sly High Priest of Tao, rolling his eyes, leeringly double-crossing everyone, and laughing insanely. The dignified but rather elderly Earl Askam is the long-suffering Officer Torch, Ming’s right-hand man, and distinguished Richard Tucker plays Flash’s father, who makes appearances throughout the serial. George Cleveland also appears as one of Professor Gordon’s colleagues. William Desmond plays King Vultan’s second-in-command and minor B-western star Fred Scott is one of Ming’s guards, while Lane Chandler, Jerry Frank, and House Peters Jr. play Shark Men and Fred Kohler Jr., Glenn Strange, and Eddie Parker can be seen as Ming soldiers, John Bagni is a Hawk Man, Constantine Romanoff and Bull Montana are two of the grotesque “monkey-men,” and Al Ferguson is a laboratory worker of Ming’s.
Flash Gordon represents a near-perfect convergence of superior production values, imaginative scripting, and strong acting, and it’s easy to see how it sparked a tremendous upsurge in serial popularity when it was first released–and how it again led to revived interest in the serials when it appeared on TV in the 1950s, helping to keep the genre fresh in the minds of succeeding generations. Of all cliffhangers, it is easily the most famous and the most historically important, as well as being one of the greatest.
A seemingly holy light catches the gold leaf frame surrounding 'The Glory of Christ'; painted by expressionist artist Stephen B Whatley.
The artist is pictured here with Mrs Helen Howley, Parish Secretary of St Thomas More RC Church, in Eastcote, Middlesex, UK; at the opening of the newly refurbished Church Hall, by Archbishop Vincent Nichols, in May 2012.
'The Glory of Christ' is now on loan at the church; awaiting donations to acquire the work of art, as part of the church's collection.
Photograph: courtesy of Helen's husband, Mr Steve Howley
The Glory of Christ - Easter Day 2008 by Stephen B Whatley
Oil on canvas
30 x 24in/76 x 61cm
While out on State after a seemingly long shift at work, I was graced with the sounds of a violin coming from somewhere on the street. As I walked, the sound grew louder and coming around the corner near the historical society I found the source. I reached into my camera bag for a handful of coins to give to the busker, after dropping the coins in his case he stopped playing to inform me that he was performing a piece from "Madama Butterfly." While it was a tranquil work, unfortunately the story is not as it may seem. Briefly shaking hands, he introduced himself to me as Texas Fred, "the best stand up comedian in Chicago," descending from a lineage of teachers and preachers.
I was inquisitive to know when he had started playing the violin. As it turns out, his father was an orchestra conductor and he has been playing since 6th grade (1957-58). Quite a length of time to be involved with music, and not only does he play a violin; he can play saxophone (money maker) and the guitar. While he had the sax with him, I was honored to hear him play his original instrument that got him started with music.
Upon pulling out my notebook to take notes of our encounter, Fred asked me if I was a reporter. I answered a yes/no explaining that I run a photo blog of the people/places/things that make up the Isthmus. At this point I knew in the back of my head I was hoping to include him as stranger number 106 in my 608 strangers project. He agreed to let me take his photo, as most buskers do, and as we worked with a few different angles he told me that the Atlantic Monthly had just written a blurb about him; "Life With Legal Weed," so I am not the first (nor likely the last) to find Texas Fred to be a unique individual.
The reason for his visit to Madison was simple, as his daughter "DJ Cleo" had a gig at the Inferno and he came up to support her. His current home is in Hammond, Indiana (just outside of Chicago) without having the high cost of living that the Windy City does he enjoys it. Aside from the preachers and teachers lineage he did also explain that he is an American Indian, as he dislikes the term of "Native American." Before parting ways, he led me to his car and gave me a few of writings (carried in an old fashioned briefcase). We parted knowing we may never cross paths again, but we knew that we no longer were strangers.
I suggest anyone who is looking for a fun project to expand their photography, check out the 100 strangers group here on Flickr. While I took photos of strangers before, joining the group really helped me venture outside my comfort zone. It's also full of really talented people whom I am honored to know, so check it out (there is no deadline for reaching 100, so you can go at your own pace)
106/100
A bee is seemingly very happy collecting pollen from this tulip in the Willamette Valley of Oregon.
The image is seen best when viewed large, on black. Press "L" on your keyboard to view large on black.
More of my images can be viewed (and purchased!) at Gary Grossman Photography - www.garygrossmanphotography.com or www.zenfolio.com/ggman.
Facing the station is this seemingly unused granary, the sidings choked with weeds, the mess room boarded up, and the manager's rather nice house, with a "for sale" notice outside. This is a decent example of why the Tourist is my favourite 6x9, such a pleasure to use, and it never disappoints with the quality. Taken on 620 Day, 20/6/2012.
1948 Kodak Tourist I, f4.5/105mm Anaston lens, x2 yellow filter. Shanghai GP3 in Divided D23, 5+5 mins @21C. Scanned @1200dpi on Epson 500
Seemingly tired enough, the man is getting rest -regardless where he is lying on....!!
Few images have been taken at the Karachi Cantt. Railway Station...!!
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Ah, Smelt Sands. A seemingly fishy name; belying an extraordinarily beautiful stretch of Oregon coast. I first visited this beach with some friends; it was by happy accident that we landed here in our search for a good picnic table (on which to set up a camping cookstove and make pancakes, of course :)
Since then, this beach has always been an eventful one for me. The second time I visited, I was on my way back from the California redwoods and looking for a good spot of shoreline to photograph sunset from. Unfortunately, I underestimated a particular wave and overestimated the sturdiness of my tripod, a combination that led to my pinhole diving face first into a rolling ocean. One wet rescue and one ruined roll of film later, I left Smelt Sands in a bit of a huff.
