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Albi, France, before sunrise from the ideally situated hotel room window, the Tarn river was raging after torrential rains. The light on the cathedral was off at that hour, but it was on the dusk versions to be uploaded in the future.

 

Make room for me

to lead and follow

you

beyond this rage of poetry.

 

Let others have

the privacy of

touching words

and love of loss

of love.

 

For me

Give me your hand.

  

Esta es una imagen con © Todos los Derechos Reservados. Por favor no use esta imagen en páginas webs, blogs, facebook u otro medio sin mi explicito permiso.

This is a copyrighted image with © All Rights Reserved. Please don't use this image on websites, blogs, facebook, or other media without my explicit permission.

© All Rights Reserved.

© Todos los Derechos Reservados

♫ ♪ Now on the street tonight the lights grow dim

The walls of my room are closing in

There's a war outside still raging

You say it ain't ours anymore to win ♪ ♪ ♫

The Grade I Listed Norwich Cathedral which is dedicated to the Holy and Undivided Trinity, it is the cathedral church for the Church of England Diocese of Norwich and is one of the Norwich 12 heritage sites. The cathedral close is one of the largest in England and one of the largest in Europe and has more people living within it than any other close. The cathedral spire, measuring at 315 ft or 96 m, is the second tallest in England despite being partly rebuilt after being struck by lightning in 1169, just 23 months after its completion. In Norwich Norfolk.

 

In 672 the Archbishop of Canterbury, Theodore of Tarsus divided East Anglia into two dioceses, one covering Norfolk, with its see at Elmham, the other, covering Suffolk with its see at Dunwich. During much of the 9th century, because of the Danish incursions, there was no bishop at Elmham; in addition the see of Dunwich was extinguished and East Anglia became a single diocese once more. Following the Norman Conquest many sees were moved to more secure urban centres, that of Elmham being transferred to Thetford in 1072, and finally to Norwich in 1094.

 

The structure of the cathedral is primarily in the Norman style, having been constructed at the behest of Bishop Herbert de Losinga who had bought the bishopric for £1,900 before its transfer from Thetford. Building started in 1096 and the cathedral was completed in 1145. It was built from flint and mortar and faced with cream coloured Caen limestone. It still retains the greater part of its original stone structure. An Anglo-Saxon settlement and two churches were demolished to make room for the buildings and a canal cut to allow access for the boats bringing the stone and building materials which were taken up the Wensum and unloaded at Pulls Ferry, Norwich.

 

The ground plan remains almost entirely as it was in Norman times, except for that of the easternmost chapel. The cathedral has an unusually long nave of fourteen bays. The transepts are without aisles and the east end terminates in an apse with an ambulatory.

 

The crossing tower was the last piece of the Norman cathedral to be completed, in around 1140. It is boldly decorated with circles, lozenges and interlaced arcading. The present spire was added in the late fifteenth century.

 

The cathedral was damaged after riots in 1272, which resulted in the city paying heavy fines levied by Henry III, Rebuilding was completed in 1278 and the cathedral was reconsecrated in the presence of Edward I on Advent Sunday of that year.

 

A large two-storey cloister, the only such in England, with over 1,000 ceiling bosses was begun in 1297 and finally finished in 1430 after the Black Death had plagued the city.

 

The Norman spire was blown down in 1362. Its fall caused considerable damage to the east end, as a result of which the clerestory of the choir was rebuilt in the Perpendicular style. In the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, the cathedrals flat timber ceilings were replaced with stone vaults: the nave was vaulted under Bishop Lyhart (1446–72), the choir under Bishop Goldwell (1472–99) and the transepts after 1520.

 

In 1463 the spire was struck by lightning, causing a fire to rage through the nave which was so intense it turned some of the creamy Caen limestone a pink colour. In 1480 the bishop, James Goldwell, ordered the building of a new spire which is still in place today. It is of brick faced with stone, supported on brick squinches built into the Norman tower. At 315 feet (96 metres) high, the spire is the second tallest in England. Only that of Salisbury Cathedral is taller at 404 feet (123 metres).

 

The cathedral was partially in ruins when John Cosin was at the grammar school in the early 17th century and the former bishop was an absentee figure. In 1643 during the reign of Charles I, an angry Puritan mob invaded the cathedral and destroyed all Roman Catholic symbols. The building, abandoned the following year, lay in ruins for two decades. The mob also fired their muskets. At least one musket ball remains lodged in the stonework. Only at the Restoration in 1660 would the cathedral be restored under Charles II.

 

The writer stares with glassy eyes

Defies the empty page

His beard is white, his face is lined

And streaked with tears of rage.

Thirty years ago, how the words would flow

With passion and precision,

But now his mind is dark and dulled

By sickness and indecision

And he stares out the kitchen door

Where the sun will rise no more...

~Rush

 

Unfortunately, there is no video to accompany this song, a shame, it's a beautiful song! This is my first attempt at overlaying in Picnik. The pic was taken at the Robert Frost Farm last year and of course, the overlay is a book. Not sure I'm going to attempt this one again! LOL I wonder how many of the Frost writings came from this room......

www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PsLjEe6Ic0

Heard it from another room

Eyes were making up just to fall asleep

Love's like suicide

Dazed out in a garden bed

With a broken neck lays my broken gift

Just like suicide

 

And my last ditch

Was my last brick

Lent to finish her, finish her

 

She lived like a murder

How she'd fly so sweetly

She lived like a murder

But she died just like suicide

 

Bit down on the bullet now

I had a taste so sour

I had to think of something sweet

Love's like suicide

 

Safe outside my gilded cage

With an ounce of pain

I wield a ton of rage

Just like suicide

 

With eyes of blood

And bitter blue

How I feel for you

I feel for you

 

She lived like a murder

How she'd fly so sweetly

She lived like a murder

But she died just like suicide

 

Yeah

And my last ditch

Was my last brick

Lent to finish her finish her

 

With eyes of blood and bitter blue

How I feel for you

I feel for you

I feel for you

 

I feel for you

I feel, oh

I feel for you

 

Ah ah yeah (I feel, I feel)

 

She lived like a murder

How she'd fly so sweetly

She lived like a murder

But she died just like suicide

Israel’s Worst Fire in Modern History Kills 40 and Rages On In Bio-reserve.

Over 42 Killed, Beit Oren Village Wiped Out...

 

"Some 40 people trapped in a bus are known to have been killed and 45 more reportedly injured as a massive fire on Israel’s Mount Carmel rages on. Believed to have been started by arsonists, the fire broke out in a cedar forest around noon near Isifiya, a Druize village. Although the winter season has officially started, the rains despite the prayers, have not come, leaving the forest vulnerable to attacks..."

 

www.greenprophet.com/2010/12/fire-israel-carmel/

 

www.greenprophet.com/2010/12/israel-fire-update-42-killed...

The Grade I Listed Norwich Cathedral which is dedicated to the Holy and Undivided Trinity, it is the cathedral church for the Church of England Diocese of Norwich and is one of the Norwich 12 heritage sites. The cathedral close is one of the largest in England and one of the largest in Europe and has more people living within it than any other close. The cathedral spire, measuring at 315 ft or 96 m, is the second tallest in England despite being partly rebuilt after being struck by lightning in 1169, just 23 months after its completion. In Norwich Norfolk.

 

In 672 the Archbishop of Canterbury, Theodore of Tarsus divided East Anglia into two dioceses, one covering Norfolk, with its see at Elmham, the other, covering Suffolk with its see at Dunwich. During much of the 9th century, because of the Danish incursions, there was no bishop at Elmham; in addition the see of Dunwich was extinguished and East Anglia became a single diocese once more. Following the Norman Conquest many sees were moved to more secure urban centres, that of Elmham being transferred to Thetford in 1072, and finally to Norwich in 1094.

 

The structure of the cathedral is primarily in the Norman style, having been constructed at the behest of Bishop Herbert de Losinga who had bought the bishopric for £1,900 before its transfer from Thetford. Building started in 1096 and the cathedral was completed in 1145. It was built from flint and mortar and faced with cream coloured Caen limestone. It still retains the greater part of its original stone structure. An Anglo-Saxon settlement and two churches were demolished to make room for the buildings and a canal cut to allow access for the boats bringing the stone and building materials which were taken up the Wensum and unloaded at Pulls Ferry, Norwich.

 

The ground plan remains almost entirely as it was in Norman times, except for that of the easternmost chapel. The cathedral has an unusually long nave of fourteen bays. The transepts are without aisles and the east end terminates in an apse with an ambulatory.

 

The crossing tower was the last piece of the Norman cathedral to be completed, in around 1140. It is boldly decorated with circles, lozenges and interlaced arcading. The present spire was added in the late fifteenth century.

 

The cathedral was damaged after riots in 1272, which resulted in the city paying heavy fines levied by Henry III, Rebuilding was completed in 1278 and the cathedral was reconsecrated in the presence of Edward I on Advent Sunday of that year.

 

A large two-storey cloister, the only such in England, with over 1,000 ceiling bosses was begun in 1297 and finally finished in 1430 after the Black Death had plagued the city.

 

The Norman spire was blown down in 1362. Its fall caused considerable damage to the east end, as a result of which the clerestory of the choir was rebuilt in the Perpendicular style. In the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, the cathedrals flat timber ceilings were replaced with stone vaults: the nave was vaulted under Bishop Lyhart (1446–72), the choir under Bishop Goldwell (1472–99) and the transepts after 1520.

 

In 1463 the spire was struck by lightning, causing a fire to rage through the nave which was so intense it turned some of the creamy Caen limestone a pink colour. In 1480 the bishop, James Goldwell, ordered the building of a new spire which is still in place today. It is of brick faced with stone, supported on brick squinches built into the Norman tower. At 315 feet (96 metres) high, the spire is the second tallest in England. Only that of Salisbury Cathedral is taller at 404 feet (123 metres).

 

The cathedral was partially in ruins when John Cosin was at the grammar school in the early 17th century and the former bishop was an absentee figure. In 1643 during the reign of Charles I, an angry Puritan mob invaded the cathedral and destroyed all Roman Catholic symbols. The building, abandoned the following year, lay in ruins for two decades. The mob also fired their muskets. At least one musket ball remains lodged in the stonework. Only at the Restoration in 1660 would the cathedral be restored under Charles II.

 

Actually, I’m not sure I have any self-hatred left at this point in my life. You can, if you wish to, get over a lot of that damn-assed, negative self-image baggage from youth. It wasn’t true about you in the first place, you can let it go, and that shit simply doesn’t pay off over the long haul in the happiness or contentment departments in life.

 

View On Black

 

So, last year I made a reasonable, well-negotiated, peace agreement with my flaws and faults, and we issued a Joint-Communique just before the start of 2012:

 

“Bob’s alright with us. When he fucks up, he tries to address the nature of the fuck-up as well as to make things right with the fuck-upees. He doesn’t just “move on,” which we think is the biggest, “ loser-take-no-personal-responsibility-for-nuthin’-cop-out-piece-of-crap” we’ve ever heard. Other than that, he tries to do the right thing. And if you don’t like his action, you can fuck-off and move on. No, really. Move along now, and do have a most wonderful day.”

 

That is one of the joys of ageing: you get to tell the world to take a hike. Hell, it’s almost mandatory.

 

OK, so no self-hatred, but I did have hatred for Celery. I gave it no respect. Then I found these facts (listed below). Even if they are only 60% true, I realize I have been disrespecting Celery for no good reason at all. It isn’t like it tastes bad: I’d just been told all my life that it tasted bad. (I heard that about pickled beets when I was young too, but they were so pretty with their deep red, merlot color, that I made myself like them. Now, I love`em.)

 

So, I shall henceforth address my hatred of Celery by eating more, or at least some, or at least the one you see here. (Note to self: “Self, buy some damn kind of salad-dressing Dip next time you get celery, dipstick.)

 

Apparently, Celery was considered an aphrodisiac by the Romans and the French. I don’t know how much you have to munch to get and maintain a bonafide boner, but it will surely beat $30 a pill for Cialis. (It better in this economy, dammit!) And, if the French consider Celery to be one of the holy trinity of ingredients, along with Onions, and Carrots, well then. ..

 

Scene: Man and woman in a dark room, in Bed, making Love.

Man: (snapping sound effect) Crunch, crunch, crunch."

Woman: "This is really killing the mood. You know that, right?"

Man: "It has all natural boner ingredients in it. No side-effects. It's all the rage in Europe." (snap) "Crunch, munch, crunch."

Woman: "I can show you one damn side-effect."

Man: "Hey," crunch, "where you," crunch, "goin?" crunch, crunch."

 

or

 

“Here’s crunching at you, Kid.”

 

CELERY INFO/FACTOID/THINGIES:

 

* King Tut's tomb contained a shroud adorned with garlands of wild celery, olive leaves, willow, lotus petals, and cornflowers.

 

* Hippocrates described celery as a nerve soother. (With body-image issues, a weight problem and nickname like “Hippo” he needed to soothe his nerves. Naw, I made that up.)

 

* As far back as ancient Rome, celery was considered an aphrodisiac. Today, scientists know that celery contains androsterone, a pheromone released by men's sweat glands that attracts females.

(“Hey Gladiator, yeah you, sandal-boy, is that a stalk of celery under your tunic, or you just happy to see me?”)

 

* A recipe uncovered in Pompeii for a celery dessert called for roasting chopped celery in an oven and serving it with honey and ground pepper. (They deserved to die, serving up this shit as “dessert. What's wrong with PIE?”)

 

* Aulus Cornelius Celsus, writing around 30 AD, wrote about the use of celery seeds to relieve pain. (Is this a tea, a soup, a powder or smoked? Can I substitute pumpernickel seeds, `cause I got some of them?)

