View allAll Photos Tagged temerity,
Larvae of the Pale Tussock Moth.
_DSC2909-1
ISO 1000 1/160th @ f/11
The natural beauty of this caterpillar warrants it a place in my gallery, but what brought it to my attention was that it had the temerity to drop down the neck of my shirt whilst I was gardening ! I believe the identification to be correct , but I am no moth expert. If anyone can confirm / deny or identify I should be grateful. It was 3cm long and the spines were pale blue.
Bassetts Liquorice Allsorts
Who would have thought that these cheap and frankly horrible liquorice allsorts sweets (candies) would be translucent when a little light is pushed into them from behind. I think the person who had the temerity to name these things liquorice should be put before a judge and jury and asked to put up a defence for this crime against proper liquorice! (Please don't sue me Bassets .)
Shot for the Macro Mondays theme of 'Candy'.
Olympus EM1Markii, Pentax 50mm f/2.8 Macro lens.
Black head and neck with a white chinstrap. Brown body, varies in shades geographically. Typically in large flocks, pairs or family groups. Grazes on land and up-ends in the water to reach submerged aquatic vegetation. Listen for loud ‘honk.’ (eBird)
-----------------
Canada Geese are fierce defenders of their families and are big enough to do damage to intruders. This mother was defending her nest from birders who had the temerity to approach just a little too closely!
Shirley's Bay, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. May 2011.
Photos and contest are protected by copyright, Gio F. Copyright © 2015 - All rights reserved For any use need my written permission
Pensavo e intravvedevo,
tornando sulla strada con l’auto, e percorrendo piccoli tratti, cose di ogni giorno per qualcuno di voi, il recarsi a fare compere necessarie, con una lista di cose d’acquistare.
E se dellle volte non si fa caso a ciò che passa davanti, oggi guardavo scorrere i paesaggi e sentivo un po’ il richiamo della natura.
Dovendo scegliere fra la strada più breve, ma cementificata e costruita, ho scelto il passaggio fra piccoli paesi e campi, e come il solito coi limiti di velocità.
Nel finesettimana, non è male viaggiare piano e dare uno sguardo fuori.
Ho scelto di spegnere l’aria condizionata ed abbassare il finestrino, si susseguono,campi di mais con piantine verdi, appezzamenti biondi di grano, qualche gradino di viti ancora acerbe, fiori che vogliono farsi strada dai cancelli, in fondo alberi distanti che osservano stupefatti i colori diversi che accompagnano il volgersi della nascita dei nuovi girasoli.
Ho lasciato alle spalle parte della terra che aveva mio padre, , vi è nato del grano, prima che venga mietuto l’ho voluto riprendere.
Mi fa pensare all’esistenza, c’è una poesia è di emily dickinson, la ricordo per letteratura inglese, parla dell’esistenza è un’insegnamento magnifico:
Di emily dickinson :
Each life converges to some centre
Expressed or still;
Exists in every human nature
A goal,
Admitted scarcely to itself, it may be,
Too fair
For credibility's temerity
To do.
Adored with caution, as a brittle heaven,
To reach
Were hopeless as the rainbow's raiment
To touch,
Yet persevered toward, surer for the distance;
How high
Unto the saints' slow diligence
The sky!
Ungained, it may be, by a life's low venture,
But then,
Eternity enables the endeavoring
Again.
Molto bella e per tutti.
In sostanza dice che ogni esistenza ha un proprio motivo di esistere, parla di vite, di cieli, di arcobaleni, di eternità.
Di unicità di ogni singolo essere, ed è vero, quel che non si può fare lo si completerà.
Questa poesia è la vita. Ad ognuno il proprio ruolo diceva questa scrittrice. L’ho sempre amata.
E’ una di quelle scrittrici che parlava della natura, come se diventasse lei stessa agente all’interno di essa.
Parlavo ad una persona di questo tempo fa, Qui in queste pagine.
Dedico a lei questo senza bisogno di dire, tu comprendi un puntino!.
Non importa se leggerai, se non verrai…
Importa rileggere la poesia e so per certo che tu questo ogni tanto lo fai.
Io la posto ora anche per ricordare…E per dire che la natura tutta la amo, comprese le creature.
Gio
The legend of this castle says that Charles VIII rewarded a certain Lafon, commoner by birth, for his bravery and temerity during the Italian military campaigns by making him a knight.
The king granted him also the privilege of building towers and machicolation, a right then reserved to the nobility.
The knight of Lafon also chose a star for his coat-of-arms, The Castle is in the beautiful village of Autoire , Lot , France
As noted by JJ Audubon: "The Black-poll Warbler is a gentle bird, by no means afraid of man, although it pursues some of its smaller enemies with considerable courage. The sight of a Canadian Jay excites it greatly, as that marauder often sucks its eggs, or swallows its young. In a few instances I have seen the Jay confounded by the temerity of its puny assailant.
The occurrence of this species so far north in the breeding season, and the curious diversity of its habits in different parts of the vast extent of country which it traverses, are to me quite surprising..". Birds of America.
Snowflakes in the air, blowing in the faces of those with the temerity to be outdoors and dusting the ground, but the ocean doesn't notice. A nice view, in good weather and bad. Happy Bench Monday!
The Spotted Sandpiper was nonplussed by the intimidation of the Common Merganser (as seen in the previous image www.flickr.com/photos/luminouscompositions/54481501925/in... ), since it had spotted a food item and wasn’t going to let some bluster interfere with procuring the necessities. {And indeed, the larger duck seems uncertain how to take the temerity of its smaller neighbour.} Once the sandpiper had swallowed down its tidbit, it proceeded on its way. This tableau took place at the Inglewood Bird Sanctuary in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.
Photo 2/2
The Blue Jay.
No brigadier throughout the year
So civic as the jay.
A neighbor and a warrior too,
With shrill felicity
Pursuing winds that censure us
A February day,
The brother of the universe
Was never blown away.
The snow and he are intimate;
I 've often seen them play
When heaven looked upon us all
With such severity,
I felt apology were due
To an insulted sky,
Whose pompous frown was nutriment
To their temerity.
The pillow of this daring head
Is pungent evergreens;
His larder -- terse and militant --
Unknown, refreshing things;
His character a tonic,
His future a dispute;
Unfair an immortality
That leaves this neighbor out.
-Emily Dickinson
Forest Lawn Cemetery, Burnaby, BC.
A shot from back in my Rebel days (Canon Rebel that is). I'm still screwing around with old photos in Lightroom while I try to find the temerity to get into Photoshop. Am I the only one who finds PS completely intimidating? It's as if the shear power of the program keeps me away from discovering all it can possibly do for me.
"When I pronounce the word Future,
the first syllable already belongs to the past.
When I pronounce the word Silence,
I destroy it.
When I pronounce the word Nothing,
I make something no non-being can hold."
~ Wisława Anna Szymborska (‘The Three Oddest Words’)
'Nothing', according to the poet and literature Nobel laureate, Wisława Szymborska, is something no non-being can hold. If the double negative in that last sentence gave you a pause, no blame nah be yours. It’s something, that ‘Nothing’! If you allow me, I have gathered three ways to interpret the whims of that last line.
One… the word ‘Nothing’ has a meaning and therefore is not really nothing.
Two… canceling out the double negative, the line reads: ‘Nothing’ can be held by a ‘being’. A being who breathes, feels, suffers, and cries. A being can hold ‘Nothing’ in his existence, heartbeat, or emotion. Occasionally, ‘Nothing’ is everything one can hold. It’s not easy to not hold something while holding the entirety of its mighty weight. ‘Nothing’ is then the being. The being is then ‘Nothing’.
