Landscape tale
217 creative works found
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Because we all fail down, because hope is always near our shoulder. My gallery is Copyright © Wandering Soul. All rights reserved. / All the materials contained in my gallery may not be reproduced, copied, edited, published, transmitted or uploaded in any way without my written permission. My images do not belong to the public domain. / Please read the Etiquette Policy and respect it! / Modifying, tubing, cropping, using it for letters or stationeries, layouts, backgrounds, stock, copyrighting, stealing my work is not only against the law but unethical. / Altaring or using without express written permission is stealing. View More ART here!
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Arachnée – My Dangerous Mistress . Yet sold 1 cards and 2 posters of this creation. My gallery is Copyright © Wandering Soul. All rights reserved. / All the materials contained in my gallery may not be reproduced, copied, edited, published, transmitted or uploaded in any way without my written permission. My images do not belong to the public domain. / Please read the Etiquette Policy and respect it! / Modifying, tubing, cropping, using it for letters or stationeries, layouts, backgrounds, stock, copyrighting, stealing my work is not only against the law but unethical. / Altaring or using without express written permission is stealing. View More ART here!
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All the other ducks (there must be more than 100 of them) were watching this one beautiful male duck perform what I’d like to call “daytime ballet”, in the freezing winter (River wore her thick coat and she was trembling standing in the deep snow) and none of them seemed to be the least bit disturbed by the weather. / Ted made a comment the other day on another duck photo (taken the same day) that it didn’t seem to be very cold to him – perhaps he, too, like the ducks, was deceived by the brilliant light and the hint of shiny sky but I kid you not, it was -37˚c! :)
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When I gave the title to this photo, I could just imagine Ted’s disbelief: “Oh, silly Terri,” he’d write, “It can’t be deep freeze. It must be late fall or early spring even though ALL weather channels say it’s early March and the average temp that day was -35˚c. They must ALL be wrong, wrong, wrong…!” :) :) :) This was taken the same day with the photo of “camp pathfinder” in Algonquin Park – my favorite wilderness park to date. :)
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Homage to Edvard Munch - / Natural formation found on a large rock Digital Camera
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www.imagecreative.nl
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This photograph was taken on a Canon EOS 350D using a 28 – 105 m lens (at 105m). Location is again the beach at Point Arkwright. / Amber McDonald
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As Nightfall’s / 2009 / Painting / By Philippe Fernandez / For original artwork, prints, and collectibles. please visit my website at: www.fairytalebuzz.com
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Day Of Rest / 2009 / Painting / By Philippe Fernandez / For original artwork, prints, and collectibles. please visit my website at: www.fairytalebuzz.com
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“The Duchess: Be what you would seem to be - or, if you’d like it put more simply - Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.” (Lewis Carroll: Alice in Wonderland)
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acrylic and oil on canvas size is 60 cm X 90 cm This painting has been going on and on for some time now. It is a bit of a dreamscape. It started as a pale wash of colours, then the tree started to twist about in the foreground, then I worked over it in oils to add some definition. I have been reading The Children’s Book by A.S. Byatt and it deals with fairy tales and myths and it has influenced me quite a bit. It’s great how books can do that, isn’t it?