 

* The first recorded mention of celery in France was in 1623. (Bonjour Musketeer... Vous faire a du celeri dans vos pantaloons, ou êtes-vous heureux de me voir ?) or "Hey, Gladiator...."

 

* 18th-Century French courtesan Madame de Pompadour, Mistress of Louis XV, ate celery soup and truffles in an effort to adopt a "heating diet" so she would be less frigid and more attractive to the king. It is also said that she fed the king celery soup to fan the fires of his passion. (The courtesans were frigid? Why would anyone want a frigid Mistress? Spending hard-earned Francs for a frigid, French Mistress? Est-ceci possible?)

 

* Famed Italian lover Casanova made sure to include lots of celery in his diet to keep up his stamina. (Tell me more…tea, soup, pow……)

 

* It takes just one ounce of celery seeds to produce an acre of celery. (Hummm, quite potent. Tell me more…again. What about Sesame seeds, cause I got some of them? I wonder what an acre of sesame looks like?)

 

* Celery was first introduced to America in 1856 when a Scotsman named George Taylor brought celery to Kalamazoo, Michigan. By 1872, Dutch farmers were transforming acres of Kalamazoo mucklands into celery fields. (Really? There was celery in Scotland? Where? In the Haggis aisle?)

 

* There is a celery museum in Portage, Michigan called the Celery Flats Interpretive Center. (Do they pay us to come in, or do we have to pay to get out?)

 

* The 1897 Sears Catalog featured a nerve tonic made from celery and described celery as a "great nerve builder." (Those were the codes words for “great and amazing boners,” back in Victorian-era America)

 

* One stalk of celery contains about 10 calories. Some contend that it contains "negative calories," meaning that one spends more calories digesting it than are consumed when it eating it, which supposedly helps with weight loss. (But, it’s really all of that chewing that gets you ready for great oral sex with your frigid French mistresses. Snorkel s may be required.)

 

King Louis: “Cease! Air, Mon Amour, the King requires Air!”

 

De Pompadour: No, Mon Seigneur, don't stop. I am close. Stay your head, and make the sound of the “raspberries” with your lips and tongue, s'il vous plaît.”

 

Louis: “Mfffpt. Psssssssssssssssssssssssssssst!”

 

Pompadour: Aah, votre Majesteeeeé!

 

…and thus was the vibrator born. (See; celery was involved.)

 

* The Fifth Doctor on the BBC show Doctor Who, played by Peter Davison, wore a stalk of celery on his lapel. (What! What?)

 

And after World War I, when American soldiers returned home from Europe, they were asked by their wives,

 

Wife: "Well, what did you learn in Paris?"

Husband: "I'll show you. Psssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst."

Wife: Oh! My! Sweet Jeeeeez-Susss!!!!!!!! Vive la France!

 

And thus began the Roaring 20's. Hi-de, Hi-de, Hi-de, Ho!

 

* Celery, onions, and carrots make up the "holy trinity," known as the "mirepoix," of French cuisine. These three vegetables are used together as the base for many French dishes, including sauces, stews, soups, and stocks. (I’ve no French jokes left: I kinda’ blew my wad with the Mistress thing.)

 

* Celery, onions, and bell peppers are considered the "holy trinity" of Louisiana Creole and Cajun cuisine.

 

* After a patron at the Pump Room at Chicago's Ambassador East Hotel decided to stir his Bloody Mary with a stalk of celery, the idea caught on and celery became permanently linked with the drink.

 

(“So long self-hatred. Cheers, Celeri.")

 

Texture by Delany Dean: www.flickr.com/photos/delanydean/sets/72157620418237101/

Skeletalmess: www.flickr.com/photos/skeletalmess/

And the fever begins to rage,

From my heart down to my legs,

But the room is so quiet

And although I was losing my mind,

It was a chorus so sublime,

And the room is too quiet

 

original O-o

I opened the curtains in our hotel room and this was the scene that greeted me. There was a fierce battle raging between the overnight fog and the early morning sun to establish dominance in the new day. The sun eventually won but it was great to watch.

 

Watch the battle on black.

 

San Francisco, CA

With thermal sight, advanced suppressor, and 30mm launcher.

The Grade I Listed Norwich Cathedral which is dedicated to the Holy and Undivided Trinity, it is the cathedral church for the Church of England Diocese of Norwich and is one of the Norwich 12 heritage sites. The cathedral close is one of the largest in England and one of the largest in Europe and has more people living within it than any other close. The cathedral spire, measuring at 315 ft or 96 m, is the second tallest in England despite being partly rebuilt after being struck by lightning in 1169, just 23 months after its completion. In Norwich Norfolk.

 

In 672 the Archbishop of Canterbury, Theodore of Tarsus divided East Anglia into two dioceses, one covering Norfolk, with its see at Elmham, the other, covering Suffolk with its see at Dunwich. During much of the 9th century, because of the Danish incursions, there was no bishop at Elmham; in addition the see of Dunwich was extinguished and East Anglia became a single diocese once more. Following the Norman Conquest many sees were moved to more secure urban centres, that of Elmham being transferred to Thetford in 1072, and finally to Norwich in 1094.

 

The structure of the cathedral is primarily in the Norman style, having been constructed at the behest of Bishop Herbert de Losinga who had bought the bishopric for £1,900 before its transfer from Thetford. Building started in 1096 and the cathedral was completed in 1145. It was built from flint and mortar and faced with cream coloured Caen limestone. It still retains the greater part of its original stone structure. An Anglo-Saxon settlement and two churches were demolished to make room for the buildings and a canal cut to allow access for the boats bringing the stone and building materials which were taken up the Wensum and unloaded at Pulls Ferry, Norwich.

 

The ground plan remains almost entirely as it was in Norman times, except for that of the easternmost chapel. The cathedral has an unusually long nave of fourteen bays. The transepts are without aisles and the east end terminates in an apse with an ambulatory.

 

The crossing tower was the last piece of the Norman cathedral to be completed, in around 1140. It is boldly decorated with circles, lozenges and interlaced arcading. The present spire was added in the late fifteenth century.

 

The cathedral was damaged after riots in 1272, which resulted in the city paying heavy fines levied by Henry III, Rebuilding was completed in 1278 and the cathedral was reconsecrated in the presence of Edward I on Advent Sunday of that year.

 

A large two-storey cloister, the only such in England, with over 1,000 ceiling bosses was begun in 1297 and finally finished in 1430 after the Black Death had plagued the city.

 

The Norman spire was blown down in 1362. Its fall caused considerable damage to the east end, as a result of which the clerestory of the choir was rebuilt in the Perpendicular style. In the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, the cathedrals flat timber ceilings were replaced with stone vaults: the nave was vaulted under Bishop Lyhart (1446–72), the choir under Bishop Goldwell (1472–99) and the transepts after 1520.

 

In 1463 the spire was struck by lightning, causing a fire to rage through the nave which was so intense it turned some of the creamy Caen limestone a pink colour. In 1480 the bishop, James Goldwell, ordered the building of a new spire which is still in place today. It is of brick faced with stone, supported on brick squinches built into the Norman tower. At 315 feet (96 metres) high, the spire is the second tallest in England. Only that of Salisbury Cathedral is taller at 404 feet (123 metres).

 

The cathedral was partially in ruins when John Cosin was at the grammar school in the early 17th century and the former bishop was an absentee figure. In 1643 during the reign of Charles I, an angry Puritan mob invaded the cathedral and destroyed all Roman Catholic symbols. The building, abandoned the following year, lay in ruins for two decades. The mob also fired their muskets. At least one musket ball remains lodged in the stonework. Only at the Restoration in 1660 would the cathedral be restored under Charles II.

 

Aberystwyth Old College, Ceredigion, Wales, UK.

 

Aberystwyth’s Old College is the site of the original University of Aberystwyth which was founded in 1872, and became the first established university in the whole of Wales.

 

When looking at the building from the sea front (which at the time of building was only cliffs, until the coming of the promenade in the mid 1880′s) it is easy to see that a number of arcitechts have added their own styles to the building over time.

  

The original section of the building, known as Castle House was built as a hotel in the 1860′s, was designed by John Nash, under the orders of land owner Uvedale Price. Price had envisioned that Castle House would become a hotel, which would provide accomodation to the influx of middle class Victorian tourists who began to arrive with the advent of the railways.

  

However, during the construction of Castle House, Price and his company ran out of money and decided to put the building up for sale for around 12% of the building costs to that date. For the knock down sum of £10,000 the partially completed building was sold to the newly formed, and rather cash strapped University of Aberystwyth.

  

Despite the modern view of universities being publicly funded, with large budgets for buildings and facilities this was not the case at the time. In fact, the majority of the funding provided for the newly formed university had come from public donations. Even in 1885 when a large section of the college burnt down, and government policy favoured the colleges in Bangor and Cardiff, the University of Aberystwyth was able to survive through the determination of its board members.

  

The further developments of the old college were undertaken by the University of Aberystwyth in conjunction with architect John Pollard Seddon, who was also chief architect of Castle House. The eccentric gothic stylings of the building are attributed to Seddon. However, his original design sketches from 1871 show an even more elabourate set of designs which were thankfully never quite seen through.

  

By the mid 1880′s Aberystwyth University had managed to gather enough money together to fund the extension of the old college building. However, with plans barely on the drawing board a fire took out large swathes of the north wing of the old college, and also killed three local fire fighters in the process as it raged on for almost two days in July 1885.

  

After the fire there was much debate about the future plans for the university building. On the one side, some said that the old building should be replaced with a completely new building put in its place. On the other side, many believed that the way forward was to adapt the original building to suit the needs of the University of Aberystwyth. Needless to say, a large portion of the argument revolved around the issue of funding the build, to which Seddon was once again appointed chief architect.

  

Using a grant obtained in 1884, along with further public donations Seddon designed and built a new science block which can be seen on the south of the building, looking much more modern than the other sections of the building.

  

Looking towards the old college from the sea front, the science block is on the far right of the building, and the middle section is the original Castle House designed by Nash. In between these two is a less well known piece of the building, which was designed by Ferguson in the 1890s (whom we will come across later). Walking infront of the building from left to right, it becomes less and less ‘eccentric’ the further you move along the promenade.

  

However, the south side of the building does have one architectural gem in the forom of the mural, which was designed by Charles Francis Annesley Voysey (a former pupil of Seddon) for the south tower of the Old College, which can be viewed from the south promenade and Aberystwyth castle grounds. Despite first appearances, the mural itself lacks any religious connotation what so ever, and merely represents the view of the Aberystwyth University board at the time that the development of science is what makes advances in technology possible, which still stands true today.

  

In fact, if you look closely at the mural, you will notice that the white haired king in the centre appears to be thinking, whilst the figures to both sides of him are handing over a train and a boat, which are said to be representative of the technological developments at the time the mural was created.

  

After the fire of 1885, much of the buildings north side had been gutted. Whilst development work was carried out on the north side of the building, including the repair of the fire damaged exterior, it was predominantly the interior of the Aberystwyth Old College north wing that was refurbished. This included the main meeting place within the university, with its ornate and very intricate roof which was designed and built by Charles Ferguson. By this point, Seddon had been relieved of his duties after his plans were deemed to be much more expensive than he had originally stated. The universities board of directors saw Seddon and his plans as a risk which could use up the remaining Aberystwyth University funds.

  

Ironically, Seddon despised Ferguson’s style of architecture, which can be seen in stark contrast to his own. However, it was his ability to control costs that attracted the university to him. Yet it can be said that the difference is styles only adds to the quirkiness of this much loved Aberystwyth University building, which really is the masterpiece of Aberystwyth as a town. One thing I will say about Charles Ferguson however is that he was not as straight lined and uniform as his contributions suggest. To see what I mean, just take a look at his section of the building on the south side and draw your own conclusions…..

  

Nowadays Old College is now used primarily as an administrative centre, although the Education and Welsh departments are still based here, with other departments such as drama also utilising some rooms. One of the smaller Aberystwyth University libraries is also located in the North of the building.

 

Source: www.everythingaberystwyth.co.uk/historyaberystwyth-old-co...

Saw this and thought of Sammy Hagar(couldn't find the song on youtube...)

I just came out from the room.

I saw the rising of the moon.

This ain't no ordinary night.

Looked to my left, looked to my right.

I felt the chill down to my bones.

I must have dreamed this once before.

Glanced at the pictures on the walls.

I saw my reflections in the glass.

And as I walked down the hall

I said to myself, "It's got to be"

The rise of the animal.

C'mon, get it up.

The rise of the animal.

In the streets, uh-huh.

The rise of the animal.

It's just got to be, uh-huh.

The rise of the animal

In me.

I thought I heard the crowd scream.

As I recalled a childhood dream.

I saw myself as I stand.

Caught with the axe in my hand.

Then I was pushed out on the stage.

And the crowd became a state of rage.

I tripped, I fell down to one knee.

I said to myself, "It's got to be"

The rise of the animal.

C'mon, get it up.

The rise of the animal.

In the streets, uh!

The rise of the animal.

It's just got to be, uh-huh.

The rise of the animal

In me.

It's storm season and I love the drama, beauty and energy of storms and shoot them every chance I get. Yesterday, the sky was getting dramatic and I was psyched to get some shots having recently watched one of my favorite movies about storm chasing, Twister. It's a movie I can watch over and over and never get tired of it. Because I know it so well, I sometimes have a habit of saying the lines at the same time as the characters or maybe a beat or two before.

"The Suck Zone. It's the point basically when the twister... sucks you up. That's not the technical term for it, obviously."

"it's the wonder of nature, baby!"

