Atmosphere lighting
738 creative works found
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This was taken near Wandin East at the back of the Dandenong Ranges. I was driving around through the mist and got lost. As i was coming around a bend I looked out and saw this.
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This is again, from a drive through the back roads of the Dandenong ranges in Victoria. I was just driving around and stopping to photograph things that caught me eye (I wound up lost too). This is a plot of land behind a farmhouse near Seville.
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Eilean Donan Castle one of the Iconic Scottish Castles was just a magic place to visit and photograph. I spent close to 9 hours taking in the surrounds, the atmosphere and the serenity and of course the odd photo or two. Here is one of my favourites, I really like the balance of light and the reflections. This was the 3rd last photo I took during this 9 hour period, and goes to show that patience can pay off. All money raised with the sale of my works until November goes towards the Steven T. Hill Stroke Foundation. For more information on the foundation and Steve’s touching story please follow this link. here Steven T. Hill Stroke Foundation Photo Info : Nikon D200 @ ISO 200, 50mm 1.4 lens.
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Eilean Donan Castle one of the Iconic Scotish Castles was just a magic place to visit and photograph. I spent close to 9 hours taking in the surrounds, the atmosphere and the serenity and of course the odd photo or two. Here is another shot which I kind of like. All money raised in the sale of my art until November goes towards the Steven T. Hill Stroke Foundation. For more information on the foundation and Steve’s touching story please follow this link. here Steven T. Hill Stroke Foundation
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hazy sunrise above an undercast
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Coal drops at Benwell, Newcastle upon Tyne, early Victorian era. / In the Thomas Hair style, 1830’s. HB pencil and watercolour. 140lb paper.
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Stormy Church – Thank you to RichieDean who helped me with the sky on this and a few other bits and pieces – You are great Richie! /
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Eilean Donan Castle one of the Iconic Scottish Castles was just a magic place to visit and photograph. I spent close to 9 hours taking in the surrounds, the atmosphere and the serenity and of course the odd photo or two. I hope I haven’t worn out my welcome but it was one of the most photogenic locations we visited to here is another one. All money raised in the sale of my art until November goes towards the Steven T. Hill Stroke Foundation. For more information on the foundation and Steve’s touching story please follow this link. here Steven T. Hill Stroke Foundation
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Stormy Church 02 In sepia.. With a few adjustments, adjusted light, colour, contrast,.adaptive lighting & cropped slightly – taken in a small village in Cambridgeshire 2007
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Watching the Sunrise on the Eastern Plains of Colorado, HDR blending used to bring out atmosphere an detail John
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Sorry about the pun, ‘revamped!’ I’ve put a filter on my watercolour painting, to increase the moonlight atmosphere
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/ “The Potting Shed” is the first of a Series by the same name... Gouache and Watercolour on Grey St Armand Linen Paper with Collaged Mesh Cloth… We’re planting this coming long weekend, so the pots will be taken out of their winter nest of burlap, and brought into the warmth of the spring sunshine.... May and June. Soft syllables, gentle names for the two best months / in the garden year: cool, misty mornings gently burned away with a / warming spring sun, followed by breezy afternoons and chilly nights. / The discussion of philosophy is over; it’s time for work to begin.....Peter Loewer
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So I know there’s gotta be other people out there excited about the release of the new Batman Movie The Dark Knight, or is it just me? This is a tribute to possibly one of my favourite movies! This is also one of my first really serious attempts at creating some digital artwork in Photoshop. This is the result of me having a lot of time, sitting at home sick when I should be at work. The question is can you see Batman?? For this I started off with one of my pics of Melbourne, Australia from Southbank which was a HDR from 3 exposures. I then added in bats, flood lights, batman, the moon etc. and then once again a lot of tinkering in Lightroom to finetune :) This image has had over 5000 views Sales 1 Mounted Print 1 Poster Click here for my other images of Melbourne
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Taken at Craigavon lakes in Co Armagh Ireland
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WARNING / ©2008 Globalphotos All rights reserved. / All photographs, text and images by Globalphotos are the exclusive property of Globalphotos – protected under Australian and international copyright laws. / These images may not be reproduced, copied or manipulated without written permission. / No use for Public Domain. / Use of any image for another photographic concept or illustration is a violation of copyright.
