View allAll Photos Tagged tangible
[Bonduaries]
During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
[Boundaries]
During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
Don't spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door.
- Coco Chanel
Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=dO1rMeYnOmM
TIME IN A BOTTLE by Jim Croce - 1973
WHEN DAYDREAMS AND DANDELION CLOCKS BLEW ON THE WIND
If time is a man-made concept,
does anything really exist
Is the passage of so many footsteps
as elusive to pin down as Scotch mist
I can remember my first sweet sixteen memory
when time still meant little or nothing
I was laying on a soft bed of green meadow grass
slightly damp still from fresh morning dew
Squinting into the hazy sunshine filled sky
and daydreaming lazily of you
the sun was warming my skin and my eyelashes
were blinking away the soft fall of teardrops of joy
memories were sweet and I felt complete
back then in the days before now
when daydreams and dandelion clocks blew on the wind
and twisted and turned back to me
when whispers of sweet nothings and the idleness of youth
captivated me and held back the fears
the best days of our lives were spent in that meadow
I recall every word that you said
we were seamlessly joined in our web of sweet love
and the passing of time never entered my head
Spring passed to Summer and only the seasons could tell
if time was a matter of moments, yet forever borne in our minds
the lemon scented flowers you placed in my hair
the precious caress of your hand
now imprinted and felt like a feather
barely tangible now on my face
yet I still close my eyes and remember those days
and I still feel the close proximity of you
and I wonder whether the gentleness of the love we felt back then
disappeared or was it caught within the depths of our minds
where time creates a mirage of memories to conjure up
whenever reality threatens to shatter our dreams …
- AP – Copyright remains with the author
Digital artwork by me
'copyright image please do not reproduce without permission'
EXPLORE # 32 ...... many thanks :) :)
Ethereal definition ...... extremely delicate and light in a way that seems not to be of this world, tangible, substantial heavenly or spiritual "ethereal, otherworldly visions" celestial, heavenly, spiritual, unearthly, other-worldly, divine or holy.
One of artist James Turrell’s celebrated Skyspaces, Meeting is a site-specific installation that invites viewers to gaze upwards toward an unobstructed view of the sky. A key representative of the “Light and Space” movement centered in Los Angeles during the 1960s, James Turrell creates works of art that consist primarily of light, exploring fundamental questions about the nature of human perception by rendering tangible the act of vision.
Meeting was the second Skyspace that Turrell constructed and the first in the United States—becoming a prototype for the many subsequent such works he would construct over the following decades. Originally commissioned in 1976 by P.S.1 founder Alanna Heiss for the museum’s inaugural exhibition, the work was not realized until 1980, and Turrell continued to make modifications until it opened to the public in 1986. In 2016, after a renovation that replaced the original seating and added a new multi-colored lighting program synchronized with the sunrise and sunset, Meeting entered the collection of The Museum of Modern Art.
Sapporo's Nishioka Park is a pleasant escape from the city. It centres around a pond that was originally created as a water reservoir by damming the Tsukisamu River. The area is now maintained as a nature park, home to a diverse range of animals and plants. In 2001, the old water tower was designated a "Registered Tangible Cultural Property" (登録有形文化財) of Japan.
Camera: Canon EOS 80D.
Lens: Canon EF-S 18-135mm f/3.5-5.6 IS USM.
Edited with GIMP.
This Nkisi Nkonde, captured at Faro Municipal Museum, is a type of power figure from the Congo Basin in Central Africa, specifically associated with the Kongo people. It is a form of Nkisi, a term referring to sacred objects in Kongo spirituality that are believed to house spirits or spiritual forces. The Nkonde (meaning "hunter") is a particular type of Nkisi known for its aggressive, protective, and judicial roles.
Key Features of Nkisi Nkonde:
Appearance:
Typically, these figures are humanoid in shape and made of wood.
They are often adorned with metal objects like nails, blades, or other sharp implements driven into their surface.
The inclusion of these materials is symbolic of the figure's activation or its use in fulfilling spiritual or legal purposes.
Function:
Hunter of Justice: Nkisi Nkonde was used to enforce laws, settle disputes, and exact punishment for wrongdoers. It was believed to "hunt down" those who broke oaths or contracts.
Protector: It served as a guardian against evil forces, illness, or malevolent spirits.
Healer: In some cases, Nkisi Nkonde was associated with healing, balancing spiritual forces within the community.
Activation and Ritual Use:
A spiritual specialist known as an nganga would "charge" the Nkisi Nkonde by embedding medicines (bilongo) into cavities in the figure.
