Fortune
3 members found
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DJ Fortune
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Vickie Fortune
United States
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robert Fortune
United States
400 creative works found
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Hartsville, SC. USA. Graflex Supergraphic 4×5. 135mm Optar. Ilford Delta 100 sheet film. Developed in Ilfosol S and then scanned.
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Featured in the AbsTract Realism Group Featured again in the Top 10 of the Abstract Realism Challenge! – Thank You Everyone!! (Mar 6/09)
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Just one sheet makes a big difference; / One sheet that can make over 2000 cranes. / Each crane a step closer to a better world; / Each piece a step closer to peace. Each square in the grid paper is 5×5mm; and to be exact, there were 2028 full squares in the paper When I was in grade 5 our teacher read “Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes” to our class. Sadako Sasaki was infected with leukemia. She spent her days folding cranes and making wishes upon them; wishing for her health and for a more peaceful world (the quote above is my writing inspired by the story of the thousand paper cranes). I had difficulty photographing this; and am not fully satisfied with the end result, but I suppose this is the best I can do with my camera (I’m satisfied with the origami though!) I hope everyone likes the idea anyhow. For me it’s always more about the origami than the photography skills. This piece has been included among RB’s featured pages, and in the following groups: / Inspired Art / _Winner of The Challenge For a better idea of scale: / / More Sample Origami:
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Lady Luck – The Turn of a Card..you got to know when to hold them, know when to fold them…don’t you wish you had written that song;) / Art by Shanina Conway / Available as a framed print, poster and card. Image copyright © 2008 Shanina Conway. / Copying and displaying or redistribution of this image without permission from the artist is strictly prohibited.
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Mix medium photograph of a nest with 3 eggs and the Chinese characters LOVE, TRUST DREAM FORTUNE.
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Chinese energy hand, abstract painting with Chinese characters.
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Roll the die, / Win the game, / Everytime. MORE WORKS FROM MY PORTFOLIO /
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Tasmanian Botanic Gardens
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Named by my 2 friends Bradley Shawn Rabon / and monocotylidono Nighttime, to some, a brief interlude, / To others, the fear of solitude Dawn is a feeling / A beautiful ceiling / The smell of grass / Just makes you pass / Into a dream You’re here today / No future fears / This day will last / A thousand years / If you want it to You look around you / Things they astound you / So breathe in deep / You’re not asleep / Open your mind You’re here today / No future fears / This day will last / A thousand years / If you want it to Do you understand / That all over this land / There’s a feeling / In minds far and near / Things are becoming clear / With a meaning Now that you’re knowing / Pleasure starts flowing / It’s true life flies / Faster than eyes / Could ever see You’re here today / No future fears / This day will last / A thousand years / If you want it to Lyrics: Dawn is a Feeling, Moody Blues
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Mixed medium collage on various papers. Photograph of bird’s nest printed on Japanese rice paper with gouache staining and chinese calligraphy. Red square collage with bird head. Japanese block printed tree paper. Two leaves collaged onto Kinwashi paper. A fortune reads ” A pleasant surprise is in store for you”. The characters mean: love, trust, dream, and fortune.
