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630 creative works found
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My profile / / /
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My top 5 for your top 5
by Cathleen TarawhitiEasy / You look through my work and pick your favourite top 5 and I will / look through your portfolio and tell you my favourite 5. / I’ll …
Easy / You look through my work and pick your favourite top 5 and I will / look through your portfolio and tell you my favourite 5. / I’ll show you mine if you show me yours – without the nakedness. Unless you feel the need to show me in which I’ll post you here in all your glory for the viewers pleasure.
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*model/ concept: Art laugh because it’s funny, and cry because it’s so pitifully true, guys… the fact remains that even if you’re a talented design/ art/ photography student, the size of your income may not always be quite so proportionate to the size of your skill. (of course, if you throw in a heavy dose of prayer and ambition, THEN the equation changes…) special thanks to Art for coming up with the idea for this photo, and just being ballsy enough to do this at a freeway exit, where I’m sure drivers were more than a little weirded out by what they saw oh, and by the way… do you guys remember the good ol’ days when we thought $2.87 for a gallon of gas was expensive? we were young, naive and innocent then… fun fact: this photo is nearly two years old! I took this back in late 2006 when I didn’t even have my dSLR yet! I normally don’t go back that far when searching for past photos that are worthy of being tweaked in the lab, but this one was special :)
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This is for Darrell Moseley’s Flower Power Screensaver2 Project…...A frog finds some shelter from the Spring rain shower in the Moonflower blossom…...........Edited with PhotoImpact11. ____ All The Materials Contained May Not Be Reproduced, Copied, Edited, Published, Transmitted Or Uploaded In Any Way Without My Permission. My Images Do Not Belong To The Public Domain. © Joyce Dickens: Using my images for any purpose and in any way, without prior permission, may lead to legal action.
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My new wolf friend seemed to like having his pictures taken – he stared “up close and personal” right into the lens. I believe it is only fitting to donate the proceeds of the sale of this image to a park that more than 200 wolves call home! :) Donation to charity / 50% of the proceeds of the sale of this image will be donated to Algonquin Park
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Life is a labyrinth in which we take the bad direction before learning to walk. / Cyril Connolly. Nothing is more tragic than to meet a man out of breath, lost in the labyrinth of the life. / Martin Luther King. Woman is the first labyrinth of the man. / Jacques Attali.
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An image that came to me when I thought about the kind of written work many people define as being called, ‘Hate Poetry’. I prefer to call this type of writing, ‘Therapeutic Writing’ or ‘Venting’. I don’t ‘hate’ anyone when I write something that expresses anger or disgust about an issue or a type of behaviour, I never hate the person themselves, I don’t even really ‘hate’ the behaviour or ‘incident’ that is being described, I’m simply responding to it with an emotion of some description at the time. Generally within an hour of completing a piece of writing, I’m feeling a sense of release and am fine again. The word ‘Hate’ is such a strong word, and people are apt to use it far too lightly and flippantly, similar to the way that the strength and power, of the emotion called ‘Love’, can be weakened and diluted, when it the word itself is either spoken or written too frequently and carelessly. The words ‘Love’ and ‘Hate’ in themselves are strange words, for they infer feelings that are extremely slanted towards either protecting or destroying someone or something. We protect those we are supposed to love, and we destroy those we are supposed to hate. Truth be known, I don’t think I’m capable of feeling such extremes of either emotion, I think I spend way too much of my life hovering around the perimeter of things, looking in, imitating the ways in which I’m supposed to think and feel about everything that’s going on… Mmm… This description has turned into quite some muse, considering all that really triggered it, was a comment I made to another person whereby I said, “You know, if I didn’t pick up a pen and write about it, it’s possible I’d pick up a gun and shoot someone.” But in having said that, I don’t feel this way because I hate anyone, but more because I just want something to STOP or go away, so I write it out of my system. I’m writing more softer stuff lately, than I’ve ever written before in my Life… There was a time when all of my writing used to sound angry, depressing and dark, it seems to be changing form and style lately… I’m not sure why… As yet I’m still considering whether or not I ‘Love’ this shift in my style of writing, or whether, in fact, I actually ‘Hate’ it. I guess more than anything, I simply prefer to flow where ever the current mood carries me to, and despite the common viewpoint of many people, I don’t believe that all emotions are capable of being controlled or contained… Nor maybe whether they even should be.