The bilongo materials could include herbs, animal parts, minerals, or other substances with symbolic or spiritual significance.
The act of hammering nails or driving blades into the figure was a way to "wake" or "activate" it, often accompanying rituals and invocations.
Cultural Context:
Nkisi Nkonde reflects the Kongo people's intricate belief systems, which intertwine law, spirituality, and community order.
It was both a physical and metaphysical tool, acting as a tangible focal point for spiritual forces and social accountability.
Colonial Misunderstandings:
When European colonists and missionaries encountered Nkisi Nkonde, they often misinterpreted them as "fetishes" or objects of idolatry, failing to grasp their deeper cultural and spiritual significance.
Many Nkisi Nkonde figures were taken to museums, where they remain as artifacts of African spiritual heritage.
In Modern Times:
Nkisi Nkonde is studied as an important symbol of Kongo art and spirituality.
It is often featured in museum collections and exhibits focused on African art and the spiritual practices of Central Africa.
Every Autumn, my body
Prepares a little more for death
It is the time where there is more space
Between moments and
Minutes stretch out
Like a mountain range
With so many vivid blue contours
It feels more tangible and expansive
You know what will come next
The stillness.
A sense of a life too quiet
All the memories but with
No space left for the future.
Time adds up only to
Vanish like a desiccated leaf
Stepped on too many times
One last desperate thought...
Why is it so...
We must give all this up?
It is the inevitable equation.
We could never appreciate the seasons
In the first place
If we didn’t realize the change was coming.
And we will all disappear
**All poems and photos are copyrighted**
The house built in 1907 (Meiji 40), and an American owned the beginning of building.
The European-style building which is a registration tangible cultural property
In a way, the whole tangible universe itself is a vast residue, a skeleton of countless lives that have germinated in it and have left it, leaving behind them only a trifling, infinitesimal part of their riches
--Pierre Teilhard de Chardin--
Visit my blog
One thing is clear and tangible to me in a way that it seldom has been: the world is full of God. From every pore, God rushes out to us, as it were. But we’re often blind. We remain stuck in the good times and the bad times and don’t experience them right up to the point where the spring flows from God. . . . In everything, God wants to celebrate encounter and asks for the prayerful response of surrender. The trick and the duty is only this: to develop a lasting awareness and a lasting attitude out of these insights and graces—or rather, to allow them to develop. Then life becomes free, in that freedom which we have often looked for.
-Alfred Delp to Luise Oestreicher, November 17, 1944; cited in Ultimate Price: Testimonies of Christians Who Resisted the Third Reich, selected by Annemarie S. Kidder (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2012), 65–66.
This room, at Dachau Concentration camp, had a tangibly bad feeling permeating it. It was used to store bodies before being cremated in the ovens next door.
Photographs taken after the liberation by US soldiers shows it piled high with bodies. A really terrible, terrible place.
For an account of my week in Bavaria. including my visit to Dachau:
I very nearly talked myself out of attending this carnival. In the end, it wasn't so much a strong desire that brought me here. Rather it was a premonition of how bad I would feel the next day if I had blown it off. Truly a case of motivation as a result of negative consequences. Over the years I've learned that the outcome of events such as this are unpredictable. But there is the absolute certainty of failure through inaction. The carousel of life gives you only one ride; best to make every moment count.
My ambivalence with carnivals stems from the fact that they make me sad. I walk through the venue surrounded by people having fun, yet everything I see creates a sense of melancholy. I'm detached at the surface level, but deeply engaged in the visuals. The camera is able to frame my feelings into something tangible. Here the chair riders are cast into a blur as if being spun around a luminous water fountain. Simultaneously magical and utterly forlorn.
a fragrant heritage rose seen hanging out on the grounds of Government House!
shooting into the sunset and toward the Pacific Ocean gifted me with bokeh heart!
have a most tangible tasty Tuesday!
back tonight, after work is done!
Seen on Explore on May 25, 2010 - #208
[Bonduaries]
During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
The fog is an illusion—
A master of disguise,
Which hides the tangible
Before our very eyes.
But when the fog has lifted
Everything’s still there,
And the tangible
Only seemed to’ve disappeared.
In the early morning
Or late at night,
The fog descends
Upon various sites.
It gives an air of mystery
That has long prevailed.
Dangerously intriguing
Is the fog’s foggy veil.
