Blue ghostly
324 creative works found
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companion piece with Ubume / Funayūrei – The ghosts of those who perished at sea. / The lady in this picture and her husband were sunk at sea (can you see the ship?) :( / stock credits: http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/41487594/
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This is part of a series that I am working on. Called morning noon and evening. My thought is to have the same background image in 3 variations showing how one place can evolve and change moods. I have reasently created a second image / / Noon
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Charme profond, magique, dont nous grise / Dans le présent le passé restauré! / Ainsi l’amant sur un corps adoré / Du souvenir cueille la fleur exquise. / / - from “Un Fantôme” by Charles Baudelaire / (in Les Fleurs du Mal) / / / DETAILS / this digitalart picture’s size is 6000×4500px. / click a thumbnail for a real-size detail from the original / / / © 2007 Nodakami
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/ Evening
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All work in this portfolio is © Stephanie Rachel Seely. / These materials (images and poems) may NOT be edited, copied, reproduced, printed, distributed, displayed, performed, or used in any way, in whole or in part, without my written permission. Please respect copyright and do not save or upload any images or poems to Photobucket, Flickr, Myspace, Facebook etc. These creative materials are NOT public domain. Inspired by the end of Tim Burton’s ‘Corpse Bride’ film.
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Also available as a tee:
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this is from a passport photograph taken in 1971 and a digitally worked picture of an iris. It reminds me of a sad time in my life
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Dual tone watercolour. / Poundworld, 90lb paper
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...
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I Died many Times Before… First time I remember, I was still a toddler / sitting in the morning sun, on the concrete floor. / My grandparents’ courtyard in Salamiyeh. / I watched, fascinated, as the massive snake / made its way from the roof / down the wall in front of me. / I held a long stick in my hand, tapped / the giant head as it slithered closer. Second time, a year or so older, also in Salamiyeh. / It struck on a starry summer night. / I was playing barefooted on the patio. / Mother came running to my screams. / Sobbing, I told her a big butterfly bit my foot. / I pointed to where it ran off, watched / as she grabbed a straw broom, killed / the venomous desert scorpion with repeated blows. / I vividly recall her rushing around with one shoe on, / the other missing, laying me in a stroller, / running down darkened streets to the emergency clinic. I also died at age five, along with my mother and sister. / It happened on the two-lane Hama-Homs highway. / Mother unintentionally turned the steering wheel / as she twisted her body to chide us / for backseat bickering. No guardrails. / Nothing but protruding rocks all the way / down the steep drop-off. My first summer in college, I died in New York City. / Muggy night, uptown Manhattan, a block away from Broadway / in front of the big Cathedral. I had my arms up, / as the man who had just asked for a light / pressed the tip of his knife into my ribs. Years later, on a misty morning on Texas Highway 87, / I fell asleep at the wheel. / I had worked through the night in Victoria, / and was looking ahead to my bed in San Antonio. / My Chevy Blazer slowly drifted left / into the path of the oncoming truck. Those worlds / continue without me. / My tombstones there / mark ends of times I knew. In this one, grandmother Um Sami suddenly appeared. / Rounded boulder hoisted high. Arms fully extended. / How she lifted it? How she took dead aim, and launched it / smashing the serpent’s head? / I do not know. I was still conscious. / I do remember clearly / the terrified look on my mother’s face. / How her voice trembled as she pleaded / with the nurse to be careful. She was afraid / the syringe’s needle was going to puncture through / my tiny toe. Mother slammed the brakes as she forcefully corrected. / Car came to a screaming, precarious halt / in a cloud of swirling dust. / We stayed parked at the side of the road for a long time. / Her hands shaking, she gave us grapes, / while she collected her frazzled self. / She swore never to drive again. / Never did. “Let the creep go”, the second robber, / who had just cleaned my pockets with swift efficiency, / told the one holding my life at the tip of his knife. / They took pity on me when I told them / there was nothing in my wallet. / They slipped it back. Walked off. / It took my rage weeks to subside. I could see the whites of the wide-open eyes / of the truck driver, as I twitched awake! / He was already moving to his left / to avoid hitting me. But my reflex was to jerk the wheel / to my right to get back into my lane. / I also stomped the brakes. / We came within a hair of a head-on collision, / as he swerved back into his lane. / That was when time switched / to slow motion… / Me sitting still. / Blazer skidding sideways / on the wet grass / along the shoulder. / Dull-black asphalt road passing / in front of me. / No sound. / Finally, / everything / coming to absolute / rest. In this one an invisible hand / still cradles / my bones. © Assef Al-Jundi
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a shark exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC explaining something between life and death (it’s suspended in a huge tank of formaldehyde) / / / we were not allowed to take pictures, but the woman guarding the exhibit said we could take as many pictures as we wanted as soon as she went on break in 5 minutes, permitted we didn’t get caught by the next guard. i love rules
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The ring is on my hand, And the wreath is on my brow; / Satin and jewels grand Are all at my command, / And I am happy now. And my lord he loves me well; But, when first he breathed his vow, / I felt my bosom swell- For the words rang as a knell, / And the voice seemed his who fell In the battle down the dell, / And who is happy now. But he spoke to re-assure me, And he kissed my pallid brow, / While a reverie came o’er me, And to the church-yard bore me, / And I sighed to him before me, Thinking him dead D’Elormie, / “Oh, I am happy now!” And thus the words were spoken, And this the plighted vow, / And, though my faith be broken, And, though my heart be broken, / Here is a ring, as token / That I am happy now! Would God I could awaken! For I dream I know not how! / And my soul is sorely shaken Lest an evil step be taken,- / Lest the dead who is forsaken / May not be happy now. ... Edgar Allan Poe Canon 300D // 3 frame HDR/tone image The lighthouse keepers cottage, at The Narrows, Pt Malcolm, South Australia
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Holga magic- this is completely untouched.
