new icn messageflickr-free-ic3d pan white
View allAll Photos Tagged hand+painted+sea+glass

Visit me on Facebook

 

The sun already faded away behind the horizon when I set up the tripod right behind the camper in Alesund, Norway.

Press the trigger, hold a cigarette in one hand, a glass of wine in the other and let the camera soak in the last light of the day, covering the sea in a blue blanket of pure calmess…

 

www.youtube.com/watch?v=0ub_vvLCiw0&feature=em-upload... - Holy Other, "Know Where" - I do appreciate those of you who take the time to read this. It is long, and our attention spans aren't what they once were.

 

We had a storm on Halloween; a good one. Some snow, some sleet, lot’s of wind. 60 – 70 mph winds coming out of the north, blowing straight down the 300+ mile length of Lake Michigan. On the east and west coasts, those are low-end hurricane/typhoon wind speeds. For us in Chicago, these are as good as it gets. Daytime temps were in the 40’s; with the wind chills it felt like the 20’s, a far cry from our normal 55 - 64 degrees for Halloween.

 

When the wind blows from the north, it can push our southern lake water level up two to four feet. That doesn’t sound like much, but our shoreline waters here are shallow, 20 feet on average. That's not deep enough to make tall waves; the extra water transfer from up north helps. As is 4 – 6 foot waves get boating advisories. 8 - 10 footers are newsworthy. These Halloween monster waves were on all TV channels at once.

 

The waves reached up to 20-feet in height; that has happened only once before. To get 20-foot waves means some extraordinary, barely comprehensible energy is being created in the Lake. The top of the tower, the red light, is 20 – 24 feet above the normal water surface level. Normal depth here is 12 - 14 feet. There is a 30-foot wide, concrete seawall at the base of the tower that sits 8 – 10 feet above the water. I’ve never, not seen that platform. I've never seen it under water. I’ve never seen waves this high in my 64+ years of living here. Never.

 

For us, this mimicked the Sea. It was divine and extraordinary, deliciously wild, sublimely chaotic. Because the Lake is so shallow, our waves have no chance to develop a rhyme or rhythm to their movements. They swell and dip and break everywhere in tumultuous disarray; on shore as well as out into the Lake as far as the eye could see. You cannot time the waves or predict where they will crash so as to move back from the shoreline to avoid getting drenched and/or swept out to Sea (where it could be days, weeks or months before you are found - thus it is recommended you wear bright clothing for this; makes finding the body easier :-) ). It is dangerous to stand close to the water’s edge.

 

But how on earth can you not?

 

It’s said there are a hundred ways to die and, you should have no doubt, one or more of those 100 ways has your name in their hands (with a bit of a contest going as to who will get to you first). That being said, well, being swept away to die for ones photographic or video art, or for just plain and simple curiosity, or for the sheer giddiness and idiocy of being so close to something so grand, probably beats a bunch of the other ways that will surely come your way.

 

Of course, I am speaking for myself.

 

I could have resisted, but I choose not to. I suspected I was going to sacrifice a camera here. Water spray, rain and sleet were everywhere, and digital point-and-shoots aren't good bedfellows with water in any form. I only hoped to get some decent images before it said, “Argh, they got me boys, I’m a gonner,” and shut down operations, like the Terminator’s glowing red eye going dim and black when it went got crushed.

 

And digitals aren’t keen on being cold, and trying to focus with nothing to lock onto except smooth sky, clouds, water. Plus I really couldn’t see the viewer too well. All of their functions begin to slow to a crawl under these conditions - kinda' like us. Ah, to hell with it, wing it and just kept moving and shooting.

 

I was out for about 20 minutes and got 148 shots - time enough to get at least four or five good shots with cold-to-numb, cramped, claw-like fingers, I hoped, as well as to get really effing cold, stiff, and wet. I started rapid-fire sneezing; “a cold, the flu, pneumonia, Ebola,” I wondered (ah, the power of mass hysteria and panic).

 

Hey, I was not alone. A continuing parade of fifty or so people heading home from work roared into the parking lot by the Lake. So excited were they, some would jump out of their cars before they completely stopped. There was a palpable passion to look at the water, the waves, the sky, the sun and that big, `ol rainbow playing peek-a-boo over the waves with our collective inner child.

 

Most were wearing work clothes, or lightweight, mild autumn-day weather clothes. Most never saw the wave that got them. A thunderous, deep-throated “Whoomp” is all they heard, then a total body swoosh of water is what they felt. I do love those screams – a mixture of surprise and panic that reverberates up and down the lake shore: “SHIT! F*ck! Eeeek! God Damn! OMG! That’s COOOOLD!”

 

They’d get thoroughly drenched. Some didn't care, and stayed out - a child's sense of determination, exuberance and fool-hardiness. Others, looking like wet, defeated rats, would scamper and splash back to their cars as best they could with icy toes in bubbling-juicy socks in super-saturated, mushy shoes. (Did you know that when regular, leather, dress/work shoes get this wet, upon drying they morph into clogs? They do.)

 

Heaters on full blast, interior like a sauna, they’d drive off with completely fogged windows, fingers squeaking across the glass hoping for one last look back. It was the price of admission to experience this type of joy, feed their curiosity, display their nerve, and nurture their delight in seeing Nature do her thing up close and personal.

 

Not too bad a price to pay, I think - just gettin' cold and wet. At least they could tell their friends, “Hey I was there, in person. I got my pneumonia like a Man; I earned it. (achoo!)”

 

I was wearing the neoprene wading outfit I wear while wading as I fish in rivers, so I was well protected. Protected, but not invulnerable. I got mini –soaked. I think my underwear stayed dry - most of it, anyway – although even a little bit of a cold, wet butt makes for a long, itchy drive home.

 

148 shots later, the camera died. I was pretty much done too. I started my way back to the car, 100 yards of so away. I had to walk head long into that gale force wind to do so. It started sleeting, with bb sized pellets of ice whipping into my face at 60 to 70 mph. They stung like a thousand bees.

 

But I loved it. I laughed and smiled all the while in between my exclamations of ‘oouch, ow, shit, that hurts.” When I got back to the car I was wet, frozen, my face candy-apple red from the sleet, and I’d lost a camera.

 

Yes, I effing loved it.

 

It was an exquisite diversion to make on the drive home from work. And, I got four decent images out of it.

 

Texture courtesy Cleanzor.

 

If that little Canon Powershot does not survive, it will receive a dignified, respectful burial at Sea on the next full moon, right off the end of that pier. 39th St. Pier and Beach, 39th & Lake Shore Drive, Chicago.

 

  

The Hassan II Mosque or Grande Mosquée Hassan II is a mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. It is the largest mosque in

Morocco and Africa and the 7th largest in the world. Its minaret is the world's tallest at 210 metres (689 ft). Completed in 1993, it was designed by Michel Pinseau and built by Bouygues. The minaret is 60 stories high topped by a laser, the light from which is directed towards Mecca. The mosque stands on a promontory looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, the sea bed being visible through the glass floor of the building's hall. The walls are of hand-crafted marble and the roof is retractable. A maximum of 105,000 worshippers can gather together for prayer: 25,000 inside the mosque hall and another 80,000 on the mosque's outside grounds.

 

Source: Wikipedia

 

Camera: Canon Eos 6D

Lens: EF17-40mmF/4L-USM

Aperture: f/4.5

Focal Length: 17 mm

Shutter Speed: 1/100

ISO: 1000

Camera: Canon Eos 6D

Lens: EF17-40mmF/4L-USM

Aperture: f/11

Focal Length: 22 mm

Shutter Speed: 1/500

ISO: 160

 

The Hassan II Mosque or Grande Mosquée Hassan II is a mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. It is the largest mosque in Morocco and Africa and the 7th largest in the world. Its minaret is the world's tallest at 210 metres (689 ft). Completed in 1993, it was designed by Michel Pinseau and built by Bouygues. The minaret is 60 stories high topped by a laser, the light from which is directed towards Mecca. The mosque stands on a promontory looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, the sea bed being visible through the glass floor of the building's hall. The walls are of hand-crafted marble and the roof is retractable. A maximum of 105,000 worshippers can gather together for prayer: 25,000 inside the mosque hall and another 80,000 on the mosque's outside grounds.

 

Source: Wikipedia

Down to the beach

Down to the beach

On a sunny day we go

 

Beach bags packed with sun screen lotions

Hands rubbing people’s backs in slow motion

Glistening oily bodies radiating with sensation

 

Down to the beach

Down to the beach

Where a chilly sea breeze blows

 

Let’s have some fun

In the red-hot sun

 

Down to the beach

Only there the ladies reveal saucy behinds

Whenever the raging sun is still kind

 

Down to the beach

As never-ceasing waves play across the shores

People happily play dreading any rainy downpour

 

Down to the beach

Where young lovers closely nestle

As sand creatures cause the sand to bristle

Seagulls gliding in the air with screams and whistles

Kids picking up shells and building stormy sand castles

 

Down to the beach

Where mostly good vibes flow

Down to the beach

We go whilst there is still sun without snow

 

Take by Free spirit =)

Edited by ME !