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André’s creation: eclectic pleasures
by Maxwell EdwardBlack and white keys, saxophone, guitar, everywhere. The music has much more magnificence than can be tried to be explained through words…
Black and white keys, saxophone, guitar, everywhere. The music has much more magnificence than can be tried to be explained through words. This jazzy rendezvous has always been André’s favourite ear-food. He just loves the way its beauty, splendour, radiance is ‘unleashed’. André stares at the canvas for over a dozen times. Here he is staring at the blank space which is future marvel…or was it to be past marvel? Had he missed his chance, missed the boat which would have sailed to sentimental stardom? He refuses to collaborate more than a sentence for any one idea. Any idea that deserves a sentence must deserve no doubt. Any canvas is only worth the greatest ideas. Two André’s exist; though only one at any one time. The withdrawn analytical front, designed for most occasions. On rare occasions the other character may appear, the intensive, massively determined André who acts on impulses. Impulsive André must be begged out. A Pandora’s Box of surprises, his job will at least never cease to astonish. “Dearest André, Through years have you befriended my son Louis, so therefore I am offering an opportunity to benefit both of our interests (with intent towards your gain). Litton inc., my company has stepped up towards mainstream success. We require visual arts for our newly bought edifice. I understand you have been painting for the eight years since high school. To your discretion I would like to require a painting; just one will suffice. I would like something vibrant and colourful, yet deep and meaningful; Contemporise to your own vision. Much thanks, Dr. Raymond Fonck.” The commissioned paper lies stuck on the wall. André has read it. Now it is time for the future. It has been too long sitting around (or rather bouncing around); too get too much productivity from anything. Someone once said to him that anything is good experience. True perhaps, although he prefers productivity, especially in a time of intensity such as this; three days left until confrontation. His vigilant eyes stroll around the room, searching for advice. He is not bored, nor has he painters block, for such a term does not exist and will not ever for him. His eyes strike the clock. The clock glares 5:48 pm back. What a disgusting fierce look it has. Not 5:45, nor 6:00 and only one uncomfortable minute in-between. For at this time these uncomforting three digits add to the frustration in the actual time. “Aw!” André suddenly realizes the importance of the time. It is the one factor which never seems to be on his side but actually encourages his total progress. It is an epiphany like that of a mother to the newborn. André decides to let his hands take / control. They are the secret key, (sometimes the gatekeepers of unleashing impulsive André) His dominant left one picks up the brush (over time it has made up for its fault of statistically losing him seven years). His right hand decides to lose cognition. It dips itself into a little puddle of Sangria oil paint muck. Than it flies onto the near-centre of the canvas, smeared diagonally. His left hand takes initiative once again, waving lines of smudge to and fro. Right hand brings more paint to its destination. Myrtle, Indigo, Olive, Magnolia…and no, not that…Yes, yes, even black! (Well seal brown to be precise). All of these contextually beautiful colours unleashed! There are no thoughts in André’s mind now. This is impulsive André now; organised thought is of little importance! That colour is important here. This colour is unimportant there. A few lines of any colour are important right here or there, but perhaps a darker colour is better. More negative space up and down the edges. Shape is forming. Lines are bolding. Complete non-representational form is diminishing. Visualizations; the visualized images in mind are being…unloaded bit by bit. It is coming about. What is it though? No one knows. If anybody could guess it definitely would not be André. André knows he has the power to bring out the reality in it though. In a seemingly paradox situation he must not connect to reality at the moment though. Now, after these hours of painting, André is in the painting. He would not know it has been hours besides the constant glare of the illuminating digital clock staring from across the room; it unconsciously processes its recognition into André. The phone screams out, ‘br-ring, br-ring!’ Like the other external matter it creeps into André, until finally its screams become too annoying to ignore. It’s too late now…impulsive André has vanished; his conventional counterpart has replaced him. The phone persists though. André decides to take it (typical for his returned mannerism). He dives across the room horizontally attacking the corner where that nuisance phone lies. ‘Aw, aw, aw, aw!’ A tube of paint has squirt from underneath his stomach. Agonising that his material friend can be so painful at times (like any of his life long friends). He picks up the phone; only the tone. He has missed whatever, whoever it was. Once again, missing the boat… Now thought and all that comes with it has returned. Why now out of all times possible? There is only sadness, misery, all this escalated from these small miniscule misfortunes; all has turned to turmoil! What can one do, when feeling like crawling into a hole? His secret minor disorders such as his claustrophobia would prevent him from crawling into that hole, even if he had one. At the moment everything feels like one big hole. Not surprisingly André’s eyes begin doing the only thing they know to do in times of unrest; wander. It is impossible to ignore what is there; it has been there all along, yet has never been seen. It is beautiful! It is splendour! It is radiance!! It is interrupted by another scream of ‘br-ring br-ring’. André picks up the damn phone. Without contemplation he whispers, “Sir, madam, I’m very terribly busy, could you perhaps call back sometime?” A deep sophisticated voice replies, “Raymond Fonck, André. Listen, I need to know about the progress of the painting. How is it going; ready to sell on Friday?” Many emotions garner at the speed of light inside André allows these emotions to clash inside of him. The painting; it is beautiful, splendour, radiance! How could he give it away now, after an indescribable series of emotional contributions? It is something that has not been attempted before; yet it is new but the expression of old. It is everything, at the moment, hopefully containing more interpretive inoculations for the future. It is a subject, of just some time, yet it contains a collaboration of detail separated from time. It is…once again interrupted by screams, this time of another sort; the infuriating talking of man. “André. Are you there?” Feelings of great rebellion sweep André off his feet. He knows how he will revolutionize his life, because after all; this painting has revolutionized his thought already. “Mister Fonck. I am so sorry. Some things have come over me…a type of sickness…although I am sure you are not aware of this mad syndrome I am suffering due to it. Well to the point, I must say I will not be supplying you with your wanted artwork. Thank you for your understanding. Hopefully we can collaborate something in future.” André hangs the phone up without replies, without a stated understanding from the mister Fonck. Without even the knowledge of acceptance or approval from the mister Fonck…it does not matter. All that matters is this new painting, this contemporised vision. It is everything. Most importantly of all, it is…unleashed!
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This is basically a cinema4D render which i deconstructed in Photoshop to add some visual effects and textured layers.
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Ok so this one’s a bit wierd…but some of you seem to like that :) I read a book in which the future could be told by feeding gold dust to animals, dissecting them and seeing where the gold collected in their viscera. It was a crap book but an interesting idea! 3 separate canvases – watercolour, chalk pastel, ink, conte, metallic leaf on canvas. These are bigger than life size:
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“Every man is the artisan of his own fortune”
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The title of this photo used to be: Say a prayer for me, with the following description: / °°° / A delicate branch of cherry blossoms, symbol of spring, symbol of new life, carrying someones hope, someones prayers. Such a beautiful tradition in Japan… / °°° But it seems to be that I was misinformed and that the little paper on the tree is not a prayer, but a bad fortune. Here I found the following description of this custom: / °°° / Omikuji are fortunes written on strips of paper available at most Shinto shrines in Japan. There are 12 levels of fortunes, ranging from Great Blessing to Great Curse. When the fortune is bad, it is customary for the person to fold up the strip of paper and tie it to a pine tree branch at the temple grounds, thus freeing the person from the bad fortune. In the event of the fortune being good, the bearer should keep it. / °°° / As you can see, they don’t only use pine trees for it. / More Japan / / /
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Smudge Art TM. By: Madeline M. Allen Thank you for viewing my work. Image copyright © 2007, Madeline M. Allen Copying and displaying or redistribution of this image without permission from the artist is strictly prohibited.
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Driving along the Bay of Juan de Fuca last week, there were at least 9 eagles along the trees at eye level over looking the cliffs of this fantastic view of Victoria island (Canada)... a long wandering marked usually by many changes of fortune is the only way that I can explain the odyssey that we recently completed. In traditions throughout Egypt, western Asia, India and the Far East, the link between the Eagle and sky gods is ancient and consistent. An eagle with human arms was a Syrian emblem of Sun worship. The eagle is often a storm and thunder symbol as well as a solar one, suggesting both light and fertilizing power. Garuda, the eagle-human steed of the Vedic god Vishnu, is shown battling with the serpents of evil. Alternatively, eagle and snake represent air and earth, although the lion sometimes replaces the snake, as in alchemy, which used a crowned eagle and lion to represent the the dualism of volatile and fixed principles. / In Native American mythology the eagle has celestial and solar symbolism. The duality of sky and earth is represented in Central America by the eagle and jaguar. Among nomads, particularly in northern Asia, the eagle was a shamanic father symbol, its feathers used in initiation and ascension rites. / I am grateful, I am grateful, I am grateful ;)
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