"Why do you call Billy the extreme?....Because... Bill is.....the EXTREME!!!!!!!

When eerie silence fills the air as a raging tornado abruptly ends, the scientist called Preacher and I say, at the same time and in the same reverent tone...

"It's the cone of silence" I love that line but it's a fallacy that tornadoes have a cone of silence. It's really a radar term. Directly over a radar tower is a blackout area where the weather readout is blank, it's a visual cone of silence, like my umbrella. But for the movie it's a great line and we don't care too much about accuracy,...it's a movie!

 

Sometimes I have to warn the characters...where'd it go? it's gone (meaning the twister)

"No, it's not, it's gonna back-build... It's back-building! It's gonna drop right on top of you! Get the hell out of there!"

"Getting yourself killed is not gonna bring your father back Jo!"

"It's not gonna fly, The pack is too light, it needs more weight! I told you it needed more weight!"

 

My hubby looked up at me perched on the back of the couch with my fists in the air and he said, I feel like I'm at the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Ha! for those who don't know, That's a cult classic horror spoof that was popular years ago to which everyone would go dressed as the characters every night and recite the lines. Imagine having that excitement right in the privacy of your own living room.

 

For ODC ~ S

Story: Cliona had been trapped in one of the many dark rooms of a castle by her ex-lover. At first she was hysterical, but later calmed down. As she spent time sitting and starring into the darkness, she went over in her mind about what had happened, and why he had done what he did. Nothing seemed to make sense. As she thought about it more and more, she only became increasingly bitter toward him. After three long days of waiting in the room, her ex-lover, feeling terrible for what he had done, decided to come back to the castle to release her, but little did he know that he was the very LAST person Cliona wanted to see!

~~~

I tried to evoke sadness and rage from Cliona's face. Her dress is dark with a little regality feel to suit the mood.

Inspiration: fashion.telegraph.co.uk/galleries/TMG8619311/Paris-Haute-...

It’s officially summer and for the last two weeks the heatwaves have swept across the nation. I am not very active on social media these days as it will be considered sin to spend time within the four walls. The windows and doors are wide open, and I spend most of my time pottering around the garden, laying on grass and snoozing under the perfect blue skies. My morning walks have become longer, walking in the woodlands under the protective umbrella of giant trees. The kitchen is the last place in my mind as ice creams and ice popsicles have officially become our meals and washing them with gallons of water to quench the thirst and to keep the body cool.

 

Apart from herb and berry flavoured waters, I find myself reaching out for a tall bottle of Lavancha (Khus roots or Vetiver) soaked water which I grew up drinking during hot summer months in my native of Udupi-Mangalore. Before this berry and herb infused waters became the rage, this khus root flavoured water has been used in India for millennia. The dried roots or the powdered roots of Lavancha/Vetiver/Khus grass is added to the large earthen/copper pots or bottles to naturally cool down the water. The water is quite refreshing and is mildly fragrant, making it one of my most favourite flavoured waters. You just need to wash and clean the dry roots to remove any soil particles and then soak it in a pot or bottle of water. You can use the roots for 4-5 days and then dry them and reuse them for 3-4 times. They are easily available in most parts of India, and you can buy them online stores like ebay and amazon.

 

Lavancha is a tall, tufted, perennial, scented grass with long narrow leaves and an abundant complex lacework of underground white roots and is mainly cultivated in the tropics, such as India, Tahiti, Java and Haiti. These Lavancha roots are also used in making sherbet. They are also used in making the mats, blinds, and hand held fans and are sprayed with water to keep the house cool during scorching Indian summers. They not only give rooms an exquisite fragrance but also keeps the insects away. It is a popular ingredient for soaps, toiletries and perfumes and growing the grass protects against soil erosion. Vetiver oil is also known as the 'oil of tranquility' because of its calming properties. They also have an exceptionally health benefits, especially have balancing effect on the hormonal system. They are also a great boon for the skin by reducing the wrinkles and stretch marks while nourishing and moisturising the skin and helping wounds heal.

 

Copyright of monsoonspice.com

She was officially engaged to the man of her dreams. She has been waiting for the moment for a gentleman to come and swoop her from her feet. It was every girls dream to have such romantic lovelife. Her parents arranged the engagement with a distinguish family next town. They sent a portrait of the young master and she agreed immediately. The next day, the lad himself came to the mansion to present the engagement ring for the excited maiden. Her family offered to let the lad stay for night as a storm was coming and he agreed.

 

It was a small misunderstanding. The gardener who tended her white lilies visited her quarters to deliver the fresh batch of the flower before the storm arrives. He knew that the young maiden couldn't sleep well without the fragrance. Her fiancee however watched the whole conversation from the shadows, boiling with rage with every second passed as they exchange giggles and smiles. When the gardener took his leave and the maiden was about to close the door, the lad stormed into her room.

 

No one heard her scream over the storm. By dawn, her room was simply covered crimson, even the fresh lilies. However, there was not a single trance of young girl's part found and young lad who stayed overnight also disappeared.

 

Credits and Rambles

This shot brought to you by great personal risk to my camera... Elowah Falls and McCord Creek were absolutely raging from 3 straight days of rain combined with snow melt in the upper regions of the Columbia River Gorge. Venturing out into the creek to find compositions was pretty much impossible and the lone accessible spot I could find was splashing quite a bit, as you can see in this frame. It was time to get patient about wiping off the lens, relaxed about gear getting wet, and creative with composing and focusing with not much room to work with. Happy to have come away with a view of the falls I like.

Here's a photo I took on my first night in Moscow from the roof of the Ritz-Carlton. It was a crazy day, I'll tell ya. We arrived just as the sun was setting and the director of marketing met me immediately after getting out of the car and said I needed to do all this stuff. First, the team went to the club to start having champagne and drinking immediately, in true Russian style. Then she took me to the basement and implored me to wear a crazy sweater (see video above) to take part in some video where I had to say a phrase (I had no idea the context or the reason). Then we went to the top floor for some raging party with DJs and fancy people. It was completely chaotic, and at some point, I realized I had not taken a single photo! So I ran to my room to grab my camera to get this shot outside on the balcony, taking a break from the chaos inside.

 

- Trey Ratcliff

 

Click here to read the rest of this post at the Stuck in Customs blog.

From the Official Site:

 

Along the Great Ocean Road and beyond, you will be able to experience some of the world's most breathtaking coastal regions. See huge cliffs, raging surf, tranquil bays, lush rainforests,and fascinating wildlife.

 

Details:

Camera: Canon EOS 5D Mk II

Lens: Canon EF 16-35mm f/2.8L II USM

Exposure: 13 exposures (-2,-1.66.-1.33,-1,-.66,-.33,0,+.33,+.66,+1,+1.33,+1.66+2 EV)

Aperture: f/18

Focal Length: 35 mm

ISO Speed: 100

Accessories: Manfrotto 190XB Tripod, Manfrotto 322RC2 Heavy Duty Grip Ball Head, Canon RC1 Wireless Remote

Date and Time: 26 July 2009 7.46am

 

Post Processing:

Imported into Lightroom

Exported 13 exposures to Photomatix

Tonemap generated HDR using detail enhancer option

Re-imported back into Lightroom

Exported HDR and 0 EV exposure to CS3 and layered HDR on top of 0 EV

Brush tool to even out the sky

Noise reduction layer

Background layer and healing brush tool to remove dust gremlins

Curves layer for contrast

Hues/Saturation layer (reds, greens, cyans, blues)

Background layer and quick selection tool to select rock-face

Unsharp Mask filter on selection

Re-imported back into Lightroom

Chromatic aberration adjustment in Light room

Vibrance adjustment in Lightroom

Added keyword metadata

Exported as 2500 x 1667 JPEG

 

View On Black

 

View Original Size

The dark side of me, the one that kills any good intentions or feelings. If I normally feel like being a good person, loving others deeply and unconditionally, it happens to me sometimes that all the good I’ve done and given is totally unwanted or, worse, taken, used and then discarded like rubbish. These are the moments in which the angel in me dies… leaving room only for vengeance and rage. And it’s weird how the bigger part of that anger is against myself, because once again I lowered my walls and let someone undeserving in. Beware of me if I’m wearing guns, because this means my wings are rapidly disintegrating.

 

Full credit list on www.glamourox.net

Mowgli sketches-compare 3

 

Start: Friday, April 10, 2009, 7:08:53pm

Done: Friday, April 10, 2009, 7:27:01pm

 

Panel 1- Mowgli running toward the animated camera. This is another shot of Mowgli running like in the 10th panel of my 1st Sketches. I traced this version cuz I thought it looked dynamic & I was also *running* out of ideas for screenshots. heheh ;p

Panel 2- Mowgli sitting down to take a breather against a rock to his back. Another serenic moment that I wanted to add to this volume. Drawing the toes hidden beneath the grass was a little tricky at first, but other than that, it was No Problemo. 8-)

Panel 3- Another “KHHHAAAAANNN!!!” shot, but with a slightly different angle than the previous one, including the overall Action Movie style posing.

Panel 4- Mowgli relaxing on a trunk of a tree. I forgot to add the blue tree outlines so that he doesn’t look like he’s floating on air, but you get the sense of the shot.

Panel 5- My favorite shot in the whole sketches here. I like his dynamic type of stance here & although he’s only a 10 year old Boy, he has that sense of Authority in Adults. So that’s why this is here.

Panel 6- Awwwwww, widdle Mowgli napping in a fetal position that I’m sure all you ‘kawaii’ type fangirls will enjoy. :roll: But yeah, I like the innocent type of pose here as well as the relaxation style too.

Panel 7- Mowgli sitting up in a tree & daydreaming. Again, I like the way he looks calm like your average Feral/Savage Wild Boy as they often sit up high in trees. I also like the expression that he shows in his face.

Panel 8- Another shot of Mowgli in a tree. Same thing as the 7th panel, but with a sense of curiosity in the character as to suggest what his attention is geared toward to.

Panel 9- yet Another shot of Mowgli in a tree, but looking a bit peeved. While the previous two were about relaxation & curiosity, this one has a bit of rage in him, as so to define him in a Savage/Ferocious manner.

Panel 10- Another ‘Awwwww’ shot but done at a different angle to show his back rather than the side.

Panel 11- Mowgli with his back to the view holding his temporary weapon, The Boomerang. I liked the way that he’s ready & waiting for something. Presumably to obliterate his next meal.

Panel 12- Another shot of Mowgli with the Boomerang but with his face toward us. This is almost like the previous panel, but in reverse to get that mirror type shot, or something.

Panel 13- Mowgli throws the Boomerang in an Action style pose that looks cool, as if he’s ready to take on his enemies n’ stuff.

Panel 14- Mowgli crawling out of his Home Cave so he can act like his Wolf Brothers. I like the way he’s crouched down low with his head up in a dramatic type pose cuz it adds a lot to his Feral personality. I also like the way I slightly altered his face as to have him question his own humanity because of the current upbringing that his whole ‘Family’ are Wolves & he’s the only Human in the Jungle. Which is why I, like many others, are greatly imposed over having him covered in a diaper/loincloth because his neutrality matches his Natural sense of surroundment & evokes the overall Human emotion that he expresses.

Panel 15- A somewhat young Mowgli crouched down at a water hole to take a swig. As before, I like the Feral type of pose he has here, as well as an additional sense of curiosity he has on his new surroundings.

Panel 16- Mowgli in his Home Cave supposedly nursing one of his wolf brethren to health. I like his pose & his look of Good Samaritan that he emotes. He also looks a bit creepy like he’s ready to pounce or attack someone Freddy Krueger style.

Panel 17- Same shot as panel 15, but at a different angle because I like style & variety. :D

Panel 18- The continuing shot from panel 14 as he emerges from the cave to act out his Inner Wolf. I like the way he sits up & the pose & stuff. I forgot to add a little hair extension, but other than that, it’s okay.

Panel 19- Mowgli shouting or becoming frustrated over something. His stature kinda invokes the early days of the Renaissance Era where everything about the Human Body was majestic in that aspect.

Panel 20- Mowgli sliding down Kaa’s body like a ride at DisneyLand. ;p I once thought of marking an outline of Kaa like I did with some of the blue/red outlines you see here, but I thought it wasn’t needed.

Not only I like the pose, but also the expression in Mowgli’s face & the sense of bewilderment in his eyes.

It displeases me that Kaa was made into a villain in the campy Disney version. :X

Panel 21- What follows from panel 16. I added the rest of his feet & accidentally made his mouth bigger.

Also added more to his feet on this one.

Panel 22- Mowgli in a scene with his Wolf Mother. I like the sense of affection that Mowgli expresses as Children are often like that. I improved the structure of his feet, especially the right foot by having a more shape like foot to it rather than just something added to his leg.

Panel 23- Mowgli sitting down on hands & knees from the 19th panel. I just like the way he’s sitting in a Innocent/Childlike manner which is nice once in a while.

Panel 24- Another shot of Mowgli on a tree. I like his stature, but I didn’t like drawing his hand covered by the tree trunk. I surprisingly did great on the feet, but I might have made the hand a bit bigger, I think.

Panel 25- Yet another shot of Mowgli on a tree, but with him crawling on the trunk. With the boomerang strapped behind him, I almost had a tough time drawing the arch of his back, the spine line & the backside, but it only took me a few tries so it wasn’t that difficult to pull off. I also forgot to add the blue lines across the tree but I like the overall stature of it anyway, so I didn‘t bother with it.

Panel 26, 27, 28 & 29- At this point, I’d almost had enough of plain old standing shots, so in the next volume you’ll see a lot more provocative postures & body language that the character expresses.

Panel 30- Mowgli getting ready to throw the Batman Weapon to deliver Obliteration on his enemies. I couldn’t pass on a cool panel like this as Mowgli looks really Kick Ass on this shot. 8-)

Panel 31- Another good shot of Mowgli with the Batman Weapon. I like this one a bit more better than the last panel cuz of his overall stance and I even decided to alter the expression on his face as if he’s saying “Don’t You F*ck with Me!!” to his would be victim. :threaten:

I kinda like that. 8-)

Panel 32- Mowgli lying down on the grass on a Warm Night. :relax: I like the feeling of relaxation on him like he’s just taking a rest from a busy day of Battling a few woodland critters. 8-)

Panel 33- The same thing on the last panel, but him sitting up & chatting with his Wolf Brothers. I had some time & room to spare, so I got this one because I like the way he sits up and commands attention to the scene. I drew the right ear too small, so it looks a bit funny not being symmetrical to the other ear.

Ah well, whaddya gonna do? :hmm:

*******************************************

See Original Version here: xa.yimg.com/kq/groups/19622466/or/526346523/name/mowgli+s...

The Image Can not prove just how big this room and impressive Machine really is. When i first saw it is was blown away by its sheer Beauty.