Model meeeeeeeeeeeeeeee =P

Place : Jumeira beach ;P

This was at 6 in the morning loooool we had so much fun

Always find interesting things at the beach, stones and Sea glass are my number one priority, when I bring them home glass stays inside the house and stones around the pond.

Monday morning rush hour, July 11, 2011. 8:00am. - View On Black

 

One of those senses-pricking, kick-ass, turn-day-to-dark, summer storms blew in. It flung itself over the city – at about 70 mph - like a heavy, gray velour curtain being pulled over the skyline. Or like one of those 15-mile diameter spaceships casting its ominous shadow as it moves over the cityscape in the Will Smith movie, “Independence Day.”

 

Morning turned to dusk in five minutes. First the wind howls in and slams into your car like an aggressive linebacker stands up a running back, dead-stop, at the line of scrimmage. Instinctively, you throw up two hands to the steering wheel; hold tight or you get buffeted into an involuntary lane change. Trees sway, lean and tilt almost to the breaking point. Some pass that point: CRACK!

 

Projectiles slash across the road: leaves, tree limbs, umbrellas, hats, and empty (I hope to God) pop and beer cans, small, newspaper vending machines and the occasional, tiny, little-shit dogs on snapped leashes.

 

Then, the heavens erupt: a Mt. St. Helen’s explosion of water plummets down from the sky. This is not some morning tinkle-sprinkle, a namby-pamby rain, or a brisk summer shower, but the parted Red Sea collapsing in on itself after the Israelites made it through. Your car is hit with the force of a thousand water balloons gleefully thrown by one thousand kids.

 

Today, however, the tempest is oddly silent: there is no thunder, no lightening. Just incessant rain. It sounds as if you are under a waterfall. Sheets of it. Walls of it. Blinding rain. Cascading sideways. 100% humidity. You may as well be driving under water.

 

All you can see in front of you are tail lights, popping on and glowing red as drivers - blinded in seconds - hit those brakes with gusto. Our windshield wipers – even the best and the newest of ones – cannot provide a view past the end of your hood. Most of us neglect our wipers: they ain’t the newest, they are far from the best. We see even less.

 

Your speed drops; from 60 mph to 40 to 20 to 15 to just taking your right foot off the gas and drift. Who’s to your left? I dunno’. What's to the right? I dunno’. Stay in your lane.

 

Inexplicably, I pull out my camera and start shooting through the windshield; then out the driver’s side window. Perhaps "inexplicable" is an excuse word: "creatively reckless" might be more apt.

 

The cabbie in the lane next to me sees me doing this.

 

“WTF” can be easily read on the lips, even by those who don’t read lips. He slows down to let the idiot pass him up. I guess that idiot would be me.

 

You pass under a viaduct and, VOILA’, instant clarity and normal vision. You pass out the other side and it’s as if buckets of water, including the buckets, slam into the windshield. Your wipers sound as if they might fly off either side of the car at any second: whap-whap, whap-whap! whap-whap!

 

It is, however, an oddly, danceable, uptempo, techno/house-beat. :-)

 

It could be worse, if there was hail. Pea sized; marble sized, charcoal briquette sized; golf ball sized. They look and sound like icy-meteorites slamming into car hoods, roofs, windshields, side glass and rear windows and doors. I expected this at any moment, but we are spared this - this time.

 

Heaven help me – but I do love this. It's just a slight shrug of nature's shoulder. This isn't a "natural disaster" or "a weather emergency." Our reactions to it are extreme and panicky. Cars are swerving, hydroplaning, people pulling off the road, and I’m trying to capture it on camera, and drive “responsibly.” Managed both without death or destruction to anyone or anything, thank you. I ain’t no beginner at this.

 

Turned the radio way down. Only want to hear the sounds of storm. Human sounds are pitiable in comparison to those of nature (think the sound a hamster makes if you step on its big toe). Opened my window a bit, so the incredible smell of rain-fresh air and feel of water spray could baptize me (I’m in need of a little baptizing of late – make that by water, I’ve just had the fire. I need the cool mists of Heaven to soothe Hell-fire’s, skin-crisping damnation).

 

Even with the window just open a bit, water will not be denied entry. It get’s the left side of me all…sensuously-moist-to-deeply-saturated in seconds. Womb wet. But, it’s just water: fresh, fresh, clean storm water.

 

Sinners and converts should be baptized in the drama of wind-driven rainstorms when survival is in question, not dipped – holding one's nose - in the placid waters of slow-drifting rivers or pools. I think they'd take their pieties a bit more seriously with a tad bit of what Noah got in evidence.

 

I shot about 60 images over the course of five miles, 20 minutes – a bit of a chore with a slow-to-recycle, focuses-wherever-the-hell-it-wants, point-and-shoot (all while dodging other cars and trying to time the shots to go off in-between those whap-whap movements of the wipers).

 

Then, the rains slow down, down, down to an old-man-with-prostate-issues tinkle. Just the darkness of the sky presses overhead. In five minutes the sun began peeking through the cloud cover in spots: light shafts from God and Heaven, or "God's Fingers." It is gorgeous. Even if you don’t believe, for a moment, you believe.

 

People look up, smile, relax, and start to drive normally again.

 

Then the clouds re-solidified, strangling closed the light shafts of heavenly salvation from the tempest, and the wall of rain and cyclone winds hit again. Just to let us know, I think, that the power of all of this is not ours to control: not by hand, machine nor prayer.

 

I swear to God. I love it.

 

Textures by: Pareeerica, skeletalmess, flypaper, delaney dean, lost name TTV.

The Hassan II Mosque or Grande Mosquée Hassan II is a mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. It is the largest mosque in

Morocco and Africa and the 7th largest in the world. Its minaret is the world's tallest at 210 metres (689 ft). Completed in 1993, it was designed by Michel Pinseau and built by Bouygues. The minaret is 60 stories high topped by a laser, the light from which is directed towards Mecca. The mosque stands on a promontory looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, the sea bed being visible through the glass floor of the building's hall. The walls are of hand-crafted marble and the roof is retractable. A maximum of 105,000 worshippers can gather together for prayer: 25,000 inside the mosque hall and another 80,000 on the mosque's outside grounds.

 

Source: Wikipedia

 

Camera: Canon Eos 6D

Lens: EF17-40mmF/4L-USM

Aperture: f/4.5

Focal Length: 17 mm

Shutter Speed: 1/100

ISO: 1000

This is just an addition to yesterday's post for my 365 which I took prior to going anywhere or doing anything and which, in retrospect, was pretty rubbish especially as I took it when I was sad and my day improved considerably. That's a lesson in learning to have patience right there!

 

So, quick snaps, noisy, blurry and perfectly weather filled to show that my ability to get the tide times right is quite....appalling. I do have an app...it just didn't have the two places I wanted to go listed. "So why not just google them Emily?" Well if I'd have thought of that yesterday I would have, but for some reason I had a brain freeze and didn't think about that til this morning. :relaxed:

 

So I wanted to call this "In out, in out, shake it all about" but the first is South Cave near Flamborough where the tide was out. And the second Hornsea where the sea was in. I didn't want to mislead and swap them round, and it's a good excuse for a rubbish title. And there was no shaking it all about. Just so you know.

 

Anyway I got neither shot I'd hoped for yesterday but I did get to see the sea, breathe in some fresh air and eat fish & chips. So it was worth it. I also visited a beach I'd never been to before and am hoping one of those shots might be worth posting later. And I got some awesome wave action at Hornsea. And I don't mean "hands in the air like you just don't care". I mean proper over the sides of the wall run away screaming with wave residue on your glasses. It was fantastic!! (And I almost never say awesome.)

 

As for the borders on this, it's not an entry into the border debate, it was just the only way to separate the two snapshots. And I quite like it.

 

Day 150a, done...on the morning of Day 151. Its iPhone and quick and in and out or out and in and I love it! And yes I see a face in the clouds and groyne. Or maybe it's just me ;-)

(Please view in large -- the details are really lovely.)

 

Rotting snow on our front yard, lit by bright morning sunshine, had become an irresistible blanket of black diamonds.

 

However, when I looked closer, I could see long ridges of these crystalline structures.

 

I knew I could catch a little bokeh with my F/1.8 bokeh lens, but I wasn't quite sure of the rest of the composition.

 

Only once I cropped this in my PP program did I find this wondrous glass menagerie.

 

At first, I had introduced a topaz glow to this creation, but my opinionated 13-year grandson told me that it looked like a splash of "pee." After rolling around laughing, I relented, and exchanged the yellow tones for a touch of blue.

 

Everyone saw something different in these ice formations, but to me they look like an old Star Trek diorama, complete with a bug-eyed monster toting a ray gun.

 

My grandson, on the other hand, insists this delicate crystal image is just a fish on a fork. With a broken back.