The third time I journeyed to this beach was quite recently (December, I believe), and the weather was stormy - a bit of sun, a bit of spitting rain, a bit of downpour. When I arrived I was greeted by this beautiful alien landscape - layers and layers of black rocks, covered by white foam that the waves had been building up all morning. This is my absolute favorite image from that day - a sea of foam, stretching out to the ocean's edge (thank you, Mr. Graduated ND Filter).
At least, this image is my favorite thus far, as I also shot a roll of Hasselblad (that I almost ruined, being an unexperienced Hasselblad shooter) that I have yet to see. Just the thought of holding that camera in my hands makes me smile... the weight of it, the feel, looking down into the viewfinder... sorry, I'm rambling...
Switching often between my Nikon, pinhole and the Hassleblad, I hopped around for at least an hour and a half out on those rocks and then took cover during a 15-minute downpour that obliterated all the foam that had collected. And then I spent another hour and a half photographing the beach all over again. It was a beautiful day indeed.
Taken with my Nikon FM.
The seemingly endless merry go round of intermodal boxes never seems to stop, and with the decline of coal, they are the main stay of the freigh sector now. 66536 heads the 4O08 19:18 Trafford Park F.L.T. to Southampton M.C.T. through Chelford on a dreay evening, 2nd June 2017
Seemingly, it's just a photo of a mushroom from the forest floor. However, if you look closely, you can see that someone hides under the hat of a mushroom, and a small but not necessarily harmless spider watches him from above.
Tigger sleeping on a mat (which, in turn, is on a heated mat, not heated at the moment due to the summer warmth and humidity), seemingly holding a cat toy in her paw with another (her favorite turtle we brought from California over two years ago) to her left.
Model: Lulu Brud
The sky that morning was grey. The air hung stagnant along the seemingly endless shore. It was quiet aside from the steady breath and break of the tide as it clawed it's way in, zealous for more land, and then exhausted from the efforts, swept back out.
Without warning the atmosphere, sparked to life like lightning, came alive. The mouth of the ocean pulled back it's white-foam lips into a terrifying snarl and all at once spit forth a tangle of limbs struggling to stay upright. Her golden hair hung around her face, wild and unkempt. Her skin, smooth like silk, adorned in a opaque opalescent chemise, seemed to glow from within. It seemed as if the moon itself has brushed it's lips along her perfectly formed cheekbones, leaving stardust in it's wake. She was perfect, and if not for the vacant, troubled crease that sat upon her regal brow, untouchable.
See the full story at: www.wildfolkco.com/blog/aphrodite
Turned up at my dacha (I wish) last night after 10pm (local time; 2 hours ahead of BST). We, the driver and me, arrived in style from the airport in a new Mercedes people carrier, but it went decidedly downhill from there. She guided us into a dark car park at the rear of a Stalinist tower block with no clear signs that this was the hostel. I could have been kidnapped for all the world would know, except that the kidnapper, my driver, was exceedingly pert, petite and pretty. But that could have been a clever ruse, raising my confidence and lowering my defences and fully distracting me. And who was that lurking about in the grass behind the building? What was he doing? And where was the main door? Were we supposed to sidle in through the tradesman’s entrance, that metal thing, half battered, covered with graffiti and almost falling off its hinges?
OK, I admit it, the three hour trauma on the plane, being subjected to seemingly endless torture by two terrible two year olds (and their backing groups), had got to me and I was feeling a wee bit paranoid. I actually came off the plane shaking with stress (and half of that was feeling for the poor mother); everyone else was just shaking their heads in disbelief at the horror. It was one of those airplane disasters that somehow get overlooked on the news but, psychologically, the effects are just as devastating in the long run. (I may be exaggerating a tad.)
Anyway, we entered the Soviet building, went past a little old lady in a little old cubby hole, and climbed up some dingy, dirty steps to an even dingier lift. This took ten minutes to come down from the 8th floor and, when it eventually arrived, it was a struggle to get the both of us in it. We chugged up to the hostel, rang the bell and I was shown into the office.
The ‘hostel’ turned out to be a converted apartment and the office was the front room, barely changed since it used to hold the family, complete with spirally carpet, cigarette-burned sofa and glass-fronted cabinet once filled with porcelain now stuffed with junk. This was day one on duty for the girl and she couldn’t find any information for me, she couldn’t even pinpoint the hostel on the map. She knew where my dorm was though, it was the one that wasn’t the office, kitchen, other dorm or bathroom. She could hardly get lost.
The room was decorated in Stalin’s favourite colours – brown, nicotine yellow and off-white – with the obligatory soil-coloured spirally carpet. I was in the top bunk in a room for eight. The bathroom was down the corridor past the office. One bath/shower, one sink (draped with girls’ damp frillies) and a washing machine. The colour was baby pink (that’s the bathroom and the knickers in case you were wondering) and the air was hot and humid. The toilet was next door. Both were to cater for around 20 people. Bliss.
I aimed for an early night (as I wasn’t going to get any gen about Chernobyl (‘Eh, what?’) or cruises on the Dnieper from the receptionist. I fell asleep at midnight but was rudely awoken at 0200 by some fuck texting loudly on his phone. After five minutes of this I decided I’d give a hint of my annoyance by switching on the light, opening up my netbook and playing some music. Eventually he stopped sweating over his text and two minutes later he looked up at me from his lower bunk and said, ‘Vot you do?’
This gave me the chance to study him for the first time. He looked like a cliché of an Eastern Mafia thug: shaved head, furrowed brow, no neck, tattoos down both his bulging biceps and stone cold grey eyes. Yep, here was a cliché of things to see that was not on my tick list. Shit.
