Arches
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4366 creative works found
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I stitched together and then cropped three images to make this one. I am happy with the over all scheme of things.
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Taken in London EC3
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The Roman Colosseum on a particularly bright winter afternoon Built in the first century of the modern calendar and known as the Flavian Amphitheater in that time. / / Nearly dismantled in the middle ages, it was spared. Look now at the crowds visiting it and imagine what it must have been like in Ancient times…
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Are you a Harry Potter fan? This would make a nice gift for those that are. Also good for herbalists, doctors, or anyone else that works with many bottles. / Suburban Scenes by Mike Savad Squidoo Lenses
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When photography refers to “capturing a moment” its images like this they are referring to. Taken in the Fall of 2005 at Arches National Park in Moab Utah. / While visiting the park with a friend we came to the Windows formation to get a look when a storn quickly came upon us. As we ran back to the car I caught this cloud formation swooping down over the Turret Arch I quickly lifted the camera and snapped one picture then continued to run. / I was amazed by the clouds afterwards when processing this image and found myself a lucky find of a magical moment.
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...or maybe not, I’ll let you decide
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Charcoal and Chalk 89×68 cm not shown it anywhere as yet, still unframed and unsold. dumb really. hm. I used architecture a great deal in the earlier parts of my career (not actually very long ago now). I invented this piece – I was trying to get across some of the desolation I felt. I have since largely abandoned using structures in my works as central features, I find that nothing in my experience works as effectively as the human figure itself we say so much, so very much with the slightest curve of a pale finger. Still. Ruins are cool. You should see my lungs :-) Fear rant… yeh… When what happens is this: / A moment, an image. A shock of realisation – if that is what it is. / I lift a drink to my lips and there is a red stain on the glass – a viscous, crimson liquid. My pupils widen in shock and I drop the cheap tumbler from my fingers, spilling fluid down the front of my shirt and I think – I know - / For this, this is not sane this is a moment of insanity this is not real. This is so far from real that I am lost. / Can we – does it work in this way in this manner, are we aware? Is knowledge, awareness, a proof of sanity in itself? Is this absolute saturated fear a concrete ridge of rationale? Is it the pace the meter the rhythm of madness? / Can the insane know that they are insane? / OK, ok, yes. Yes. / One from another a step into the fucking light and find a handhold though it is sharp and rusted and tears the hand that grips it – and with creaking bones wrapped in thin flesh lever and pull until once more we are convinced… that this world that we see; that this light that spills over these keys from this screen is the wholeness and purity of the world. / The panic is an illusion a confabulation and is the evidence of wild instability in its very focus and sharp bite. The fear itself is the only answer. It is the depth of it the breadth of its reach in our hearts and fingers that we must, we must control and hold. / That the dark stain existed: that it can be seen by rolling eyes other than mine flashing white and weird in the night: this is not the question that tears. / It is the blind panic itself. Its own monster. Cruel and huge grinning up at me. What happens to us when we snap into focus and listen to the singing blood in our ears. When we know that for this moment despite anything else any appetite or false glow of reason any tight wires across our skins or brilliant lights drawn across our minds – that we can see in our bloody heads and straining fists that for this time this great time this whole moment this exactitude of clocks and paucity of stuttered beats that this is insane? / The thought itself tart and violent in our throats and hands. Defiled and filthy with awareness and self generation but / What / The / Fuck. / Because there is no lie greater and more true than one whispered to ourselves in the night – peeled back in the pain of fear in sweat and tremor in stretching BONE. In the deep moaning terror of silence. It is our own selves creeping behind us, in the shadows, the shadows, the empty stairs of our minds. / This is the horror the truth about black claws that drip and rip. / Of laughter misplaced, hollow. Shuddering and inexplicable. / It has never mattered; more than the soft flesh at our temples, beneath our wild, wild eyes, our wounds sure and sore rough beneath our fluttering eyelids. More than the depth of the shadows in the corners of our cold rooms. It is the cold / INSIDE US / That we must fear. / The sharpness of sudden breath, of smoke that is STILL. / The turn of a jaw the clench of old teeth, feet pressed together bones indeed that TWIST that were never meant to twist whose arc was defined and pure something, yes, / Some part ancient and chill in the deep shadows. / Utterly cognizant inflexibly real frozen in awareness crisp with line and light. That there are bodies hung from hooks somewhere in the skeins and flares and redness; torque and wire-tight flesh lies masques. That there are within us inside us each, monsters and horror. It is that these things that they are that they have us in their dry white grip (our own). / This is the truth. / Our perceptions matter not, never as deeply as our fear. Tease the fear from the hungry wetness of our heads pull it like an old suture from an infected wound; hot to the touch burning and sick. / It is this untamed cut and flare of pain. A bleeding eye that chatters its etiolated bleaching freedom and dawns starring our vision. Fired with life. This IS us, it defines us we are made from fear a mangled hideous groping. The spark in absolute darkness – / It is our genius. / It turns us flesh bone thought and gall into the depth and dismay of the real. The stain spreads impossibly around me, clutching at my skin. / I am out of my mind. I know secret things. I am more alive.
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Looking west on a winter morning on Archer Road in Willow Springs, Illinois. My favorite road in Illinois.
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Self explanatory/
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Nothing like heading in for a landing at a nice hotel to start one’s vacation off right.
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Taken from the top of the arch de triumph looking towards la defence, amazing red sky, could not believe my luck. Canon 40D / F16 / ISO 100
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An arch photographed while hiking in Sedona, Arizona. This is a composite image, combining four exposures. Featured in Rocks and Stones. / Featured in Americas ~ Rural, Urban, Wild, Free 350+ Views
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Arches
by shadowplayFrom Heinrichs church in paderborn. / EOS 30D
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This is a photo taken in the center courtyard of the McNay Art Museum in San Antonio, TX which is a great little fine art museum with wonderful architecture and gorgeous grounds. I applied some textures of a wall I took there on the same day and a royalty-free Victorian clipart of a girl for my “ghost.” I also cropped the regular aspect into a square format and added a vignette with the airbrush tool in Photoshop Elements.
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As soon as I saw this, I thought B&W. The covered path at Anthony House, near Torpoint, Cornwall. Thank you for looking. / Hope you like it.
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This was taken in the Park Avenue area of Arches National Park near Moab Utah, USA. Nikon D300, Nikor 18-200vr, circ polorizer
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Cabo San Lucas Arch-Baja California-Mexico.
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“R B ALUMNI” Group – September 2009 / “HERITAGE IN STONE” Group – October 2009 SEVILLA – The Alcazar – Interior arches – Marvellous details by arabian drawings All about the ALCAZAR or SEVILLE – One of the 7th modern wonders! THE REAL ALCAZAR – One of the most beautiful Spain HISTORIC PLACES and LISTED BIULDINGS by the UNESCO WORLD HERITAGE SITE AS IS – Straight from NIKON D90 (144 views) ! / MCN: CTGM7-XYTA7-5PL69 (s) / MCN: WHCM8-G7XTQ-4PT4D (Wp)
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I’ve climbed Mount Whitney a few times and it is an incredible experience to be on the top of the continental United States. This calendar is composed of distant shots of Whitney, as well as close up photos from the climb itself.
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Canon EOS 400D /
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