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I was in northern Rwanda in April 2007 as a volunteer with an aid group and we had stopped to talk with people at a local church. The town was Rhuengeri, it sits close to the border with the Democratic Republic of Congo and has the unfortunate reputation as having been home to a number of those who perpetrated the horrific genocide of 1994. / The atmosphere in Rwanda is one of pervading ‘brokeness.’ Millions of orphans live side by side with those who tortured and massacred their families 14 few, short years ago. Millions more suffer the newer enemy – HIV Aids and countless others wander ghost like in a state it seems of perpetual shock, haunted by the past and overwhelmed by the concept of a future. / This was April. The official month of mourning. When people publicly face what privately never leaves them. / I was sitting on a step tired and desperate for fresh air when I looked into the crowd that inevitably gathered wherever we were. / This woman, is by my guess perhaps 30 and she is as are most, dirt poor. / I was absolutely transfixed by her and her child. / She seemed to me to sum up so much of what I saw. / Love and desperation and yes, compassion. / Her breast is bone dry and cracked and yet she tries to feed her baby. Perhaps it is the hope inherent in the action which feeds her. / At the same time, she looks totally preoccupied by her struggle for survival. / What is she thinking as she gazes into the middle ground? / My thought is, ‘where is the next meal.’ Where will she get it from? How will she share it? And upon finishing it, where will she find the next one? / I was overwhelmed by seeing the reality of those who live literally from hour to hour, day after exhausting day. / It confronted me then. / It continues to confront me now. / – Dog photography – Africa photography / - Beach photography - Black & white photography – Dog photography – Africa photography / - Beach photography - Monotone photography
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My new friend posed and wanted me to get his face “right”, although I am still not sure that I did. I tried though. Donation to charity / 50% of the proceeds of the sale of this image will be donated to Algonquin Park
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Taken at Goma in the Democratic Republic of Congo in April.
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40×50 cm canvas on board, oil colours. the tridimensional particularity it’s not easy to see… but it surely has one. I asure you… / and a touchable one, too. thank you for looking and comments.
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The bridge reminds me of an emotion of solitude, which is not to be confused with loneliness. The former leads to an internal peace and being one with nature and oneself while the latter was a feeling of being forced to be alone, deprived of freedom and choice. I used to call this photo “Peaceful Bridge” until a young patient of mine (at the time she was nine years old) explored the difference between solitude and loneliness. When the image was presented to him as an illustration, he exclaimed, “Oh, solitude is peace, inner peace!” And the true title of the piece was born. Donation to charity / 50% of the proceeds of the sale of this image will be donated to Nature Canada
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Sitting, waiting for the others in a church in Northern Rwanda, my eyes wandered, taking in the room. To tell the truth I was tired and bored and in need of a day off. Over the other side of the room sat this young man, alone. I’m not sure what he was doing there. Waiting for his Mother maybe? I wondered, should I take a shot? If he saw me it could be really uncomfortable. I mean I was really close and I couldn’t pretend I was photographing anyone else. Anyway I thought, ‘I’ll sneak a shot in.’ So, I raised the camera and started to muck around with the shot. And then he looked up. I cringed behind the lens and just sat there, frozen. He didn’t divert his gaze. For several seconds we stared at each other me on one side of the camera, him on the other. Finally I pressed the shutter. His expression remained exactly the same. I lowered the camera and returned his stare, this time with no mechanical device between us. It sounds corny but something travelled between us. An absolute realisation that we were right there, in the same place at the same time. He didn’t dismiss me or put me down. He stood right on the same level. It was unique.