 

Gotta love those grandkids. This one is for you, Perrin!

 

Love you always.

Nana

Camera: Canon Eos 6D

Lens: EF17-40mmF/4L-USM

Aperture: f/8.0

Focal Length: 40 mm

Shutter Speed: 1/100

ISO: 100

 

The Hassan II Mosque or Grande Mosquée Hassan II is a mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. It is the largest mosque in Morocco and Africa and the 7th largest in the world. Its minaret is the world's tallest at 210 metres (689 ft). Completed in 1993, it was designed by Michel Pinseau and built by Bouygues. The minaret is 60 stories high topped by a laser, the light from which is directed towards Mecca. The mosque stands on a promontory looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, the sea bed being visible through the glass floor of the building's hall. The walls are of hand-crafted marble and the roof is retractable. A maximum of 105,000 worshippers can gather together for prayer: 25,000 inside the mosque hall and another 80,000 on the mosque's outside grounds.

 

Source: Wikipedia

The first Point Arena Lighthouse was constructed in 1870. Its brick and mortar tower featured ornate iron balcony supports and a large Keeper residence with enough space to house several families. In April of 1906, a devastating earthquake struck the tower. Damage from the trembler occurred all along the San Andreas Fault, which runs very close to Point Arena. In the town itself, many buildings were reduced to rubble, and at the Light Station, the Keeper’s residence and Lighthouse were damaged so severely that they were rendered condemned, and ultimately torn down.

 

The United States Lighthouse Service contracted with a San Francisco based company to build a new lighthouse here to withstand any future earthquakes. The company built factory smokestacks, which accounts for the final design for the new Point Arena Lighthouse. The new design featured steel reinforcement rods encased in concrete, and was the first lighthouse to be built in this manner.

 

The new Lighthouse began operation in 1908, nearly 18 months after the quake. It stands 115 feet tall, and features a 1st Order Fresnel Lens, over six feet in diameter and weighing more than six tons. The lens is made up of 666 hand-ground glass prisms all focused toward three sets of double bulls eyes. It is these bulls eyes that gave the Point Arena Lighthouse its unique “light signature” of two flashes every six seconds. This incredible optic, that holds an appraised value of over $3.5 million, is set in solid brass framework, built in France.

 

Prior to the introduction of electricity, the lens was rotated by a clockwork mechanism. The Keepers, or “wickies” as they were called, had to hand crank a 160 pound weight up the center shaft of the lighthouse every 75 minutes to keep the lens turning. Light was produced by a “Funks” hydraulic oil lamp, that needed to be refueled every four hours, and whose wicks would have to be trimmed regularly. Later, two 1,000 watt electric lamps were installed to replace the oil lamp, and a 1/8 horsepower electric motor was installed to replace the clockworks.

 

In 1978, the fog signal at the station was silenced, and a bell buoy was placed nearby. June of 1977 brought the installation of an automated aircraft-type beacon on the balcony tower, and the historic 1st Order Fresnel Lens was discontinued. The 400 pound aircraft beacon was later replaced by a 40 pound modern rotating light that incorporates the Fresnel principles for the efficient projection of light. This was replaced in 2015 by an 8 tier VLB-44 LED array . In addition, a radio beacon, with a 50 mile signal that originates from the station, also assists mariners. The original oil lamp was visible for approximately 18 miles, the 1st Order Fresnel Lens for 21.5 nautical miles, the rotating light could be seen for 19 nautical miles and the current VLB-44 is visible from up to 14 nautical miles.

 

Source: pointarenalighthouse.com/about/lighthouse-history/

When the anger moves in and the light becomes magical, the rain begins to make its descent as it hammers the pavement. We run for the shelter of the car. Heads are bowed in mimed respect to nature, steps are long and fast and hands are linked. Inside the windows are blurred as facades of glass bottomed rivers. A woolen head rests upon my shoulder and the silence is nice.

 

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

 

If you wish to view more of my work please visit my website www.jakemetzgerphotography.com

 

or www.facebok.com/jakemetzgerphotography

gilliangalicia.wordpress.com/2017/03/20/dive-dive-diner/

top – The Annex, Sweater Vest Blue (The Attic Sept 2015)

shorts – Maitreya, High Waisted Shorts Rolled, fatpack

shoes – Slipper, Zoie Sneakers, Black

glasses – [meisu] Oli Glasses

camera – Tee*fy Vintage Brownie Camera, c. 2013

hair – no.match, NO_COMMENT, group gift (Jan. 2016)

ring – Maxi Gossamer, Roho, Gold/Silver, small

piercing – Angelle Nose Ring 10mm Silver, on SL Marketplace

nails – Kosh, Opaque Gloss Fingernails, SLink applier, c. 2014

skin applier – Lara Hurley, mesh head – Lelutka Simone Bento 2.6, mesh body – Maitreya Lara 3.5, hands – SLink AvEnhance DYNAMIC

location – PSY CITY SEA SIDE Diner

beauty products collection with peach flowers on white wooden; Shutterstock ID 618422612; PO: 25pack; Job: ʢ̩; Client: tt; Other: aa

-- inspired by the title of a novel by Karen Jane Fowler

 

And then there's -- “In the end, we self-perceiving, self-inventing, locked-in mirages are little miracles of self-reference.”

{ Douglas R. Hofstadter }

I Am a Strange Loop

 

This image is the header of my new blog -

Suburban Halfling in Virtual Paradise

 

Location: Home

Mindwalker Beach

 

Some details include:

-Body, hands and feet by The Mesh Body Project (free in beta)

Skin on my head - Izzie's

-Hair by Truth

-Outfit by Tee*fy

-Jewelry by Maxi Gossamer

-Glasses by December

-Awesome sauce new boat sand box by BoOgErS for FLF

-Gardening gnome- Mutresse

-Lotus head fish and sea monster by +Half-Deer+

Sand castle - Cheeky Pea

 

The Deserted House

Written by Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

 

“There's no smoke in the chimney,

And the rain beats on the floor;

There's no glass in the window,

There's no wood in the door;

The heather grows behind the house,

And the sand lies before.

 

No hand hath trained the ivy,

The walls are grey and bare;

The boats upon the sea sail by,

Nor ever tarry there.

No beast of the field comes nigh,

Nor any bird of the air.”

 

(The above snap is dedicated to someone who is the inspiration of my photography)

 

The sky that you see in this image is exactly how it looked at the time. It was very moody with this gorgeous golden tone.

Image was shot hand held with my Panasonic LX5 camera through a thick glass window.

Thank you to anyone who takes the time to leave me any comments.

 

I've been tagged by Selvin so here are 16 fairly mundane things about me (I'm not very interesting...really!!)

 

1. I've always been shy and quite and at school would never put up my hand even if I knew what the answer was.

 

2. My favourite food is probably cheese –a strong flavoured blue cheese mmm…

 

3. I am a beekeepers daughter but am allergic to beestings (as are my mother and sister)

 

4. As well as keeping bees we also had a small farm and my parents grew just about everything we ate (or it least it seemed that way when I was young).

 

5. I love marmite and lettuce sandwiches (and marmite and cheese).

 

6. I don’t like Coke or any similar cola drinks, I don’t think I’ve ever managed to drink even a glass full.

 

7. I have never learned how to drive…although I do know the rudiments and could if I had to.

 

8. Apart from the news I don’t watch much TV (I seem to spend all my time on the computer instead)

 

9. Although I’m an avid reader I have a very short-term memory when it comes to books. Ask me about a book I read a couple of weeks ago and apart from the basic plot I probably couldn’t tell you much about it –sad really

 

10. The last book I read was “The Road” by Cormac McCarthy (which I loved)

 

11. I’ve never been out of New Zealand and don’t even have a passport; hopefully this will change in the not too distant future.

 

12. I went to boarding school for 5 years, I hated it to start with but am glad I went both for the friendships I made and the opportunities it gave me.

 

13. When I’m doing one of my photo “creations” I almost never have an idea in mind until I start “playing”.

 

14. I love the beach but strangely enough have never been swimming in the sea.

 

15. My parents nickname for me when I was a child was “mini” and I’m still called that by them sometimes :-)

 

16. I’ve kept a diary almost continually since I was about 10, I still have almost all of them too; nowadays it’s really just a factual record but the earlier ones are fun (if embarrassing) to read.

 

17 . Finally.....I'll be away for the next couple of weeks -a long overdue holiday...can't wait!

 

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

In turn my victims are....

Paul

Lydia

Katherine

Micky

Ellen

   

Camera: Canon Eos 6D

Lens: EF17-40mmF/4L-USM

Aperture: f/4.5

Focal Length: 29 mm

Shutter Speed: 1/100

ISO: 3200

 

The Hassan II Mosque or Grande Mosquée Hassan II is a mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. It is the largest mosque in Morocco and Africa and the 7th largest in the world. Its minaret is the world's tallest at 210 metres (689 ft). Completed in 1993, it was designed by Michel Pinseau and built by Bouygues. The minaret is 60 stories high topped by a laser, the light from which is directed towards Mecca. The mosque stands on a promontory looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, the sea bed being visible through the glass floor of the building's hall. The walls are of hand-crafted marble and the roof is retractable. A maximum of 105,000 worshippers can gather together for prayer: 25,000 inside the mosque hall and another 80,000 on the mosque's outside grounds.

