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Not sure what makes these curvy monster shapes on the ice. The dark bits are warmer or wetter, so the snow melted.
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Song of the Flower
I am a kind word uttered and repeated
By the voice of Nature;
I am a star fallen from the
Blue tent upon the green carpet.
I am the daughter of the elements
With whom Winter conceived;
To whom Spring gave birth; I was
Reared in the lap of Summer and I
Slept in the bed of Autumn.
At dawn I unite with the breeze
To announce the coming of light;
At eventide I join the birds
In bidding the light farewell.
The plains are decorated with
My beautiful colors, and the air
Is scented with my fragrance.
As I embrace Slumber the eyes of
Night watch over me, and as I
Awaken I stare at the sun, which is
The only eye of the day.
I drink dew for wine, and hearken to
The voices of the birds, and dance
To the rhythmic swaying of the grass.
I am the lover's gift; I am the wedding wreath;
I am the memory of a moment of happiness;
I am the last gift of the living to the dead;
I am a part of joy and a part of sorrow.
But I look up high to see only the light,
And never look down to see my shadow.
This is wisdom which man must learn.
Us
Because we’ll never see
all creatures are us not them,
we can only watch them go
one by one, leaving their images
on cave walls and children’s picture books
©Brightasafig
"And the eyes of them both were opened: and when they perceived themselves to be naked, they sewed together fig leaves, and made themselves aprons." [Genesis 3:7]
Model: Andi
MUA/Hairstylist: Crista
Strobist: strobes thru an umbrella for her face, orange gel feathered for her hair left, bare from the back for her hair right.
Day 3 Urban Transformation Summit 2022 in The Madison, Detroit, Mi on October 12
Session: Reinventing Cities for a New Era
Speakers: Alex Johnston, Civic Designer, Founder, Cities Reimagined; Hawazen Esber, CEO, Communities, Majid Al Futtaim; Micheal Tremblay, President and CEP, Invest Ottawa; Nuon-Tara Key, Director; North America Public Sector Lead, WTW; Vanessa Cheung, Group Managing Director, Nan Fung
Is a caterpillar "aware" that it will change into a butterfly? Instinctively, it does what it must to accomplish this change, causing no disruption or negative influence on its environment. To thrive and continue is the basis of all natural life on this planet. Man, alone among all living things, seems to have progressively diminished in his instinctual awareness and understandings to such an extent that he may quite possibly become the only species ever to consciously be responsible for its own extinction (taking, of course, many more with him) by wantonly - even willfully - disregarding those things which, at this point, are clearly known to be transforming the Earth in ways that threaten our very existence.
Survival of the fittest? My money's on the insects.
[Now if someone will please help me down from this soapbox...]
Having missed Bristol Upfest last weekend I was keen to get to Bedminster this week to catch the latest pieces. Some superb work as always and I think Upfest - and the quality of artists it attracts - gets better every year...
Robots taking on human form? One of two similar pieces by Caro Pepe and Age Age done for Upfest 2017. The other piece was obstructed by a car when I saw it, but I think on balance I prefer this version anyway...
One of the most iconic & pivotal moments in the entire franchise. Our hero, turns villain & starts the rule over his 'new empire.'
Ending the year with a huge total of 26.5 million viewers since I launched myself in public all those years ago...
All the very best my darling flickr family, you are all really special to me...
Love and best wishes to you all.💋💋
April update, just gone past 31 million..😍
this damselfly , which I think is probably a common blue will have emerged from the body of it's nymph, seen below it , only this morning , and is waiting for the time when it will be ready to take to the air , and in a day or so , take on it's true colours
this insect will have spent up to 5 years living under water as a nymph , but once it emerges it will probably only live for around perhaps 12 days as a damselfly
pca71 - Transformation
This assignment was a lot harder than I expected, and at the same time I waited until the last day to really start thinking about it. I hope this creation falls under the realm of transformation.
WIT: For this shot I bought a roll of gauze and asked for a volunteer to look like a mummy/recovering patient. I left one eye showing with the intent of layering another object in its place. I hope that it is alright that I used a photographic element that is not mine, because of all the things I tried, a bird’s eye looked best. I incorporated a couple of textures and used the PSE add-on "Virtual Photographer" to convert the image to B&W.