Someone once said that if you can relate to Edgar Allen Poe then you must be mentally ill. That person was also a simpleton and devoid of any real awareness of the dark corners of the human character. There is no doubt Poe was tortured man, an eccentric man and just maybe towards the end of his life mentally ill due to disease. No one knows for sure. His works are an expedition into love and loss, grief and insanity. They smite our emotions so hard because the human spirit is largely enveloped in feelings of sadness, rage, longing and feeling out of place. We may not perceive these things every second of everyday but they are there occasionally and they are very real for us. You cannot gaze upon the line “And all I loved, I loved alone” and not feel your heart fracture just a little, not because of the simple cluster of words but because we know all too well what he means! We feel it so deeply! That’s a truly great poet! A great poet deserves great homage, a series bridging many artistic journeys through some of the most adored compositions in Poe’s collection, a chance to create our own visions and build so much more on what he gave us.

 

"The Masque of the Red Death “is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe. The story follows Prince Prospero's attempts to avoid a dangerous plague, known as the Red Death. He, along with many other wealthy nobles, host a masquerade ball within seven rooms, each decorated with a different color. Prospero and 1,000 other nobles have taken refuge in this walled abbey to escape the Red Death, a terrible plague with gruesome symptoms that has swept over the land. Victims are overcome by "sharp pains", "sudden dizziness", and die within half an hour. Prospero and his court are indifferent to the sufferings of the population at large; they intend to await the end of the plague in luxury and safety behind the walls of their secure refuge, having welded the doors shut. At the chiming of midnight, the revelers and Prospero notice a figure in a dark, blood-splattered robe resembling a funeral shroud. The figure's mask resembles the rigid face of a corpse and exhibits the traits of the Red Death. When the figure turns to face him, the Prince lets out a sharp cry and falls dead... Only then do we realize the figure is the Red Death itself, and all of the guests contract and succumb to the disease. The final line of the story sums it up, "And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all".

 

The Hall of Names at Yad Vashem, the Holocaust history museum in Jerusalem is the Jewish People’s memorial to each and every Jew who perished in the Holocaust – a place where they may be commemorated for generations to come.

 

The main circular hall houses the extensive collection of “Pages of Testimony” – short biographies of each Holocaust victim. Over two million pages are stored in the circular repository around the outer edge of the Hall, with room for six million in all.

The ceiling of the Hall is composed of a ten-meter high cone reaching skywards, displaying 600 photographs and fragments of Pages of Testimony. This exhibit represents a fraction of the murdered six million men, women and children from the diverse Jewish world destroyed by the Nazis and their accomplices. The victims’ portraits are reflected in water at the base of an opposing cone carved out of the mountain’s bedrock.

At the far end of the Hall is a glass screen onto which Pages of Testimony are projected. From here one may enter a computer centre and search the Central Database of Shoah Victims’ Names, with the assistance of the Hall of Names staff. The Centre also offers blank Pages of Testimony and survivor registration forms.

 

Best to be viewed in large size format

All rights reserved. Copyright 2013 © Jacques Freund. All my images are protected under international authors copyright laws and may not be downloaded, reproduced, copied, transmitted or manipulated without my written explicit permission. All rights reserved - Copyright 2013 © Jacques Freund

Exp. Aug 10, 2009 #264

 

pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joaninha

 

Coccinellidae is a family of beetles, known variously as ladybirds (British English, Australian English, South African English), ladybugs (North American English) or lady beetles (preferred by some scientists). Lesser-used names include ladyclock, lady cow, and lady fly.

 

They are small insects, ranging from 1 mm to 10 mm (0.04 to 0.4 inches), and are commonly yellow, orange, or scarlet with small black spots on their wing covers, with black legs, head and antennae. A very large number of species are mostly or entirely black, grey, or brown and may be difficult for non-entomologists to recognize as coccinellids (and, conversely, there are many small beetles that are easily mistaken as such, like tortoise beetles).

 

Coccinellids are found worldwide, with over 5,000 species described, more than 450 native to North America alone.

 

A few species are pests in North America and Europe, but they are generally considered useful insects as many species feed on aphids or scale insects, which are pests in gardens, agricultural fields, orchards, and similar places. The Mall of America, for instance, releases thousands of ladybugs into its indoor park as a natural means of pest control for its gardens.

 

Coccinellids are typically predators of Hemiptera such as aphids and scale insects, though conspecific larvae and eggs can also be important resources when alternative prey are scarce. Members of the subfamily Epilachninae are herbivores, and can be very destructive agricultural pests (e.g., the Mexican bean beetle). While predatory species are often used as biological control agents, introduced species of ladybirds (such as Harmonia axyridis or Coccinella septempunctata in North America) outcompete and displace native coccinellids and become pests in their own right.

 

Coccinellids are often brightly colored to ward away potential predators. This phenomenon is called aposematism and works because predators learn by experience to associate certain prey phenotypes with a bad taste (or worse). Mechanical stimulation (such as by predator attack) causes "reflex bleeding" in both larval and adult ladybird beetles, in which an alkaloid toxin is exuded through the joints of the exoskeleton, deterring feeding. Ladybugs, as well as other Coccinellids are known to spray a venomous toxin to certain mammals and other insects when threatened.

 

Most coccinellids overwinter as adults, aggregating on the south sides of large objects such as trees or houses during the winter months, and dispersing in response to increasing day length in the spring. In Harmonia axyridis, eggs hatch in 3–4 days from clutches numbering from a few to several dozen. Depending on resource availability, the larvae pass through four instars over 10–14 days, after which pupation occurs. After a teneral period of several days, the adults become reproductively active and are able to reproduce again, although they may become reproductively quiescent if eclosing late in the season.

 

It is thought that certain species of Coccinellids lay extra infertile eggs with the fertile eggs. These appear to provide a backup food source for the larvae when they hatch. The ratio of infertile to fertile eggs increases with scarcity of food at the time of egg laying.

 

Habitats

 

Most coccinellids are beneficial to gardeners in general, as they feed on aphids, scale insects, mealybugs, and mites throughout the year. As in many insects, ladybugs in temperate regions enter diapause during the winter, so they often are among the first insects to appear in the spring. Some species (e.g., Hippodamia convergens) gather into groups and move to higher land, such as a mountains, to enter diapause. Predatory ladybugs are usually found on plants where aphids or scale insects are, and they lay their eggs near their prey, to increase the likelihood the larvae will find the prey easily. Ladybugs are cosmopolitan in distribution, as are their prey.

 

Coccinellids as household pests

 

Although native species of coccinellids are typically considered benign, in North America the multicolored Asian lady beetle (Harmonia axyridis), introduced in the twentieth century to control aphids on agricultural crops, has become a serious household pest in some regions owing to its habit of overwintering in structures. It is similarly acquiring a pest reputation in Europe, where it is called the "Multicoloured Asian Ladybird" (In Britain: "Harlequin Ladybird") (see main article Harmonia axyridis for discussion).

 

Coccinellids in popular culture

 

Coccinellids are and have for very many years been favorite insects of children. The insects had many regional names (now mostly disused) such as the lady-cow, may-bug, golden-knop, golden-bugs (Suffolk); and variations on Bishop-Barnaby (Norfolk dialect) – Barnabee, Burnabee, and the Bishop-that-burneth. The etymology is unclear but it may be from St. Barnabas feast in June, when the insect appears or a corruption of "Bishop-that-burneth", from the fiery elytra of the beetles.

 

In parts of Northern Europe, tradition says that one's is wish granted if a ladybird lands on oneself (this tradition lives on in North America, where children capture a ladybird, make a wish, and then "blow it away" back home to make the wish come true). In Italy, it is said by some that if a ladybird flies into one's bedroom, it is considered good luck. In central Europe, a ladybird crawling across a girl's hand is thought to mean she will get married within the year. In some cultures they are referred to as lucky bugs (Turkish: uğur böceği).

 

In Russia, a popular children's rhyme exists with a call to fly to the sky and bring back bread; similarly, in Denmark a ladybird, called a mariehøne ("Mary's hen"), is asked by children to fly to 'our lord in heaven and ask for fairer weather in the morning'.

Coccinella septempunctata pair mating

 

The name that the insect bears in the various languages of Europe is mythic. In this, as in other cases, the Virgin Mary has supplanted Freyja, the fertility goddess of Norse mythology; so that Freyjuhaena and Frouehenge have been changed into Marienvoglein, which corresponds with Our Lady's Bird. The esteem with which these insects are regarded has roots in ancient beliefs.

 

In Irish, the insect is called bóín Dé — or "God's little cow" and in Welsh, the term buwch goch gota is used, containing the word 'buwch' meaning "cow"; similarly, in Croatian it is called Božja ovčica ("God's little sheep"). In France it is known as bête à bon Dieu, "the Good Lord's animal", and in Russia, Божья коровка ("God's little cow"), while in both Hebrew and Yiddish, it is called "Moshe Rabbenu's (i.e. Moses's) little cow" or "Moshe Rabbenu's little horse", apparently an adaptation of the Russian name, or sometimes "Little Messiah".

 

In Iran, two Farsi words are used; ﮐﻔﺶ ﺪوزک and ﭘﻴﻨﻪ ﺪﻮﺰ, both meaning "shoe cobbler". There is an old story about a woman who tells her husband upon his return from work that a "cobbler" spent the whole day with her and in fact sat on her lap. Hearing this, he flies in to a rage and kills his unfaithful wife. Just then, he notices a lady bird walking in the room and he cries out "Oh my god, that kind of cobbler".

 

In Greece, ladybirds are called πασχαλίτσα (paschalitsa), because they are found abundantly in Eastertime, along with paschalia, the Common Lilac plant, which flowers at the same time.

 

In Malta, the ladybird is called nannakola, and little children sang: Nannakola, mur l-iskola/Aqbad siġġu u ibda ogħla (Ladybird go to school, get a chair and start jumping).

 

In Finnish, ladybird is called leppäkerttu, translating to blood-Gertrud, which refers to the red color. An alternative name is leppäpirkko. These differ by the female name at the end (Pirkko refers to Bridget).

  

There's a typhoon raging outside my window at the moment and the wind is howling through the chimney in my room. It's quite nice :)

  

moosic

NEW: I NOW CREATE MUSIC, JOIN ME ON SOUNDCLOUD!

 

SHOP: www.icanvas.com/canvas-art-prints/artist/ben-heine

 

"The Silence of the Village" was my first title for this image. I captured this peaceful scenery in Saint Léon. It's a very quite place in the South West of France. A must see if you ever travel in this region...

_______________________________________________

 

For more information about my art: info@benheine.com

_______________________________________________

  

The Deserted Village

 

A poem by Oliver Goldsmith

 

Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,

Where health and plenty cheered the labouring swain,

Where smiling spring its earliest visits paid,

And parting summer's lingering blooms delayed:

Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,

Seats of my youth, where every sport could please,

How often have I loitered o'er your green,

Where humble happiness endeared each scene;

How often have I paused on every charm,

The sheltered cot, the cultivated farm,

The never-failing brook, the busy mill,

The decent church that topped the neighbouring hill,

The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,

For talking age and whispering lovers made;

How often have I blessed the coming day,

When toil remitting lent its turn to play,

And all the village train, from labour free,

Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree:

While many a pastime circled in the shade,

The young contending as the old surveyed;

And many a gambol frolicked o'er the ground,

And sleights of art and feats of strength went round;

And still as each repeated pleasure tired,

Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspired;

The dancing pair that simply sought renown

By holding out to tire each other down!

The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,

While secret laughter tittered round the place;

The bashful virgin's sidelong look of love,

The matron's glance that would those looks reprove:

These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these,

With sweet succession, taught even toil to please;

These round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,

These were thy charms -But all these charms are fled.

 

Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn,

Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn;

Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen,

And desolation saddens all thy green:

One only master grasps the whole domain,

And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain:

No more thy glassy brook reflects the day,

But choked with sedges works its weedy way.

Along thy glades, a solitary guest,

The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest;

Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies,

And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.

Sunk are thy bowers, in shapeless ruin all,

And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall;

And, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,

Far, far away, thy children leave the land.

 

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,

Where wealth accumulates, and men decay:

Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade;

A breath can make them, as a breath has made;

But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,

When once destroyed can never be supplied.

 

A time there was, ere England's griefs began,

When every rood of ground maintained its man;

For him light labour spread her wholesome store,

Just gave what life required, but gave no more:

His best companions, innocence and health;

And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.

 

But times are altered; trade's unfeeling train

Usurp the land and dispossess the swain;

Along the lawn, where scattered hamlet's rose,

Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose,

And every want to opulence allied,

And every pang that folly pays to pride.

Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom,

Those calm desires that asked but little room,

Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene,

Lived in each look, and brightened all the green;

These, far departing, seek a kinder shore,

And rural mirth and manners are no more.

 

Sweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour,

Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power.

Here as I take my solitary rounds,

Amidst thy tangling walks and ruined grounds,

And, many a year elapsed, return to view

Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew,

Remembrance wakes with all her busy train,

Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain.

 

In all my wanderings round this world of care,

In all my griefs -and God has given my share -

I still had hopes my latest hours to crown,

Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;

To husband out life's taper at the close,

And keep the flame from wasting by repose.

I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,

Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill,

Around my fire an evening group to draw,

And tell of all I felt and all I saw;

And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,

Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,

I still had hopes, my long vexations passed,

Here to return -and die at home at last.

 

O blest retirement, friend to life's decline,

Retreats from care, that never must be mine,

How happy he who crowns in shades like these

A youth of labour with an age of ease;

Who quits a world where strong temptations try,

And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly!

For him no wretches, born to work and weep,

Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep;

No surly porter stands in guilty state

To spurn imploring famine from the gate;