I said, ‘What does it look like?’ I hadn’t read Flashman this holiday up to that point but now, in hindsight having finished ‘Flashman at the Charge’, I could see what kindred spirits we were. I couldn’t back away from this because that would have made it even worse, so I brazened it out and stared him down even though I was quaking in my socks. ‘Why, is it bothering you?’, I just about managed to say. ‘Vot you do?’ he repeated, a mite more irritated this time. ‘Can you not see, I am reading.’ ‘Vot you do?’ I gave up and turned back to my netbook. This was getting boring. ‘I don’t know vot the police do in zis country,’ he intoned from below me in a deeply threatening voice, ‘but zey prorbably do not look favourably on a kicking.’
Funnily enough this cheered me up no end, and I even began to relax a wee bit. First, no real thug would ever condescend to threaten a ‘kicking’ when a good ‘knifing’ is far more cost-effective and silent. So he wasn’t so bad then, eh? And second, he admitted to not being Ukrainian and so he was as much an outsider and on foreign turf as me. Not so confident then. Perhaps.
On the other hand he was still far more violent (potentially) than me (eastern European? Too much bigotry?), and much bigger (actually) so it wasn’t all over.
I said, ‘Have you finished texting?’ He said, ‘Vot you do?’ I said, ‘I couldn’t sleep for your texting. Have you finished?’ He said, ‘I give you thirty seconds to switch off and then I come and kick you.’ Oh dear, what to do? Shit shit shit. I decided to bluff him, and said, ‘I will switch off when I am finished.’ He said, ‘You have ten seconds … Five ... One …’ And … he didn’t move. I looked down at him and he looked up at me and I turned back to my netbook and thanked God that he couldn’t see my pulse trampolining and he said … ‘I couldn’t turn the text off. I couldn’t turn the sound down. I tried. How you do it? I tried. I couldn’t turn it off …’ He sounded so pathetic, so lost, not a Russian Mafiosa at all, and then he shuffled out of bed and off to the toilet.
I immediately switched off the light and spent the following hour or so before tripping off into a troubled sleep thinking that the next thing I’d hear would be the hissing of his breath as he loomed over me prior to holding down my sheets and thumping me in the face. At least I’d get to sleep then.
I didn’t see the thug again and the following nights were trouble free (apart from the damned mosquitos Eastern mossies, eh? Bastards. They were as intrusive as the texting).
Train to Crimea, Monday 3rd September, 18.30
Listening to Donovan on my netbook. Gently swaying in the carriage as the train passes a forest of chestnuts and oak with the sun glinting horizontally into the train through the foliage. Sharing my 4 birth cabin with two bottles of red wine, a demi litre of vodka and two women (a blonde and a brunette), and a 17 hour journey through the night ahead of us.
Shame they’re both middle-aged and tea-totallers, and that they’ve both gone to sleep already.
Is it my socks?
The tradition here is that travellers all disrobe and treat the cabin as a hotel room (minus the room service. Or the restaurant. Or telly. Or toilet. Or most other things actually. Good ever-changing view out the window though). So I was turfed out as the two got into their grunties. When I came back in they were both under their duvets. Something tells me that this isn’t going to be a party that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
Ah well, all the more wine for me!! What’s this vodka like I wonder …
Had a good night’s conversation with an ex-pat on Thursday. I was in the ‘Lucky Pub’ off Khreshchatyk (13 beers proudly advertised, but 11 of them were off. So not so lucky then) and this diminutive Yorkshireman called over to me and asked if I was English after I’d complained to the waitress about the lack of pork scratchings with the beer (no I didn't). We got talking and he told me almost straight off what he was. He was quite up-front about it and totally not ashamed or embarrassed, so good for him. You have to admire such people who believe in themselves and put two fingers up to society; hang the consequences and to hell with Daily Mail readers. Great. I wanted to hear more. I love rebels (so long as they don’t squat in my flat when I’m away. There’s a limit you know.)
So, Peter’s a numerologist. There, I’ve said it. He even gave me his email address to pass on to anyone in my acquaintance who might want to delve into the murky depths of this underworld. You never know, my church is a broad one.
For the next couple of hours, Peter regaled me with his successes – ‘I told her that and she said ‘”You never!!! No way anyone could know that!!”, and I said, “But you need to accept that this is his destiny, it’s written in his birth date, he can’t help it.” And she said, “I never knew. I’ll respect him more now. It’ll be hard, but if he wants to dress as a cow, eat grass and moo around the house …’
Of course, eventually it came around to me. I didn’t want to ask him (he must get it all the time) but he was only too eager to analyse me. He asked me my birthdate, added the first numbers, took away the second, combined the year and subtracted the month and ended up with 4 digits that told him everything about me. He deduced that I was successful, that I like beetroot, am happy, a perfectionist who accepts that most people can’t be as good as me but allowances have to be made for the sake of global harmony, a man who other people follow, a sportsman, someone who has three of the four main elements (water, earth and fire) but lacks air and therefore never has original ideas but am good at following through with other peoples’ plans … ‘
OK, stop there!! I had to put him right about a few things!! Too many to list here but, for one, to say that I ‘like beetroot’!!! That takes the biscuit! How wrong can a person be? And then, to cap it all by thunder , he has the deuced bad manners to suggest that my dear beloved sister (whom he’s analysed too) also lacks ideas!! Well! I can just about accept that I’m a dunderhead, but my sister …. Gad! The dirty swine, damn him to hell and back!
He was a good sort though, by golly . I liked him and he didn’t take my scepticism the wrong way (thank God he wasn’t a Ukrainian zealot!) and we actually managed to veer away from numerology to more concrete and established topics like how shite Liverpool are at the moment, and the state of the nation.