 

Source: Wikipedia

www.youtube.com/watch?v=XGgmNBITa3Q&list=PLECD2292663...

 

Your smile beams like sunlight on a gull's wing

And the leaves dance and play after you.

Take my hand and hold it as you would a flower.

Take care with my heart, oh darling, she's made of glass.

Your eyes feel like silence resting on me

And the birds cease to sing when you rise.

Ride easy your fairy stallion you have mounted.

Take care how you fly, my precious, you might fall down.

In the pastel skies the sunset I have wandered

With my eyes and ears and heart strained to the full,

I know I tasted the essence in the few days.

Take care who you love, my precious, he might not know.

 

Chinon CX+Expired Film+alchermes+vinegar+balsamic vinegar+greek alcool (raki)

The Lighthouse is situated on the closest point of land to the Hawaiian Islands in the Continental United States.

Built in 1908 the lighthouse stands 115 feet tall, and features a 1st Order Fresnel Lens, over six feet in diameter and weighing more than six tons. The lens is made up of 666 hand-ground glass prisms all focused toward three sets of double bulls eyes.

We live in a blind town, full of deaf people, and mute wishes.

 

You try to see, see past all the lies they write on your forehead while you sleep.

I try to scream, scream past pictures of death and of our useless futures they draw down my arms when you look away.

Who we want to be tries to listen, listen to the one voice that whispers a bit of truth, a bit of hope, before it’s silenced by their knives of depressions and teeth of hate.

 

The way you hold my hand when you sense I’m scared ceases to comfort me because I spend too many hours crying on the cold floor now, trying to find reason.

Your eyes still look bloodshot, even when I stroke your arm ─ you’ve lost that shine, they’ve polished it away with their lies.

The cuts around your eyes worry me and you ask me why I keep coming home with bruises on my thighs.

 

“Why don’t you stop trusting your pretentious lies?” reads the blood they wipe on our door.

“Maybe you’ll someday plummet through your cold heart of narcissism and see” I scroll back in bruises and shards of glass.

"Hope is just a word, nothing achievable or fathomable or real”

I snicker “Someday you’ll see the other side but be too aesthetically conceited to rip through the bloody fabric, you monsters”

 

Darling, today we both truly managed to lose it, but it’s okay because it was bound to happen.

You squeeze my elbow and tell me maybe all of our breaths were fictive.

I say how serendipitous would that be?

You laugh, that dry cough of false humor which is all we can muster anymore, and say very.

 

“We’ll never be able to leave this place” I whimper through my tongues of false hope when you turn your back.

But you just pack our bags.

 

You blindfold me with an admiration and desire for reality and I follow you to the only certainty we know in this town.

The ocean roars, the salt air licks my face while you kiss my hand.

You tie a brick to both our feet and squeeze my hand one last time here.

“We’re going to a better place – there’s got to be something beyond here, I swear”

 

I hold my breath as you jump into the water and pull me in with you.

I wail as our futile bodies plummet into the sea below because

Eating my words never tasted so bittersweet.

  

. . . .

    

This lovely lady is always such an inspiration.

Camera: Canon Eos 6D

Lens: EF17-40mmF/4L-USM

Aperture: f/22.0

Focal Length: 27 mm

Shutter Speed: 1/100

ISO: 100

 

The Hassan II Mosque or Grande Mosquée Hassan II is a mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. It is the largest mosque in

Morocco and Africa and the 7th largest in the world. Its minaret is the world's tallest at 210 metres (689 ft). Completed in 1993, it was designed by Michel Pinseau and built by Bouygues. The minaret is 60 stories high topped by a laser, the light from which is directed towards Mecca. The mosque stands on a promontory looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, the sea bed being visible through the glass floor of the building's hall. The walls are of hand-crafted marble and the roof is retractable. A maximum of 105,000 worshippers can gather together for prayer: 25,000 inside the mosque hall and another 80,000 on the mosque's outside grounds.

 

Source: Wikipedia

Martha's Vineyard lends itself to good feelings that a "Great Day" is at hand. Working there short term begs that you stay a day or for yourself. Far be it for me not to take the hint and catch lunch by the bay. Meeting locals there is easy as is the conversations over a glass of wine. If you ever get a chance to visit the area, please go. Ask locals where to go with camera in hand. Nice name for a vessel if you can see it on the side.

 

View in Black

"Subiéndose al tren", 2017

Técnica mixta sobre papel, 42x42 cm

 

Me gusta observar el paso de la vida desde el mirador de un tren, dejando que la velocidad trace pinceladas sueltas en el cristal de sus ventanas. Apenas la vista es capaz de reconocer la solitaria silueta de un edificio contra el llano, unos viejos carteles deslucidos por la intemperie, o la sinuosa estela de una carretera lejana, que éstos se desvanecen en una sombra escurridiza, como tímidos fantasmas ante una presencia que les perturba.

 

Dicen que una línea es una sucesión de puntos y quizás la vida se pueda entender también como una hilera de momentos aislados, efímeros, llenos de significado para nosotros, eslabones de una cadena que une nuestro pasado con el presente. Pero a menudo, sin embargo, nuestra propia biografía se caracteriza por sus contornos borrosos como si, al fraguar nuestro azar, la mano de un dios anónimo hubiera vacilado de repente, consciente de la trascendencia de su tarea.

 

A su manera, los trenes nos regalan también una poderosa imagen metafórica. A veces tememos preguntarnos las ocasiones que dejamos pasar por miedo al fracaso, o por no quebrar las reglas de conducta. A menudo queremos agradar, anteponiendo la opinión ajena sobre la propia, y deseamos mantenernos en la comodidad de la guarida, para no percibir la estrechez de una celda que en el fondo nos oprime. Olvidamos que el tiempo es sólo un puñado de arena deslizándose entre unas manos, las nuestras, cada vez más vacías.

 

Los pájaros nacidos en una jaula creen que volar es una enfermedad, dijo una vez Alejandro Jodorovsky. De ser así, bendita sea esa locura que tacha las directrices impuestas, benditos sean los necios que no se pliegan a la dictadura de la resignación. Somos demasiado mayores para ignorar que no existen certezas eternas, ni fórmulas infalibles. Hemos descubierto con los años que podemos elegir a nuestros compañeros de camino o emprender la travesía orgullosamente solos. Pero sólo tenemos una oportunidad, una única y maravillosa vida, durante la cual aprender de los errores para enmendarse. Tengo aún fe que mientras exista el aquí y el ahora no es demasiado tarde, que, si vuelve a detenerse el tren ante nosotros, aceptaremos la promesa de viaje que nos ofrece.

   

---------

  

“Getting on the train", 2017

Mixed Media on paper, 42x42 cm

 

I like to observe the passage of life from the viewpoint of a train, letting the speed to trace loose brushstrokes on the glass of its windows. Barely the sight is able to recognise the lonely shape of a building against the plain, some old billboards dimmed by the weathering, or the sinous trail of a distant road, that they fade into an elusive shade, like shy spectres in front of a presence that disturbes them.

 

They say that a line is a succession of points and perhaps life could also be understood as a string of ephemeral, isolated moments, full of meaning for us, links of a chain that connects our past with the present. But often, however, our own biography is characterized by its blurred outlines as if, forging our fate, the hand of an anonymous God had suddenly hesitated, aware of the transcende of his task.

 

In their own way, trains also give us a powerful and metaphorical image. Sometimes we are afraid to ask ourselves the chances we let it pass fearing of failure, or for not breaking the rules of behaviour. Often, we want to please, putting the other’s opinion before ours, and we wish to keep safe in the comfort ot the lair, not to feel the narrowness of a cell that, in essence, oppresses us. We forget that time is only a fistful of sand slipping between hands, ours, increasingly empty.

 

Birds born in a cage believe that flying is a disease, as Alejandro Jodorovsky once said. If so, blessed be this madness that crosses out the forced guidelines, blessed be the fools that do not bend to the dictatorship of the resignation. We are too old to ignore that there are no eternal certainties, neither infallible formulas. We have found over the years that we can chose our travelling companions or embarking on a journey proudly alone. But we only have an opportunity, a single and wonderful life, during which learning from our own mistakes to be amended. I still have faith that while here and now exist it is not too late, that, if the train stop again before us, we will accept the promise of a journey that it offers us.