But on he moves to meet his latter end,

Angels round befriending Virtue's friend;

Bends to the grave with unperceived decay,

While Resignation gently slopes the way;

All, all his prospects brightening to the last,

His Heaven commences ere the world be past!

 

Sweet was the sound when oft at evening's close

Up yonder hill the village murmur rose;

There, as I passed with careless steps and slow,

The mingling notes came softened from below;

The swain responsive as the milkmaid sung,

The sober herd that lowed to meet their young;

The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool,

The playful children just let loose from school;

The watchdog's voice that bayed the whisp'ring wind,

And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind;

These all in sweet confusion sought the shade,

And filled each pause the nightingale had made.

But now the sounds of population fail,

No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,

No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,

For all the bloomy flush of life is fled.

All but yon widowed, solitary thing,

That feebly bends beside the plashy spring;

She, wretched matron, forced in age for bread

To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,

To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn,

To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn;

She only left of all the harmless train,

The sad historian of the pensive plain.

 

Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,

And still where many a garden flower grows wild;

There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,

The village preacher's modest mansion rose.

A man he was to all the country dear,

And passing rich with forty pounds a year;

Remote from towns he ran his godly race,

Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place;

Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power,

By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour;

Far other aims his heart had learned to prize,

More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.

His house was known to all the vagrant train,

He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain;

The long remembered beggar was his guest,

Whose beard descending swept his aged breast;

The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud,

Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed;

The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,

Sat by his fire, and talked the night away;

Wept o'er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done,

Shouldered his crutch, and showed how fields were won.

Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow,

And quite forgot their vices in their woe;

Careless their merits or their faults to scan,

His pity gave ere charity began.

 

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,

And e'en his failings leaned to Virtue's side;

But in his duty prompt at every call,

He watched and wept, he prayed and felt, for all.

And, as a bird each fond endearment tries

To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,

He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,

Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.

 

Beside the bed where parting life was laid,

And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed,

The reverend champion stood. At his control

Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;

Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,

And his last faltering accents whispered praise.

 

At church, with meek and unaffected grace,

His looks adorned the venerable place;

Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,

And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.

The service passed, around the pious man,

With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran;

Even children followed with endearing wile,

And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.

His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed,

Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed;

To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,

But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven.

As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form,

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,

Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,

Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

 

Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,

With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,

There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule,

The village master taught his little school;

A man severe he was, and stern to view;

I knew him well, and every truant knew;

Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace

The day's disasters in his morning face;

Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee,

At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;

Full well the busy whisper, circling round,

Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned;

Yet he was kind; or if severe in aught,

The love he bore to learning was in fault.

The village all declared how much he knew;

'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;

Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,

And even the story ran that he could gauge.

In arguing too, the parson owned his skill,

For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still;

While words of learned length and thundering sound

Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around,

And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew

That one small head could carry all he knew.

 

But past is all his fame. The very spot

Where many a time he triumphed is forgot.

Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high,

Where once the signpost caught the passing eye,

Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired,

Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retired,

Where village statesmen talked with looks profound,

And news much older than their ale went round.

Imagination fondly stoops to trace

The parlour splendours of that festive place:

The white-washed wall, the nicely sanded floor,

The varnished clock that clicked behind the door;

The chest contrived a double debt to pay, -

A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day;

The pictures placed for ornament and use,

The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose;

The hearth, except when winter chilled the day,

With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay;

While broken teacups, wisely kept for show,

Ranged o'er the chimney, glistened in a row.

 

Vain transitory splendours! Could not all

Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall!

Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart

An hour's importance to the poor man's heart;

Thither no more the peasant shall repair

To sweet oblivion of his daily care;

No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,

No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;

No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,

Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear;

The host himself no longer shall be found

Careful to see the mantling bliss go round;

Nor the coy maid, half willing to be pressed,

Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.

 

Yes! let the rich deride, the proud disdain,

These simple blessings of the lowly train;

To me more dear, congenial to my heart,

One native charm, than all the gloss of art.

Spontaneous joys, where Nature has its play,

The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway;

Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind,

Unenvied, unmolested, unconfined:

But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,

With all the freaks of wanton wealth arrayed,

In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain,

The toiling pleasure sickens into pain;

And, even while fashion's brightest arts decoy,

The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy.

 

Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen, who survey

The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay,

'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand

Between a splendid and a happy land.

Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore,

And shouting Folly hails them from her shore;

Hoards even beyond the miser's wish abound,

And rich men flock from all the world around.

Yet count our gains. This wealth is but a name

That leaves our useful products still the same.

Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride

Takes up a space that many poor supplied;

Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds,

Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds;

The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth

Has robbed the neighbouring fields of half their growth;

His seat, where solitary sports are seen,

Indignant spurns the cottage from the green;

Around the world each needful product flies,

For all the luxuries the world supplies:

While thus the land adorned for pleasure, all

In barren splendour feebly waits the fall.

 

As some fair female unadorned and plain,

Secure to please while youth confirms her reign,

Slights every borrowed charm that dress supplies,

Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes;

But when those charms are passed, for charms are frail,

When time advances and when lovers fail,

She then shines forth, solicitous to bless,

In all the glaring impotence of dress.

Thus fares the land, by luxury betrayed,

In nature's simplest charms at first arrayed;

But verging to decline, its splendours rise,

Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise;

While, scourged by famine, from the smiling land

The mournful peasant leads his humble band;

And while he sinks, without one arm to save,

The country blooms -a garden, and a grave.

 

Where then, ah! where, shall poverty reside,

To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride?

If to some common's fenceless limits strayed,

He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade,

Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide,

And even the bare-worn common is denied.

If to the city sped -what waits him there?

To see profusion that he must not share;

To see ten thousand baneful arts combined

To pamper luxury, and thin mankind;

To see those joys the sons of pleasure know

Extorted from his fellow creature's woe.

Here, while the courtier glitters in brocade,

There the pale artist plies the sickly trade;

Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps display,

There the black gibbet glooms beside the way.

The dome where Pleasure holds her midnight reign

Here, richly decked, admits the gorgeous train;

Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square,

The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare.

Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy!

Sure these denote one universal joy!

Are these thy serious thoughts? -Ah, turn thine eyes

Where the poor houseless shivering female lies.

She once, perhaps, in a village plenty blessed,

Has wept at tales of innocence distressed;

Her modest looks the cottage might adorn,

Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn;

Now lost to all; her friends, her virtue fled,

Near her betrayer's door she lays her head,

And, pinched with cold, and shrinking from the shower,

With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,

When idly first, ambitious of the town,

She left her wheel and robes of country brown.

 

Do thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest train,

Do thy fair tribes participate her pain?

E'en now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led,

At proud men's doors they ask a little bread!

 

Ah, no! -To distant climes, a dreary scene,

Where half the convex world intrudes between,

Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they go,

Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe.

Far different there from all that charmed before,

The various terrors of that horrid shore;

Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray

And fiercely shed intolerable day;

Those matted woods where birds forget to sing,

But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling;

Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance crowned,

Where the dark scorpion gathers death around;

Where at each step the stranger fears to wake

The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake;

Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey,

And savage men more murderous still than they;

While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies,

Mingling the ravaged landscape with the skies.

Far different these from every former scene,

The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green,

The breezy covert of the warbling grove,

That only sheltered thefts of harmless love.

 

Good Heaven! what sorrows gloomed that parting day

That called them from their native walks away;

When the poor exiles, every pleasure passed,

Hung round their bowers, and fondly looked their last,

And took a long farewell, and wished in vain

For seats like these beyond the western main;

And, shuddering still to face the distant deep,

Returned and wept, and still returned to weep.

The good old sire, the first prepared to go

To new-found worlds, and wept for others' woe;

But for himself, in conscious virtue brave,

He only wished for worlds beyond the grave.

His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears,

The fond companion of his helpless years,

Silent went next, neglectful of her charms,

And left a lover's for a father's arms.

With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes,

And blessed the cot where every pleasure rose;

And kissed her thoughtless babes with many a tear,

And clasped them close, in sorrow doubly dear;

Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief

In all the silent manliness of grief.

 

O luxury! thou cursed by Heaven's decree,

How ill exchanged are things like these for thee!

How do thy potions, with insidious joy,

Diffuse thy pleasures only to destroy!

Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown,

Boast of a florid vigour not their own;

At every draught more large and large they grow,

A bloated mass of rank unwieldly woe;

Till, sapped their strength, and every part unsound,

Down, down they sink, and spread the ruin round.

 

Even now the devastation is begun,

And half the business of destruction done;

Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand,

I see the rural virtues leave the land:

Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail

That idly waiting flaps with every gale,

Downward they move, a melancholy band,

Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand.

Contented toil, and hospitable care,

And kind connubial tenderness, are there;

And piety with wishes placed above,

And steady loyalty, and faithful love.

And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid,

Still first to fly where sensual joys invade;

Unfit in these degenerate times of shame

To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame;

Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried,

My shame in crowds, my solitary pride;

Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe,

That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so;

Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel,

Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well!

Farewell, and oh! where'er thy voice be tried,

On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side,

Whether where equinoctial fervours glow,

Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,

Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,

Redress the rigours of th' inclement clime;

Aid slighted truth; with thy persuasive strain

Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain;

Teach him that states of native strength possessed,

Though very poor, may still be very blessed;

That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay,

As ocean sweeps the laboured mole away;

While self-dependent power can time defy,

As rocks resist the billows and the sky.

 

-----------------

 

The poem appeared on www.bartleby.com

If you want to see how I made this (and how you can too!), visit my HDR Tutorial. I hope it gives you some new tricks!

 

I arrived into Thailand this weekend and have been in content-creation mode non stop. I did take a chance back at the hotel to process this one picture I thought y'all would enjoy.

 

(and yes that sun picture is real... it was burning through the bottom while still streaming light over the top).

 

This picture is of Wat Arun, a famous Buddhist temple in Thailand. I took it from a really cool little Italian restaurant across the way that is attached to a boutique hotel named "Arun Residence". I will stay at this place next time - be sure to get the balcony room at the top if you come... it's just over $100 a night.

 

from my daily photo blog at www.stuckincustoms.com

 

Time flies

Time crawls

Like an insect

Up and down the walls

The light pours out of me

The light pours out of me

The conspiracy

Of silence ought

To revolutionize

My thought