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My watercolour painting from a 1906 photo of the Mauretania. Luxury liner (the fastest in the world until 1929). She’s being towed by steam tugs, out of the mouth of the river Tyne, and into the North Sea. Watercolour and gouache, 12” 8” / Poundworld 90lb watecolour paper /
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Experiment series with texture continues. Post processing in Photoshop CS4. Countryside atmosphere near in the Salo southern Finland Canon EOS 40D / Canon EF-S 17-85MM 1:4-5.6 IS USM / 1/1s / f/13 / ISO100 / 20mm This image are © Veikko Suikkanen. You may not use any images (in whole or in part) without written consent from artist. All rights reserved.
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Torridon, Highlands, Scotland / / A Soft Caress of Welcome and the Scent of Old High Places. This spacious light was common in those days. A soft silk gossamer net that would have to fade to become mist. That would whisper across the glens in common history and Alexion’s gloaming myth memories. This and that would hide and seek, would become damp and shiver spider pearls from the Popish brown and purple of the mountain. Always catching the edge of a rough dress made from banned and ragged tartan. That would be secret sought for later remembered images and collapse in upon itself to find regional rural meaning. That would eventually create pictures that will hang in the hunting lodges of the rich and royal, in need of cleaning. It was morning fresh mood and midge covered evening in the latter end of Summer in the west. Alexion’s stories of the glen in her century. The Black house highland cow dung, black chicken pecked, villaged small secret world of the hidden and the regional self aware. The high views that were seen differently and with much less romance than now in this sad century. A wish to climb the highest in her remembered sight with the breathless wonder and detailed knowledge of the way down, but still not wanting to return to slavery. The stories mythical of a childhood in this fastness of black rock and crashing falling water. The black witch prediction watchfulness of a mother that did not care and besotted father who apparently did; but only in negative for his animals and the mountain at his back. The black seasoned preacher, with his genital showing perversion and stealing of nightgown righteousness. The light shafted mist that began and ended each short day of work. These were her words. These were the notes musical that tried to convince me of the strangely impossible. That fascinated my youth with such detail as to seem real and seen, experienced and happening then as even now. That to me were legends. That to her were as real as breathing. These she told across my neck lying sweat stuck together as we waited for our breath to come back from the past. That she shouted in her ghost voice to the moon and the unfaithfulness of man. Waiting for an explanation with hypnogogic understanding from me and extra detailed history from her. A soft caress of welcome and the scent of heather and old high places. The even softer accent of whispered clasping and spooned bodies that did not want to let go, no matter what forces were at play. Suppose you juxtapose this memory history with small, sweet sounds on the edge of hearing. Of cold softness, of the bed sinking from beneath and behind. Feeling the weight gradually, slowly filling. There are no sudden movements, only the gradual awareness of something else. Gradual and strange. A weight, a pushing back of the sheets. Of small arms across my chest. Very warm and pointedly aware of nakedness. The brushing of nipples across back and buttocks. There is always in this a smell, an evocative sense of something, somewhere else. Nothing I can usually or immediately resolve, but it comes anyway. I can remember every time a witches warmness moving slowly down my back, solar centring. Gathering around her madness and pulling me in. A prick scintillating pricking that does not feel like love, rising to a pointed word. The centre of a celtic spiral. This is far more than pleasure… She will then and only tell her stories, after the brief vicious coupling that rang in this present past with inexperience and needy solutions. That salty, like the sea, spurted with premature love and sang with unfulfilled hopes before we finished with each others thoughts and myths. / © 2009 Ken Simm.
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