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I was pleased to capture this man walking towards the docks with his bag and the houses of Kassies Bay in the background. How does your day start? Do you drive to work – is it long distance or do you walk like him? Fleeting moment in time but I hope you take the time to look long enough at the photo and start asking questions yourself as I often do. So many people on this planet, so many dreams, so many ambitions…what road will you take through life? Another photo taken in the coastal fishing town of Arniston – South Africa Flickr Gallery http://www.flickr.com/photos/soulmyst/ P.S If you prefer to view this on imageKind do a search “soulmyst”
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The elements may huff and they may puff but they won’t blow the house down…The clouds at the coast are spectacular in summer, I’m yet to see it in winter during the rainy season and I’m already thinking of devious plans to get back down there when the weather is at its worst for a few days… This was taken near Dana baai – South Africa Flickr Gallery http://www.flickr.com/photos/soulmyst/ P.S If you prefer to view this on imageKind do a search “soulmyst”
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Fear and Blind Courage of the Heart
by clickinhistoryOnce there was a frightened and very fearful dragon. He roared at anything, from a falling leaf, the blowing wind, the falling rain,
a story of how a landscape may have it’s own oral history
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Magic Wonder Land / 2009 / Painting / By Philippe Fernandez
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The Fishing Hole / 2009 / Painting / By Philippe Fernandez
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How much do you love dolls ? / Printed from original whismical Illustration by Ruth Fitta / All rights reserved. © Rupydetequila. Please do not use my images without permission. Feel free to convo me with any questions about this item. Thanks for checking out my work With love Rupy http://www.rupydetequila.blogspot.com/
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Read the Tale. / Skye, Hebrides, Scotland. / / A Soft Caress of Welcome and the Scent of Old High Places. / This spacious light was common in those days. A soft silk gossamer net that would have to fade to become mist. That would whisper across the glens in common history and Alexion’s gloaming myth memories. This and that would hide and seek, would become damp and shiver spider pearls from the Popish brown and purple of the mountain. Always catching the edge of a rough dress made from banned and ragged tartan. That would be secret sought for later remembered images and collapse in upon itself to find regional rural meaning. That would eventually create pictures that will hang in the hunting lodges of the rich and royal, in need of cleaning. It was morning fresh mood and midge covered evening in the latter end of Summer in the west. Alexion’s stories of the glen in her century. The Black house highland cow dung, black chicken pecked, villaged small secret world of the hidden and the regional self aware. The high views that were seen differently and with much less romance than now in this sad century. A wish to climb the highest in her remembered sight with the breathless wonder and detailed knowledge of the way down, but still not wanting to return to slavery. The stories mythical of a childhood in this fastness of black rock and crashing falling water. The black witch prediction watchfulness of a mother that did not care and besotted father who apparently did; but only in negative for his animals and the mountain at his back. The black seasoned preacher, with his genital showing perversion and stealing of nightgown righteousness. The light shafted mist that began and ended each short day of work. These were her words. These were the notes musical that tried to convince me of the strangely impossible. That fascinated my youth with such detail as to seem real and seen, experienced and happening then as even now. That to me were legends. That to her were as real as breathing. These she told across my neck lying sweat stuck together as we waited for our breath to come back from the past. That she shouted in her ghost voice to the moon and the unfaithfulness of man. Waiting for an explanation with hypnogogic understanding from me and extra detailed history from her. A soft caress of welcome and the scent of heather and old high places. The even softer accent of whispered clasping and spooned bodies that did not want to let go, no matter what forces were at play. Suppose you juxtapose this memory history with small, sweet sounds on the edge of hearing. Of cold softness, of the bed sinking from beneath and behind. Feeling the weight gradually, slowly filling. There are no sudden movements, only the gradual awareness of something else. Gradual and strange. A weight, a pushing back of the sheets. Of small arms across my chest. Very warm and pointedly aware of nakedness. The brushing of nipples across back and buttocks. There is always in this a smell, an evocative sense of something, somewhere else. Nothing I can usually or immediately resolve, but it comes anyway. I can remember every time a witches warmness moving slowly down my back, solar centring. Gathering around her madness and pulling me in. A prick scintillating pricking that does not feel like love, rising to a pointed word. The centre of a celtic spiral. This is far more than pleasure… She will then and only tell her stories, after the brief vicious coupling that rang in this present past with inexperience and needy solutions. That salty, like the sea, spurted with premature love and sang with unfulfilled hopes before we finished with each others thoughts and myths. © 2009 Ken Simm.
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A wide angle, 30 second exposure of Norfolk from Portsmouth at dawn. Camera: Nikon D90 / Lens: Sigma 10-20mm @ 10mm / Exposure: f11, 30s, ISO200 / Processing: Photoshop CS3 / Technique: Tripod / Location: Norfolk, Virginia, USA See more from this set here
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Featured in: / The Great Outdoors Another view on the place presented on this photo / Dragon Island / Australia, Sydney, Clovelly Bay / low tide, morning light Nikon D80, Nikkor 12-24 Other great ozzi ocean photos: / World is a treasure! / Smile of the outgoing day / Freeze Before Eternity / When Ocean Awakens… / Magic of the New Day /
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Another view on the place presented on this photo / Dragon Island / Australia, Sydney, Clovelly Bay / low tide, morning light Nikon D80, Nikkor 12-24 Other great ozzi ocean photos: / World is a treasure! / Smile of the outgoing day / Freeze Before Eternity / When Ocean Awakens… / Magic of the New Day /
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