Three… with the temerity of a snail that wants to travel the world… I interpreted that last line as the photograph above. In layers, ‘Nothing’ is everything, which no non-being can hold.
More wabi-sabi, this was a lovely white petalled tulip from my wife's front garden that had the temerity to lose its petals, but the leaves remained. I set up the stem upside down, so the top end is the healed spot where it was snipped to drink from a vase of water. As usual, I'm interested the way the forms move around the frame, and the color and texture.
The result of a multi-image focus stack, this image should reward pretty close examination. Maximum viewing size on your computer can be found by opening the image in a separate window, making that window maximum size, typing the letter "L" on the keyboard, and then clicking the cursor as long as a '+' appears in it, typically twice.
If you find this image to your liking, you can find more wabi-sabi - and an account of my understanding of the meaning of that term - in my wabi-sabi album, and more tulips in my Tulips album.
BTW, I've taken to putting a white rim around these images on black because, on my iPhone flickr app, it is otherwise difficult to discern the image's edges. I made it tiny because, while large mats look lovely on my desktop monitor, they make it hard for my tired old eyes to view an image on my iPhone's small screen.
His tail slightly fanned in agitation at several American Goldfinches that had the temerity to be using HIS feeder. He scared them off pretty quick and had a good snack.
This slightly cropped shot from yesterday afternoon of what I think is a juvenile female greater-spotted woodpecker (Dendrocopos major) (thank you Graham and Gary) as there is no red on the nape of its neck. She attacked a Starling that had the temerity of trying to feed from the other side of the feeder! She was back this morning with the feeder to herself while 16 Goldfinches squabbled over who should feed from the 10 seed feeding perches.
It is the Distinguished Company at the Bijou Planks!
Today we see John Paul Jones. John Paul Jones was a Revolutionary War hero known as the father of the U.S. Navy. Born in Scotland in 1747, Jones came to America as a merchant sailor. When the American Revolution broke out, Jones sided with the colonists and joined the Continental Navy, with his greatest victory coming from his against-all-odds defeat of the British warship Serapis in 1779.
In his early command, Jones sailed from the Delaware River in February 1776 aboard Alfred on the Continental Navy's maiden cruise. It was aboard this vessel that Jones took the honor of hoisting the first U.S. ensign−the Grand Union Flag−over a naval vessel.
With great skill and temerity, Jones began attacking British ships off the American coastline and expanded his operations from there. He captained the USS Providence, sailing to Nova Scotia and capturing British vessels.
Soon after, he took command of Ranger and set course to France, where his vessel was saluted by the French Admiral La Motte Piquet — the first American vessel ever to be recognized by a foreign power.
In 1779 Jones would go down in history as one of the greatest naval commanders of the Revolutionary War. En route to raid British shipping, Jones’ warship, Bon Homme Richard (named after Benjamin Franklin), came head to head with the more powerful English warship HMS Serapis off the North Sea.
After three hours of relentless gun fire between the two vessels, Jones slammed Bon Homme into Serapis, strategically tying them together. When the British asked if Jones was ready to surrender, he famously responded: “I have not yet begun to fight!”
After Jones and his crew continued their attack on Serapis, causing severe damage, it was the British who ultimately surrendered. Jones’ surprise victory against the better-equipped British naval ship had turned him into an international hero.
John Paul Jones. A distinguished individual!
__________________________
A year of the shows and performers of the Bijou Planks Theater.
National Historical Society
John Paul Jones
Fine Pewter
1980
Far from the usual wisdom of my photos of Venice, here is a colorful fantasy that will allow me to support this gray and rainy day :-) Excuse my temerity!
Have a good end of week!
Loin de la sagesse habituelle de mes photos de Venise, voici une petite fantaisie colorée qui me permettra de supporter cette journée grise et pluvieuse :-) Pardonnez mon coup de folie!
Bon week-end à tous!
Lontano dalla consueta saggezza delle mie foto di Venezia, ecco una fantasia colorata che mi permetterà di sostenere questa giornata grigia e piovosa :-) Perdona il mio ardire!
Buon fine di settimana!
Dennis PAX V with Dennis bodywork at Holywell Cross Chesterfield Derbyshire September 1995. New in 1968 to Llandudno Urban District Council later Aberconwy.
It comes as a reminder of those heady days of a mini bus war during the mid-90s, when upstart Peakbus had the temerity to 'poke the bear' that was Chesterfield Transport. With an eclectic mix of buses and coaches the battle lines were drawn, no less than with this bus, one of two originally supplied to Llandudno UDC to serve the town and the Great Orme. Am led to believe that it still exists in the hands of a preservationist. Built long before the advent of low-floor, as one climbed into its step entrance, you felt a great achievement upon reaching your seat. The battle was short but not sweet, although it certainly provided much entertainment for the enthusiast.
We all know that the highest compliment one artist can give to another is "I wish I had done that." I find myself saying that a lot when I look at the work of Larry Tuckman.
The piece he is holding is one that he recently displayed at an art show. I had seen it online before, but I absolutely fell in love with it when I saw the print. I told Larry I would NEVER hang another photographers work in my place, but in this case, I would gladly make an exception.
When he came in to work today, he had the picture printed and framed. I wouldn't have the temerity to show the whole piece (in my mind, that reeks of plagiarism), but I felt I had to pay some kind of homage to someone whose work I truly respect.
The main feature of the Photo is the war memorial situated in the middle of North Bridge, and is in commemoration to the soldiers of the King's Own Scottish Borderers killed in campaigns between 1878 and 1902.
Then reading the photo from left to right
The “Gothic Tower” (circa 1792) siting behind the circular “Dugald Stewart Monument” (1831) was the location of the original Edinburgh City Observatory. The Observatory is now in the building with the appearance of a “Greek temple” called the Playfair Building, after its designer William Playfair.
The Obelisk in the fore ground, was erected in 1844 by The Friends of Parliamentary Reform, to the men that were martyred in 1793 and 1794 when they were transported to Australia, for having the temerity to ask for the vote for ordinary working men.
To the far right top is the “Nelson Monument” which sits on the highest point of “Calton Hill”, On top of the tower is a time ball, a large ball which was raised and lowered to mark the time. It was installed in 1853 to act as a time signal to the ships in Edinburgh's port of Leith, and to ships at the anchorage in the Firth of Forth.It is raised just before 1pm, and at precisely 1pm, is dropped from atop the mast and signals the firing of “The One O’Clock Gun” from Edinburgh Castle.
The Turreted building on bottom right is the Governor’s House (1817) and is all that remains of “Calton Jail”, once the largest prison in Scotland, until recently it was used as offices for Scottish Government.
324/365 Work with textures
The Blue Jay
by Emily Dickinson
No brigadier throughout the year
So civic as the jay.
A neighbor and a warrior too,
With shrill felicity
Pursuing winds that censure us
A February day,
The brother of the universe
Was never blown away.
The snow and he are intimate;
I 've often seen them play
When heaven looked upon us all
With such severity,
I felt apology were due
To an insulted sky,
Whose pompous frown was nutriment
To their temerity.
The pillow of this daring head
Is pungent evergreens;
His larder -- terse and militant --
Unknown, refreshing things;
His character a tonic,
His future a dispute;
Unfair an immortality
That leaves this neighbor out.
..........................................................................................................................................................................
Once again my friend Suman has allowed me to work with his beautiful and amazing photos, I'm so grateful and I really found inspiration to work with them.
This is the work that I've been doing so far: Suman's Birds
Textured background by: 'Playingwithbrushes' Thanks a lot Renee!!