 

Casablanca, Morroco.......................2 pictures

 

The Hassan II Mosque or Grande Mosquée Hassan II (Arabic: مسجد الحسن الثاني‎; " ( is a mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. It is the largest mosque in the country and the 7th largest in the world. Its minaret is the world's tallest at 210 metres (689 ft). Completed in 1993, it was designed by Michel Pinseau and built by Bouygues. The minaret is 60 stories high topped by a laser, the light from which is directed towards Mecca. The mosque stands on a promontory looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, the sea bed being visible through the glass floor of the building's hall. The walls are of hand-crafted marble and the roof is retractable. A maximum of 105,000 worshippers can gather together for prayer: 25,000 inside the mosque hall and another 80,000 on the mosque's outside grounds.

“Don't listen to the messages of the night

those indistinctive voices; the carriers that blight

little trembling echoes bouncing off the walls

ricocheting; missing vital points amidst it all

in the darkness shadows twist like whispers on the wind

and any sense you think they make, at dawn they will rescind” - AP

 

Soundtrack : www.youtube.com/watch?v=dO1rMeYnOmM

TIME IN A BOTTLE – JIM CROCE

 

I walk along the beach at night and listen to the waves

I find a message in a bottle that moonlight bids my heart enslave

I thought it travelled far and wide

on shifting sands and drifting tides

my heart went out to he who wrote with such a loving hand

the writing scripted in wispy waves like the patterns on the sand

it began in earnest; with faint aromatic scent

wafting in the chilled night air; I thought it Heaven sent

the curled and yellow, fragile paper looked older than it's years

it may have floated a thousand lifetimes;

it's surface splashed with tears

the cork was missing from the lips of the smooth, unbroken glass

the sea had strangely never entered;

nor filled this solemn flask

how could it have stayed upright in water;

stayed safe from crashing waves

perhaps the salted teardrops came from the ocean

and not from the author's eyes

the full moon cast a glow before me; lit a path along the sand

little pebbles shone and sparkled like precious gems;

the letter tore from my hand

a sudden unexpected breeze took it from me

and swept it towards the sea

and I waited for the current to release it's grip

and let it fall back to me

It rested at the water's edge and I ran with all my might

but the wind whipped it once more upwards until it was out of sight

and then the strangest thing occurred to me that this was not for me

I was never meant to read this letter, so I let it fly high and free

I took a picture of the bottle to remind myself of this tale

and remembered a fragment of a distant childish memory

which I shall now regale

at the time it made no sense to me whatsoever,

but now of a sudden it did

“He who hesitates is lost ...”

short but sweet but nonetheless complete

perhaps I could have read that letter if I hadn't over thought

but would I be any the wiser for it

would I find the answers, to the questions, that I sought

some things we are better knowing

and some things we are better not

and ours is not to reason why;

we should content ourselves with the life we got

so the mystery of the letter is now flying out to sea

and if it lands at your feet I implore you my friend,

please do not be like me

read it as quickly as you can; make it your destiny

for you may never get this chance again

or see your future love so clearly

as for me I still walk the shores and inspect every tiny grain

look under pebbles, rocks and shells

expecting to read my name

I look to the sky and across the horizon

and expect to see in flight

a crumpled, yellow ancient letter

carrying the words of love I found that night.

 

- AP - Copyright :copyright: remains with and is the intellectual property of the author

 

Copyright :copyright: protected image please do not reproduce without permission

 

My artwork is a compilation of 3 of my photographs.

The clouds were very bright in this shot, so I used a graduated ND hand-held glass in front of the lens. The sky was beginning to turn red therefore accounting for the pinkish hue.

Next in 'stream shows the method. Old glass globe fishing float in left hand, camera in right. Experimental.

A hand above the water

An angel reaching for the sky

Is it raining in heaven

Do you want us to cry?

 

And everywhere the broken hearted

On every lonely avenue

No-one could reach them

No-one but you

 

One by one

Only the good die young

They're only flyin' too close to the sun

And life goes on -

Without you

 

Another tricky situation

I get to drownin' in the blues

And I find myself thinkin'

Well - what would you do

 

Yeah - it was such an operation

Forever paying every due

Hell, you made a sensation

You found a way through - and

 

One by one

Only the good die young

They're only flyin' too close to the sun

We'll remember -

Forever...

 

And now the party must be over

I guess we'll never understand

The sense of your leaving

Was it the way it was planned?

 

And so we grace another table

And raise our glasses one more time

There's a face at the window

And I ain't never, never sayin' goodbye...

 

One by one

Only the good die young

They're only flying too close to the sun

Cryin' for nothing

Cryin' for no one

No-one but you

 

♪♫"No-one but you (Only the good die young) (QUEEN)"♪♫

Copyright Susan Ogden

 

My sweet little friend from the aquarium! He was totally magical and mystifying, entertaining and adorable!

 

I have learned so much about these creatures and they are hands down my favorites of the sea. They are smart ...scary smart, actually, and they have such different personalities. I could spend hours learning and watching these critters. The sole drawback being when you meet one as full of personality as this one was, and they die, it is like losing a dear friend.

 

They can learn to identify people they like and that they do not, and act in a way that it is unmistakeable! Like a toddler with 8 arms they can get into mischief you can not even imagine. They are escape artists extraordinaire and playful, inquisitive, serious or sullen, social or even introverted like me! They can open jars, fit through the tiniest of tubes in a tank, and even walk on land!

 

They have small brains, which makes this even more astounding to me...but they also have millions upon millions of sensors that send messages TO their brain, so it is almost like they have many many brains...just not all in their head!

 

Someday i would LOVE to touch one...feel the sensation of the tentacles. I imagine it would feel strange but not frightening...unless of course it went for your face! Perhaps one day i can convince an aquarium to let me stick my arm in the tank...to satisfy my curiosity. i do not swim well...and diving scares me to the brink of death...so i need to find someone that will allow me just a few minutes to touch one!

 

This little fellow and i played for at least an hour and a half...maybe two, through the glass, interacting. He was such a poser...but only for me! When others came to look in his tank, he would scoot into a corner, peering out cautiously until they were gone...and when they left he would perform for me and my camera! i would say i must have 200 photos of him with a wide array of poses and color changes!

 

For those of you that like to read, i high recommend Soul of an Octopus by Sy Montgomery. Absolutely fascinating true story...and i am so envious of her journey!

 

OH! the title....just a whim because i adore the crazy letters of foreign alphabets....this is Belarusian...”I am the Magician, watch me amaze!”

The Hassan II Mosque or Grande Mosquée Hassan II (Arabic: مسجد الحسن الثاني‎‎; nickname: "Casablanca Hajj" (colloquial, microblogging and social networking language) is a mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. It is the largest mosque in Morocco and the 13th largest in the world. Its minaret is the world's tallest at 210 metres (689 ft). Completed in 1993, it was designed by Michel Pinseau and built by Bouygues. The minaret is 60 stories high topped by a laser, the light from which is directed towards Mecca. The mosque stands on a promontory looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, worshippers can pray over the sea but there is no glass floor looking into the sea. The walls are of hand-crafted marble and the roof is retractable. A maximum of 105,000 worshippers can gather together for prayer: 25,000 inside the mosque hall and another 80,000 on the mosque's outside grounds

 

Taken @Casablanca, Morocco, North Africa

Standing on the deck of a heavily pitching whale watching ship the only option was to use my little Ricoh R4 to capture this wonderful scene. I wouldn't have wanted diced carrot on the ground glass anyway!!

It's amazing how much digital compacts have moved on since I took this back in 2007. The original file of this is 17mb but the noise filters on the camera were so poor that there would be virtually no chance of a decent print from the file. My Lumix on the other hand would have done a really great job of this missed opportunity.

On the subject of small stuff I am selling my mint condition Lee RF75 filter system if anyone is interested. It comprises the holder, three hard and three soft grads plus adapter rings for 52, 49 and 40.5mm threads. A chance to jump the waiting list and save aa huge chunk off the new price. I'm not saying more here because I'll have my knuckles rapped by the flickr police but the info can be found on my facebook page.

www.facebook.com/RichardChildsPhotography

What an evening at Land's End…. That was my first time being impressed by such a lovely scenery in here. After a beautiful evening of taking shots basically everywhere around I started packing in to be ready for departure. Then I got told there'd be fireworks later on.. Thank to Tony Armstrong I managed to capture some - thanks very much! That was an unforgettable view I was admiring with a glass of wine in my hand standing on the edge of the cliff hah. This shot is a merged shot of 2; one for the foreground and the other for the background. I had to set up ISO really high for the sky as it was completely dark when the fireworks were being displayed which makes it looks really soft after reducing noise in PS. Still glad what I have captured :)

Have a Glass of Vinsanto or Assyrtiko with me while reading Seferis ... Love to You All my Flickr friends ♥

  

" Bend if you can to the Dark Sea ...

Write if you can on your Last Shell the Day the Place the Name and Fling it into the Sea so that it sinks ...

Let your Hands Go Travelling if you can ...

Free yourself from Unfaithful Time and Sink ...