~Poem Walterrean Salley
»Museum of the Moon« zeigt eine Nachbildung des Mondes von 7 Meter Durchmesser, die im Hauptschiff der in Hildesheim gelegenen St. Andreas Kirche schwebt. Die Installation ist eine Verschmelzung von detaillierten NASA-Bildern der Mondoberfläche, Mondlicht und einer Sound-Komposition des BAFTA- und Ivor Novello-Preisträgers Dan Jones. Jeder Zentimeter der von innen beleuchteten Skulptur stellt etwa 5 Kilometer der Mondoberfläche dar. Das metaphorisch gemeinte “Aufeinandertreffen von Himmel und Erde” zeigt sich hier im wahrsten Sinne des Wortes und lässt das scheinbar Unerreichbare in greifbare Nähe rücken. Siehe auch www.my-moon.org.
“Museum of the Moon” shows a 7-meter-diameter replica of the Moon floating in the nave of St. Andrew’s Church in Hildesheim. The installation is a fusion of detailed NASA images of the Moon’s surface, moonlight and a sound composition by BAFTA and Ivor Novello Prize winner Dan Jones. Each centimetre of the sculpture, illuminated from the inside, represents about five kilometers of the Moon’s surface. The metaphorical “encounter of heaven and earth” is literally revealed here, bringing the seemingly unattainable into tangible form. Move closer. See also www.my-moon.org.
Website: www.heiko-roebke-photography.de
In the quiet I stand within the ancient golden cage, the silks around me shimmering in hues of teal and gold. The delicate fabrics cling to my skin like whispered secrets, each fold a memory of performances past. As I prepare for my next spectacle, my heart flutters with anticipation and the thrill of impending magic.
Tonight, I am not merely a dancer but a conjurer of emotions, a storyteller whose body weaves tales of longing and liberation. The cage, a paradox of confinement and freedom, has been my stage and my sanctuary. I trace my fingertips along the bars, feeling their history and the promise of future enchantments. The air is alive with the murmurs of the crowd and the soft rustle of the silks, harmonizing with the beat of my heart.
Every performance is a dance with destiny, a flirtation with danger and delight. I imagine the crowd’s awe as I spiral upward, defying gravity and expectation. The cage becomes my universe, each movement a rebellion against the mundane, a celebration of the strength and vulnerability woven into every fiber of my being.
In these fleeting moments before the performance, I am both mortal and myth, a bridge between the tangible and the fantastical. My mind is a whirl of dreams, and as the music begins to swell, I surrender to the rhythm. Tonight, my dance will be a luminous saga, a timeless ode to freedom and passion, etched in the annals of magic and desire. With each graceful step, I will weave a spell of wonder and liberation, inviting every onlooker to believe in the power of transformation. I am unstoppable.
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Noodle Feed goes beyond physical senses and creates a shared augmented reality environment where people can interact in new ways and consider that the world is much more than we perceive. The colourful forms and tangible nature of the ‘noodles’ are designed to attract attention, while the rough matte texture of recycled sailcloth contrasts with the soft, springy cushioning of the objects, inviting visitors to move them into chairs, beds and shelters.
An Augmented Reality App lets visitors leave digital traces of their time at the installation, including photos, stories and drawings that can be seen by other users in physical space.
Source: winterstations.com/
Reviving a dormant mechanical camera is akin to resurrecting a piece of history, a tangible connection to the past that transcends the digital age. The intricate mechanisms and tactile controls of these vintage cameras impart a sense of craftsmanship that modern counterparts often lack. When I successfully restore one to working order, it's as if I've breathed life back into a bygone era. The careful calibration of settings, the rhythmic click of the shutter, and the winding of film transport wheels become a symphony of nostalgia. Each revived camera becomes a time capsule, capturing not only images but the essence of an era when photography was a deliberate and contemplative art. It's a gratifying experience, a dance with history where I am not just a photographer but a custodian, preserving the soul of a mechanical marvel for future generations to appreciate.
Fujifilm XT3
Website: www.sollows.ca
Contact and links: linktr.ee/jsollows
"Ethereal friendship" means a friendship that feels light, delicate, and almost otherworldly, as if it belongs to a realm beyond the physical. The word "ethereal" evokes something subtle, spiritual, or heavenly, beyond the tangible or material. It's a poetic way to describe a deep and special connection between two people. 🌟
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I don't miss drone photography, but it sure was handy in Alaska for scenes like this.
On a stunning spring evening in the Last Frontier a southbound 120S freight from Anchorage behind a pair of blue and gold SD70MACs has just taken the left turn off the mainline at MP 64.2 and is starting down the Whittier Branch main for the 12 mile run to its destination at tidewater on Prince William Sound and a date with the Alaska Marine Lines barge. After dropping it's train of cofc flats and outbound BNSF/UP interchange, the crew will turn right back for Alaska's largest city with northbound loads.