The light pours out of me

The light pours out of me

The cold light of day

Pours out of me

Leaving me black

And so healthy

The light pours out of me

The light pours out of me

It jerks out of me

Like blood

In this still life

Heart beats up love

The light pours out of me

The light pours out of me...

  

I remember when backpacking in Japan back 20 years ago, the rage was heated toilet seats. Thermostatically controlled mind.

 

Every Ryoken or house (but not temple) offering B&B seemed to yank up the temperature to 30 degrees for gaijin (foreigners or outsiders), while others probably like me discreetly switched them off (together with stool analysis and a number of other innovations that have thankfully never left Japan). So think about how lucky you are when you next complain about that chilly bog seat.

 

Magazine live on the reunion tour 2009 - www.flickr.com/photos/hotpixuk/3356735418/

  

(c) Hotpix / HotpixUK Tony Smith - Hotpix.freeserve.co.uk WDCC 07092182899

Dunes, Mountains, Dust Storm, Rain. Death Valley National Park, California. March 30, 2016. :copyright: Copyright 2016 G Dan Mitchell - all rights reserved.

 

Evening dust storm and rain in the evening in Death Valley

 

During the nearly two decades since my first visit to Death Valley I have seen my share of exceptions conditions there — a wildflower "bloom of the century," snow on more than one occasion, unreal golden hour color, wild animals of various sorts. Once we even photographed wildflowers in a snow storm... in Death Valley. But this day was one of the wildest I have experienced, and the evening was like nothing I had seen or even imagined before. Much earlier in the day we photographed high in the Panamint Mountains, and by the middle of the day we could tell that a big dust storm was brewing. The atmosphere was opaque and glowing, and before long tendrils of blowing dust were passing high above the mountains. By the time we descended back into Death Valley a full-blown storm was underway. I had never seen as much dust or experienced winds quite so strong. In places this was no mere dust storm — it was a sand storm and even a pebble storm on at least one occasion. We finally gave up and headed to Stovepipe Wells and shut ourselves in our room as huge winds howled around the building and sand came into our room through every crack in the door or windows.

 

Hours later the wind began to subside and a bit of light appeared, so I decided to head out and see what I could find. I took a little-used gravel road up to a high spot overlooking a section of the Valley and waited to see what would happen. The dust storm was stilling in progress, but occasional breaks in the wind allowed me to make some photographs – only to be interrupted by huge gusts and more blowing dust. As the dust storm began to thin a bit it became apparent that there were storm clouds above the Valley, too, and — I'm not making this up! — as golden hour light began to arrive I watched thunder showers begin to drop sheets of rain onto the mountains above the still-raging dust clouds blowing along the Valley floor. "Apocalyptic" was the word that came to mind when I tried to describe what I was seeing. We respond to landscapes in many ways — they can be pretty, beautiful (not the same thing!), quiet, peaceful, static, dynamic, and more. But this landscape and these conditions provoked a powerful mixture of wonder and amazement and a kind of fear in the face of a landscape full of forces that made me feel very small.

  

G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist. His book, "California's Fall Color: A Photographer's Guide to Autumn in the Sierra" is available from Heyday Books and Amazon.

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All media :copyright: Copyright G Dan Mitchell and others as indicated. Any use requires advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.

The Grade I Listed Norwich Cathedral which is dedicated to the Holy and Undivided Trinity, it is the cathedral church for the Church of England Diocese of Norwich and is one of the Norwich 12 heritage sites. The cathedral close is one of the largest in England and one of the largest in Europe and has more people living within it than any other close. The cathedral spire, measuring at 315 ft or 96 m, is the second tallest in England despite being partly rebuilt after being struck by lightning in 1169, just 23 months after its completion. In Norwich Norfolk.

 

In 672 the Archbishop of Canterbury, Theodore of Tarsus divided East Anglia into two dioceses, one covering Norfolk, with its see at Elmham, the other, covering Suffolk with its see at Dunwich. During much of the 9th century, because of the Danish incursions, there was no bishop at Elmham; in addition the see of Dunwich was extinguished and East Anglia became a single diocese once more. Following the Norman Conquest many sees were moved to more secure urban centres, that of Elmham being transferred to Thetford in 1072, and finally to Norwich in 1094.

 

The structure of the cathedral is primarily in the Norman style, having been constructed at the behest of Bishop Herbert de Losinga who had bought the bishopric for £1,900 before its transfer from Thetford. Building started in 1096 and the cathedral was completed in 1145. It was built from flint and mortar and faced with cream coloured Caen limestone. It still retains the greater part of its original stone structure. An Anglo-Saxon settlement and two churches were demolished to make room for the buildings and a canal cut to allow access for the boats bringing the stone and building materials which were taken up the Wensum and unloaded at Pulls Ferry, Norwich.

 

The ground plan remains almost entirely as it was in Norman times, except for that of the easternmost chapel. The cathedral has an unusually long nave of fourteen bays. The transepts are without aisles and the east end terminates in an apse with an ambulatory.

 

The crossing tower was the last piece of the Norman cathedral to be completed, in around 1140. It is boldly decorated with circles, lozenges and interlaced arcading. The present spire was added in the late fifteenth century.

 

The cathedral was damaged after riots in 1272, which resulted in the city paying heavy fines levied by Henry III, Rebuilding was completed in 1278 and the cathedral was reconsecrated in the presence of Edward I on Advent Sunday of that year.

 

A large two-storey cloister, the only such in England, with over 1,000 ceiling bosses was begun in 1297 and finally finished in 1430 after the Black Death had plagued the city.

 

The Norman spire was blown down in 1362. Its fall caused considerable damage to the east end, as a result of which the clerestory of the choir was rebuilt in the Perpendicular style. In the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, the cathedrals flat timber ceilings were replaced with stone vaults: the nave was vaulted under Bishop Lyhart (1446–72), the choir under Bishop Goldwell (1472–99) and the transepts after 1520.

 

In 1463 the spire was struck by lightning, causing a fire to rage through the nave which was so intense it turned some of the creamy Caen limestone a pink colour. In 1480 the bishop, James Goldwell, ordered the building of a new spire which is still in place today. It is of brick faced with stone, supported on brick squinches built into the Norman tower. At 315 feet (96 metres) high, the spire is the second tallest in England. Only that of Salisbury Cathedral is taller at 404 feet (123 metres).

 

The cathedral was partially in ruins when John Cosin was at the grammar school in the early 17th century and the former bishop was an absentee figure. In 1643 during the reign of Charles I, an angry Puritan mob invaded the cathedral and destroyed all Roman Catholic symbols. The building, abandoned the following year, lay in ruins for two decades. The mob also fired their muskets. At least one musket ball remains lodged in the stonework. Only at the Restoration in 1660 would the cathedral be restored under Charles II.

 

Vienna Baroque

Doris Binder

 

The center of Baroque art was undisputable Vienna, as a special promoter appeared the Emperor Charles VI., under whose reign not only the Karlskirche was built, but also numerous buildings have been newly planned or built. The passion for building of the High Baroque is not only founded by the destructions of the Turks, but also has its causes in the backward economic structure and its lack of production plants. Whether nobleman, cleric or commoner, all those with sufficient capital put it rather in construction funds into practice than not make use of it. Responsible for this was a deep distrust to the imperial fiscal policy and concern about the currency and a possible bankruptcy.

The Baroque emerged within the civil peace (*) Burgfrieden) of the city of Vienna, had at the beginning of the High Baroque era still dominated religious buildings, so the cityscape changed in just four decades. Vienna was transformed into a "palace city", by the year 1740, the number of pleasure palaces, gardens and belvederes had doubled. The Baroque style, which by crown, church and nobility was forced upon the citizens, is considered of Felix Czeike as "authority art". The existing social gap should be camouflaged by the rubberneck culture in festivities, receptions and parades.

 

*) Burgfrieden (The term truce or Castle peace referred to a jurisdiction in the Middle Ages around a castle, in which feuds, so hostilities of private individuals among themselves, under penalty of ostracism were banned. Today the term is mainly used in a figurative sense.

 

Due to the return of Fischer von Erlach to Vienna in 1686 and a decade later, Lukas von Hildebrandt, the primacy of the Italians in architecture was broken and the victory parade of Austrian Baroque began. The connection between the spiritual and secular powers found its mode of expression in the Baroque, which the appearance of the city of Vienna should characterize in a decisive manner.

 

Construction of Charles Church

The Karlskirche was built by Emperor Charles VI. commemorating the plague saint, Charles Borromeo. In 1713 the plague raged in Vienna and claimed about 8,000 human lives, in February 1714 the plague disappeared and as a sign of gratitude was began with the construction of the church, this should become the most important religious building of Vienna in the 18th century.

In a contest was decided on the builder - participants were Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach, Johann Lukas von Hildebrandt and Ferdinando Galli-Bibienas. As winner emerged the famous architect Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach, he died in 1723 and did not live to the achievement of the Church. The supervision was transferred to the imperial court architect Anton Erhard Martinelli, as Fischer von Erlach died, his son, Joseph Emmanuel, finished his work. On 28 October 1737 St. Charles Church was solemnly by the Archbishop of Vienna, Cardinal Sigismund Count Kollowitz, inaugurated. The spiritual care ceded Emperor Karl VI. to the chivalric Order of the Cross with the Red Star, since 1783 is the Karlskirche imperial patronage parish.

The church at that time lay still behind the regulated river Wien (Wienfluss) and in the open field. The directed towards the city face side of the Charles Church, which stood on the edge of the suburb of Wieden, was target point of a line of sight the Hofburg and St. Charles Church in the sense of a "via triumphalis" connecting. On the temple-like front building of the Karlskirche the dedication inscription is clearly visible "Vota mea Reddam in conspectu timentium Deum" - "I will fulfill my vow before those who fear God."

Already during the construction by Fischer von Erlach (senior), there were several project phases, three of which have been preserved:

 

1. Medaillon by Daniel Warou for the groundbreaking ceremony

2. Fore stitches in Fischer's draft of a historical architecture 1721

3. Viennese view of work by Klein and Pfeffel 1722 (1724)

 

Due to the death of Fischer von Erlach, occured recent changes made by his son, Joseph Emmanuel most of all being concerned the dome (much higher and steeper), the priest choir (omitted) and the interior (simpler). The entire project took a total of 21 years and the costs amounted to 304 045 guilders and 22 ¼ cruisers. The construction costs were shouldered by all crown lands of the Empire, but also Spain, Milan and the Netherlands had to make a contribution.

The Karlskirche is the most important Baroque building of the city and represents the most convincing the so-called Empire style in which for the last time an empire awareness in the architecture of the capital of the Holy Roman Empire after the victorious ended wars against the Turks and the French was expressed.

Symbolism of the Karlskirche

The Karlskirche consists of a central rotunda with a dome, preceded by a column structure like a Greek temple, of two high pillars illustrated on the model of Trajan's Column in Rome and of two lateral gate pavilions. The illustrated columns represent Charles VI. as a wise and strong secular ruler, the two great pillars were created by Marder and Matielli. The columns are crowned by golden eagles, symbolizing the two virtues of the Emperor - fortitudo (bravery) and constantia (resistance). The two pillars are evocative of the two pillars before the temple in Jerusalem - Jachin and Boaz. However, the illustration of the two columns does not match the model of the Trajan columns in Rome, portraying war deeds, but these tell the life story of St. Borromeo. In the front view of the Karlskirche a wide range of different symbols become one whole - the Roman emperors Trajan and Augustus, the Temple of Solomon, St. Peter's Church in Rome, Hagia Sophia, Charlemagne and the Empire of Charles V. - through the skillfully used symbols should be shown the claim of the house of Habsburg to the European domination.

The plan view of the church is, as in baroque typical, ellipsoid. In the interior of the Karlskirche the great Baroque sculpture is immediately noticeable, representing St. Borromeo. At the base the four Latin Fathers of the Church are depicted. The interior of the Karlskirche is dominated by the tremendous fresco in the oval dome room, it was created by the eminent Baroque painter Johann Michael Rottmayr between 1725-1730. The fresco shows the Mother of God representing the intercession of the patron Saint of the Church to help head off the plague, surrounded is the scene by the cardinal virtues (faith, hope and love). In the left entrance wing is situated the tomb for the Austrian poet Heinrich Joseph von Collin (17771-1811).

Inside the St. Charles Church, there is a museum where the most valuable pieces are exhibited.

These include: the vestments of St. Borromeo, a reliquary of gold and silver - a donation of Emperor Charles VI. and a rococo monstrance (1760) containing a drop of blood of the saint. Thomas Aquinas.

Even the image of the architect Fischer von Erlach, painted by Jacob von Schuppen, is one of the church treasures.

The iconographic program of the Charles Church was written by Carl Gustav Haerus, by this the Saint Charles Borromeo should be connected to the imperial founder.

www.univie.ac.at/hypertextcreator/ferstel/site/browse.php

View On Black

 

I've been stuck without a camera for a while but Olympus have kindly loaned me a camera so back up and shooting now whilst mine is being repaired.

 

So, I've been going through some old pictures and went back to my most popular image (in terms of views and comments) and retouched it a bit further (with some motion blur added in).

 

The story behind this shot is quite amusing...

 

This was the first time I'd been to the press coference at the Cage Gladiators and I'd got a small set up going in a side room from the film cameras. I saw Stefan Struve and immediately saw how much he stood out - he's 6'8 and his nickname is 'The Skyscraper'.

 

I did a couple of standard poses and asked Stefan to do an angry face - this is what I got! He posed perfectly and I was lucky to get a good shot of him.

 

Then I heard someone shouting me to stop and it was his manager, Dirty Bob, (an ex member of the Dutch Hells Angels). Thankfully I managed to have a chat with him and carried on with the rest of the press conference.

 

For UK TV viewers, the guy who promotes the fights is currently appearing on Million Dollar Traders on BBC 2 on Monday evenings .

Someone once said that if you can relate to Edgar Allen Poe then you must be mentally ill. That person was also a simpleton and devoid of any real awareness of the dark corners of the human character. There is no doubt Poe was tortured man, an eccentric man and just maybe towards the end of his life mentally ill due to disease. No one knows for sure. His works are an expedition into love and loss, grief and insanity. They smite our emotions so hard because the human spirit is largely enveloped in feelings of sadness, rage, longing and feeling out of place. We may not perceive these things every second of everyday but they are there occasionally and they are very real for us. You cannot gaze upon the line “And all I loved, I loved alone” and not feel your heart fracture just a little, not because of the simple cluster of words but because we know all too well what he means! We feel it so deeply! That’s a truly great poet! A great poet deserves great homage, a series bridging many artistic journeys through some of the most adored compositions in Poe’s collection, a chance to create our own visions and build so much more on what he gave us.

 