So sinks whoever Raises the Great Stones ... " G.Seferis

  

♥ Thanks & Gratitude for your visits my Flickr friends ♥ Thanks are the Highest form of Thought & Gratitude is Happiness ✿ڿڰۣ(̆̃̃ ღ ♥

 

* One eye Sees the other Feels ... **

     

The Hassan II Mosque or Grande Mosquée Hassan II is a mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. It is the largest mosque in

Morocco and Africa and the 7th largest in the world. Its minaret is the world's tallest at 210 metres (689 ft). Completed in 1993, it was designed by Michel Pinseau and built by Bouygues. The minaret is 60 stories high topped by a laser, the light from which is directed towards Mecca. The mosque stands on a promontory looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, the sea bed being visible through the glass floor of the building's hall. The walls are of hand-crafted marble and the roof is retractable. A maximum of 105,000 worshippers can gather together for prayer: 25,000 inside the mosque hall and another 80,000 on the mosque's outside grounds.

 

Source: Wikipedia

 

Camera: Canon Eos 6D

Lens: EF17-40mmF/4L-USM

Aperture: f/4.0

Focal Length: 25 mm

Shutter Speed: 1/100

ISO: 8000

Ziess 21mm f@16 0.7 .

 

A late minuet decision to drive over to Trebarwith-Strand in north Cornwall . [ just love the sound of that name ] as the tide and light was looking promising , nice to bump in to Mark again .

As i was leaving i with my new toy the 24 T/S i noticed my Ziess siting there seemingly to look all rejected as it had,n,t been out sins i brought the T/S , feeling sorry for it i changed over lenses .

They are very different beasts both top quality glass that perform very differently . The T/S is much more versatile with its perspective control and it,s ability to take panos , both are equally as sharp as each other . On the other hand The Ziess reins supreme in its contrast and flair control , and the way in renders colours in such a beautiful way . probably like having two beautiful sexy girlfriends and not knowing which one to chose [ Not that i would Know ] . shame really that Ziess does,n,t get its act together and produce T/S lenses .

  

My web site . www.raymondbradshawphotography.co.uk/

 

Getty images for sale . www.gettyimages.co.uk/Search/Search.aspx?assettype=image&...

  

Getty Curators , editors . www.flickr.com/photos/85138260@N05

Gandhara is the name given to an ancient region or province invaded in 326 B.C. by Alexander the Great, who took Charsadda (ancient Puskalavati) near present-day Peshawar (ancient Purusapura) and then marched eastward across the Indus into the Punjab as far as the Beas river (ancient Vipasa). Gandhara constituted the undulating plains, irrigated by the Kabul River from the Khyber Pass area, the contemporary boundary between Pakistan and Afganistan, down to the Indus River and southward towards the Murree hills and Taxila (ancient Taksasila), near Pakistan"s present capital, Islamabad. Its art, however, during the first centuries of the Christian era, had adopted a substantially larger area, together with the upper stretches of the Kabul River, the valley of Kabul itself, and ancient Kapisa, as well as Swat and Buner towards the north.

   

A great deal of Gandhara sculptures has survived dating from the first to probably as late as the sixth or even the seventh century but in a remarkably homogeneous style. Most of the arts were almost always in a blue-gray mica schist, though sometimes in a green phyllite or in stucco, or very rarely in terracotta. Because of the appeal of its Western classical aesthetic for the British rulers of India, schooled to admire all things Greek and Roman, a great deal found its way into private hands or the shelter of museums.

  

Gandhara sculpture primarily comprised Buddhist monastic establishments. These monasteries provided a never-ending gallery for sculptured reliefs of the Buddha and Bodhisattvas. The Gandhara stupas were comparatively magnified and more intricate, but the most remarkable feature, which distinguished the Gandhara stupas from the pervious styles were hugely tiered umbrellas at its peak, almost soaring over the total structure. The abundance of Gandharan sculpture was an art, which originated with foreign artisans.

  

In the excavation among the varied miscellany of small bronze figures, though not often like Alexandrian imports, four or five Buddhist bronzes are very late in date. These further illustrate the aura of the Gandhara art. Relics of mural paintings though have been discovered, yet the only substantial body of painting, in Bamiyan, is moderately late, and much of it belongs to an Iranian or central Asian rather than an Indian context. Non-narrative themes and architectural ornament were omnipresent at that time. Mythical figures and animals such as atlantes, tritons, dragons, and sea serpents derive from the same source, although there is the occasional high-backed, stylized creature associated with the Central Asian animal style. Moldings and cornices are decorated mostly with acanthus, laurel, and vine, though sometimes with motifs of Indian, and occasionally ultimately western Asian, origin: stepped merlons, lion heads, vedikas, and lotus petals. It is worth noting that architectural elements such as pillars, gable ends, and domes as represented in the reliefs tend to follow the Indian forms

.

 

Gandhara became roughly a Holy Land of Buddhism and excluding a handful of Hindu images, sculpture took the form either of Buddhist sect objects, Buddha and Bodhisattvas, or of architectural embellishment for Buddhist monasteries. The more metaphorical kinds are demonstrated by small votive stupas, and bases teeming with stucco images and figurines that have lasted at Jaulian and Mora Moradu, outpost monasteries in the hills around Taxila. Hadda, near the present town of Jalalabad, has created some groups in stucco of an almost rococo while more latest works of art in baked clay, with strong Hellenistic influence, have been revealed there, in what sums up as tiny chapels. It is not known exactly why stucco, an imported Alexandrian modus operandi, was used. It is true that grey schist is not found near Taxila, however other stones are available, and in opposition to the ease of operating with stucco, predominantly the artistic effects which can be achieved, must be set with its impermanence- fresh deposits frequently had to be applied. Excluding possibly at Taxila, its use emerges to have been a late expansion.

  

Architectural fundamentals of the Gandhara art, like pillars, gable ends and domes as showcased in the reliefs, were inclined to follow Indian outlines, but the pilaster with capital of Corinthian type, abounds and in one-palace scene Persepolitan columns go along with Roman coffered ceilings. The so-called Shrine of the Double-Headed Eagle at Sirkap, in actuality a stupa pedestal, well demonstrates this enlightening eclecticism- the double-headed bird on top of the chaitya arch is an insignia of Scythian origin, which appears as a Byzantine motif and materialises much later in South India as the ga1J.qa-bheru1J.qa in addition to atop European armorial bearings.

 

In Gandhara art the descriptive friezes were all but invariably Buddhist, and hence Indian in substance- one depicted a horse on wheels nearing a doorway, which might have represented the Trojan horse affair, but this is under scan. The Dioscuri, Castor and Pollux, familiar from the previous Greek-based coinage of the region, appeared once or twice as standing figurines, presumably because as a pair, they tallied an Indian mithuna couple. There were also female statuettes, corresponding to city goddesses. Though figures from Butkara, near Saidan Sharif in Swat, were noticeably more Indian in physical type, and Indian motifs were in abundance there. Sculpture was, in the main, Hellenistic or Roman, and the art of Gandhara was indeed "the easternmost appearance of the art of the Roman Empire, especially in its late and provincial manifestations". Furthermore, naturalistic portrait heads, one of the high-points of Roman sculpture, were all but missing in Gandhara, in spite of the episodic separated head, probably that of a donor, with a discernible feeling of uniqueness. Some constitutions and poses matched those from western Asia and the Roman world; like the manner in which a figure in a recurrently instanced scene from the Dipankara jataka had prostrated himself before the future Buddha, is reverberated in the pose of the defeated before the defeater on a Trojanic frieze on the Arch of Constantine and in later illustrations of the admiration of the divinised emperor. One singular recurrently occurring muscular male figure, hand on sword, witnessed in three-quarters view from the backside, has been adopted from western classical sculpture. On occasions standing figures, even the Buddha, deceived the elusive stylistic actions of the Roman sculptor, seeking to express majestas. The drapery was fundamentally Western- the folds and volume of dangling garments were carved with realness and gusto- but it was mainly the persistent endeavours at illusionism, though frequently obscured by unrefined carving, which earmarked the Gandhara sculpture as based on a western classical visual impact.

  

The distinguishing Gandhara sculpture, of which hundreds if not thousands of instances have outlived, is the standing or seated Buddha. This flawlessly reproduces the necessary nature of Gandhara art, in which a religious and an artistic constituent, drawn from widely varied cultures have been bonded. The iconography is purely Indian. The seated Buddha is mostly cross-legged in the established Indian manner. However, forthcoming generations, habituated to think of the Buddha as a monk, and unable to picture him ever possessing long hair or donning a turban, came to deduce the chigon as a "cranial protuberance", singular to Buddha. But Buddha is never depicted with a shaved head, as are the Sangha, the monks; his short hair is clothed either in waves or in taut curls over his whole head. The extended ears are merely due to the downward thrust of the heavy ear-rings worn by a prince or magnate; the distortion of the ear-lobes is especially visible in Buddha, who, in Gandhara, never wore ear-rings or ornaments of any kind. As Foucher puts it, the Gandhara Buddha is at a time a monk without shaving and a prince stripped off jewellery.