.../
As noted by JJ Audubon: "The Black-poll Warbler is a gentle bird, by no means afraid of man, although it pursues some of its smaller enemies with considerable courage. The sight of a Canadian Jay excites it greatly, as that marauder often sucks its eggs, or swallows its young. In a few instances I have seen the Jay confounded by the temerity of its puny assailant.
The occurrence of this species so far north in the breeding season, and the curious diversity of its habits in different parts of the vast extent of country which it traverses, are to me quite surprising..". Birds of America.
(Sturnella neglecta) near Eagles Nest Ranch, Sidley Mtn Rd, Bridesville, BC.
This series, longer than it needs to be, is my response to jerry Herzig from Lethbridge, AB, who had the temerity to chide me some weeks ago because my Meadowlark images failed to display the V on the bird's upper breast and throat.... Hope you like 'em my friend!
This gray wolf is another radio-collared member of Yellowstone's wild Wapiti Lake pack. Like its mates, it too had been feeding on the bison carcass for several days, so it had plenty of energy to spare. Here it is burning off a little of that energy chasing coyotes that had the temerity to show up and feed on the by-now quite diminished carcass. It was a great demonstration of how "fast-twitch" a wolf can be. The coyotes took off, likewise at top speed, not wanting to tangle with a fellow canid three times their size. The wolves made a show of it but did not pursue the 'yotes, which had scattered across the road from the carcass and proceeded to yip and howl for another 5 minutes. One of them screamed so awfully I thought a wolf had it in its jaws, but it was just being a drama queen and it and its pack-mates would live to return to the carcass for refills later that day.
This Sparrowhawk has been on the prowl for last two days, making multiple visits to my garden. Here it is perched on the back of my pickup truck and was last seen chasing a Blue Tit down my lane, after the Blue tit had the temerity to appear in the hedge just above where this photo was taken.
The Blue Tit returned several minutes later with it's mate so all is well! ... I hope!
Dennis PAX V with Dennis bodywork at Holywell Cross Chesterfield Derbyshire September 1995. New in 1968 to Llandudno Urban District Council later Aberconwy.
It comes as a reminder of those heady days of a mini bus war during the mid-90s, when upstart Peakbus had the temerity to 'poke the bear' that was Chesterfield Transport. With an eclectic mix of buses and coaches the battle lines were drawn, no less than with this bus, one of two originally supplied to Llandudno UDC to serve the town and the Great Orme. Am led to believe that it still exists in the hands of a preservationist. Built long before the advent of low-floor, as one climbed into its step entrance, you felt a great achievement upon reaching your seat. The battle was short but not sweet, although it certainly provided much entertainment for the enthusiast.
This is an oldie that I have kept back until today. The day after I shot this the socials were awash with aurora shots. Some fantastic landscapes that were well composed with beautiful skies. There was also the plethora of novice shots from people who do not know how to set their ISO, shutter speed and white balance and gave us the Kermit in a blender shots. There are those who, to demonstrate their creativity, move all the sliders to the right. In a week when the Royal family are getting slagged off for having the temerity of publishing an edited family shot, I am not moralising. I have both got the settings wrong and oversaturated images in the past......present.......future!!!
I have cropped this image in post but have left a touch of the moon clipping the top edge above the stones. The point being this was a very bright night and thus the Northern Lights were not showing as a deep green. When friends tell me that they are heading north on holiday, to catch the Aurora, my first, tentative question, is where in its cycle is the moon going to be? So, if you are planning to go on holiday to catch the lights my top tip is to aim to go when the moon is at its smallest in the sky.You can never guarantee seeing the Aurora, but if they do show, you will have a better chance of catching a great show.But, I'm no expert.
Thinking I was being smart, I popped along to these standing stones to get a different foreground, to find a couple of well known local pro's had got there before me!
# 175~365 Work with textures
The Blue Jay
by Emily Dickinson
No brigadier throughout the year
So civic as the jay.
A neighbor and a warrior too,
With shrill felicity
Pursuing winds that censure us
A February day,
The brother of the universe
Was never blown away.
The snow and he are intimate;
I 've often seen them play
When heaven looked upon us all
With such severity,
I felt apology were due
To an insulted sky,
Whose pompous frown was nutriment
To their temerity.
The pillow of this daring head
Is pungent evergreens;
His larder -- terse and militant --
Unknown, refreshing things;
His character a tonic,
His future a dispute;
Unfair an immortality
That leaves this neighbor out.
~~♥~~
Once again my friend Suman has allowed me to work with his beautiful and amazing photos, I'm so grateful and I really found inspiration to work with it.
Textured background by: 'Playingwithbrushes' Thanks a lot Renee !
I also used two textures: SkeletalMess ~SomeWould2
and Shadowhouse Creation (Aged-Frame-Backside)
Thank you very much Jerry !
..
A lily (arum lily of some sort?) from the Ninfarium at Aberglasney www.aberglasney.org/index.php?page=ninfarium
One of the few buildings still standing in what's left of the ghost town of Goodnoe Hills in Washington state.
This was one of those times where I was torn between the color and B&W versions. This was taken during the "golden hour" so I liked the golden glow that infused everything, but I liked this version equally. Perhaps I'll upload the other version one day.
Happy to report that I am still alive, no thanks to my stupidity (which has nothing to do with this photo). Yesterday I rear-ended an innocent teenage girl who had had the temerity to come to a stop on the highway . . . owing to the fact that there were cars in front of her that had stopped. I was momentarily distracted at a very inopportune time and didn't see she had stopped until I was about 100 feet away. Going 50 MPH, my stomping on the brakes was, to put it mildly, ineffective. I totaled both cars, but fortunately, the young girl I plowed into did not seem to have suffered significant injury--thank heavens--but she was really shaken up and that was the worst part for me. After the insurance is all settled, I plan on sending her some money by way of further apology.
I'm going to miss my old car.
Photo by Bill Tricomi
Every so often, a photographer captures an image that transcends his normal routine. Such is the case with this very special photo of my friend and belly dancer Arielle Juliette. There is a long story to be told here. If that reading taxes your patience too much, or if you simply wish to enjoy the beauty of this image without all the verbiage, that's okay. I ask only this: please keep all comments respectful, in tone with the story to follow. Also, please refrain from making the obvious, cheap shot comments about "topless belly dancing". This photo is ABOUT the dance, but is not Of the dance. For the record, Arielle does NOT dance topless! :-)
With that out of the way, I now take a page from the book of my flickr friend Garry Wilmore, who not only beautifully captures the motion of ballroom dance with his camera, but with his gift for words, often adds another dimension to his images with the "telling of the tale", as it were. I don't often take the time to do that with my photos, but this photo demands no less. As if to make up for past failings, this is going to take some time!
Those who have followed my photographic journey on flickr over the past few years are well aware that I specialize in photographing local belly dancers here in Madison, Wisconsin. Over that period of time, Arielle Juliette has become a particularly favorite model for both performance and studio shoots. Two main reasons for this are 1) she is exceptionally easy to photograph, as she loves being in front of the camera and the camera loves her right back; and 2) she has gone out of her way to act as my "practice dummy" on numerous occasions when I needed a live subject to test out my new found skills as a developing studio photographer. For that I owe her more thanks and gratitude than words can express.
Arielle has a couple of tattoos. This is not unusual these days, as it has become something of a fashion for young ladies to acquire such decoration. (Disclaimer: I ask for forgiveness in advance for my temerity in assuming I know anything about women. Let it be made abundantly clear, I am in no way an expert on such matters. To this day women remain a profoundly intriguing, beguiling mystery.) These tattoos often find an apparently favorite "home" toward the bottom of the spine at the sacral region just above the gluts. Tattoos are definitely common among my dancer friends. Mona, Ayperi, Nalingee, Mahela all have tattoos, Mahela being the only one lacking the lower back tat.