Devils Parchment texture by Telzey
Owl eye from left-hand.
Book #6
This was the very first picture I took with my Canon Rebel K2, which I got around the start of this summer. I'm posting it now because I just spent the last hour taking this TV apart because I'd like to have an old, empty TV to make a plant or fish tank holder out of. However, I never realized how complicated they are on the inside. Or how painful. Really, my hands kept getting caught on things while I was trying to take out screws on the inside.
Then, I was trying to take off a few big heavy pieces behind the dials and the dials popped right through! But I still want the dials on, so I got them back on, but they weren't turning with the satisfying click-click-click sound like before. So I really had to get in there with my throbbing hands to try to figure out what I could possibly do to salvage that lovely clicking and eventually I managed to solve the problem. :)
So now it's completely gutted and just needs some dusting before I can pop a fish bowl or lovely little plant in there. I'm leaning towards fish bowl though because I don't have any pets...
So wird Wasser in Wein verwandelt. Dauert halt ein bißchen ;-)
Aufgenommen mit der Agfa Selectronic 2 und dem Phenix MC 1,7/50 mm auf einem Efke KB 100 (2005-7).
“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.” ~ Elisabeth Kübler-Ross
After a day of crap my wife deserved pampering more than I needed to take a photograph yet in my selfishness I did both.
19/365 ADAD
Amélie is about to undergo a transformation and turn into the Citron Rouge sad ghost girl she was destined to be.
Her red Leekeworld wig that was attached to a scalp came unglued this week and I thought this was a good time to have her undergo a scalp change and transform her into a sad ghost girl as intended. This is just the extra platinum blonde Leekeworld wig I had lying around, it is only temporary.
I have no idea which direction I should take with her scalp/hairs but I want her to be a sad ghost girl for a while. She needed a change.
"Personal transformation can and does have global effects. As we go, so goes the world, for the world is us.
The revolution that will save the world is ultimately a personal one." Marianne Williamson
11"x14" canvas board mixed media piece (peace) with acrylic and collage.
I was hoping to give the feeling of a cocoon and also hoping the butterflies would enhance that effect. I've always found that to be a comforting example of transformation.
The first golden rays of dawn spill through the grand windows, draping Clara’s bedroom in a hazy, honeyed glow. She stirs beneath silk sheets, stretching her limbs with feline grace before slipping out of bed, her bare feet meeting the cool marble floor. A breath, deep and languid, fills her lungs as she glides towards the bathroom, the anticipation of her transformation setting her nerves alight.
The mirror greets her with a knowing gaze, reflecting her bare shoulders, the delicate line of her collarbone, the slumber-softened swell of her lips. She turns the faucet, and water cascades into the porcelain basin, its steam curling like whispered promises around her. The first splash kisses her skin with a shock of heat, chasing away sleep, reviving her. She massages the lather into her limbs, each stroke a ritual of renewal.
A voice drifts from the bedroom, low and teasing. “You missed a spot, love.”
Clara rolls her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “I did not.”
“You always do,” he counters, leaning against the doorway, arms folded. “Let me see.”
She turns slightly, arching a brow, feigning defiance. He steps forward, fingers grazing her wrist, pulling her back under his gaze. “There,” he murmurs, pointing to the curve of her knee. “Missed a bit.”
She huffs, but she obeys, sweeping the razor over the area with exaggerated care. His smirk deepens. “Good girl.”
She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Why do I even have to shave?”
“Because I like you smooth,” he replies, his voice lilting with amusement. “And you like pleasing me.”
She scoffs. “I do not.”
He merely gives her a knowing look, and after a moment, she sighs again, softer this time, and finishes the task.
The razor whispers along her legs, each sweep revealing smooth, untouched skin beneath the creamy foam. She tilts her chin, the steel gliding along the curve of her armpits, a practiced flick stripping away the last remnants of the night. She steps into the shower, the water drumming against her shoulders, sliding down her body in rivulets, washing away all that is raw and unpolished. The scent of jasmine and vanilla clings to her damp skin as she steps out, wrapping herself in a cloud-soft towel, its embrace tender yet fleeting.