  

The western classical factor rests in the style, in the handling of the robe, and in the physiognomy of Buddha. The cloak, which covers all but the appendages (though the right shoulder is often bared), is dealt like in Greek and Roman sculptures; the heavy folds are given a plastic flair of their own, and only in poorer or later works do they deteriorate into indented lines, fairly a return to standard Indian practice. The "western" treatment has caused Buddha"s garment to be misidentified for a toga; but a toga is semicircular, while, Buddha wore a basic, rectangular piece of cloth, i.e., the samghiifi, a monk"s upper garment. The head gradually swerves towards a hieratic stylisation, but at its best, it is naturalistic and almost positively based on the Greek Apollo, undoubtedly in Hellenistic or Roman copies.

 

Gandhara art also had developed at least two species of image, i.e. not part of the frieze, in which Buddha is the fundamental figure of an event in his life, distinguished by accompanying figures and a detailed mise-en-scene. Perhaps the most remarkable amongst these is the Visit to the Indrasala Cave, of which the supreme example is dated in the year 89, almost unquestionably of the Kanishka period. Indra and his harpist are depicted on their visit in it. The small statuettes of the visitors emerge below, an elephant describing Indra. The more general among these detailed images, of which approximately 30 instances are known, is presumably related with the Great Miracle of Sravasti. In one such example, one of the adjoining Bodhisattvas is distinguished as Avalokiteshwara by the tiny seated Buddha in his headgear. Other features of these images include the unreal species of tree above Buddha, the spiky lotus upon which he sits, and the effortlessly identifiable figurines of Indra and Brahma on both sides.

  

Another important aspect of the Gandhara art was the coins of the Graeco-Bactrians. The coins of the Graeco-Bactrians - on the Greek metrological standard, equals the finest Attic examples and of the Indo-Greek kings, which have until lately served as the only instances of Greek art found in the subcontinent. The legendary silver double decadrachmas of Amyntas, possibly a remembrance issue, are the biggest "Greek" coins ever minted, the largest cast in gold, is the exceptional decadrachma of the same king in the Bibliotheque Nationale, with the Dioscuri on the inverse. Otherwise, there was scanty evidence until recently of Greek or Hellenistic influences in Gandhara. A manifestation of Greek metropolitan planning is furnished by the rectilinear layouts of two cities of the 1st centuries B.C./A.D.--Sirkap at Taxila and Shaikhan Pheri at Charsadda. Remains of the temple at Jandial, also at Taxila and presumably dating back to 1st century B.C., also includes Greek characteristics- remarkably the huge base mouldings and the Ionic capitals of the colossal portico and antechamber columns. In contrast, the columns or pilasters on the immeasurable Gandhara friezes (when they are not in a Indian style), are consistently coronated by Indo-Corinthian capitals, the local version of the Corinthian capital- a certain sign of a comparatively later date.

 

The notable Begram hoard confirms articulately to the number and multiplicity of origin of the foreign artefacts imported into Gandhara. This further illustrates the foreign influence in the Gandhara art. Parallel hoards have been found in peninsular India, especially in Kolhapur in Maharashtra, but the imported wares are sternly from the Roman world. At Begram the ancient Kapisa, near Kabul, there are bronzes, possibly of Alexandrian manufacture, in close proximity with emblemata (plaster discs, certainly meant as moulds for local silversmiths), bearing reliefs in the purest classical vein, Chinese lacquers and Roman glass. The hoard was possibly sealed in mid-3rd century, when some of the subjects may have been approximately 200 years old "antiques", frequently themselves replicates of classical Greek objects. The plentiful ivories, consisting in the central of chest and throne facings, engraved in a number of varied relief techniques, were credibly developed somewhere between Mathura and coastal Andhra. Some are of unrivalled beauty. Even though a few secluded instances of early Indian ivory carving have outlived, including the legendary mirror handle from Pompeii, the Begram ivories are the only substantial collection known until moderately in present times of what must always have been a widespread craft. Other sites, particularly Taxila, have generated great many instances of such imports, some from India, some, like the appealing tiny bronze figure of Harpocrates, undoubtedly from Alexandria. Further cultural influences are authenticated by the Scytho Sarmatian jewellery, with its characteristic high-backed carnivores, and by a statue of St. Peter. But all this should not cloud the all-important truth that the immediately identifiable Gandhara style was the prevailing form of artistic manifestation throughout the expanse for several centuries, and the magnitude of its influence on the art of central Asia and China and as far as Japan, allows no doubt about its integrity and vitality.

 

In the Gandhara art early Buddhist iconography drew heavily on traditional sources, incorporating Hindu gods and goddesses into a Buddhist pantheon and adapting old folk tales to Buddhist religious purposes. Kubera and Harm are probably the best-known examples of this process.

  

Five dated idols from Gandhara art though exist, however the hitch remains that the era is never distinguished. The dates are in figures under 100 or else in 300s. Moreover one of the higher numbers are debatable, besides, the image upon which it is engraved is not in the conventional Andhra style. The two low-number-dated idols are the most sophisticated and the least injured. Their pattern is classical Gandhara. The most undemanding rendition of their dates relates them to Kanishka and 78 A.D. is assumed as the commencement of his era. They both fall in the second half of the 2nd century A.D. and equally later, if a later date is necessitated for the beginning of Kanishka`s time. This calculation nearly parallels numismatics and archaeological evidences. The application of other eras, like the Vikrama (base date- 58 B.C.) and the Saka (base date- 78 A.D.), would place them much later. The badly battered figurines portray standing Buddhas, without a head of its own, but both on original figured plinths. They come to view as depicting the classical Gandhara style; decision regarding where to place these two dated Buddhas, both standing, must remain knotty till more evidence comes out as to how late the classical Gandhara panache had continued.

   

Methodical study of the Gandhara art, and specifically about its origins and expansion, is befuddled with numerous problems, not at least of which is the inordinately complex history and culture of the province. It is one of the great ethnical crossroads of the world simultaneously being in the path of all the intrusions of India for over three millennia. Bussagli has rightly remarked, `More than any other Indian region, Gandhara was a participant in the political and cultural events that concerned the rest of the Asian continent`.

   

However, Systematic study of the art of Gandhara, and particularly of its origins and development, is bedeviled by many problems, not the least of which is the extraordinarily complex history and culture of the region.

   

In spite of the labours of many scholars over the past hundred and fifty years, the answers to some of the most important questions, such as the number of centuries spanned by the art of Gandhara, still await, fresh archaeological, inscriptional, or numismatic evidence.

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gandhara

 

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gautama_Buddha

Yesterday's launch of the Space Shuttle Atlantis, as seen from about 7-8 miles away. That was as close as I could get without a press pass. Next time I'll apply for a press pass ahead of time or bring longer glass.

 

The sea breeze was so strong at launch time that I had to add a weight to the tripod's center column hook and press down on the top of the lens with my left hand, directly above the tripod mount point, to help stabilize the image. Being the first launch of the season, the traffic was so heavy afterwards, it took almost four hours to make it back to basecamp in Orlando from Cape Canaveral, Florida.

Redeem the surrogate goodbyes

the sheet astream in your hand...

and the glass unmisted above your eyes.

 

Redime lo que reemplaza a los adioses

la sábana de agua que navega en tu mano...

y el espejo sin niebla encima de tus ojos.

 

Samuel Beckett

 

Larger on Black

Week 23

 

A much needed break. This is the first time in a while that I have taken almost a full week off from taking photos. It wasn't something I planned on doing, it just kind of happened. With work being so busy and having a lot of personal stuff to attend to, I just never got around to going out this week until Friday night when I headed out and took some long exposures. I climbed up onto Minot rock and spent almost an hour just relaxing in the night, taking super long exposures. That has to be one of my favorite ways to relax hands down. On Saturday, I spent the whole day out with Eric antiquing which is also something I haven't done in a long time. He ended up getting another pocket folder for his collection and I ended up with a pair of giant vintage speakers that were marked down as damaged. We tested them out, they are clear as can be! I love them. Scott ended up joining us later and we went out shooting some film, Scott finished a whole roll of black and white and allowed us to use it to develop ourselves. Sadly, we still were unable to properly develop. This is the third attempt at trying to develop ourselves and we are starting to think that it is the fixer we are using. We will be sure to run a few more tests in the next few days to see if we can get our system to work. I really hope we can.

 

I can't wait to see what this next week will bring!

This was the last image I took before the Big Stepper bit the dust. Actually, had it bit the dust it may have survived. In fact it hit some rocks. All I heard was the smashing of glass and I my heart sank. It could be 6+ months before I see a new one!

 

The sunset looked very promising, but the colour in the sky did not materialise where I wanted it to. So I moved on to the rocks to shoot some 10-stop images towards the colour in the sky. Probably my big mistake. It was when moving to a new location, camera tripod in hand (camera attached) that the filter made its exit from the holder.

 

Bumped into fellow Filckr member, pixelsuzy, whose work around Weston I have been following.