I became used to photographing Arielle and her tattoos, both
front and back, during her many appearances at the Med Hookah Lounge and Cafe, so I was rather complacent when Arielle would say that her back tattoo had significant meaning to her as a dancer. I had heard the story of "Life" and "Dance" many times already. It was only in late November of 2009, when Arielle wrote a lengthy note on Facebook, that I finally fully understood the symbolism behind her tattoo and the significant role that belly dance plays in her life.
I let Arielle tell the story in her own words...
Why must I dance? Why did I choose this life over any other?
When I was a child, I had always loved to dance, and it did not matter to what. The radio, the TV, whatever was playing a jingle, I was moving to it. My parents, surmising that this was an activity I enjoyed, tried enrolling me in several dance classes when I was 7. I tried ballet, hip hop and jazz, all of which I promptly quit, claiming "I don't want to do all this across the floor stuff. I want to dance!"
By the time I was 12, I believed that having quit formal dance training so young meant that I had effectively ended any dance career I might have had. I buried the dream, but the passion for dance lived on. I wanted it terribly, but would not allow myself even to fantasize. I still felt the burning desire to further my natural skill, so I started watching hip hop music videos religiously every day. I would fast forward, rewind, and rewatch rewatch rewatch. After I had seen the video enough times, I would try the moves I had watched so closely. The going was slow, but there was no deadline to meet and my craving was satiated, at least momentarily. The real satiety came during mixers, which are the dances my middle and high schools held. I loved mixers; I lived for them. I was too shy to really let loose, at least during my early teen years, but still I was known to "bust a move" on the dance floor.
And so my early dance years continued, and between watching music videos and practicing in my home and at the school events, I grew to be a good dancer by general standards. Although I had long since given up the dream of being a professional dancer, still the desire lingered on as displayed by a letter I wrote to myself when I was 15. Tom Harden, my teacher for Talented and Gifted English students, made everyone in the class write letters to themselves that he would then send to us 5 years later. My letter was completely unremarkable. I made mention of wanting to be a professional dancer or singer, but that since I lacked training I knew it to be an idle wish. I had no real ambition towards any other career, although it was clear that I could do anything that I wanted. And so it was true; I graduated with honors, I received a 32 on my ACT. With determination I could have gone anywhere and done anything. But I had no passion for school, and no passion for any of the careers I could have potentially had.
That is, I had no passion for any of my potential careers until I started bellydancing. When I was 16, my mom went to see a show that included a bellydance troupe named the Blue Lotus Tribe. She came back raving about how amazing the dancers were and how much I would like it... Little did I know how much that one show would change my life. I then embarked on a mission to find a bellydance teacher in Madison, and eventually I ended up emailing the Blue Lotus Tribe. They responded with several names, and I emailed every single one of them. At this point, fate must have intervened as Mona N'wal was the only one to answer my email, and how grateful I am that it was in to her lap I fell. On September 4th, 2004, 3 weeks before my 17th birthday, my mother and I went to our first bellydance class. I loved it from the very first- there was so much crossover between hip hop and bellydance, it came naturally to me, although I struggled to take the street out of my dance style. One class a week was not enough; soon we were attending two or three classes a week, repeating the ones we had already taken and moving on to the higher levels when we could.
In 2006, after two years of intensive study, I knew that this was what I wanted to do. I was not going to let my late start prevent me from being a professional dancer. I was so certain, in fact, that I got the tattoo on my back that is now my logo- a blue lotus in honor of the Blue Lotus Tribe, and the words "Dance" and "Life" in Arabic, because my life is dance. So why must I dance? Why must this be my career? I spent so many years dreaming, wishing, that I could dance professionally. I wanted it so bad, the longing that comes when you believe your longing will remain unsatisfied. There was nothing I wanted to be known as more than a dancer, so when I finally got my chance, I ran with it. And now, there is nothing that pleases me more than to be known or to introduce myself as "Arielle the Bellydancer". This is for what I waited my whole life, which is part of the reason why I kept my given name rather than choosing a stage name as most other dancers do. This is what I was born to do. The person that I am when I perform is Arielle at her most real; I am not putting up a facade or pretending to be someone else. Totally unselfconscious, I let the music move me to my soul, and hope that the movement it produces moves others to their souls as well.
When I was 15, I was in a bad accident on a ski hill, resulting in a fractured skull and an epidural hematoma- in layman's terms, I burst a blood vessel in my head that required an emergency craniotomy. I easily could have and, as I found out later, should have died, but my life was spared. I literally walked away with only a mild auditory processing disorder and an extremely keen sense of smell. Afterwards, many people said that I must be here to do something special, that my life was meaningful in some way. I know now that dance is the reason for which I was spared. I am here to touch lives.
Some people reading this may question how bellydance could touch someone's life; indeed, I have asked myself the same question in my times of doubt, wondering how I could possibly touch the world as a dance instructor. But then, I remember the person that I was before I found Middle Eastern Dance..... I suffered from severe depression, often turning to self-mutilation to stop the pain, and I was so full of self-loathing I could barely stand to see my own reflection. After many years of sexual abuse, I had disconnected from my body; it had not been my own for a long while. Discovering bellydance was about more than learning how to move to music in a new way; it was about reclaiming what I had lost. For the first time since I was 5 years old, my body is my own again. I found myself through this dance, and pulled myself from the darkest depths to become the person I am today. I do not like to think what would have become of me had I not started dancing.
To return to my original question again, why must this be my career? It is in my soul to dance; it is written in my destiny. Dance is the only thing that moves me entirely, the only thing which can occupy my brain to exclusion. It is the only thing I have wanted for my entire life. I must be the best, the biggest name in bellydance, the biggest legend that ever was, because I must reach the largest audience possible. I need to bring Middle Eastern dance to as many people as I can that have ever felt how I felt; if it can save me, it can save others as well. And in the end, if I reach only one person, only touch one life, then all the sweat, blood and tears that I have put in to my profession will be well worth it.
But I trust in myself, and I trust in the universe, that I will do more than that.
I was absolutely dumbfounded. i knew that Arielle had had a "troubled" past, but I never realized what that actually meant until I read her 'Very personal story of why I dance". Once I read it, I had a mission I was driven to accomplish. I told Arielle that some day I wanted her in my studio. I wanted her back and tattoo, with nothing else getting in the way, in front of my camera. Somehow I was going to visually capture and tell her story with a single image. We talked, we planned, we talked some more.
Finally, on Sunday, Jan 17, 2010, with Phaedra on hand as artistic director - this photo owes much to her creative, artistic eye for detail - we put it all together.
It's a seemingly simple portrait - Arielle's inner core, her back and tattoo, surrounded by the draping of the belly dancer's veil. That simplicity is very misleading.
Arielle saw the image and said how happy she was that it turned out as it did, because "when I was posing I was thinking 'please universe help me become a star' or drawing in the energy of the universe, and I wanted my pose to read that thought or energy. I think it's safe to say that was accomplished. I like it even more because there's so much emotional charge to so simple of a picture."
I smiled at that, telling her I had a similar impression but with a somewhat opposite interpretation. "While you say you were reaching out to the universe for inspiration, drawing in its energy, I saw something very different. You are presenting - revealing - yourself to the universe, arms open in welcome, hiding nothing, all inviting. You are saying, 'I am Arielle, unveiled. THIS is who and what I am. Come DANCE with me!' "
The Blue Lotus is the key to her new life. The words "Dance" and "Life" are joined together in that new life. For Arielle, to live is to dance; to dance is to live. This is the ICONIC Arielle.