So what about Kyiv? Not overwhelmingly Soviet (one statue I saw of Lenin. Guarded by the military! And a huge statue of Mother Ukraine guarding the Dnipro. Also the Landscape Park – very Soviet with tanks and missiles) and some magnificent boulevards and streets with fantastic microbreweries. Amazing underground shopping precincts (like Toronto) and deep underground network and stations (fall-out shelters?).
Kyiv is the centre of Slavic culture and home to Russian Orthodoxy. Christianity was brought here and the main collection of ancient ecclesiastical structures lies at Lavra – a place full of golden domes and whitewashed churches and bearded men in black dresses. Also there is an interesting museum of a man's lifetime's work - called the microminiature museum and contains his micro-pieces. Sooooooooooo tiny!! Horseshoes on fleas, portrait of Hemingway on a sliced pear seed, and a hollowed out human hair (polished inside and out and so transparent) containing a micro-sculpture of a red rose on a tiny golden stalk. Amazing.
Seemingly the last remaining of the original ex 407 Enviro200's in service at Beddington Cross, Abellio London ADL Enviro200 8526 (YX59BYU) is seen in South Croydon on route 433.
Following the double decking of route 407 in August, 8522, 8523 (despite receiving new blinds) and 8524 have not been in service since mid-September, so have seemingly been withdrawn. It's rather fitting however that 8526 is the last of the ex 407 E200's left at BC though, having been a Beddington vehicle throughout its life and the last one left in original condition. The ex 407 E200's currently at Twickenham are expected to be withdrawn once refurbishment is complete of the newer ex 407 E200's for route 490.
Seemingly out of nowhere, the headlight of a westbound auto rack move appears on the horizon that activates the US&S signals standing guard at Niland’s west end, like they’ve done countless times before.
Seemingly unable to flower in the local climatic conditions in south-western Brisbane. I had been looking forward to the large heads of purply-blue flowers.
Naomi seemingly chasing Assam upstairs at our house when we lived in California. I don't remember what was going on at the time (I took the picture in January of 2006) but perhaps Naomi wanted to pick up Assam to pet her... If you look carefully, you can see part of Assam's jaw is shaved in this picture - this was due to an infection that needed to be drained constantly for a week or two...
Besides the seemingly hundreds of AEC vehicles displayed at last weekend's 100 year celebration, buses and lorries of other manufacturers were represented in vast numbers too.
Whilst my principal interest lies in the Southall firm's products, I'm not blind or disinterested in the efforts of others ... particularly the quirky.
Seen here (almost in Hi-def!) is one of Seddon's finest, a front engined Pennine (IV or VI??) with Plaxton Panorama Elite bodywork. Not hearing it running I'm unable to say whether it has a Perkins T6.354 under the bonnet or the rather nicer sounding V8.
XJF 103J was exhibited by Watt's coaches of Leicester.
All goodness that's growing is green, but yet most that grows green isn't goodness even though green is mostly what grows when it is seemingly green that is all that grows. So, growing is mostly green, but green is all that is growing.
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• Species Identification Group on Reddit
(A crowdsourced method of identifying unknown species of any organism through discussion with up or down votes and comments from tons of people including a bunch of biologists.)
• Artistic Photography Group on Reddit
(Showcase your favorite artistic photography from your peers, pros, amateurs, or even yourself.)
(Everything flowers. Showcase your favorite floral shots from your peers, pros, amateurs, or even yourself)
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“It is not so much the major events as the small day-to-day decisions that map the course of our living... Our lives are, in reality, the sum total of our seemingly unimportant decisions and of our capacity to live by those decisions.” ―Gordon B. Hinckley
Seemingly a mainstay in the Corgi "Juniors" line up throughout most of the 1980's and into the 90's before briefly becoming a fully fledged Hot Wheels. Corgi must have made millions of their Land-Rover 110 casting which oddly was only ever offered in panel van format.
This is a recent charity shop find kindly sent to me by Mikaela and is in remarkably fresh condition which leads me to think it has been looked after all its life.
Space Shuttle Endeavor soars above the Bay Bridge as two seemingly oblivious cable walkers make their way down from atop the massive tower.
Perhaps they are just trying to get out of sight after swiping orange paint from the Golden Gate Bridge?
In the many shots I took as the Space Shuttle atop its custom designed 747 passed behind the towers of the Bay Bridge neither of these guys ever looked up, but remained with eyes focused on the cable below their feet for obvious reasons. I guess not much impresses these guys after a few year on the job, least of all a now retired Space Shuttle flyby.
© Darvin Atkeson
First photo of this bus seemingly...
A very recent arrival into the fleet from the London Borough of Redbridge operations, Vectare (Central Connect) ADL Enviro200MMC YX22OJJ (165) is seen heading along Hadham Road into Bishops Stortford with a Route 386 service from Stevenage 14/10/23
Vacated a few years ago but seemingly well maintained the 3M Building has held a place in my consciousness since I was a lad.
On a busy corner of the Pacific Highway it has always acted as a significant milestone on journeys up the coast and indicated where I needed to turn.
Peter (Dunedoo) was able to tip me off to the following from the National Trust:
The former 3M Building at 950 Pacific Highway, Pymble is of high significance as the former purpose-built national head office administrative building for the Minnesota Mining and Manufacturing (Australia) Pty Limited (3M) company. It is a rare and highly competent example of a Post-War International building incorporating a curved façade. It is believed to be the first curvilinear building in this style on Sydney’s North Shore and one of a small group of high quality curved buildings constructed in the 1950s and 1960s in the International Style. Curvilinear buildings of the same era include the AMP Building at Circular Quay and the former Qantas Building, Chifley Square.
The design was developed by a well-known Sydney firm of architects Hanson, Todd and Partners, in association with 3M in the USA and survives in a highly intact, original state. The building was designed to be prominent and viewed in the round. The surrounding landscaped space, the placement of lawns, and even the car parking areas were designed to provide a lawn setting for the building, enhancing its striking sculptural form.
