View allAll Photos Tagged tidal
Holy crap hey back out shooting and loving it again. 2013 was a pretty average year for my family and myself in a lot of ways. I didn't know whether I was coming or going, especially with my photography. At one point I was dead set going to just be done with it and sell all my gear and purely focus on my surfing.
I only held off solely on what a few good friends said, and I'm glad I did.
the passion for taking photos has touched me once again. Still a bit rusty but its all starting to come back.
I've had most of my recent posts in mind for the past two years,even scouted them as far back as that. Now with my new found enthusiasm I'm revisiting them this time with camera in tow ready to shoot.
Hope your not getting to bored of all the posts but I have a lot to catch up on and a few spots still to go and capture.
thanks to all that kept in my ear about not giving it away and to all of you who view and comment on my shots.
Big Cheers.
The breath of salt, patiently, day after day cracks the polythene fibres; patiently like a sponge under the bark of stars the boat’s vessel and the gills of all fleeting victims stretch space. When the boat is back, from noon to sunset, the man spools the net, mounting a fence of sorrow between the shore and the shack on the beach, drawing through the docks streaked with fog the impatient legs of a woman working in the morning mist, the dogs orderly feeding. She was raised a hard worker. It is what we do here.
The man stands on the damaged turbine. Calm and intent, his fingers fuse strands of copper at the coil’s caps. The screams reach his end. He turns to the shack, tracking the woman as she passes through the door and onto the sand. She is barefoot. Her feet press against the edge of the dune, where the green grass grows frantic, the long skirt warped around her knee. Soon she is at top and her elbows wander. He stares back, drops the line and peacefully waits for the woman to reach beside him.
Looking from the snare’s edge the bow cuts through a cloud of droplets. A bubble nucleates and starts to expand. The bubble is a thick fleshy membrane, its walls covered with gel. Inside the bubble a room wet with brine, filled with the stingy smell of urine. Me and you are inside the room. I see pictures projected on the walls, I see our jobs, our trajectories, I see our names.
We are not entirely human. Your neck is tight, stretched and covered with red patches, your teeth grow convulsively around the jawbones, a waterfall of uncurbed germination. You hide in a dark recess of the room, your mound covered with thick hair and your hands wet with blood. The carcass of the dog lies between your legs. I sit on the armchair banging my hands on the wall behind me as the room vibrates in a low roar. You slam your hands together, I rise pounding my thighs and I see the pool behind you, filled with furniture, tablecloths, porcelain and more corpses. You attack my chest with your mouth open and stall as our grab tightens and our eyes stare straight, my palms on your jawbones and your teeth grinding in an utter show. Breathing from nostrils that aren’t fully formed, we hold knives in our hands. We attack at predictable angles in an eccentric choreographed frolic, your dark hair following your feet like resigned clouds. Soon I catch them, they shine of black ointment and as I close my fingers your face freezes.
Resting in your humming drone, wearing my boredom I glare at the triton itching behind the stolid white of your teeth. My left hand twisting your hair, your spine giving way to the pressure, shattered on the floor as I clamp your neck between my feet and the concrete, you wrap your palms around my calves. I hold you down, I let go and your hair fall back majestic in a rain of washed out colours. With my right hand I find your lips and forcefully open them, reaching for your tongue.
I shall never be satiated, I shall never be satisfied.
As I close your neck between my arm and my chest, with the knife I pull out your teeth carving around your gums, I let them fall on the floor one after another; in pairs and in fragments, before your barren eyelids I root your jaws for your splintered tongue. Transfixed, your eyes stick impassible onto my fingers and I let the blood rush out of your mouth, percolate by my feet and collect between your thighs. I stare while your engorged throat flushes back onto the floor. The blade thrusts inside your left cornea, striking through a jet of bright red blood, the yellow membrane collapsing in defeated adoration. I repeat the trial on your right eye and with my fingers I carve them out of your smooth orbits, sawing away the thick nerve.
