Erin
67 members found (show all)
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Erin Lyall
Australia
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Erin Irwin
Australia
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Erin Farrar
183 creative works found
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The green of the Emerald Isle is quite abundant in this tiny part of Torc Forest in Kerry, South coast of Ireland.
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A window of an traditional country farm cottage in Ireland. Nice whitewashed wall on this shot..
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Lovers
by Erin KrollThe stillness of our warmth / two / together / our love is rooted deep
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A magical moment in London
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County Galway, Ireland.
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this is Port Erin Bay in Isle of man, lovely place to visit!
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"Sunset over Port Erin Bay" An International Collaboration: Artwork by: KathyWaldron - Bolton, UK and Quote by: Leon A. Walker - Florida, USA
by kathywaldronAn International Collaboration: / Artwork by: me / Quote by: Leon A. Walker – Florida, USA
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The Woes of a Photographer...
by Mark GermanWho says being a photographer is all fun and games? / Well – I can tell you – it’s a terrible, terrible thing. Last Friday, I had the m…
Who says being a photographer is all fun and games? / Well – I can tell you – it’s a terrible, terrible thing. Last Friday, I had the misfortune of having 8 beautiful, sensual girls come and play girly dress-ups at my house. And wouldn’t you know it? They actually wanted me to shoot the affair! Clothes flying everywhere, dancing in skimpy thingies – it is a wonder I didn’t have a bloody heart attack, I can tell you! / / All this was due to Yasemin and Naomi lending their services as colorist and make-up artist. / / Possibly the longest and most bandwidth-intensive journal entry ever, here we go….. / / / / Setting the scene… / 1* / / / Lots of girls getting dressed, and out comes the camera… / 2 / / / 3 / / / 4 / / / 5 / / / Next was make-up time… / 6 / / / 7 / / / 8 / / / 9 / / / ...and hair… / 10 / / / 11 / / / 12 / / / 13 / / / Yup, hair done…now dress-ups :) / 14 / / / 15 / / / 16 / / / and of course, poses… / 17 / / / 18 / / / 19 / / / 20 / / / 21 / / / 22 / / / 23 / / / 24 / / / 25 / / / 26 / / / Troy was a 4-armed angel… / 27 / / / ...but with a sneaky side… / 28 / / / ..and another side… / 29 / / / Erin decided to try and slice me open… / 30 / / / ...and Troy showed her how… / 31 / / / As the alcohol flowed freely, they danced… / 32 / / / ...and fell over a lot… / 33 / / / which tired them out and allowed me to take some candids… / 34 / / / 35 / / / 36 / / / 37 / / / 38 / / / 39 / / / 40 / / / 41 / / / 42 / / / 43 / / / 44 / / / 45 / / / 46 / / / 47 / / / 48 / / / 49 / / / ..and some poses…and artsy stuff… / 50 / / / 51 / / / 52 / / / 53 / / / 54 / / / 55 / / / 56 / / / 57 / / / 58 / / / 59* / / / / / / Hope you enjoyed it, and girls – you are welcome anytime :)
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Quite a while ago, a lovely and passionate woman, a wondeful writer [yet not many know this] – wrote a story and asked me my opinion of it. Immediately, after reading it, and wiping the tears from my eyes [no, not kidding], I felt totally inspired to create. We both agreed that I should create my vision image from her story, and it has taken a long time to get there. / / The image vision was instant, but getting it onto a digital image the way I wanted it to look, meant I had to learn certain things. 3D rendering for one [I have practised that on other, previous images], I had to get my merging flawless, and of course, I had to go get the shots I needed as well, and then I could start the work. / / Then this pain in my hands started up, which slowed the process down even further, but today – I managed to finish the piece, and send a preview to the beautiful writer – she approves, and wants it posted too – so here we go. / / If you have not read this story – Please, go and read it before you have a good look at this image. It will let you see this image for what it is, you will see things in it after reading the story, that you probably won’t see if you just look at the image on its own. / / The Story is called The Greatest Gift / / and was written by the very talented ECGardner / / Enjoy it!, Its worth it I promise. / / Hope you like what Erin and I created together here. / / Main background image was taken on a Welsh Redbubble meet at Kenfig Pool in May 2008 / / I have been inspired by many works, and many artists, and have done tons of collaborations, but nothing has ever inspired me such as Erin’s story did
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A beautiful image of the Connemara coast of Ireland. The west of Ireland is one of the last remaining pristine areas of Ireland, and this photo depicts it in all its wild beauty. The greens and blues are legendary. Hang this gorgeous image in any room of the house! Great gift, too, for all lovers of Ireland. A
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A back catalogue landscape, which if I recall correctly, was taken in Co. Sligo, Ireland, not far inland from the west coast. It shows Ben Bulben, I am told. I would be interested to hear serious critique of this earlier work from 2002.