The choice of a curved façade was made to take advantage of the site at the intersection of the Pacific Highway and Ryde Road/Mona Vale Road, Pymble, and the building was carefully designed and sited to achieve maximum exposure for the company along the Pacific Highway and to create a landmark building. While trees have partly obscured the building, it remains a highly visible and well-known landmark when travelling north on the Pacific Highway.
Seemingly left here by whoever smashed it into something. The note on the windshield is a destruction notice, giving the owner 7 days to remove the car or it'd be destroyed. It was issued on the 9th, so I'd say it's probably gone by now.
Passed its last MOT in December without any advisories. I don't see why one would abandon a car like this, even if it was uneconomical to repair could they not have scrapped it?
Two seemingly stray dogs slumber in the afternoon heat of Havana, amid the hustle and bustle all around them. Although these and other dogs appeared to be without owners, most had tags on them as though they were officially registered.
We will try to figure that out on a future visit.
A seemingly plain cube comes to life on the inside with each surface displaying an incredible garden of organic branching forms. This sculpture explores the concept of Laplacian growth and was created using a numerical model of 3D isotropic dendritic solidification. Laplacian growth is a structure which expands at a rate proportional to the gradient of a laplacian field. It can be seen in a myriad of systems, including crystal growth, dielectric breakdown, corals, Hele-Shaw cells, and random matrix theory.
Process
Form grown in software written by the Nervous System in Processing that simulates dendritic solidification. Printed via SLS.
After the seemingly endless dark cold rainy days, we woke up to lots of snow coming down this morning. Our first this season. By the end of the day (4 p.m. these days), the sky cleared as the sun was setting, giving us a glimpse of that wonderful glow and blue sky. Delightful!
For Our Daily Challenge - A glimpse
In these days of seemingly ubiquitous low-floor service buses with ramps it is difficult to remember a time when such a thing was unheard of. A strong candidate for the daddy, maybe grand-daddy but certainly some paternal relation of all our Dart SLFs and their ilk is this chap here.
In 1981 a travelling exhibition of PSVs adapted to facilitate the use of public transport by what was then unashamedly called The Disabled, toured a selection of British cities. Here South Yorkshire PTE 90 (JWG 190P), a 1975 Leyland National, demonstrates its ability to lower its front suspension, facilitating entry. As I recall, it took a bit of time for it to pump itself up to ride height for departure.
The building on the extreme left of the picture is Edinburgh's St Giles' Cathedral, where 26 years earlier my parents were married.
Intimation/Intimidation
} conflict/religion
This piece is inspired by the seemingly blurred out line between religion and conflict. I wanted to show the duality of Muslim clothing article, in this case the most identifiable one, the hijab, chador, prayer veil.
How within a solitary premise for instance, conversations with God, it exhibits purity and devotion. The apparel marks a unity and "oneness" amongst the sisterhood (ummah). However, by this clothing article too, within the premise of secularity, they are easy targets of judgmental platitudes. How classification, identification and collectivism are easily brought forth. The "oneness" is pronounced here too, except by perceptions formed from the opposite spectrum.
The subject is on the bed as the bed holds vast connotations. Bed is often associated with death, frailty, isolation, vulnerability or solace. The bed too, offers another dimension; one that borders on vulgar and delinquent boundaries. I wanted to juxtapose the idea of sanctity and the profane. How we choose to allow preconceived notions dictate our personal judgement. How we choose to taint something venerable to something odious. How we choose to focus on the religious signifier instead of the entity as individuals.
Till we are ready to set aside judgments, these flowers will shy away.
© Copyright Iskandar 2012 | All rights reserved.
Do not use, copy or edit any of my materials without my written permission.
Would appreciate not having large/animated multi invite codes
A tiny bird seemingly overflowing with energy, the Ruby-crowned Kinglet forages almost frantically through lower branches of shrubs and trees. Its habit of constantly flicking its wings is a key identification clue. Smaller than a warbler or chickadee, this plain green-gray bird has a white eyering and a white bar on the wing. Alas, the male’s brilliant ruby crown patch usually stays hidden—your best chance to see it is to find an excited male singing in spring or summer.
Some City churches seem to be open, if not all the time, then frequently. But others rarely seem to open their doors to visitors. Then there are those who seemingly don't want anyone to see inside their wonderful buildings. Which is more than a shame, really. These houses of God should be for everyone, not just the custodians.
Saying that, I must take another opportunity to thank The Friends of the City churches, and the time given by their volunteers who give up their time to ensure that these are open at least one day a week.
So, in the past two years, I think I have visited all of the churches that they are keyholders for, and so without this fine organisation, I would not have seen inside many of them.
St Benet's is open between 11:00 and 15:00 on Thursdays, and despite wondering whether it would be open as advertised, the greeters assured me it is open each and every Thursday.
St Benet's is unique in that I think I am right in saying that it is the only City Wren church that survived the Blitz undamaged. In which case, Wren would reconise this church, over all others he helped rebuild after the great fire in 1666.
It is now situated tucked in the corner of an off ramp of Queen Victoria Street, and the pedestrian has to walk through an unwelcoming subway to get to the door, which on this occasion was open.
I was greeted warmly, and given a tour of the history of the church, plus tips on visiting other churches. A wonderful visit and a fine church.
----------------------------------------------------
The Church of St Benet Paul's Wharf is a Welsh Anglican church in the City of London. Since 1556, it has also been the official church of the College of Arms in which many officers of arms have been buried. In 1666 it was destroyed in the Great Fire of London, after which it was rebuilt and merged with nearby St Peter's. The current church was designed by Sir Christopher Wren.[1] It is one of only four churches in the City of London to escape damage during World War II.