In the distance at the head of the Twentymile River valley rise the high peaks of the Chugach Mountains which form a massive bulwark between Portage Valley and the waters of Prince William Sound. It's only 20 miles in a straight line to Harriman Fjord on the other side. The massive ice field feeds Twentymile glacier flowing west down this side and Harriman flowing east along with countless smaller unnamed rivers of ice.
And in the foreground are some remains of the 'ghost forest' which is one of the last tangible links to that terrible day of March 27, 1964 when the second most powerful earthquake in documented human history devastated Alaska. the 9.2 magnitude quake destroyed Anchorage and the subsequent tsunami virtually wiped Seward and Valdez off the map. Here in Portage the ground (and the railroad with it) sunk 5 to 9 feet. While the small town of Portage was destroyed instantly the trees took longer to die. As they clung to the soil and sunk with the earth they remained upright and alive. But with their roots now below sea level they slowly sucked up the saline waters of Turnagain Arm which killed them and in the process 'pickled' them to prevent them from rotting so that nearly a half century later they remain as a link to that fateful day.
Portage, Alaska
Wednesday April 26, 2017
[Bonduaries]
During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
I try to scatter the light so it becomes only tangible
and in the dark I try to hide for the time,
because with aging the dreams are molting and memories fade,
evaporate.
This is why music is my endless desire to you.
This is why my cello hums - very gently and almost inaudibly - on the colours of orange and red.
--------------
Ik probeer het licht zo te verstrooien
dat het alleen nog tastbaar wordt
en in het donker probeer ik me
te verstoppen voor de jagende tijd
omdat bij het ouder worden de dromen vervellen
en de herinneringen vervagen,
verdampen
zo is muziek mijn eindeloos verlangen naar jou,
zo neuriet mijn cello - heel zachtjes en haast onhoorbaar - op de tonen van oranje en rood
----------------
Listen to Jóhann Jóhannsson - Flight From The City
web--_JAA3651
[Bonduaries]
During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
[Bonduaries]
During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
[Bonduaries]
During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
Boats embody the essence of unbridled freedom, a tangible symbol of liberation upon the vast canvas of the water. As they glide over rippling waves or float gently along tranquil lakes, boats break the chains of land, carrying dreams and adventures across the liquid expanse. Each vessel, from the sleek sailboat to the sturdy fishing skiff, embodies a unique promise of exploration and escape. Whether powered by wind, oar, or motor, boats represent the pursuit of liberty, offering a sanctuary where individuals can cast off the weights of routine, chart their own course, and embrace the boundless possibilities that the open water presents. The freedom of boats is not just in their movement but in the stories they carry and the horizons they beckon us to discover.
Ethereal City Legacy
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Ethereal%20City%20Legacy/2...
GROUP COVER: Ethereal City Legacy - (Opt'd Out)! November 4, 2023
I had been searching for this scene for years. It’s been hanging on in the fuzzy checklist of images that I’d like to capture. Then finally last year, I found myself in the right place at the right time. Sometimes just getting out is the biggest reward and sometimes the reward is a little more tangible.
[Bonduaries]
During the winter months in the Po Valley , the fog is a part of the landscape, cold, dump, almost tangible.
Fog is moisture in the nostrils, is a limited landscapes. You feel isolated, almost blinded by the white. The gaze is limited and the fog tracks the boundaries.
There are places you always pass by, common places that turn invisible, canceled by the chaos of buildings and constructions.
The fog, greedy of space, grants you the crumbs of what encompasses, defines the boundaries forcibly, giving back, sarcastically, the most common details.
These details turn unique, eye-catching, aesthetically ready for photographic consecration.
The streets, the buildings and the fields are transformed into landscapes that you can only imagine. A pole, the wires of the light, a gasoline station is all that you can see.
They are the boundaries the fog gives you.”
CONFINI
"La nebbia in pianura padana, nei mesi invernali, è parte integrante del paesaggio, fredda, umida, quasi tangibile.
La nebbia è il freddo, l'umidità nelle narici, lo sguardo che fatica, il paesaggio che si chiude per isolare e delimitare lo sguardo, tracciare i Confini.
Ci sono luoghi davanti ai quali si passa spesso, luoghi talmente presenti da diventare anonimi immersi come sono nel caos dei fitti fabbricati dalla pianura.
La nebbia ne riscatta il loro valore; isolati dal resto del paesaggio, assurgono a linee di confine oltre le quali tutto è celato, misterioso: il paesaggio padano diventa metafisico, non più fisico. Lo senti, lo percepisci ma non lo vedi.