"The Masque of the Red Death “is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe. The story follows Prince Prospero's attempts to avoid a dangerous plague, known as the Red Death. He, along with many other wealthy nobles, host a masquerade ball within seven rooms, each decorated with a different color. Prospero and 1,000 other nobles have taken refuge in this walled abbey to escape the Red Death, a terrible plague with gruesome symptoms that has swept over the land. Victims are overcome by "sharp pains", "sudden dizziness", and die within half an hour. Prospero and his court are indifferent to the sufferings of the population at large; they intend to await the end of the plague in luxury and safety behind the walls of their secure refuge, having welded the doors shut. At the chiming of midnight, the revelers and Prospero notice a figure in a dark, blood-splattered robe resembling a funeral shroud. The figure's mask resembles the rigid face of a corpse and exhibits the traits of the Red Death. When the figure turns to face him, the Prince lets out a sharp cry and falls dead... Only then do we realize the figure is the Red Death itself, and all of the guests contract and succumb to the disease. The final line of the story sums it up, "And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all".

 

Someone once said that if you can relate to Edgar Allen Poe then you must be mentally ill. That person was also a simpleton and devoid of any real awareness of the dark corners of the human character. There is no doubt Poe was tortured man, an eccentric man and just maybe towards the end of his life mentally ill due to disease. No one knows for sure. His works are an expedition into love and loss, grief and insanity. They smite our emotions so hard because the human spirit is largely enveloped in feelings of sadness, rage, longing and feeling out of place. We may not perceive these things every second of everyday but they are there occasionally and they are very real for us. You cannot gaze upon the line “And all I loved, I loved alone” and not feel your heart fracture just a little, not because of the simple cluster of words but because we know all too well what he means! We feel it so deeply! That’s a truly great poet! A great poet deserves great homage, a series bridging many artistic journeys through some of the most adored compositions in Poe’s collection, a chance to create our own visions and build so much more on what he gave us.

 

"The Masque of the Red Death “is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe. The story follows Prince Prospero's attempts to avoid a dangerous plague, known as the Red Death. He, along with many other wealthy nobles, host a masquerade ball within seven rooms, each decorated with a different color. Prospero and 1,000 other nobles have taken refuge in this walled abbey to escape the Red Death, a terrible plague with gruesome symptoms that has swept over the land. Victims are overcome by "sharp pains", "sudden dizziness", and die within half an hour. Prospero and his court are indifferent to the sufferings of the population at large; they intend to await the end of the plague in luxury and safety behind the walls of their secure refuge, having welded the doors shut. At the chiming of midnight, the revelers and Prospero notice a figure in a dark, blood-splattered robe resembling a funeral shroud. The figure's mask resembles the rigid face of a corpse and exhibits the traits of the Red Death. When the figure turns to face him, the Prince lets out a sharp cry and falls dead... Only then do we realize the figure is the Red Death itself, and all of the guests contract and succumb to the disease. The final line of the story sums it up, "And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all".

 

Someone once said that if you can relate to Edgar Allen Poe then you must be mentally ill. That person was also a simpleton and devoid of any real awareness of the dark corners of the human character. There is no doubt Poe was tortured man, an eccentric man and just maybe towards the end of his life mentally ill due to disease. No one knows for sure. His works are an expedition into love and loss, grief and insanity. They smite our emotions so hard because the human spirit is largely enveloped in feelings of sadness, rage, longing and feeling out of place. We may not perceive these things every second of everyday but they are there occasionally and they are very real for us. You cannot gaze upon the line “And all I loved, I loved alone” and not feel your heart fracture just a little, not because of the simple cluster of words but because we know all too well what he means! We feel it so deeply! That’s a truly great poet! A great poet deserves great homage, a series bridging many artistic journeys through some of the most adored compositions in Poe’s collection, a chance to create our own visions and build so much more on what he gave us.

 

"The Masque of the Red Death “is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe. The story follows Prince Prospero's attempts to avoid a dangerous plague, known as the Red Death. He, along with many other wealthy nobles, host a masquerade ball within seven rooms, each decorated with a different color. Prospero and 1,000 other nobles have taken refuge in this walled abbey to escape the Red Death, a terrible plague with gruesome symptoms that has swept over the land. Victims are overcome by "sharp pains", "sudden dizziness", and die within half an hour. Prospero and his court are indifferent to the sufferings of the population at large; they intend to await the end of the plague in luxury and safety behind the walls of their secure refuge, having welded the doors shut. At the chiming of midnight, the revelers and Prospero notice a figure in a dark, blood-splattered robe resembling a funeral shroud. The figure's mask resembles the rigid face of a corpse and exhibits the traits of the Red Death. When the figure turns to face him, the Prince lets out a sharp cry and falls dead... Only then do we realize the figure is the Red Death itself, and all of the guests contract and succumb to the disease. The final line of the story sums it up, "And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all".

 

Vienna Baroque

Doris Binder

 

The center of Baroque art was undisputable Vienna, as a special promoter appeared the Emperor Charles VI., under whose reign not only the Karlskirche was built, but also numerous buildings have been newly planned or built. The passion for building of the High Baroque is not only founded by the destructions of the Turks, but also has its causes in the backward economic structure and its lack of production plants. Whether nobleman, cleric or commoner, all those with sufficient capital put it rather in construction funds into practice than not make use of it. Responsible for this was a deep distrust to the imperial fiscal policy and concern about the currency and a possible bankruptcy.

The Baroque emerged within the civil peace (*) Burgfrieden) of the city of Vienna, had at the beginning of the High Baroque era still dominated religious buildings, so the cityscape changed in just four decades. Vienna was transformed into a "palace city", by the year 1740, the number of pleasure palaces, gardens and belvederes had doubled. The Baroque style, which by crown, church and nobility was forced upon the citizens, is considered of Felix Czeike as "authority art". The existing social gap should be camouflaged by the rubberneck culture in festivities, receptions and parades.

 

*) Burgfrieden (The term truce or Castle peace referred to a jurisdiction in the Middle Ages around a castle, in which feuds, so hostilities of private individuals among themselves, under penalty of ostracism were banned. Today the term is mainly used in a figurative sense.

 

Due to the return of Fischer von Erlach to Vienna in 1686 and a decade later, Lukas von Hildebrandt, the primacy of the Italians in architecture was broken and the victory parade of Austrian Baroque began. The connection between the spiritual and secular powers found its mode of expression in the Baroque, which the appearance of the city of Vienna should characterize in a decisive manner.

 

Construction of Charles Church

The Karlskirche was built by Emperor Charles VI. commemorating the plague saint, Charles Borromeo. In 1713 the plague raged in Vienna and claimed about 8,000 human lives, in February 1714 the plague disappeared and as a sign of gratitude was began with the construction of the church, this should become the most important religious building of Vienna in the 18th century.

In a contest was decided on the builder - participants were Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach, Johann Lukas von Hildebrandt and Ferdinando Galli-Bibienas. As winner emerged the famous architect Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach, he died in 1723 and did not live to the achievement of the Church. The supervision was transferred to the imperial court architect Anton Erhard Martinelli, as Fischer von Erlach died, his son, Joseph Emmanuel, finished his work. On 28 October 1737 St. Charles Church was solemnly by the Archbishop of Vienna, Cardinal Sigismund Count Kollowitz, inaugurated. The spiritual care ceded Emperor Karl VI. to the chivalric Order of the Cross with the Red Star, since 1783 is the Karlskirche imperial patronage parish.

The church at that time lay still behind the regulated river Wien (Wienfluss) and in the open field. The directed towards the city face side of the Charles Church, which stood on the edge of the suburb of Wieden, was target point of a line of sight the Hofburg and St. Charles Church in the sense of a "via triumphalis" connecting. On the temple-like front building of the Karlskirche the dedication inscription is clearly visible "Vota mea Reddam in conspectu timentium Deum" - "I will fulfill my vow before those who fear God."

Already during the construction by Fischer von Erlach (senior), there were several project phases, three of which have been preserved:

 

1. Medaillon by Daniel Warou for the groundbreaking ceremony

2. Fore stitches in Fischer's draft of a historical architecture 1721

3. Viennese view of work by Klein and Pfeffel 1722 (1724)

 

Due to the death of Fischer von Erlach, occured recent changes made by his son, Joseph Emmanuel most of all being concerned the dome (much higher and steeper), the priest choir (omitted) and the interior (simpler). The entire project took a total of 21 years and the costs amounted to 304 045 guilders and 22 ¼ cruisers. The construction costs were shouldered by all crown lands of the Empire, but also Spain, Milan and the Netherlands had to make a contribution.

The Karlskirche is the most important Baroque building of the city and represents the most convincing the so-called Empire style in which for the last time an empire awareness in the architecture of the capital of the Holy Roman Empire after the victorious ended wars against the Turks and the French was expressed.

Symbolism of the Karlskirche

The Karlskirche consists of a central rotunda with a dome, preceded by a column structure like a Greek temple, of two high pillars illustrated on the model of Trajan's Column in Rome and of two lateral gate pavilions. The illustrated columns represent Charles VI. as a wise and strong secular ruler, the two great pillars were created by Marder and Matielli. The columns are crowned by golden eagles, symbolizing the two virtues of the Emperor - fortitudo (bravery) and constantia (resistance). The two pillars are evocative of the two pillars before the temple in Jerusalem - Jachin and Boaz. However, the illustration of the two columns does not match the model of the Trajan columns in Rome, portraying war deeds, but these tell the life story of St. Borromeo. In the front view of the Karlskirche a wide range of different symbols become one whole - the Roman emperors Trajan and Augustus, the Temple of Solomon, St. Peter's Church in Rome, Hagia Sophia, Charlemagne and the Empire of Charles V. - through the skillfully used symbols should be shown the claim of the house of Habsburg to the European domination.

The plan view of the church is, as in baroque typical, ellipsoid. In the interior of the Karlskirche the great Baroque sculpture is immediately noticeable, representing St. Borromeo. At the base the four Latin Fathers of the Church are depicted. The interior of the Karlskirche is dominated by the tremendous fresco in the oval dome room, it was created by the eminent Baroque painter Johann Michael Rottmayr between 1725-1730. The fresco shows the Mother of God representing the intercession of the patron Saint of the Church to help head off the plague, surrounded is the scene by the cardinal virtues (faith, hope and love). In the left entrance wing is situated the tomb for the Austrian poet Heinrich Joseph von Collin (17771-1811).

Inside the St. Charles Church, there is a museum where the most valuable pieces are exhibited.

These include: the vestments of St. Borromeo, a reliquary of gold and silver - a donation of Emperor Charles VI. and a rococo monstrance (1760) containing a drop of blood of the saint. Thomas Aquinas.

Even the image of the architect Fischer von Erlach, painted by Jacob von Schuppen, is one of the church treasures.

The iconographic program of the Charles Church was written by Carl Gustav Haerus, by this the Saint Charles Borromeo should be connected to the imperial founder.

www.univie.ac.at/hypertextcreator/ferstel/site/browse.php...

 

Sometimes the world around us swirls wildly out of control

and it feels foreboding and mad

things we thought were stability and sane and strong

... turns aggressive angry and bad

when the storm is rearing its violent head

and looking for a place to hit

gather what is important to your heart and soul

and find your inner respite

that place where you feel comfortable in crazy irrational world

a place to find your inner peace

the shoulder of a loved one.. the corner of a room

a book or a hobby or a ride

whatever it takes to remove yourself from a harmful situation

with what you love by your side

let the storms rage on and play out their dark magnificence

find your peaceful friend

stay just as strong as the storm clouds and their rants and raves

believe there will be peace in the end.

 

Photo by Phil Joch - Poem by Kelly De Witt Schlicht

Someone once said that if you can relate to Edgar Allen Poe then you must be mentally ill. That person was also a simpleton and devoid of any real awareness of the dark corners of the human character. There is no doubt Poe was tortured man, an eccentric man and just maybe towards the end of his life mentally ill due to disease. No one knows for sure. His works are an expedition into love and loss, grief and insanity. They smite our emotions so hard because the human spirit is largely enveloped in feelings of sadness, rage, longing and feeling out of place. We may not perceive these things every second of everyday but they are there occasionally and they are very real for us. You cannot gaze upon the line “And all I loved, I loved alone” and not feel your heart fracture just a little, not because of the simple cluster of words but because we know all too well what he means! We feel it so deeply! That’s a truly great poet! A great poet deserves great homage, a series bridging many artistic journeys through some of the most adored compositions in Poe’s collection, a chance to create our own visions and build so much more on what he gave us.

 

"The Masque of the Red Death “is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe. The story follows Prince Prospero's attempts to avoid a dangerous plague, known as the Red Death. He, along with many other wealthy nobles, host a masquerade ball within seven rooms, each decorated with a different color. Prospero and 1,000 other nobles have taken refuge in this walled abbey to escape the Red Death, a terrible plague with gruesome symptoms that has swept over the land. Victims are overcome by "sharp pains", "sudden dizziness", and die within half an hour. Prospero and his court are indifferent to the sufferings of the population at large; they intend to await the end of the plague in luxury and safety behind the walls of their secure refuge, having welded the doors shut. At the chiming of midnight, the revelers and Prospero notice a figure in a dark, blood-splattered robe resembling a funeral shroud. The figure's mask resembles the rigid face of a corpse and exhibits the traits of the Red Death. When the figure turns to face him, the Prince lets out a sharp cry and falls dead... Only then do we realize the figure is the Red Death itself, and all of the guests contract and succumb to the disease. The final line of the story sums it up, "And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all".

 