It has always been a fascination for me to see these boatmen at see in the Wouri , Douala; Cameroon. The dexterity and temerity that they show with their boats are only matched by the incredible fear and mysticism that most in Cameroon attribute to deep sea in general. But make no mistake, these guys are at work too and Douala is lucky to have an endless supply of fresh fish and other ocean delicacies.
Stop me, stop me stop me. Stop me if feel that you've seen this pic before, as this is the original photo I attempted to recreate in charcoal. This is the real Filey Brigg, a long narrow peninsula at the end of Filey bay in North Yorkshire and home to the legend of the Parkin and the Dragon. A legend which some of you had the temerity to question the veracity of. Have faith please dear followers.
If any of you actually read my ramblings you will be all too familiar with some of my nonsense; clearly my family are too. Watching the Pilot whales on Blue Planet this evening, I happened to remark to my kids 'Oh, I made a Whale at work today'. The statement, not without truth I add, was greeted very nonchalantly with a couple of raised eyebrows from Will and Ed and a 'cool' from Emily. I should point out that making whales is not really part of my job description!
The music choice today is courtesy of Lindsey. Following her lovely post yesterday www.flickr.com/photos/lindsey1611/38493916082/in/contacts/ , Cut Out Shapes naturally sprang to mind. This track will you will either love or hate; I'd be interested to know which, but I do think they were a great band, one of the many which I sadly never got to see. Anyway give it 4 minutes and 37 seconds of your life if you can manage that long.
The #FlickrFriday #Tower challenge
This is Big Ben, right? Well, no. Big Ben is the name of the mighty unseen bell inside the tower. It rings hourly, once for every hour shown on the clockface which, being able to maintain constant accuracy to within a second, is among the most accurate mechanical large clocks in the world. Its timing is maintained by a small stack of pre-decimal pennies carried upon the pendulum. Adding or removing a coin affects the timing by +/- 0.4 seconds a day so keeping good time is merely a matter of juggling the pennies. Who needs these atomic clock thingies anyway?
The tower we always call Big Ben forms part of The Palace of Westminster where the British Parliament sits. Formerly known as The Clock Tower, it was renamed in honour of HM Queen Elizabeth II to mark her Diamond Jubilee in 2012.
The large, intimidating, round-shouldered figure, clad in a military greatcoat and leaning on a cane, which frames the tower in my photograph is the statue of Sir Winston Churchill who faces Parliament and glares from Parliament Square at those who may have the temerity to enter it. Queen Elizabeth had been invited to unveil the statue but, while she attended the ceremony, she declined that honour in favour of his widow, Lady Clementine Churchill, a very gracious act and a true mark of the lady. Churchill was the first of Queen Elizabeth’s fifteen prime ministers and was famous for his leadership during The Second World War. He was also famous for his witticisms. They are many, but a favourite of mine occurred when Churchill, upon learning he was to be knighted by King George VI shortly after losing the first post war general election, commented “Why should I accept the Order of The Garter from His Majesty when his people have just given me The Order of The Boot?”
Her Majesty appointed her last prime minister two days before she died, three days ago, her recent passing making The Elizabeth Tower with Churchill, her first prime minister, an appropriate subject for this week’s challenge. Her 70-year reign is a record unlikely ever to be surpassed. Two out of three Brits say they have either met her or seen her in person. Nine out of ten of the world’s population have only ever known one British monarch who has witnessed and overseen huge change while keeping the institution relevant.
Monarchy has its detractors, certainly, and strong, valid arguments are deployed against it. They highlight the cost of the monarchy, but usually fail to count the receipts provided by those who come to visit us because of it, sometimes implicitly assuming that an alternative republican presidential leadership would come free of charge. They disregard the soft power the monarchy provides, ignoring the manner in which Her Majesty was always received by her fellow world leaders, and the crowds who turned out to see her. Its most serious failing is that one can only be preordained to be the British Head of State (ie the monarch). Unless one is born into the right family at precisely the right time, one simply cannot rule as king or queen of The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. Queen Elizabeth only became monarch because of the abdication of her uncle, King Edward VIII which caused her own father, the then Prince George (who was King Edward's younger brother) unexpectedly to become King George VI. This led to her, as his eldest child, becoming heir to the throne, and the event altered the line of succession into perpetuity.
While succession is unambiguous, unlimited (by time) rule through the accident of birth cannot be defended using modern, enlightened argument. Brits are subjects and can never vote in or out their head of state. Neither (currently) may those in the realms such as Australia and New Zealand who retain the British monarch as their own head of state although, being independent, democratic countries, that must be a matter for them to address when and if they feel the need. Constitutional Monarchy is an anachronism, but it works for The UK, so on that basis I will defend it!
First, those who can vote for their head of state may end up with genuine, talented people such as Mr Obama, Mr Mandela, M. Macron or Frau Merkel as their head of state ... but others end up with (err) a different kind of leader. You know who you are guys! Indeed both Hitler and Putin were voted into office. The former could never have been voted out and there seems little prospect of that happening to the latter, either. Recent and current experience therefore demonstrates that the democratic process (or merely an alleged one in some cases) provides no guarantee of quality, a feature it has in common with the accident of birth, but at least the latter may be prepared for their calling, in King Charles' case, for over 73 years, and for over 40 (and counting) for Prince William.
Second, I was never destined for high office and have never so aspired. It follows therefore that I would never have sought any office of president, and I submit that that is the case for most people, and that is just as well. That argument implies that the pool of people who may realistically aspire to be a head of state is really very small. OK, if we have a Mandela, Obama or some such person tucked away, our system may be hard on them, and arguably hard on the rest of us due to us being deprived of their talents. However those incredibly ambitious and talented folk have opportunities for British influence in many fields of endeavour including politics, the armed forces, industry and entertainment. Recognition is available twice a year through the honours system. The hours may well be better in the end too. They may also get to retire.
Third, from the perspective of The Realms (if this Brit may be so presumptuous), they get a head of state for free. We Brits pick up the tab. Their own prime ministers do a perfectly good job of running their countries, so why bother with an extra layer of leadership?. That of course could equally apply to the UK.
Fourth, and inextricably linked to the previous arguments, the British model is ceremonial. The monarch has the right to be informed, to advise and to warn. That is it. They therefore have influence, namely the ear of the elected prime minister who correspondingly is free to accept or reject the counsel of the monarch as seen fit following the weekly audience. The monarch wields no actual power. Although constitutionally a monarch may refuse Royal Assent (approval) of legislation which has already passed through both Houses of Parliament, doing so would cause a serious constitutional crisis. The last time Parliament and monarch confronted each other (in the 1640s), King Charles I literally lost his head following The English Civil War. This defined the supremacy of Parliament over the unelected monarch, resulting in a brief English republic led by Oliver Cromwell who styled himself Lord Protector. He too was unelected, having actually been appointed by force of arms through a parliament which could not exactly claim for itself the moral high ground of universal suffrage. Cromwell ruled as a dictator, becoming so unpopular that the monarchy was reinstated a couple of years after his death, ending the twelve year English experiment with republicanism. Some may believe that over 350 years down the track, it may be time to revisit the question. On the basis that decisions made by societies should not bind their descendants to excess, that would seem fair. Her Majesty's passing places The UK at a crossroads. Like Her Majesty before him, King Charles III will have to prove himself to His subjects, both near and far, and that is as it should be. Revolution is not necessary. Gentle transition however may occur.