Your face is a mask floating in the sly doubt of my wrists, reek and sticky, in the memory of your tears, your contraptions, your distressed mourning, in the smell of my deranged senses as your bruised fingers search for more. Under my fingernails all emotions dissolve, all your counterpoints and all your cramps recalibrate, all your mutilated chords arch in the shadows you have made yourself home where your lips brush my toes: thick, red and useless. And I cling onto your arms, nibble off your chest, release your dying lungs to the pool. I bath. Alone I close my eyes. As my eyes close the bubble collapses. The room and everything in it disappear. The deliquescent red skies turn to cobalt touching the distant maple trees like weary fingerprints. I sit on the bow, its bundle gripped in a patch of tiny blue houses floating over the lagoon. Your head lies on my lap, deep into my knees, protruding like a marble slab from the heavy linen layer. You cry, quiet and fearless. With the hips of the ocean I cover your temple whispering my watering voice, shaking your long corvine hair, holding your chin up. I stare at your blind eyes, swaying my hands in front of them and a smile escapes from my lips, caressing the long slanted beach, the warm foggy morning and the sleek and boring profile of another tidal wave.
NOTE: the text is mine
Between Wangerooge and Harlesiel
Priele
Zwischen Wangerooge und Harlesiel
Sony Alpha 7R II, Voigtländer VME Close-Focus Adapter, Zeiss Planar 50mm f2.0
It didn't take long for the mud flats to dry out, as the tide went out.
116 Pictures in 2016 ... #32. Dry
(I got lots and lots of 116 shots on our recent trip to North Devon ... Yippeee!)
Sony A7RI
Sony 70-300G lens
“Man is ... related inextricably to all reality, known and unknowable ... plankton, a shimmering phosphorescence on the sea and the spinning planets and an expanding universe, all bound together by the elastic string of time. It is advisable to look from the tide pool to the stars and then back to the tide pool again. “
~ John Steinbeck, The Log of the Sea of Cortez
Back to Narrabeen. I love the composition and feel of this tidal pool. I'd shot it before with Damien but it was a windy morning and I couldn't help but feel my shot was impacted by the haze / sea mist in the air and just didn't feel happy with the outcome.
Back this morning with Matt and conditions were much better (despite the STILL lack of clouds we've had every weekend now for the last few weeks).
...Red Point, Jervis Bay NP.
Toyo-View 45CF, Nikkor-SW 90mm f/8, Fomapan 100, Xtol(1:2)+Adonal(1:200)
ink on paper
From the Oceans of Fantasy exhibition at the Wales Millennium Centre Cardiff Dec 2012 to Feb 2013.
tidal...
www.flickr.com/photos/DCMemorialFoundation/4256119652/in/...
qwikLoadr™ Videos...
Garbage | Special Official! • Vimeo™
Gold Rush Rally | 2KX Trailer! • Vimeo™
ESPN | Brickyard Names NASCAR! • Vimeo™
CLK GTR | Mercedes Benz Top Gear! • YouTube™
John Player Special | Lotus Design Montage! • YouTube™
Blogger HiltonFan | blue sundae...
HiltonFan-GrfxDziner.blogspot.com/2016/02/blue-sundae.html
blogger gwennie2006 | Depth Through Isolation...
gwennie2006.blogspot.com/2010/01/depth-through-isolation....
NOTE: that blog has Tidal in it, see comment too.
blogger gwennie2006 | Downtown Showdown Spring 2022...
gwennie2006.blogspot.com/2022/05/downtown-showdown-car...
NOTE: Videos are synched, @ 1:14 of first, start 2nd
Elliptical Marquis tool..
www.GrfxDziner.com/lessons/Lesson5AFULL.PDF
Saw the Two Police at noon....and the Ferrari from the BrickYard inthe evening.....seriously!! No. 3 too.....Then!! the Enterprise again and through the window going home.....First Student too!!! and Somerville!!!!!!!!! see comment for the rest of the evening too.