Blue church
621 creative works found
-
Stormy Church – Thank you to RichieDean who helped me with the sky on this – You are great! /
-
Location: Ratcliffe-On-Soar, Nottinghamshire, England Map: Google Maps Date and Time: 2 March.2008, 11.02 a.m. Camera details: ISO 200 : f/3.5 : 1/500 second : 18mm : Nikon D40 : Nikon 18-55mm lens Shot narrative: / I’d pulled in to capture a picture of the Power Station (see below) but on the walk from the car I just couldn’t believe the sky when I walked past the field with the church nestled between the trees and the river Soar sitting nicely next to the field. Other shots from Nottinghamshire:
-
Inspired by the beautifull song of the same name by Enya. Several of my own photographs merged together in photoshop CS2.
-
This calender is a selection of artist work by Sue Hodge. Sue and her family have lived in Broken Hill for the past 13 years. During that time Sue has compiled an impressive range of artwork in various mediums and styles, opened her own gallery and been inducted into the Broken Hill Artist Walk of Fame. / This Calendar is a celebration of her work and marks the end of an era as Sue and her family leave Broken Hill at the end of 2008, starting afresh in Dubbo.
-
St Nicholas Chapel St Ives Cornwall England
-
I added some drama.. but I do so love the Russian Orthodox Churches in the city.. this one is off Gary Street.
-
Raukokore Anglican Church sits on a lone promontory on the East Cape of New Zealand’s north island. This image was featured in the travel section of “The Age” newspaper here in Melbourne on 21st July 2007 / / Image Details: / Camera – Canon EOS33 / Lens – 24-85mm USM / Film – Fuji Velvia 100 Professional / Focal length – Not recorded / Exposure – Apeture Priority / Aperture – Not recorded / Shutter – Not recorded / ISO – 100 / Tripod and cable release / Transperancy scanned using CanoScan 5000F scanner / / © Andrew Brown Cards / Urban and Architecture / Panorama / Landscape / Portraiture / Macro / / /
-
I used to go with my mother at Point-au-Père along the St-Lawrence river just for evening and night before reaching Grand-Anse,New-Brunswich, the village where she grew up.I had long walks on those rocs when I was very young,when I saw the little church it all came back to me.I saw myself with my little sister Maryse and my brother Peter picking up rocs and shells and the sun was going down,I was 14 years old…souvenir …souvenir…..an untouched shot. / Better view larger. / Two world challenge:personnal and history / /
-
This shot was taken of the church in the heart of Tanunda, (The Barossa Valley) South Australia. A storm was about to roll in and the clouds turned streaky within a matter of minutes.
-
/
-
Can’t beat a good icon
-
Love can blow your mind and leave you seeing stars but its always your heart that takes the weight.
-
This is a block of stone from Yardley Old Church. / I’ve added a little contrast but the stone work of this church is mindblowing! / Shot with a macro lens. /
-
SAME CHURCH DIFFERENT ANGLE AND TREATMENT.. LOVE THESE BUILDINGS.. / had a suggestion to find a few other kinds of churches from different countries with this kind of religion.. perhaps a study of these.. all taken in the car!! my girl ..friend would not stop! /
-
Inspired by Edgar Allen Poe’s masterful and thought provoking poem The Raven _Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, / Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, / While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, / As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. / `’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - / Only this, and nothing more.’ Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, / And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. / Eagerly I wished the morrow; – vainly I had sought to borrow / From my books surcease of sorrow – sorrow for the lost Lenore - / For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore - / Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain / Thrilled me – filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; / So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating / `’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - / Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - / This it is, and nothing more,’ Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, / `Sir,’ said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; / But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, / And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, / That I scarce was sure I heard you’ – here I opened wide the door; - / Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, / Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before / But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, / And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!’ / This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!’ / Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, / Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. / `Surely,’ said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; / Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - / Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - / ‘Tis the wind and nothing more!’ Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, / In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. / Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; / But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - / Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - / Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, / By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, / `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,’ I said, `art sure no craven. / Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - / Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!’ / Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, / Though its answer little meaning – little relevancy bore; / For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being / Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - / Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door, / With such name as `Nevermore.’ But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, / That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. / Nothing further then he uttered – not a feather then he fluttered - / Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before - / On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.’ / Then the bird said, `Nevermore.’ Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, / `Doubtless,’ said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, / Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster / Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - / Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore / Of “Never-nevermore.”’ But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, / Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; / Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking / Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - / What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore / Meant in croaking `Nevermore.’ This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing / To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core; / This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining / On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er, / But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er, / She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer / Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. / `Wretch,’ I cried, `thy God hath lent thee – by these angels he has sent thee / Respite – respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! / Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!’ / Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! - / Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, / Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - / On this home by horror haunted – tell me truly, I implore - / Is there – is there balm in Gilead? – tell me – tell me, I implore!’ / Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Prophet!’ said I, `thing of evil! – prophet still, if bird or devil! / By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore - / Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, / It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - / Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?’ / Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!’ I shrieked upstarting - / `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore! / Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! / Leave my loneliness unbroken! – quit the bust above my door! / Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!’ / Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.’ And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting / On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; / And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming, / And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; / And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor / Shall be lifted – nevermore!_
-
Acrylic painting of the house I grew up in and me. A self portrait I am the blonde but mind you I am a red head. I just always wanted to be a blonde… / Click on Image for “Giving the Bride Away” T-shirt…. /
-
Church of the Good Shepherd and Lake Tekapo, New Zealand
-
My inner rumblings reflect my personal trials, dreams, needs and obligations. My Artwork reflects who I am! / / / Photography Madeline M. Allen Thank you for viewing my work Image copyright © 2008, Madeline M. Allen / Copying and displaying or redistribution of this / image without permission from the artist is strictly prohibited*
-
Silhouette of Man Stood By Tree Overlooking Manchester City Centre at Night
by Rob DaviesUS$3.42–US$91.20
I stand, I stare / I wonder, where? I pray, I breathe / to stay, or leave? I live, I lie / I wonder, why? I love, I pain / I feel the same. I give, I get / and yet, and yet? Shot on Werneth Low, Hyde. Overlooking Manchester City Centre
RedBubble is a great place to find art, design, photos and writing from over 80,000 talented people.
You can buy their stuff
On stunning greeting cards, awesome t-shirts or beautiful prints to hang on your walls.
Risk Free Returns
It’s really simple. If you’re not happy with your purchase for any reason, we’ll fix it.
About RedBubble
Since February 2007 we’ve shipped over 149,600 items to more than 70 countries around the world.
Join In
Sign up for your free account, upload your work, join some groups and share your creative genius with the world.