Someone once said that if you can relate to Edgar Allen Poe then you must be mentally ill. That person was also a simpleton and devoid of any real awareness of the dark corners of the human character. There is no doubt Poe was tortured man, an eccentric man and just maybe towards the end of his life mentally ill due to disease. No one knows for sure. His works are an expedition into love and loss, grief and insanity. They smite our emotions so hard because the human spirit is largely enveloped in feelings of sadness, rage, longing and feeling out of place. We may not perceive these things every second of everyday but they are there occasionally and they are very real for us. You cannot gaze upon the line “And all I loved, I loved alone” and not feel your heart fracture just a little, not because of the simple cluster of words but because we know all too well what he means! We feel it so deeply! That’s a truly great poet! A great poet deserves great homage, a series bridging many artistic journeys through some of the most adored compositions in Poe’s collection, a chance to create our own visions and build so much more on what he gave us.

 

"The Masque of the Red Death “is a short story by Edgar Allan Poe. The story follows Prince Prospero's attempts to avoid a dangerous plague, known as the Red Death. He, along with many other wealthy nobles, host a masquerade ball within seven rooms, each decorated with a different color. Prospero and 1,000 other nobles have taken refuge in this walled abbey to escape the Red Death, a terrible plague with gruesome symptoms that has swept over the land. Victims are overcome by "sharp pains", "sudden dizziness", and die within half an hour. Prospero and his court are indifferent to the sufferings of the population at large; they intend to await the end of the plague in luxury and safety behind the walls of their secure refuge, having welded the doors shut. At the chiming of midnight, the revelers and Prospero notice a figure in a dark, blood-splattered robe resembling a funeral shroud. The figure's mask resembles the rigid face of a corpse and exhibits the traits of the Red Death. When the figure turns to face him, the Prince lets out a sharp cry and falls dead... Only then do we realize the figure is the Red Death itself, and all of the guests contract and succumb to the disease. The final line of the story sums it up, "And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all".

 

There was absolutely no room for error getting this shot at Dillon Falls this morning. I was standing in the water on the edge of the precipice you see in the photo, with a pitch of 76.5° and a 40 foot drop over the edge to the raging Class 5 rapids below. But. Worth the shot.

 

-30-

 

Press 'F' on your keypad if you like this photo. © All rights reserved. Please do not use or repost images, sole property of Thuncher Photography.

Vienna Baroque

Doris Binder

 

The center of Baroque art was undisputable Vienna, as a special promoter appeared the Emperor Charles VI., under whose reign not only the Karlskirche was built, but also numerous buildings have been newly planned or built. The passion for building of the High Baroque is not only founded by the destructions of the Turks, but also has its causes in the backward economic structure and its lack of production plants. Whether nobleman, cleric or commoner, all those with sufficient capital put it rather in construction funds into practice than not make use of it. Responsible for this was a deep distrust to the imperial fiscal policy and concern about the currency and a possible bankruptcy.

The Baroque emerged within the civil peace (*) Burgfrieden) of the city of Vienna, had at the beginning of the High Baroque era still dominated religious buildings, so the cityscape changed in just four decades. Vienna was transformed into a "palace city", by the year 1740, the number of pleasure palaces, gardens and belvederes had doubled. The Baroque style, which by crown, church and nobility was forced upon the citizens, is considered of Felix Czeike as "authority art". The existing social gap should be camouflaged by the rubberneck culture in festivities, receptions and parades.

 

*) Burgfrieden (The term truce or Castle peace referred to a jurisdiction in the Middle Ages around a castle, in which feuds, so hostilities of private individuals among themselves, under penalty of ostracism were banned. Today the term is mainly used in a figurative sense.

 

Due to the return of Fischer von Erlach to Vienna in 1686 and a decade later, Lukas von Hildebrandt, the primacy of the Italians in architecture was broken and the victory parade of Austrian Baroque began. The connection between the spiritual and secular powers found its mode of expression in the Baroque, which the appearance of the city of Vienna should characterize in a decisive manner.

 

Construction of Charles Church

The Karlskirche was built by Emperor Charles VI. commemorating the plague saint, Charles Borromeo. In 1713 the plague raged in Vienna and claimed about 8,000 human lives, in February 1714 the plague disappeared and as a sign of gratitude was began with the construction of the church, this should become the most important religious building of Vienna in the 18th century.

In a contest was decided on the builder - participants were Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach, Johann Lukas von Hildebrandt and Ferdinando Galli-Bibienas. As winner emerged the famous architect Johann Bernhard Fischer von Erlach, he died in 1723 and did not live to the achievement of the Church. The supervision was transferred to the imperial court architect Anton Erhard Martinelli, as Fischer von Erlach died, his son, Joseph Emmanuel, finished his work. On 28 October 1737 St. Charles Church was solemnly by the Archbishop of Vienna, Cardinal Sigismund Count Kollowitz, inaugurated. The spiritual care ceded Emperor Karl VI. to the chivalric Order of the Cross with the Red Star, since 1783 is the Karlskirche imperial patronage parish.

The church at that time lay still behind the regulated river Wien (Wienfluss) and in the open field. The directed towards the city face side of the Charles Church, which stood on the edge of the suburb of Wieden, was target point of a line of sight the Hofburg and St. Charles Church in the sense of a "via triumphalis" connecting. On the temple-like front building of the Karlskirche the dedication inscription is clearly visible "Vota mea Reddam in conspectu timentium Deum" - "I will fulfill my vow before those who fear God."

Already during the construction by Fischer von Erlach (senior), there were several project phases, three of which have been preserved:

 

1. Medaillon by Daniel Warou for the groundbreaking ceremony

2. Fore stitches in Fischer's draft of a historical architecture 1721

3. Viennese view of work by Klein and Pfeffel 1722 (1724)

 

Due to the death of Fischer von Erlach, occured recent changes made by his son, Joseph Emmanuel most of all being concerned the dome (much higher and steeper), the priest choir (omitted) and the interior (simpler). The entire project took a total of 21 years and the costs amounted to 304 045 guilders and 22 ¼ cruisers. The construction costs were shouldered by all crown lands of the Empire, but also Spain, Milan and the Netherlands had to make a contribution.

The Karlskirche is the most important Baroque building of the city and represents the most convincing the so-called Empire style in which for the last time an empire awareness in the architecture of the capital of the Holy Roman Empire after the victorious ended wars against the Turks and the French was expressed.

Symbolism of the Karlskirche

The Karlskirche consists of a central rotunda with a dome, preceded by a column structure like a Greek temple, of two high pillars illustrated on the model of Trajan's Column in Rome and of two lateral gate pavilions. The illustrated columns represent Charles VI. as a wise and strong secular ruler, the two great pillars were created by Marder and Matielli. The columns are crowned by golden eagles, symbolizing the two virtues of the Emperor - fortitudo (bravery) and constantia (resistance). The two pillars are evocative of the two pillars before the temple in Jerusalem - Jachin and Boaz. However, the illustration of the two columns does not match the model of the Trajan columns in Rome, portraying war deeds, but these tell the life story of St. Borromeo. In the front view of the Karlskirche a wide range of different symbols become one whole - the Roman emperors Trajan and Augustus, the Temple of Solomon, St. Peter's Church in Rome, Hagia Sophia, Charlemagne and the Empire of Charles V. - through the skillfully used symbols should be shown the claim of the house of Habsburg to the European domination.

The plan view of the church is, as in baroque typical, ellipsoid. In the interior of the Karlskirche the great Baroque sculpture is immediately noticeable, representing St. Borromeo. At the base the four Latin Fathers of the Church are depicted. The interior of the Karlskirche is dominated by the tremendous fresco in the oval dome room, it was created by the eminent Baroque painter Johann Michael Rottmayr between 1725-1730. The fresco shows the Mother of God representing the intercession of the patron Saint of the Church to help head off the plague, surrounded is the scene by the cardinal virtues (faith, hope and love). In the left entrance wing is situated the tomb for the Austrian poet Heinrich Joseph von Collin (17771-1811).

Inside the St. Charles Church, there is a museum where the most valuable pieces are exhibited.

These include: the vestments of St. Borromeo, a reliquary of gold and silver - a donation of Emperor Charles VI. and a rococo monstrance (1760) containing a drop of blood of the saint. Thomas Aquinas.

Even the image of the architect Fischer von Erlach, painted by Jacob von Schuppen, is one of the church treasures.

The iconographic program of the Charles Church was written by Carl Gustav Haerus, by this the Saint Charles Borromeo should be connected to the imperial founder.

www.univie.ac.at/hypertextcreator/ferstel/site/browse.php...

 

The Hall of Names at Yad Vashem, the Holocaust history museum in Jerusalem is the Jewish People’s memorial to each and every Jew who perished in the Holocaust – a place where they may be commemorated for generations to come.

The main circular hall houses the extensive collection of “Pages of Testimony” – short biographies of each Holocaust victim. Over two million Pages are stored in the circular repository around the outer edge of the Hall, with room for six million in all.

The ceiling of the Hall is composed of a ten-meter high cone reaching skywards, displaying 600 photographs and fragments of Pages of Testimony. This exhibit represents a fraction of the murdered six million men, women and children from the diverse Jewish world destroyed by the Nazis and their accomplices. The victims’ portraits are reflected in water at the base of an opposing cone carved out of the mountain’s bedrock.

At the far end of the Hall is a glass screen onto which Pages of Testimony are projected. From here one may enter a computer center and search the Central Database of Shoah Victims’ Names, with the assistance of the Hall of Names staff. The Center also offers blank Pages of Testimony and survivor registration forms.

 

Best to be viewed in large size format

All rights reserved. Copyright 2013 © Jacques Freund. All my images are protected under international authors copyright laws and may not be downloaded, reproduced, copied, transmitted or manipulated without my written explicit permission. All rights reserved - Copyright 2013 © Jacques Freund d

Israel’s Worst Fire in Modern History Kills 40 and Rages On In Bio-reserve.

Over 42 Killed, Beit Oren Village Wiped Out...

 

"Some 40 people trapped in a bus are known to have been killed and 45 more reportedly injured as a massive fire on Israel’s Mount Carmel rages on. Believed to have been started by arsonists, the fire broke out in a cedar forest around noon near Isifiya, a Druize village. Although the winter season has officially started, the rains despite the prayers, have not come, leaving the forest vulnerable to attacks..."

 

www.greenprophet.com/2010/12/fire-israel-carmel/

 

www.greenprophet.com/2010/12/israel-fire-update-42-killed...

Young children, as this tale will show,

And mainly pretty girls with charm,

Do wrong and often come to harm

In letting those they do not know

Stay talking to them when they meet.

And if they don't do as the ought,

It's no surprise that some are caught

By wolves who take them off to eat.

 

I call them wolves, but you will find,

that some are not the savage kind,

Not howling, ravening or raging;

Their manners seem, instead, engaging,

They're softly spoken and discreet.

Young ladies whom they talk to on the street

They follow to their homes and through the hall,

And upstairs to their rooms, when they're there

They're not as friendly as they might appear:

These are the most dangerous wolves of all.

 

Charles Perrault.

 

Part of my first shoot from my Final Major Project. I've gone for the theme of Red Riding Hood. This photo is the basic Red Riding Hood shot, the other have a sexual predatory theme to them.

Plage de Pentrez (in English: "Pentrez Beach") with houses near the village of Saint-Nic, Brittany, France

 

Some background information:

 

Saint-Nic is a little coastal village in the Breton department of Finistère with about 770 residents. It is nestled in the Bay of Douarnenez, although its village centre is located about two km (1.2 miles) east of the Atlantic coast. The commune is also situated at the southwestern edge of Ménez-Hom, an extinct volcano with a height of 330 metres above sea level.

 

The area around Saint-Nic was already inhabited in prehistoric times. Several menhirs and dolmen bear witness to it. Ménez-Hom used to be the holy mountain of the local Celts. They also inflamed bonfires on its peak as warnings of foreign invaders. Today archaeologists still search for the remains of a Celtic-Roman temple that is believed to have been erected at the slopes of Ménez-Hom.

 

In 1913, the farmer Jean Labat found the bronze head of a Celtic-Roman deity. The head was covered with a helmet with a goose standing up on its top. Therefore it is assumed that the figurine depicted the Celitc deity Brigid. Because the farmer was riveted by his own find, he continued searching for relics and indeed, fifteen years later found the figurine’s body. Today the figurine of Brigid is on display in the museum of Brittany in the city of Rennes.

 

According to an old legend, the mortal remains of the myth-enshrouded king Mar’ch are buried at the foot of Ménez-Hom. It is said that Mar’ch, who had the crest and the ears of a horse, was a great womaniser. His activities were so scandalising that God wanted to let him rot in hell after his death. But when Mar’ch had a chapel built for Blessed Virigin Mary at the foot of Ménez-Hom, God reduced his penalty: March’s soul didn’t have to go to hell after he had died, but was buried together with his mortal remains. God dictated that March’s soul could not ascend from his grave into heaven before one could see the steepletop of the chapel of the Virgin Mary from his grave mound. To make March’s grave mound grow higher and higher, hikers and paragliders at Ménez-Hom keep throwing little stones from above on his grave at the foot of the hill.

 

But as the grave wasn’t built within sight of the chapel, but on the opposite side of Ménez-Hom, the poor king will most likely still have to wait for quite a long time until his soul will be able to ascend into heaven.

 

Saint-Nic derives its name from the Breton Saint Maeoc, who is also known as Saint Nic. In the 6th century, he lived as an ascetic in a forest near the little town of Coëtmieux in the Breton department of Cotes d'Armor. Not much is known about him, but legend has it that he was an evangelist and a scholar of Saint Samson of Dol, who is counted among the seven founder saints of Brittany.

 

Saint-Nicaise, the parish church of Saint-Nic, was built in the 16th century. At that time, the people of Saint-Nic used to make a living from husbandry and the production of linen. By doing that they achieved modest affluence, but unfortunately in 1789, French Revolution put a stop to it. Because of new laws and tributes in the form of saddle horses, oats and also church bells, the rural population in many parts of France hardly had enough to sustain life. In 1791, a bad harvest capped it all.

 

In 1793, the expropriation of the Catholic Church and the dismissal of many clerics led to a mass rebellion, where the bottled-up rage of the rural population erupted. Churchly properties were sold to the urban property-owning bourgeoisie by the First Republic of France, while the former rural tenants got nothing. This fact led to the so-called War in the Vendée, whereby many western French villages lost 25 to 35 per cent of their population.

 

Although Saint-Nic was heavily affected by this rebellion that was quelled in the first instance, the village overcame all difficulties in the 19th and 20th centuries. Today Saint-Nic is a rather wealthy rural community, whose residents make a living from farming and room letting to the numerous visitors, who come here to enjoy the beauty of the Breton landscape and seascape.

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