St. Benet's traces its history back to the year 1111, when a church was built on the site and dedicated to St Benedict. Over time the name was abbreviated to St. Benet. To the west of the site was the watergate of Baynard's Castle, which is referenced in the biographies of Queen Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey. Both the church and the castle were destroyed in the Great Fire of 1666. It was rebuilt by the architect Christopher Wren, and reopened in 1683.
St Benet Paul's Wharf, London, taken from the top of nearby St Paul's Cathedral. Visible behind the church is the City of London School.
On 2 March 1706, Henrietta Hobart married Charles Howard, 9th Earl of Suffolk, a captain in the 6th (Inniskilling) Dragoons there. (Henrietta Howard subsequently became mistress to the future King George II.)[2]
The church was narrowly saved from destruction in the late 19th century, when its parish was merged with that of St Nicholas Cole Abbey. After an energetic campaign by its supporters, it was preserved and reconsecrated in 1879 as the London Church of the Church in Wales.[3] It is now the City's Welsh church, with services conducted in Welsh.[4]
In 2008 the church was closed for a few months due to a "dwindling congregation"[5] but reopened in time for the carol service in December that year. Welsh services are held weekly on Sundays at 11 a.m and 3.30 p.m and the church can be toured on Thursdays between 11 a.m and 3 p.m.
The church is of dark red brick, with alternate courses of Portland stone at the corners. The tower is situated to the north-west of the nave and is capped by a small lead dome, lantern and simple short spire.
The interior is almost a square. Unusually for a Wren church, the ceiling is flat rather than domed or curved. The north gallery was formerly used by the Doctors' Commons, and is now used by the College of Arms. Most of the original 17th century furnishings are still intact, including the magnificent altar table, reredos and pulpit, designed by Grinling Gibbons. The lectern and baptismal font are also original.[7]
The galleries are supported by Corinthian columns. There is a memorial to Inigo Jones, who was buried in the previous church, and a medallion bust of Sir Robert Wyseman, a benefactor of St Benet's who died in 1684.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/St_Benet%27s,_Paul%27s_Wharf
A church has been on this site since 1111. Destroyed in the Great Fire, the present church was built by Wren and Hooke (possibly owing more to the latter) between 1677 and 1683. It was one of only four Wren churches to escape damage in the Second Word War but was vandalised in 1971: repaired and reopened in 1973. It has a long-standing connection with the College of Arms across the road. Also since 1879 the church has accommodated the Welsh Episcopalian congregation in London. It is therefore sometimes known as “the Welsh church”, though that is a misnomer. Paul’s Wharf was the wharf on the Thames from which stone and other building materials were conveyed for the Wren reconstruction of St Paul’s cathedral.
www.london-city-churches.org.uk/Churches/StBenetPaulsWhar...
There has been a church on this site, dedicated to St Benet (or Benedict), since the Twelfth Century.
Shakespeare refers to it in Twelfth Night: Feste, the Clown asking Duke Orsino to add a third to the two coins he is offering reminds him: “...the bells of St Bennet, sir, may put you in mind -– one, two, three.”
In the Sixteenth Century, because the watergate of Baynard’s Castle was close by, both Anne Boleyn and Lady Jane Grey may have received the last rites at St Benet on their way to execution at the Tower. The River Thames was, of course, an important thoroughfare at the time and the unlucky women could have completed their journey by boat.
St Benet is the only unaltered Wren church in the City. All but four were damaged in the Second World War and the other three either suffered the effects of an IRA bomb or have been restored.
The royal connection continued with Charles II having a special door at the side of the building and a private room from which he could take part in services. The Stuart arms can be seen above the west door marking the vantage point from which the king observed proceedings below.
Until 1867 St Benet was the parish church of Doctors Commons, a legal institution which, among its other activities, could provide facilities for hasty marriages. There is a record, for instance, of some 1300 weddings taking place in one year alone in the Eighteenth Century.
In 1747, Henry Fielding, the author of Tom Jones, Joseph Andrews and Shamela, married his second wife here.
In 1879 Queen Victoria removes St Benet from the list of churches to be demolished and grants the use of the church to the Welsh Anglicans for services.
The Officers of the College of Arms still have their own seats in St Benet’s and their personal banners hang from the gallery together with that of the Duke of Norfolk. At least 25 Officers are buried here.
In the 1870s the church was regarded as redundant and scheduled for demolition. Eminent Welsh Anglicans petitioned Queen Victoria to be allowed to use the building for services in Welsh. In 1879, Her Majesty granted the right to hold Welsh services here in perpetuity and this has continued ever since, with a service each Sunday morning.
In 1954, in the reorganisation of the City churches and parishes, St Benet became one of the City Guild churches as well as the Metropolitan Welsh Church.
The eminent composer Meirion Williams was the church organist in the 1960s and 1970s. As well as a Mass, Missa Cambrensis, he wrote a number of other works, including songs which are particular favourites of contemporary Welsh opera singers.
In 1971 a fire started by a vagrant damaged the north side of the church. During the repair work, necessitated mainly by smoke and heat damage, the Nineteenth Century organ was moved and rebuilt in its present (and original) position in the west gallery. When the church was reopened in May 1973, the congregation received a message from the Prince of Wales and trumpeters from the Royal Welsh Regiment blew a fanfare in celebration.
Today, the growing congregation at St Benet's remains committed to making known the good news of Jesus afresh to the current generation of the Welsh in London.
Seemingly a permanent Beirut resident, I saw it in 2017 as well
Range Rover Evoque
Seen in Beirut, Lebanon
Seemingly the most recent acquisition by the Musee Aeronautique d' Orange is this Mirage 2000N no.349.