La nebbia è avida di spazio. Ti concede briciole di quello che ingloba, delimita forzatamente i confini, valorizza i dettagli, concedendoti sarcasticamente quelli che più vendono trascurati.
Li rende unici, accattivanti, esteticamente pronti alla consacrazione fotografica.
Le strade, gli edifici e i campi si trasformano in paesaggi che puoi solo immaginare. Un palo, i fili della luce, una stazione della benzina è tutto quello che ti viene concesso. Sono i confini forzati che la nebbia, avida, ti restituisce."
"[...] Let me be your mirror, help you see a little bit clearer
The light that shines within
But there's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark
You should know you're beautiful just the way you are
And you don't have to change a thing, the world could change its heart
No scars to your beautiful, we're stars and we're beautiful
Oh-oh, oh-oh (...)
No better you than the you that you are (no better you than the you that you are)
No better life than the life we're living (no better life than the life we're living)
No better time for your shine, you're a star (no better time for your shine, you're a star)
Oh, you're beautiful, oh, you're beautiful [...]"
youtu.be/MWASeaYuHZo - Alessia Cara - Scars To Your Beautiful
"Often times, the world both directly and indirectly tells us that we shouldn't be happy with ourselves if we don't fit certain beauty standards. 'Scars to Your Beautiful' is a reminder that beauty isn't only one look, shape, size, or colour. It isn't even always tangible. It comes in an endless amount of forms and we need to recognize that." - Alessia Cara
photo rights reserved by Ben
Udabno is located in eastern Georgia — a world of vast emptiness and rolling hills, close to the border with Azerbaijan, offering a fascinating contrast to the green, mountainous regions of the country. Here, a sprawling semi-desert landscape unfolds, with colorful hills, dusty trails, and endless horizons. The earth shines in shades of yellow, red, and brown, especially when the sun hangs low in the sky, and the silence feels almost tangible. Not far from the village of Udabno lies Jikurebi Lake, a hidden gem tucked away in this rugged landscape. The Lake is a natural lake and the water level changes depending on the season. This small, peaceful lake is surrounded by gently rolling semi-desert hills and vast open plains. Thanks to its remote location, Jikurebi Lake feels incredibly serene — you’ll often have the whole place to yourself. The calm waters mirror the endless sky, and the area is perfect for quiet walks, picnics, or simply soaking up the silence. Occasionally, shepherds pass by with their flocks, adding to the timeless, almost dreamlike atmosphere. Especially in the early morning or at sunset, when the light turns golden and the hills glow with warm colors, Jikurebi Lake feels truly magical.
Udabno lies in eastern Georgia, where vast, rolling hills meet endless skies near the Azerbaijan border. The landscape here is a colorful tapestry of semi-desert terrain, with dusty trails and a silence that feels almost sacred. Hidden among these hills is Jikurebi Lake — a peaceful, remote spot perfect for quiet walks and reflection. The still water mirrors the sky, and sometimes shepherds pass by with their flocks, adding to the timeless beauty. At sunrise and sunset, when the hills glow in soft golds and reds, the lake feels nothing short of magical.
Udabno ligt in het oosten van Georgië — een wereld van uitgestrekte leegte en golvende heuvels, vlak bij de grens met Azerbeidzjan, en vormt een fascinerend contrast met de groene, bergachtige delen van het land. Hier ontvouwt zich een uitgestrekt halfwoestijnachtig landschap met kleurrijke heuvels, stoffige paden en eindeloze horizonten. De aarde kleurt in tinten geel, rood en bruin, vooral wanneer de zon laag aan de hemel staat, en de stilte is bijna tastbaar. Niet ver van het dorp Udabno ligt het Jikurebimeer, een verborgen pareltje in deze ruige omgeving. Dit kleine, vredige meer is omgeven door glooiende halfwoestijnheuvels en uitgestrekte vlaktes. Het meer is een natuurlijk meer en het waterniveau verandert afhankelijk van het seizoen. Door de afgelegen ligging voelt het Jikurebimeer ongelooflijk sereen aan – vaak heb je het hele landschap voor jezelf. Het kalme water weerspiegelt de eindeloze lucht, en de omgeving is perfect voor rustige wandelingen, picknicks of simpelweg genieten van de stilte. Af en toe trekken herders met hun kuddes voorbij, wat bijdraagt aan de tijdloze, bijna dromerige sfeer. Vooral in de vroege ochtend of tijdens zonsondergang, wanneer het licht goud kleurt en de heuvels oplichten in warme tinten, voelt het Jikurebimeer werkelijk magisch aan.