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This was drawn by hand,edited in photoshop
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By far the most famous fictional ghost ship is The Flying Dutchman. The ship has become synonymous with the phenomenon so that “Flying Dutchman” is often used as a generic term for any apparition-type ghost ship. The term may also refer to a real ship that was reported to be seen – often as an apparition – after sinking, or to a ship found floating with no crewmembers on board. According to folklore, the Flying Dutchman is a ghost ship that can never go home, but must sail “the seven seas” forever. The Flying Dutchman is usually spotted from afar, sometimes glowing with ghostly light. If she is hailed by another ship, her crew will often try to send messages to land, to people long since dead. / Versions of the story are numerous. According to some, the story is originally Dutch, while others claim it is based on the English play The Flying Dutchman (1826) by Edward Fitzball and the novel The Phantom Ship (1837) by Frederick Marryat, later adapted into the Dutch story Het Vliegend Schip (The Flying Ship) by the Dutch clergyman A.H.C. Römer. Other versions include the opera by Richard Wagner (1841) and The Flying Dutchman on Tappan Sea by Washington Irving (1855).
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others in series
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For the next month (from May 27th onwards) I’m asking people not to leave a comment on my work here. Rather, if you would like to support the work that I do please either leave a comment or upload an image here I can live without comments but homophobia needs your voices Many thanks / Robert Museum Station tunnel, Sydney. There is a moving mural here which looks like smoke or water behind perspex. Stunning backdrop.
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Best viewed large A Sydney tunnel, underground street, passages within passages – this one is flanked with moving ‘water’ or ‘bue smoke’ murals. All created in camera.
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Model – justmeina Horse – confused_stock Background – TimeWizardStock Picture – night_fate_stock Picture Frame – guteCharlotte stock Inspired by: / America – Horse With No Name On the first part of the journey / I was looking at all the life / There were plants and birds and rocks and things / There was sand and hills and rings / The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz / And the sky with no clouds / The heat was hot and the ground was dry / But the air was full of sound I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name / It felt good to be out of the rain / In the desert you can remember your name / ‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain / La, la … After two days in the desert sun / My skin began to turn red / After three days in the desert fun / I was looking at a river bed / And the story it told of a river that flowed / Made me sad to think it was dead You see I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name / It felt good to be out of the rain / In the desert you can remember your name / ‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain / La, la … After nine days I let the horse run free / ‘Cause the desert had turned to sea / There were plants and birds and rocks and things / there was sand and hills and rings / The ocean is a desert with it’s life underground / And a perfect disguise above / Under the cities lies a heart made of ground / But the humans will give no love You see I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name / It felt good to be out of the rain / In the desert you can remember your name / ‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain / La, la …
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this time with people ;-) taken with a nikon D80 with a nikkor 18 – 135 mm lens on a tripod ISO: 100 / shutter speed: 2.2 sec / f/stop: f/9 / focal length: 18 mm
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You’ve seen the film, you’ve read the book, you’ve bought the T-shirt & now you can buy the artwork too. / Yes its inspired by the film ‘End of The Line’ The message is simple enough, our Oceans will contain nothing more than Ghosts if we continue to ignore the obvious. We need to change; we need to look at what we’re doing to the global fish stocks & work out a better way to manage & sustain the resources available to us. / Also available as a T-shirt. / Like the sale sign says, when they’re gone, they’re gone!!!!! / /
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William, the Victorian ghost boy. The Hammo
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Oil on Canvas Have you laid down on the damp ground and looked up toward the sun only to be consumed by the trees and their canopy. / Life is good.
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