We arrived at the museum in the morning having got the opening hours wrong. we got this one through the fence, but toured the museum later in the day.
Orange, Vaucluse
24th May 2019
20190524 2I8A 9827
Seemingly defying the hot weather and lack of rainfall, this fungal beauty appeared in our backyard yesterday.
Seemingly a sad end for a Midland Red Leyland Leopard as what was left of it lay forlorn in a corner of the premises of Martins of Middlewich. Thankfully this old Plaxton body was replaced a new one for I well remember this coach from new as it was allocated to Stafford and I was told it was a flyer too. By the time this batch was being built in 1969 this design had been replaced by the more streamlined Panorama Elite. I can only imagine Plaxton had a lot of body parts in stock and gave Midland Red a good deal. Became DFM 881X with Cooper, Stockton Hearh.
Seemingly neglected by many, but soon to be important in providing an economic alternative to DMUs for the Cumbrian Coast Line, DBSO 9705 sits in the sun with soon to be partner 37401 reflected in the gleeming paintwork.
Discover how creative people use their minds.
Creativity is the act of transforming new and innovative suggestions right into fact. Imagination is characterized by the ability to perceive the globe in new means, to find concealed patterns, to create links between seemingly unrelated sensations, and also to create remedies. Know how creative people are different from the others.
18 Habits Of Highly Creative People
Krzysztof Dydynski via Getty Images
Creativity works in mysterious and often paradoxical ways. Creative thinking is a stable, defining characteristic in some personalities, but it may also change based on situation and context. Inspiration and ideas often arise seemingly out of nowhere and then fail to show up when we most need them, and creative thinking requires complex cognition yet is completely distinct from the thinking process.
Neuroscience paints a complicated picture of creativity. As scientists now understand it, creativity is far more complex than the right-left brain distinction would have us think (the theory being that left brain = rational and analytical, right brain = creative and emotional). In fact, creativity is thought to involve a number of cognitive processes, neural pathways and emotions, and we still don't have the full picture of how the imaginative mind works.
And psychologically speaking, creative personality types are difficult to pin down, largely because they're complex, paradoxical and tend to avoid habit or routine. And it's not just a stereotype of the "tortured artist" -- artists really may be more complicated people. Research has suggested that creativity involves the coming together of a multitude of traits, behaviors and social influences in a single person.
"It's actually hard for creative people to know themselves because the creative self is more complex than the non-creative self," Scott Barry Kaufman, Ph.D., Scientific Director of the Imagination Institute at the University of Pennsylvania, told The Huffington Post. "The things that stand out the most are the paradoxes of the creative self ... Imaginative people have messier minds."
While there's no "typical" creative type, there are some tell-tale characteristics and behaviors of highly creative people. Here are 18 things they do differently.
They daydream.
Colin Anderson via Getty Images
Creative types know, despite what their third-grade teachers may have said, that daydreaming is anything but a waste of time.
According to Kaufman and psychologist Rebecca L. McMillan, who co-authored a paper titled "Ode To Positive Constructive Daydreaming," mind-wandering can aid in the process of "creative incubation." And of course, many of us know from experience that our best ideas come seemingly out of the blue when our minds are elsewhere.
Although daydreaming may seem mindless, a 2012 study suggested it could actually involve a highly engaged brain state -- daydreaming can lead to sudden connections and insights because it's related to our ability to recall information in the face of distractions. Neuroscientists have also found that daydreaming involves the same brain processes associated with imagination and creativity.
They observe everything.
The world is a creative person's oyster -- they see possibilities everywhere and are constantly taking in information that becomes fodder for creative expression. As Henry James is widely quoted, a writer is someone on whom "nothing is lost."
The writer Joan Didion kept a notebook with her at all times, and said that she wrote down observations about people and events as, ultimately, a way to better understand the complexities and contradictions of her own mind:
"However dutifully we record what we see around us, the common denominator of all we see is always, transparently, shamelessly, the implacable 'I,'" Didion wrote in her essay On Keeping A Notebook. "We are talking about something private, about bits of the mind’s string too short to use, an indiscriminate and erratic assemblage with meaning only for its marker."
They work the hours that work for them.
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Many great artists have said that they do their best work either very early in the morning or late at night. Vladimir Nabokov started writing immediately after he woke up at 6 or 7 a.m., and Frank Lloyd Wright made a practice of waking up at 3 or 4 a.m. and working for several hours before heading back to bed. No matter when it is, individuals with high creative output will often figure out what time it is that their minds start firing up, and structure their days accordingly.
They take time for solitude.
"In order to be open to creativity, one must have the capacity for constructive use of solitude. One must overcome the fear of being alone," wrote the American existential psychologist Rollo May.
Artists and creatives are often stereotyped as being loners, and while this may not actually be the case, solitude can be the key to producing their best work. For Kaufman, this links back to daydreaming -- we need to give ourselves the time alone to simply allow our minds to wander.
"You need to get in touch with that inner monologue to be able to express it," he says. "It's hard to find that inner creative voice if you're ... not getting in touch with yourself and reflecting on yourself."
They turn life's obstacles around.
Many of the most iconic stories and songs of all time have been inspired by gut-wrenching pain and heartbreak -- and the silver lining of these challenges is that they may have been the catalyst to create great art. An emerging field of psychology called post-traumatic growth is suggesting that many people are able to use their hardships and early-life trauma for substantial creative growth. Specifically, researchers have found that trauma can help people to grow in the areas of interpersonal relationships, spirituality, appreciation of life, personal strength, and -- most importantly for creativity -- seeing new possibilities in life.
"A lot of people are able to use that as the fuel they need to come up with a different perspective on reality," says Kaufman. "What's happened is that their view of the world as a safe place, or as a certain type of place, has been shattered at some point in their life, causing them to go on the periphery and see things in a new, fresh light, and that's very conducive to creativity."