Overall, remember that the 96 year old Queen Elizabeth was photographed still at work, looking cheerful but very frail, two days before she died. She had not chosen her vocation. She had no retirement. Instead she fulfilled her vow to serve for all her life. Traditions of all kinds become so for reasons, and one of those reasons may be because, over time, they appear to work well. Disturbing them should therefore be a process approached with care. The British monarchy, albeit refined, especially in recent years, is over 1,000 years old. By all means count its costs but recognise those of its alternatives too, along with its benefits and remember that not all that counts can be counted.
Her Majesty has been succeeded by her eldest son who will reign as King Charles III. It is to be hoped that he will rule better than his two namesake predecessors, the first of whom was so bad he was executed, the second being known as “The Merry Monarch” due to his predilection for parties and debauchery. His twelve known illegitimate progenies were raised at public expense and, as an aside, one will in due course provide a direct ancestral link between him and the future King William (King Charles’ son and now heir to the throne) through King Charles' first marriage to The Late Diana, Princess of Wales. I’m sure he will be fine. His activism, years ago, around organic farming, architecture and environmentalism is now mainstream, some may even say it was visionary. His Prince’s Trust continues to provide opportunities for disadvantaged young people. Members of The Royal Family never score 100% in popularity contests, but then, who does? His Majesty has, at times, ridden a rocky road, most obviously over the fallout from the failure of his marriage to Princess Diana, the reverberations of which were still making headlines this year. But many of his subjects are divorcees too. Surely life experience which many would find very close to their own homes counts for something? Overall it appears to me that that, over many years, he has become a familiar, affable and thoughtful presence in our upper echelons. His accession is a popular one.
God Bless Her Majesty. Long live The King.
On some Saturday after the first lock down I heard some loud music around the corner, so I had to investigate. I found a bunch of kids looking like they watch a lot of Manga - pardon, Anime - with a big loudspeaker at the feet of the Gutenberg statue. The loudspeaker plays a piece of K-Pop (or J-Pop, I'm ways out of my area of expertise here!), a groups of kids dances a more or less complex choreography to it, the music stops, applause, the next piece starts, some other kids jump in the middle, sometimes dazzled by their own temerity, sometimes in a very coordinated way... and the show goes on and on. The pieces are short enough to be over before you've got time to be too embarrassed, and the dare-or-dare setup tickles the teenage mind, I guess. I am pretty sure someone here will know more about that type of events. I've seen it a few more times (the picture here was last summer). Let's see whether it will repeat when spring comes.
Asahi Optical Co. Pentax ME Super and SMC Pentax 50mm f/1.7, Agfa APX 100 in Rodinal 1+50 for 11 min @ 20°C and digitalized using kit zoom and extension tubes.
Thank you everyone for your visits, faves and comments, they are always appreciated :)
Not exactly the weather I wanted; the day before it was glorious sunshine, no clouds and perfect clarity. Today, however, was stolidly overcast, gloomy and pissing down.
Walking from Tate Modern to The Shard meant I was as wet as an otter's pocket. So, if you then add to that crowds of people, most of which were selfie-ing or not looking out of the glass but at their Facebook apps on their phones, shooting through panes of glass covered in raindrops, having an argument with the staff and being threatened with removal by security*, I guess I should be grateful I got this.
*I had the temerity to use a Gorillapod sans ball head and legs curled, which raised my camera around four inches off the floor so I could go for longer exposures with the lens pointed downward. Should have had a full-size one like the ones I saw two people using without any intervention whatsoever. Tsk.
Great public artworks call out to the passerby. Masterpieces begin a conversation. Stan Douglas’s new mural depicting the 1971 Gastown riots, now suspended in the atrium of the redone Woodward’s building (steps from the site of the actual riots), will strike up more conversation than any other artwork in town. Hanging midair at the heart of the city’s new melting pot, it depicts some of the hundreds of hippies who suffered police brutality after convening at Maple Tree Square one summer day to protest undercover drug squads. Officers charged the crowds on horseback and beat protesters with batons. It’s an embarrassing scene of misconduct that the police have tried hard to put to rest. The finished work is a massive reminder though, stretching 50 by 30 feet. The title Douglas gave it, Abbott & Cordova, 7 August 1971, is dry and prosaic enough to register his interest in historical rigour. In fact, he spent six months researching historical details (“I wanted to know what was right, from the signage down to the garbage can”); then there were six weeks of pre-production (building the elaborate street set); three days of shooting; and two months of post-production. The final computer file cost $550,000 to create and, after construction costs are considered, the price is over $1 million.
We often think of photographs as moments of witnessing. But what Douglas has delivered to the city is a moment of re-witnessing, reassessing. As Vancouver steps toward the 2010 Games, when its citizens will be more policed, more monitored, more scrutinized than ever, this mural insists we have always had the temerity to watch our watcher.
Look at it in original size.
A lavender satin Victorian night dress by Barbara Tam who made many of my maid uniforms too. There is a purple padlock locking me into it. The fluffy high heel slippers are white. A necklace says Barbie.
I am unable to escape my forced feminine fate. Once I have prepared and served Mistress Lady Penelope's breakfast in bed I will be given the key to my nightie and instructed which of my maid uniforms I am to serve Mistress in during the coming day. I will of course also be locked into my uniform and Mistress will retain that key along with the key to my chastity belt which I wear 24/7 to make sure I remain a good girl.
Most days, and many nights I also wear my slainless steel slave collar, which reminds me of my duty to my Mistress and symbolises my ownership by her. It is also a little reminder to my Mistress that I am at her command to serve her, always available to perform the most revolting things to be done. These can be forced upon me to do whilst my Mistress can keep the pleasurable things for herself.
All boring tasks are naturally performed by me. Mistress Lady Penelope frequently tells me she does not have the patience to do something and I am tasked to complete it for Mistress. As her maid, I have to have infinite patience. If I ever had the temerity to say that I do not have the patience to do some task I think you can imagine the punishment I would suffer before being forced to complete the task I had been set,
A lavender satin Victorian night dress by Barbara Tam who made many of my maid uniforms too. There is a purple padlock locking me into it. The fluffy high heel slippers are white. A necklace says Barbie.
I am unable to escape my forced feminine fate. Once I have prepared and served Mistress Lady Penelope's breakfast in bed I will be given the key to my nightie and instructed which of my maid uniforms I am to serve Mistress in during the coming day. I will of course also be locked into my uniform and Mistress will retain that key along with the key to my chastity belt which I wear 24/7 to make sure I remain a good girl.
Most days, and many nights I also wear my slainless steel slave collar, which reminds me of my duty to my Mistress and symbolises my ownership by her. It is also a little reminder to my Mistress that I am at her command to serve her, always available to perform the most revolting things to be done. These can be forced upon me to do whilst my Mistress can keep the pleasurable things for herself.
All boring tasks are naturally performed by me. Mistress Lady Penelope frequently tells me she does not have the patience to do something and I am tasked to complete it for Mistress. As her maid, I have to have infinite patience. If I ever had the temerity to say that I do not have the patience to do some task I think you can imagine the punishment I would suffer before being forced to complete the task I had been set,
A lavender satin Victorian night dress by Barbara Tam who made many of my maid uniforms too. There is a purple padlock locking me into it. The fluffy high heel slippers are white. A necklace says Barbie.
I am unable to escape my forced feminine fate. Once I have prepared and served Mistress Lady Penelope's breakfast in bed I will be given the key to my nightie and instructed which of my maid uniforms I am to serve Mistress in during the coming day. I will of course also be locked into my uniform and Mistress will retain that key along with the key to my chastity belt which I wear 24/7 to make sure I remain a good girl.
