Atmosphere lighting
811 creative works found
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Shoulder to shoulder / Arm in arm / They stroll down / Lovers lane
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Who’s the boss / Out of these two?
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Whitehaven’s old Powerhouse. It is such an interesting old building to look at with alot of history behind it. The path leads up to a steep set of steps, which at night are quite errie! Is it just me, or does this remind anyone else of the Exorcist?! (Maybe more so when you actually see the steps!)
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This was an amazing view and moment, the right place at the right time. This photograph was shot on our Game-farm in the Limpopo Province, South Africa. / / /
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See my Miura calendar. Location: Yokosuka, Japan Yokosuka is a city located in Kanagawa, Japan. It is located at the mouth of Tokyo Bay in the Miura Peninsula, and the city stretches across the peninsula to Sagami Bay. Its neighbors are Yokohama, Miura, Hayama, and Zushi. Source: Wikipeidia Taken May 20, 2007 with a Fuji E-510. This work has been featured in: / Two Word Challenge / Weekly Theme Challenges Also available at Zazzle /
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CLOUDY LATE AFTERNOON CAPTURE / / /
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So, the title of this picture and the atmosphere has another meaning for me. Sure, I am endlessly thankful for my friend’s kindness and generosity – isn’t it wonderful getting flowers? :D but this shot has many other (important) meanings for me, too. I purposely worked on the atmosphere of this shot and the simplicity of it, as well. Letting the overall effect give meaning to the piece. I hope I have succeeded. If I have, please let me know! I hope you enjoy this piece! Any and all comments welcomed :) Random work on my RedBubble:
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Lewis Western Isles Scotland / /
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Glen Nevis Scotland / /
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Harris Western Isles Scotland /
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Benderloch West Coast Scotland / / /
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My watercolour painting of Turner’s Corinth. 90lb watercolour paper, 8”x12”.
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And Salmon Traps / /
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To-day it was Catriona and my Wedding Anniversary so we decided to do what we love doing best and that was going for a long drive through the Mourne Mountains we spent the day going to all our favourite spots all bathed in glorious sunshine we went for dinner about 5 and then back into the mountains ,we ended up at Spelga dam and watched the sun go down from here and the view above was the last rays of the sun as it dissapeared behind the mountain ,My Anniversary Sunset a perfect end to a wonderfull day!!!
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Astronomical sunset from 10,000 feet on Haleakala Volcano looking out across South Maui into the Pacific ocean and above into the celestial atmosphere.
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Shot in the Dudden valley in Cumbria, the sun made it’s way through the clouds that done a great job of topping the lakes up.
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Oh Susanna
by MaijaVintage styled romantic snapshot from a sunny afternoon.
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Harris, Western Isles, Scotland / / / Who sang La Mer? Charles Trenet sang La Mer. This is what you asked. Your name was long for Harry. Which was what I called you. The older woman. Thirty five you were, and your name was Women in Love. Hermione. You loved your Pavane in black skirt and head scarf Crows that cawed over the impossible yellow fields of the South. Just as he said when he painted his insanity. Wine drunk rainbow headaches in the sunshine of the marsh of the flamingoes and the bulls. We argued insanity consistently, giving and taking talking grey, galling, grief. Wondering when it would end. A painted clay pipe for the drudgery of every night drugging and driving the old car through the crucifix shrines of littered and melted offerings tied to the belief of Gauguin paintings. The sharp straight up sunlight giving the lie to whatever was enjoyed, together and individually righteous. The bright red poppy flower by the side of the road. Druid mistletoe in the trees by the river in the west. The voices raised in the chorus chorale of a whitewashed shafted sun burned out cathedral. Asking in the cafe square for a pen to say goodbye. She was older enough. I was younger enough then, but only just. Being less than a man because of no military service, they told me. The barge trips with a bike, asleep on wet grey green tarpaulin valleys, chugging past vineyard and oak aged château hills. Bridges, Breton exploded in temper. Groucho, Harpo & Chico in Italian with French subtitles in the cabin at the back. A poster of the president election on every lamp. The song of the ill loved man. Talking you scared, down the steep grey green hill. Watching you and your daughter in the slip sliding mud all of Leonardo graves. Asking for another pen this time to draw the Languedoc hill that was burning martyr safe. She was a Mother and I was someone else’s son. The start of the drawing in pen instead of HB pencil. Missing a visually exciting scene whilst listening to a very stirring sabre dance. Saxophone playing, somewhere. You like sax, don’t, did, didn’t you? The aforementioned Gypsy’s with their black bread and potatoes. Camus reading camera and crawling for Roman artefacts in the sandbanks on the river, when you left after writing the arguments down because I could not find the collapsible courage. Starving in the capital then for four drawing days before killing myself with an apple for dinner. Drawing and writing everything so I could burn them later and watch the little black books crisp and curly in blue and green. Before I came home with my bike and whiskey fountain to find, my mother, a year later. I had not been missed.
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Skye, Hebrides, Scotland / / / A Weather Stripped Mountain and Caves under Trees. / Alexion was music and soft fumbled sex, dreams and real. Forgetting and still. A word of creativity in me and a light shining in the darkness of the sickness I had come to and for, far too early. A weather stripped mountain and caves under trees. She was western islands and mythic, real and not, old and far away. Casting around for her rescue from the rape of her time and hoping to be found while still young. A whole experience for me, to me, explained in my sickness and the lies of those who said, illness suits you. She was pollution in the rivers of my childhood stamped on the virgin snow crags in my paintings. She was all of them trumpet taunting, laughing, shouting, crying and unwilling to allow me. Separate from reality and close to costly insanity. A girl far dreaming from far away and long ago. She was the saddest thing in my language and the failure to work at the things I must see to succeed. Sucking at what I did not know but tried to. She came with bells as a sculpture clashing smashing in the wind. This was a start in puberty, in the loss of my certainty when I left the Doctor who said “This won’t happen again, will it?”. A question in me that left home and went abroad, growing. She turned with me inside and was small enough to sit on my beautiful thinking aloud. She stopped my face from breathing with her salty taste and she never, ever, ever spoke. She sweat and scratched. Licked and held new ball weight in her hand. She pushed her own hand inside herself until it was thin arm and then tasted what dripped, before giving it to me with a kiss and a slap of the removed hand shiny. Leaving the shiny palm print that is still on my chest. She could squeeze and hold, hold and still, squeezing fresh juice that no longer belonged to me, to dip in and drink together. I think she stopped me from being as freshly green fertile as one of the later one’s wanted me. Silent she was, drifting on her lubricated sex, sliding her place wherever she felt hardness and suckling with both top and bottom. She was, for want of better, symphonic dreams of night. She wanted both me and not. To say she was pupil was rot because she died a long time ago before I was born, and the teacher also no, because she came to me, not me to her. Succuba sex, evil and good, very good for one virgin who had not except with the one who he loved most of all of them ever. But could never, ever again until that one later died saying she loved me forever. Alexion came and went with the time it all went away. She left when it all returned and did not come back.
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European Buzzard, Skye, Hebrides, Scotland /
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Eilean Donan. Road to the Isles, Highlands, Scotland / /
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Highlands Scotland / /
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Western Isles, Scotland / /
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Highlands, Scotland / /
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