They seek out new experiences.
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Creative people love to expose themselves to new experiences, sensations and states of mind -- and this openness is a significant predictor of creative output.
"Openness to experience is consistently the strongest predictor of creative achievement," says Kaufman. "This consists of lots of different facets, but they're all related to each other: Intellectual curiosity, thrill seeking, openness to your emotions, openness to fantasy. The thing that brings them all together is a drive for cognitive and behavioral exploration of the world, your inner world and your outer world."
They "fail up."
Resilience is practically a prerequisite for creative success, says Kaufman. Doing creative work is often described as a process of failing repeatedly until you find something that sticks, and creatives -- at least the successful ones -- learn not to take failure so personally.
"Creatives fail and the really good ones fail often," Forbes contributor Steven Kotler wrote in a piece on Einstein's creative genius.
They ask the big questions.
Creative people are insatiably curious -- they generally opt to live the examined life, and even as they get older, maintain a sense of curiosity about life. Whether through intense conversation or solitary mind-wandering, creatives look at the world around them and want to know why, and how, it is the way it is.
They people-watch.
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Observant by nature and curious about the lives of others, creative types often love to people-watch -- and they may generate some of their best ideas from it.
"[Marcel] Proust spent almost his whole life people-watching, and he wrote down his observations, and it eventually came out in his books," says Kaufman. "For a lot of writers, people-watching is very important ... They're keen observers of human nature."
They take risks.
Part of doing creative work is taking risks, and many creative types thrive off of taking risks in various aspects of their lives.
"There is a deep and meaningful connection between risk taking and creativity and it's one that's often overlooked," contributor Steven Kotler wrote in Forbes. "Creativity is the act of making something from nothing. It requires making public those bets first placed by imagination. This is not a job for the timid. Time wasted, reputation tarnished, money not well spent -- these are all by-products of creativity gone awry."
They view all of life as an opportunity for self-expression.
Nietzsche believed that one's life and the world should be viewed as a work of art. Creative types may be more likely to see the world this way, and to constantly seek opportunities for self-expression in everyday life.
"Creative expression is self-expression," says Kaufman. "Creativity is nothing more than an individual expression of your needs, desires and uniqueness."
They follow their true passions.
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Creative people tend to be intrinsically motivated -- meaning that they're motivated to act from some internal desire, rather than a desire for external reward or recognition. Psychologists have shown that creative people are energized by challenging activities, a sign of intrinsic motivation, and the research suggests that simply thinking of intrinsic reasons to perform an activity may be enough to boost creativity.
"Eminent creators choose and become passionately involved in challenging, risky problems that provide a powerful sense of power from the ability to use their talents,"write M.A. Collins and T.M. Amabile in The Handbook of Creativity.
They get out of their own heads.
Kaufman argues that another purpose of daydreaming is to help us to get out of our own limited perspective and explore other ways of thinking, which can be an important asset to creative work.
"Daydreaming has evolved to allow us to let go of the present," says Kaufman. "The same brain network associated with daydreaming is the brain network associated with theory of mind -- I like calling it the 'imagination brain network' -- it allows you to imagine your future self, but it also allows you to imagine what someone else is thinking."
Research has also suggested that inducing "psychological distance" -- that is, taking another person's perspective or thinking about a question as if it was unreal or unfamiliar -- can boost creative thinking.
They lose track of the time.
Creative types may find that when they're writing, dancing, painting or expressing themselves in another way, they get "in the zone," or what's known as a flow state, which can help them to create at their highest level. Flow is a mental state when an individual transcends conscious thought to reach a heightened state of effortless concentration and calmness. When someone is in this state, they're practically immune to any internal or external pressures and distractions that could hinder their performance.
You get into the flow state when you're performing an activity you enjoy that you're good at, but that also challenges you -- as any good creative project does.
"[Creative people] have found the thing they love, but they've also built up the skill in it to be able to get into the flow state," says Kaufman. "The flow state requires a match between your skill set and the task or activity you're engaging in."
They surround themselves with beauty.
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Creatives tend to have excellent taste, and as a result, they enjoy being surrounded by beauty.
A study recently published in the journal Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity, and the Arts showed that musicians -- including orchestra musicians, music teachers, and soloists -- exhibit a high sensitivity and responsiveness to artistic beauty.
They connect the dots.
If there's one thing that distinguishes highly creative people from others, it's the ability to see possibilities where others don't -- or, in other words, vision. Many great artists and writers have said that creativity is simply the ability to connect the dots that others might never think to connect.
In the words of Steve Jobs:
"Creativity is just connecting things. When you ask creative people how they did something, they feel a little guilty because they didn't really do it, they just saw something. It seemed obvious to them after a while. That's because they were able to connect experiences they've had and synthesize new things."
They constantly shake things up.
Diversity of experience, more than anything else, is critical to creativity, says Kaufman. Creatives like to shake things up, experience new things, and avoid anything that makes life more monotonous or mundane.
"Creative people have more diversity of experiences, and habit is the killer of diversity of experience," says Kaufman.
They make time for mindfulness.
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Creative types understand the value of a clear and focused mind -- because their work depends on it. Many artists, entrepreneurs, writers and other creative workers, such as David Lynch, have turned to meditation as a tool for tapping into their most creative state of mind.
And science backs up the idea that mindfulness really can boost your brain power in a number of ways. A 2012 Dutch study suggested that certain meditation techniques can promote creative thinking. And mindfulness practices have been linked withimproved memory and focus, better emotional well-being, reduced stress and anxiety, and improved mental clarity -- all of which can lead to better creative thought.
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By Carolyn Gregoire www.yogasensing.com/yoga/how-creative-people-are-different/