The Hassan II Mosque or Grande Mosquée Hassan II (Arabic: مسجد الحسن الثاني‎; nickname: "Casablanca Hajj" (colloquial, microblogging and social networking language) is a mosque in Casablanca, Morocco. It is the largest mosque in Morocco and Africa and the 7th largest in the world. Its minaret is the world's tallest at 210 metres (689 ft). Completed in 1993, it was designed by Michel Pinseau and built by Bouygues. The minaret is 60 stories high topped by a laser, the light from which is directed towards Mecca. The mosque stands on a promontory looking out to the Atlantic Ocean, the sea bed being visible through the glass floor of the building's hall. The walls are of hand-crafted marble and the roof is retractable. A maximum of 105,000 worshippers can gather together for prayer: 25,000 inside the mosque hall and another 80,000 on the mosque's outside grounds.

The Ogden Point Breakwater in Victoria, BC, Canada.

 

Nikon FA;

Nikon Series E 35mm f2.5;

Kodak Ektar 100;

B+W 6-stop ND filter

Beavertail Lighthouse

Jamestown, RI

June 28th, 2014at 7:58PM

  

Yeah, I have a thing for sunsets lately.

  

I arrived for the sunset and had some time before it went totally down. So I figure, why not try a panorama because it is nearly impossible to stand this close to the Beavertail Lighthouse and fit the whole structure in. This one was done with 6 frames in the panorama.

  

Some info on this location:

  

"Although Rhode Island’s first settlers were farmers, the colony shortly developed a thriving maritime economy as well. By the early 18th century, it was estimated that one in four men living in Rhode Island made their living in some way from the sea. Although exports included tobacco, maize, and lumber, the export of rum was the basis of a notorious trade triangle involving rum, slaves, and molasses. Ships took rum to West Africa, where it was traded for slaves. The slaves were then taken to the West Indies, where they were traded for molasses and sugar, which was brought back to Newport. In a single five-year period in the 1730s, over six thousand Africans were delivered to the Caribbean islands. Slave commerce was an important part of Rhode Island’s economy for around 100 years.

  

The rising importance of shipping to the colony of Rhode Island led to a lighthouse being proposed for the southern tip of Conanicut Island, known as Beavertail Point. Beginning in 1731, ships calling at Newport had their cargoes taxed to fund the future lighthouse. Construction was delayed for about ten years by war between England and Spain, but the lighthouse was finally finished in 1749. The wooden tower stood sixty-eight feet tall, was twenty-four feet in diameter at its base, and tapered to thirteen feet at the lantern deck. The lighthouse, known early on as the Newport Lighthouse, was the third to be built in what would become the United States.

  

The wooden lighthouse burned to the ground only four years after it was finished, but in 1754 a fifty-eight-foot brick and stone tower was built to replace it. A wooden spiral staircase led to the lantern room, which housed a light consisting of a two-tiered spider lamp with fifteen whale-oil burning wicks, each with a nine-inch reflector.

  

During the early part of the Revolutionary War, British troops controlled Newport. In 1779, as they were retreating, the redcoats set fire to the lighthouse and took the optic. Although the fire warped the masonry walls, the tower was repaired and put back into service in 1783. In 1827 the lantern was refitted with a Winslow Lewis optic that could be seen for sixteen miles.

  

Since the station was so close to the water, it often caught the full force of storms. Sometime during the early 1800s, Keeper Philip Caswell and his family were forced to flee when high waves threatened to destroy the small two-room keeper’s house. The dwelling escaped this storm with minimal damage, but the hurricane of 1815 would destroy the edifice. Fortunately, Caswell had again moved his family elsewhere before the storm as a precaution. The lighthouse tower survived the hurricane, although all twenty panes of glass in the lantern house were broken. The next year, a new five-room keeper’s dwelling was constructed.

  

The Beavertail Lighthouse was used repeatedly to conduct experiments with new fog signals and lighting equipment. In 1817 a local inventor named David Melville tried out a new coal gas process. The gas was generated by burning a mixture of coal and tree resin and piped through copper tubing to a chandelier in the lantern room. The cheaply produced gas resulted in a brighter and cleaner light, but lobbying pressure from the companies that sold whale oil (which was the standard fuel for lighthouse beacons at that time) brought an abrupt end to Melville’s work less than a year after it began.

  

In 1851, another experiment involved a fog signal created by Celadon Daboll, an inventor from New London, Connecticut. Daboll’s foghorn, which consisted of a vibrating metal reed inside a long trumpet, was powered by compressed air that was pumped into a holding tank by a horse attached to a revolving walker. Six years later, Daboll’s foghorn was replaced by an experimental steam whistle.

  

Robert H. Weeded accepted the position of keeper of Beavertail Lighthouse in 1844. Upon his death, four years later, his wife, Damaris, took over responsibility for the lighthouse. Damaris is the only female keeper to serve at Beavertail, and aided by her son, she remained at the lighthouse for nine years after her husband’s death, just long enough to see the completion of the currently standing 52-foot granite block tower.

  

The old 1754 tower was razed to its foundation, and when a new keeper’s dwelling was completed in 1859, the prior dwelling was demolished as well. The new 1856 tower was equipped with a third-order Fresnel lens that produced a fixed white light. Somewhere around 1899, the optic was downgraded to a smaller fourth-order lens.

  

Artillerymen at nearby Fort Adams often practiced firing dummy shells into the sea, but one day in December 1908, their aim was particularly bad. One five-inch shell narrowly missed the lighthouse tower, another landed in the yard behind the keeper’s house, and a third hit the tower’s foundation, causing the keepers to run for cover. The War Department repaired the damage and assured the Lighthouse Board that it would not happen again.

  

When electricity reached the station in 1931, the lantern room’s clear windows were covered with green Plexiglas storm panes to change the light’s characteristic, and an electric strobe device was mounted on top of the keeper’s dwelling to automatically activate a fog signal when visibility fell below two miles.

  

With its exposed location, the Beavertail Lighthouse was bound to suffer from the infamous hurricane of 1938 that caused so much damage at stations in Rhode Island. The wind-driven waves swept away the station’s fog signal building, revealing the foundation of the 1749 lighthouse. Although the facilities at the lighthouse were damaged, the loss suffered by Keeper Carl Chellis was far worse. His son, Clayton, and daughter, Marion, were returning home on a school bus, when storm surge toppled the vehicle as it crossed a causeway. Norman Caswell, the driver of the bus, recalls “I saw that we would have to leave the bus or be drowned like rats. I told the children to grab each other tightly. I had hold of several when the huge wave came over us. I went down twice. When I came up, I saw Clayton Chellis swimming around. He was the only one who was saved besides me.”

  

When a passerby tried to rescue Caswell, he responded “Please let me die. I lost a whole bunch of the kids I had in the school bus. Everything's gone. Please don't move me. Let me die.” Caswell did survive, and when Keeper Chellis arrived at the scene, Caswell told him “I got your boy, but your daughter’s dead – gone.” Grief-stricken by the news, Chellis grabbed a handful of rocks and broke out all the windows in the overturned bus. Caswell died shortly after the incident, unable to cope with the deaths of the children. Seven years later, Clayton Chellis drowned in the Pacific Ocean, during his World War II tour of duty.

  

Beavertail Light was automated in 1972. The station remains an active aid to navigation, currently equipped with a modern plastic lens, and is listed in the National Register of Historic Places. The grounds are open to the public, and the Beavertail Lighthouse Museum Association (BLMA) operates a museum in the keeper's quarters and assistant keeper’s dwelling that is open seasonally. One of its main exhibits is the fourth-order Fresnel lens formerly used in the lighthouse.

  

The Champlin Foundations awarded a 2007 grant of $227,000 to BLMA to preserve and restore the granite light tower. BLMA has plans to expand into other buildings on the property as soon as they are excessed by the Coast Guard. The fog signal building currently houses an aquarium display operated by the state Department of Environmental Management."

  

SOURCE of all this good info: www.lighthousefriends.com/light.asp?ID=403

 

Week 23

 

A much needed break. This is the first time in a while that I have taken almost a full week off from taking photos. It wasn't something I planned on doing, it just kind of happened. With work being so busy and having a lot of personal stuff to attend to, I just never got around to going out this week until Friday night when I headed out and took some long exposures. I climbed up onto Minot rock and spent almost an hour just relaxing in the night, taking super long exposures. That has to be one of my favorite ways to relax hands down. On Saturday, I spent the whole day out with Eric antiquing which is also something I haven't done in a long time. He ended up getting another pocket folder for his collection and I ended up with a pair of giant vintage speakers that were marked down as damaged. We tested them out, they are clear as can be! I love them. Scott ended up joining us later and we went out shooting some film, Scott finished a whole roll of black and white and allowed us to use it to develop ourselves. Sadly, we still were unable to properly develop. This is the third attempt at trying to develop ourselves and we are starting to think that it is the fixer we are using. We will be sure to run a few more tests in the next few days to see if we can get our system to work. I really hope we can.

 

I can't wait to see what this next week will bring!

1 3 4 5 6 7 ••• 79 80