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I still watch her video as it reminds me who I really am.. Here is a bit about this amazing Doctor/woman and her website below. / / Jill Bolte Taylor: Neuroanatomist Brain researcher Jill Bolte Taylor studied her own stroke as it happened—and has become a powerful voice for brain recovery. / Why you should listen to her: One morning, a blood vessel in Jill Bolte Taylor’s brain exploded. As a brain scientist, she realized she had a ringside seat to her own stroke. She watched as her brain functions shut down one by one: motion, speech, memory, self-awareness … Amazed to find herself alive, Taylor spent eight years recovering her ability to think, walk and talk. She has become a spokesperson for stroke recovery and for the possibility of coming back from brain injury stronger than before. In her case, although the stroke damaged the left side of her brain, her recovery unleashed a torrent of creative energy from her right. From her home base in Indiana, she now travels the country on behalf of the Harvard Brain Bank as the “Singin’ Scientist.” “How many brain scientists have been able to study the brain from the inside out? I’ve gotten as much out of this experience of losing my left mind as I have in my entire academic career.” Jill Bolte Taylor
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The doe took a little time off from busy eating for the photo opportunity, although she didn’t want to give up the tasty colorful leaf. By now everyone who has ever seen my work knows that I’m absolutely “addicted” to develop a deep relationship and establish an intimate communication with mule deer (we don’t have a lot of white-tailed deer around here). Everyday I go out there in the early mornings, hoping to have a close encounter! :) Donation to charity / 50% of the proceeds of the sale of this image will be donated to Nature Canada
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This shot is one of my favourites because it tells such a story. In the forground is a wallet being held by one of my colleagues Bart. He is buying the basket being held by the Rwandan woman in the middle of the shot. All eyes are on the transaction. This represents life and death in Africa as much as any other portrait. It is positive, but you can also feel the tension, the need, the hope. All proceeds to charity. I might even buy this myself. – Dog photography – Africa photography / - Beach photography - Black & white photography – Dog photography – Africa photography / - Beach photography - Monotone photography
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The sisters knew they are beautiful so they posed for the camera for a long time until I got it “right”. :) Donation to charity / 50% of the proceeds of the sale of this image will be donated to Algonquin Park
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40×50 cm canvas on board, oil colours.
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mY hAt / / MOp It / / Go It ON / / cHoiCes choices / / bLaCk hAt / / SeSsion ova /
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This is my entry into Melbourne’s digital fringe festival… Photostock by fetishfaerie and mjranum (deviantart)
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Ornamental Garden Rivington.
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I just did this quickly …after an inspiring suggestion from Jaybe : ) Stop / Stop and think / Of the doorways you seek There is not one / But there are many / Paths and doors / Through which / You find… Life / A life / A life to live Life of smiles / Life of frowns / Fresh air to breathe / Stale air to choke Stop / Stop and think / Which door do you choose / Which doorway do you pass through ?
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It’s not unusual for an artist to be influenced by poetry. Poetry is truth exposed— eloquently and succinctly. Sometimes it seems like my personal truth, but as it turns out, my truth is universal. This piece was inspired by the poet Wislawa Szymborska. / http://nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/literature/laureates/1996/szymborska-poetry.html / In the poem “COULD HAVE”, / http://www.english.upenn.edu/~traister/szymborska.html / Szymborska writes about destiny/fate/chance/luck and, most fortunately, reprieve. I read this poem many times and eventually realized that I didn’t really have The Choice to decide my fate after my mother’s death at a young age. “As a result”, “because”, “although” and “despite” played the larger role. The “Chest” of drawers is a metaphor for my mother’s chest (and heart). Once upon a time, there seemed no separation between hers and mine. The four drawers state my truths: As a result of circumstances at the time / Because I had to go on / Although it wasn’t what I wanted, and / Despite all evidence to the contrary I chose. Or did I?
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