Most days, and many nights I also wear my slainless steel slave collar, which reminds me of my duty to my Mistress and symbolises my ownership by her. It is also a little reminder to my Mistress that I am at her command to serve her, always available to perform the most revolting things to be done. These can be forced upon me to do whilst my Mistress can keep the pleasurable things for herself.
All boring tasks are naturally performed by me. Mistress Lady Penelope frequently tells me she does not have the patience to do something and I am tasked to complete it for Mistress. As her maid, I have to have infinite patience. If I ever had the temerity to say that I do not have the patience to do some task I think you can imagine the punishment I would suffer before being forced to complete the task I had been set,
The Altoona-Pillar Rock Road that runs along the north shore of the Mighty Columbia is one of the most isolated stretches of highway in its region. It's a long way from there to the nearest carton of milk. For all that, a remarkable number of houses dot the landscape along the highway's length before it dead-ends just before the remains of an old salmon cannery.
The most magnificent of all those dwellings is the Elliott House, known today as the Dahlia House Bed & Breakfast. When it was new, there were few roads on the hilly and heavily forested shore of the Columbia. The inhabitants must have traveled by boat to the nearest town, which was Astoria, Oregon.
Here's the story of the house:
The Dahlia House has always belonged to an Elliott. In 1890, a 31 year-old seine boss by the name of Chris Henry had the temerity to elope with the 16-year-old daughter of the Elliott patriarch. His wild act became the impetus to build the house in 1895, in order to prove that he could take care of the girl, Louisa. The two-story Eastlake Victorian overlooks the Columbia River, with views of Cathlamet to the east and Saddle Mountain standing directly before it. What is left of Pillar Rock can be seen from the window of one of the bedrooms upstairs.
Brian Elliott inherited the home 30 years ago. As a labor of love for the home and his family and sharing a fondness with his wife for bed and breakfasts, the two set forth to restore the home to its original beauty. They never imagined it would take them 10 years.
From the sound of it, it might have taken nine of those years just to scrape the white paint off of the stair railings.
“We had to sand all this down and scrape it,” said Linda. “We would come in here and work on it for a week and in that time, you might get a foot done. It was awful.”
Because there was such a wonderful view, they decided to add a conservatory. They priced them here in the US and found that it would cost them $25,000 just to order one. Linda knew they were popular in England and after a little research, they found someone to sell them a kit and ship it to them from England for $7,000.
“It was all in metric,” they laughed. “We had to buy a special tape measurer to put it up.”
It’s a lovely place to have breakfast, but it had a surprise benefit. It can heat the whole house.
There are cedar pocket doors with hardware from the original Elliott mansion that was torn down in the late 1960s. There are a few original windows and stained glass and upstairs, the wood floors remain. The front window is original. Connemara marble that took Linda a year and a half to track down graces the new fireplace.
“Almost everything in this house was bought at a garage sale, an estate sale, or Goodwill. I don’t care what we skimp on, but I’m having the Connemara marble!” Linda exclaimed.
A swinging door that they found in the attic separates the kitchen from the dining room.
“I was born and raised in this house,” said Brian. “My brother doesn’t remember that door and neither do I. It was covered in bat poop. It was a lot of work to clean up, but it fit right into the holes in the door sill, like it belonged.”
The original phone is mounted on the wall in the entry.
“When we were kids,” Brian said, “Mom would use this to wake us up. Two longs two shorts was the phone number. It was all a party line. If the phone rang, all my aunts and uncles would be on the line listening. There were no secrets. “
At the back of the house was a net room, a space for the fishermen to make or repair nets. It was 22 feet across with a window on each side to pull the length of the net through. There was no heat or plumbing in the space. It’s now two bathrooms, and the windows where the net was pulled through remain.
At a family reunion they spoke to one of the daughters of Chris Henry, who has now passed on. She told them that the original furniture in the home was donated to the Fort Columbia Museum. It’s still there today.
“It’s gorgeous!” they said.
There are two bedrooms upstairs that make up the bed and breakfast. The Hummingbird Room overlooks the river and you can see Pillar Rock from the other room. Though the top of Pillar Rock was blown off to put the marker on in the twenties or thirties, according to the Elliotts, it is also the site where Lewis and Clark first believed they saw the ocean.
Linda has enjoyed decorating the home and still works on it. She wanted it to be classy, with a touch of whimsy, and you can see it here and there with pictures of cats and night lights. If you have lots of time, there is plenty to see.
“This was the community of Dahlia,” Brian said. “It’s actually on some maps. Altoona is the last place most GPS will bring you. Up until the 1950s there wasn’t a road up here. I went to a one room school house for my first two years then we went out to Rosburg after they put in a road. The only way in and out of here was by boat.”
“Living out here was very different,” he continued. “I talk to my cousins about it. We don’t’ know how we lived. We should have drowned.” He got in trouble when he was three or four. “My brothers were supposed to be watching me,” Brian said. “I was out in the middle of the river on a plank. My dad came up in a boat and pulled me out and then when we got home my brothers got it.”
“This was a community here, it even had a post office,” Linda shared. Brian told of a town just east of Dahlia. At that time, in order to have an establishment to sell liquor, the place had to be located in a town. His grandfather built a tavern on one of the docks and called it Charlton, and that was all there was to it.
According to Brian, the tavern burnt down before prohibition started.
“The Elliott clan all grew up here,” Brian said. “My great grandfather settled this area in the late 1800s. I’m part of the fifth generation." "They came here as coopers but became fishermen,” added Linda.
As for their restored home they say, “you’d be nuts to do this for any other reason than heritage, but we wanted to pass this on to our kids. It’s been in the family forever. It had to be redone. And we always wanted a bed and breakfast.”
Taken from a Wahkiakum Eagle article published in 2014.
WW (Wyland's Walls) - 04 “The Gray Whale Family”
White Rock, BC, Canada
70 Feet Long x 30 Feet High
Dedicated September 26th, 1984
By Gordon Hogg, Mayor of White Rock, B.C.
Wyland - Changing the Way We Look at Our Ocean and Waterways - In the world of art, nothing compares to the size, scope, and majesty of “Wyland’s Walls.” Spanning the sides of skyscrapers, sports arenas, and structures throughout the world, these landmark public murals captured the imagination of millions and helped inspire a new generation to become better stewards for our environment. For more than forty years, the murals have served as a reminder to communities around the world that we all share a special connection with our blue planet.