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The sunset was cool. Man I love living here. That’s my little sister by the way, Erin, 11 years old
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i got bored….so i dressed up like this the cat jumped up to see what i was doing n just made the pic :P
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Legend of the shamrock and legends of Ireland all kinds of fanciful imagery, writer’s, poet’s musicians’ singer of songs and oppression poverty and everything that could go wrong to a people suppressed and exploited. Not angels not saints just ordinary people like most of the world getting by day by day in their own Irish way. Irish or not Erin go deo (Ireland Forever loose translation or till the end of time) and Erin go breá or Éirinn go breá (Ireland the beautiful again loosely translated) on St. Patrick’s Day or on any day that suits you and always “Fair Play Tu Yu Eire.” Just a note some say “Erin go Braugh” others say “Erin go Bragh” it varies best to say Erin go breá and of course Erin go deo a long time till the end of time relatively speaking. / If you’re Irish show the shamrock and if not be Irish on Saint Patrick’s Day in any event it is a celebration for one and all not for politics just a day set aside to enjoy…Erin Go Deo.
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This is a picture of another of my sister’s eyes. / This was fun.
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EVERY ST PADDYS DAY NEW YORK BECOMES THE EMERALD CITY…. THE BEGGINING OF WHERE THE IRISH CAME TO FULLFILL THEIR DREAMS BY THE BOAT-LOADS… WHERE THEY THOUGHT THEY COULD GET A HEART, A BRAIN, COURAGE AND A PLACE THEY COULD CALL HOME. MANY PERISHED IN SEARCH OF A BETTER LIFE…. BUT TO ALL THOSE WHO DIDNT… / THE IRISH LEGACY IN AMERICA…THIS IS DEDICATED… ERIN GO BRAUGH!! PHOTOS PUBLIC DOMAIN…. THIS WORK IS COYRIGHT PROTECTED BY A 2ND PARTY AND CAN BE TRACKED. ABSOLUTELY NO USE OF IMAGE WITHOUT PERMISSION. / / MCN: C24C3-B24B6-9E850 FEATURED IN POSTCARD STYLE
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Chalk
by Erin Farrar -
Built in 1848… The grave yard hasnt been used since the 1860’s…. Its so peaceful here
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digital drawing
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Quite a while ago, a lovely and passionate woman, a wondeful writer [yet not many know this] – wrote a story and asked me my opinion of it. Immediately, after reading it, and wiping the tears from my eyes [no, not kidding], I felt totally inspired to create. We both agreed that I should create my vision image from her story, and it has taken a long time to get there. / / The image vision was instant, but getting it onto a digital image the way I wanted it to look, meant I had to learn certain things. 3D rendering for one [I have practised that on other, previous images], I had to get my merging flawless, and of course, I had to go get the shots I needed as well, and then I could start the work. / I managed to finish the piece, and send a preview to the beautiful writer – she approved, and wanted it posted too – so here we go. Here is the story Once upon a time, deep in the heart of the dark continent, there lived an elephant named Muriel. All elephants are given gifts, and Muriel’s gifts were with words and with memory. Because of the nature of her gifts, she had been assigned a very important task within her herd: she was the chief storyteller. As the chief storyteller, it was her job every night to weave tales from the preceding day’s events to preserve the memories of the herd in a form that would be etched in their hearts as well as their minds. But the job of the chief storyteller wasn’t that simple, as it was also her duty to weave tales to inspire the herd for the new day that followed. Muriel, like all chief storytellers that preceded her, inspired her herd in many different ways. Some nights she told of humorous tales that allowed the elephants to see and learn from the folly of their actions. Some nights she left them in awe of another elephant’s bravery or sacrifice, inspiring them to do greatness in the days that followed. Other nights she told them sorrowful tales of loss that wrenched their hearts and caused them to shed great tears, so that they would be moved to appreciate life and live and love more the next day. / As chief storyteller, Muriel had an even greater gift than those of words and memory: she had a gift of true love. It was widely known amongst the elephants that all chief storytellers must also have a great love, for without a great love the gifts of words and memory fade. Muriel’s love was a big, strong, elephant who had the gift of finding water during the hot summer months, and he had been named the chief water-dowser of the herd. During those hot, dry months, he would lead members of the herd out and together they would find life-giving water for the rest of the herd. Upon returning home, he would walk together and he would share