She moves to the vanity, where an array of powders, creams, and colors await. She primes her skin with practiced precision, each stroke of the brush a careful art. The foundation glides across her cheekbones, erasing imperfection, sculpting radiance. It sinks into her skin, cool at first, then settling into a second, perfected version of herself. The blush she dusts along her cheeks is warmth itself, as if life has kissed her there. The eyeliner stretches her gaze, lengthening, sharpening, making her eyes something impossible to look away from. A whisper of blush, the subtlest shadow along her lids, the crimson stain of lipstick pressed against her mouth—her reflection sharpens, refining itself into the Clara the world will see. The transformation is subtle but absolute. Her face, sculpted with light and shadow, is no longer merely skin—it is a mask, a weapon, a masterpiece. She feels powerful, untouchable.
Yet, there is discomfort, too—a paradox beneath the allure. The weight of the foundation, the taut dryness of the powder, the tightening sensation of the lipstick drying against her lips. Her skin, though flawless, no longer breathes freely, its natural texture masked beneath the polish. And yet, she welcomes it. The sensation is a trade, a sacrifice for control. Beauty demands its price, and she pays it willingly.
“I think you should wear the red lipstick instead,” he muses, watching her from the edge of the bed.
She scoffs. “I don’t take requests.”
“You always do.”
She meets his gaze in the mirror, challenging. Yet, after a pause, she reaches for the red.
Her hair, damp and fragrant, is twisted and pinned into a chignon, each strand tamed, secured. Loose tendrils beg for release, but she smooths them back with a final touch of lacquer.
She exhales. “Wouldn’t you rather I left it down?”
“No,” he replies simply. “Up.”
She pouts. “But—”
He silences her with a look. “Up.”
With a sigh, she finishes pinning it.
Then comes the dressing. She eyes the stockings with hesitation. “Can’t I just go bare-legged?”
He chuckles. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re insufferable.”
“And I think you’ll put them on.”
She glares, but as always, she obeys.
She steps into the black stockings, the silk unfurling up her thighs with a sensual, whispering sigh. Against her freshly shaved skin, the nylons cling like liquid shadow, cool at first, then warming to her heat. They transform her legs into something sleeker, shinier, an illusion of perfection.
She fastens the garter belt, its lace brushing against the sensitive plane of her hips. The straps tug subtly against her stockings, a constant, silent reminder of the artifice she has constructed.
She smooths the pleated skirt over her hips. “Pants would be more comfortable.”
“Mm, but not nearly as lovely.”
She sighs again, but the faintest smile tugs at her lips.
The blouse, crisp and starched, buttons up, encasing her torso in its cool, authoritative grasp. The collar, stiff and unyielding, clasps around her neck. She hesitates, biting her lip. “Please, let me leave the top button undone.”
He smirks. “No.”
“But—”
He merely waits.
With a dramatic groan, she buttons it up.
Finally, the heels. “Trainers would be better,” she tries.
He simply shakes his head, amused. “No.”
With an exaggerated eye roll, she steps into them, feeling the instant shift in her posture. Power hums through her veins as she straightens. The first step is always an adjustment. But then, she owns them.
She turns to the mirror once more. There she stands—crafted, composed, untouchable.
He comes up behind her, fingertips grazing the curve of her waist. “Now,” he whispers, lips against her ear. “You’re perfect.”
The transformation is complete.
ARGHHHHH poor disformed Kooky: sometimes it doesn't work out well transforming into a mesh cat.
Photo taken at Cica Black & White party at Nitroglobus 4th January 2013
Day 3 Urban Transformation Summit 2022 in The Madison, Detroit, Mi on October 12
Plenary Session: Enabling a Green and Just Recovery
Speakers: Abigail Campbell Singer, Senior Director; Head, Climate and Infrastructure Policy, Siemens Corporation; Anika Goss, CEO, Detroit Future City; George Benson, Manager, Economic Transformation, City of Vancouver; Michaeljohn Green, Deputy Director, Economic Development Miami-made County