Walking down Johnston Road and Russell Avenue, you may have noticed a rather large family portrait of a mother whale, her calf, and their escort whale. The White Rock Whaling Wall, completed in 1984, is titled “The Grey Whale Family”. It is the fourth of one hundred Whaling Walls, stands 70ft long by 30ft high (20m by 9m). The White Rock Whaling Wall is just one piece of a 100 piece puzzle. In 2008 Robert Wyland and the Wyland Foundation completed the monumental goal of painting 100 life-size public marine murals. “We know now that water connects all the countries of the world,” Wyland says. “Our goal with these projects over the last three decades has been to convey the urgency of conservation issues to the public.The health of our ocean and waterways are in jeopardy, not to mention the thousands of marine animals and plants that face extinction if we do nothing.” The completed “Wyland Walls” campaign is one of the largest art-in-public-places projects in history, spanning five continents, 13 countries, and 79 cities around the globe. Needless to say, these walls convey a message as spectacular as the artwork itself, and White Rock is proud to have one stand in our city by the sea. LINK to the complete article - explorewhiterock.com/whale-wall/
LINK to all of the Wyland Whaling Walls - wylandfoundation.org/about/wyland-whaling-walls/
(Article from - 24 April 2014 - Peach Arch News) - Whaling Wall wake-up call - Is Wyland’s Whaling Wall White Rock’s proverbial line in the sand? It’s often hard to judge what will rouse the ire of residents in the our often sleepy ‘City by the Sea.’ Whether it’s apathy, a lack of caring or grudging resignation in the face of inevitable change, there seem to be only a few issues guaranteed to raise the hackles. Increasing building height is one. Pay parking is another. Add to the short list a new item: any threat to the continued existence of the internationally celebrated marine artist’s mural, which for 30 years now has adorned the side of a commercial building, facing Russell Avenue. Those wondering about the place of the arts in the hearts and minds of the Semiahmoo Peninsula would do well to note public reaction to the mistake made last week – when someone had the temerity to bolt a realtor’s ‘For Lease’ sign to the face of the mural. There are many who would see this act as a symbol of growing commercial insensitivity to White Rock’s sense of self (although, to its credit, the company concerned was quick to acknowledge and attempt to rectify the error). Is the city itself, some will ask, for lease or for sale?The outcry – which spread rapidly through social media – may also seem surprising in a community that, for all its avowed support of the arts, often seems curiously indifferent to them. All these people upset over a painting?The answer is: of course.Never mind that Wyland scarcely qualifies as a local artist – his work was taken to our hearts many years ago. Peninsula residents have taken ownership of it, proud that it represents a discipline-crossing link to other arts and nature-friendly communities around the world also chosen for the murals. As internationally recognized South Surrey dance mentor Susie Green notes online, for example, Wyland’s characteristic whales are also a major feature of the Long Beach Convention and Entertainment Centre where 1,000 young dance artists from 27 countries performed world-class pieces at last week’s Dance Excellence 2014. If the recent farrago has an upside, it is that it has focused attention locally on the need for preservation of the wall, and what steps can be taken to protect it from further encroachment in a landscape of rapid redevelopment.For a city that also prides itself as the birthplace of International Artists Day, this would seem to be a priority.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mary Cain (b. March 9, 1933 – d. March 19, 2017) - Mary Elsie Freeman Cain passed away at the Sechelt Hospital just a few days after her 84th birthday. Her sister Sally arrived from England a week before to be with her. Born the sixth child of eight to Elsie (née Battison) and Alfred Freeman in Kettering, North Hamptonshire, England, Mary is survived by her sister Sally and brothers Albert, Peter and Michael. At age 18, Mary began three and a half years of training at Leicester General Hospital to become a surgical nurse and midwife. After a year as a staff nurse, she obtained a diploma in tuberculosis and chest surgery at the Harefield Hospital in Middlesex, England, where she nursed some of the first open heart surgery patients. Mary then received further training in midwifery in Edinburgh and went on to work for the district, travelling throughout the area and delivering hundreds of babies. In 1967 Mary came to Canada, lured by an ad that offered a chance to “nurse by dog team.”She worked as a nurse for the International Grenfell Mission, in Flowers Cove, N.L. The clinic provided health care for 27 communities in Labrador and northern Newfoundland and often held satellite clinics in remote areas. The only link with the hospital was by radio phone twice daily. In 1969 Mary was posted to northern Manitoba to work in the communities of St. Theresa Point, Garden Hill and Brochet. She was the first resident nurse in Whale Cove and later worked in Tungsten where she met and married Peter Cain. They divorced a short time later. In 1970 Mary started taking black and white photos, beginning her lifelong passion for photography. Moving to White Rock in 1982, she nestled into the artists’ community and it was there she first received recognition for the quality of her work. In 1992 Mary moved to Pender Harbour and became a dedicated photographer of community events and wildlife. She became a fixture in the Iris Griffith wetland park and it was there that her ashes were spread by friends and family as they said their last goodbyes. LINK to obituary - www.harbourspiel.com/files/harbour-spiel-june-2017-issue.pdf
RUBBERBANDance Group
HISTORY RBDG
Company Overview
Victor Quijada, choreographer and performer, founded the RUBBERBANDance Group (RBDG) to make it a channel for expressing and disseminating its choreographic identity by creating, among others, evocative and unpublished plays. The company, co-directed by interpreter Anne Plamondon, is responsible for creating, producing and distributing Quijada's work nationally and internationally in the form of shows, films and special events.
With RBDG, Victor Quijada reconciles the aesthetics of the two poles of the dance that inhabit him: the spontaneity, the risk, the temerity and the audacity of his youth, while he was bathing in hip-hop culture and refinement and the choreographic maturity of ballet and contemporary dance, where he evolved as a professional dancer. The revolutionary character of the aesthetic movement created by Quijada is illustrated by a dozen years of research that have led to more than twelve creations. Impressed by the inherent independence of the street and a keen sense of direction, Quijada's choreographies explore human relationships by capturing the ardor of obsession, the brutality of violence, the delicacy of tenderness , comedy and tragedy, not forgetting sincerity and courage.
Carrying the sensibility of street dancers, Victor Quijada seeks ways to integrate the spontaneity of hip-hop circles into the stage. He has explored various forums, made spontaneous representations and knocked down barriers between performers and the public in innumerable ways. All this with the same objective: to get rid of the format of the usual representations so that the public experiences the dance actively, rather than passively.
In addition to their stage and film creations, Victor Quijada and Anne Plamondon have developed a training program to prepare professional dancers for the demands of Quijada's choreographies. This program introduces the dancers to a hybrid movement influenced by the vocabularies of urban and contemporary dances, with emphasis on interpretation, decision-making, the use of rhythmic variations and accompaniment. Workshops, lecture-demonstrations, question and answer sessions and school performances are also regularly offered as part of the tours.
RBDG also helps young choreographers who want to express their own voice. The Post Hip Hop Project, born in 2009 at the Cinquième Salle, invites young artists to work their creations under the mentorship of Victor Quijada and then present them to the public.
Company History
Founded in Montreal in 2002, the company immediately delighted the public and critics with three creations presented at Espace Tangente over two seasons. At the same time, the company participates in mixed programs and organizes parties throughout the city to present smaller pieces. Tender Loving Care and Hasta La Próxima share a place in the top five dance productions of the newspaper Le Devoir, while Elastic Perspective begins in 2003 a series of more than 100 performances after winning the RIDEAU Prize at Festival Vue on the Relève. The RUBBERBANDance Group then obtains a residence at Usine C for the 2003-2004 season. The play Slicing Static was created, and later named the best dance production in 2004 by the Hour newspaper.
In 2005, Anne Plamondon joined Quijada as artistic director to assist with strategic planning. A second residency at Usine C was granted to them in 2006, followed by a four-year residency at Place des Arts. During this period, four new pieces were created, thanks to the support of multiple partners: Loan Sharking and AV Input / Output in 2008, Punto Ciego in 2009 and Gravity of Center in 2011.
RBDG also co-produced five films choreographed by Victor Quijada. The choreographer goes so far as to realize two: Secret Service and Small Explosions That Are Yours to Keep. Hasta La Próxima, shot in 2003, is a finalist in the short film category at the American Choreography Awards.
Now well established, the company embodies Canadian artistic innovation in the United States, Europe, Mexico and Japan. RBDG is at the forefront of the Montreal contemporary dance community and is recognized internationally for its unique vision of this form of dance.
In terms of peer recognition, Quijada received the Choreography Fellowship from the Princess Grace Foundation (USA), the Peter Darrell Choreography Award (England), the Bonnie Bird North American Award (England), the Choreography Media Honors (US) in addition to a second PGF award with the 2016 Work in Progress Residency Award.