his travels with Muriel. Muriel would then use his words and his love to ignite her gifts and string together the words for her stories. He was Muriel’s life and breath, and she was his. / One hot, dry summer day the need for water was growing more urgent. Muriel’s love knew that he was going to have to lead his group to far away places to find water, and they set out early in the morning on their task. That night Muriel anxiously awaited for her love to return with the other elephants after the long day of water-dowsing. She was anxious because she knew how desperately her herd needed a new source of water, and because it had been a long day for her love and his group, and such long days were dangerous on the plains. Her heart lifted as she saw the group return, but then fell as she saw that her love was not among them. The members of the herd explained that they had searched for water but had been unable to find it, and that her love had stayed behind to continue looking overnight. Her heart grew heavy at the thought of her love out alone in the night, and she set out with her heavy heart determined to find him. / Muriel walked the paths that she and her love had visited together so many times before and saw no trace of him. She called out to him with her heart and for the first time since they had begun their lives together she felt no reply. As the night grew colder and she continued to wander in search of her love she suddenly felt a warmth flowing through her veins. It was a warmth she had experienced many times before; it was the warmth she felt every time she used her gifts to weave her stories and share them with her herd. Muriel felt the warmth guiding her, and she followed its unseen hand through the bush until she came upon a hidden and flowing river. She approached the river as the warmth filled her and completed her and she breathed a sigh of relief knowing her herd would be safe now that water had been found. / Her sigh of relief was temporary, as she had still not found her love. Muriel walked for a distance down the edge of the river, still clinging to a rapidly fading glimmer of hope. She continued, calling out to her love with her heart and having the unfamiliar experience of feeling no reply. She rounded a corner and saw a figure in the moonlight. As she neared the figure, her world suddenly and unexpectedly fell out from underneath her. She gazed at the figure, stunned, seeing what she had known was true in her heart long before. It was the motionless body of her love. / Muriel laid down next to her love and she cried deep tears of an incredible and overwhelming sadness. She cried these tears into the river that her love had found and to which his gift had guided her. As she cried for the loss of her greatest gift she felt her other gifts leave her. She watched helplessly as her memories slipped away. Her heart, losing its own inspiration, lost its gifts with words, and her own ability to inspire fell into the river. / While she cried she determined she would compose one last story. It was the story of her love, of how his gift had led him to the water, of how this pursuit had led him to be shot down by hunters. It was the story of how their love had transcended death so that she would find him and so the herd would be safe. It was a story of wisdom and a story of sacrifice and hardship but ultimately, it was a story of profound and deep love. / As Muriel was too weak to return to her herd, she called out to them. It wasn’t an audible call, but rather it was the same call that her love had sent to her: one that was deep and from the heart. Because the elephants knew her heart from her stories, and had felt her calling them night after night, they felt her immediately and began the trek to be by her side. / When they arrived, Muriel proudly told the story of her love. As she slipped away to join him she finished her story by asking her herd to drink from the river, which they reluctantly did. As they drank from the river, each member of the herd felt a warmth fill them as her gifts of words and of memory that she had shed with her tears flowed into each of them. Though they felt a sadness as they bade their storyteller and dowser goodbye, the herd also felt a sense of oneness and of peace that they had never before experienced. / Over the next few days the herd attempted, with sadness, to choose a new chief storyteller to etch memories in their hearts and minds and to inspire them for each new day. As they tried to choose, however, they realized with great surprise that they no longer needed a storyteller, as each elephant had taken Muriel’s gifts and was now a storyteller in his own right. But they soon realized that what she had given them was even greater than a herd of storytellers. As it is widely known amongst elephants that all storytellers must have a great love, the true meaning of her gift became apparent: Muriel had given them all the gift of true love. ECGardner
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