Splendour
83 creative works found
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Sunrise on Lake Albert, Meningie, South Australia. Taken 45 mins after Majestic Morning – the most spectacular sunrise I have ever witnessed.
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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 The withdrawn analytical front, designed for most occasions.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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What do you call the light that permanently imprints itself into the deepest corner of your cerebral real estate? Just a memorable one, divine, sublime? The star was going down fast, as it was just a matter of ‘to get it over and done with‘ a daily sunset routine – until that moment. Like it was switched on by some all powerful hand residing somewhere in the center of a kingdom of light, the sunbeam reached across the valley, bringing all the associated attributes with it, like joy and warmth, just for a few moments, before disappearing altogether. The blue cold haze drowned the beautiful Hawkes Bay valley, but not before the last ray of sun got there first. I was standing in awe … for a while in fact, still in disbelief. Review button and LCD screen confirmed it did happen. Sweet. I’ll treasure selfishly the melody of breeze passing through the treetops, the smell of golden grass and feel of fallen leafs under my feet. Not to worry, I left something to share with you. Here it is.
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The goal of life is living in agreement with nature. Zeno (335 BC – 264 BC)
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The place for afternoon tea in Bangkok – The Oriental Hotel
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In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer. Albert Camus (1913 – 1960)
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second painting…...... the same problem with the year.. haha, I corrected it…. I am not content about the photos of those paintings…... / maybe I will do something about, and upload beter ones…....
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Taken a my friends garden in Tennessee. / Nikon D70 Nikon 18-200mm lens.
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My dear RB friends, I appreciate your comments greatly! I prefer to reciprocate them rather than thank you individually so please do not be offended by my lack of replies here. I shall be commenting on your work instead. Thank you all… Astrid A detail from one of the side altars of the magnificent old church of Vittoriosa city in Malta.
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Original Pastel Painting / by Margaret Zita Coughlan / http://www.margaretzita.com Original Painting for Sale
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cardiff capital of wales has some wonderful architecture and statues im hopeing over the next few weeks to be out and about in cardiffs capital seeing whats on offer…....and i dont mean shoes ladies
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Taken in Szczecin, Poland
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I sat next to a boulder cooking then eating my dinner as this exact view unfolded before me…ahhh :) / / / rotating drum lens camera 130deg. field – no cropping, no stitching. Velvia 100F. / ©T.Middleton2007 —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—— / / see more of my photography from Nth Qld below / / see more of my TRUE panoramic photography below / /
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This mute swan is one of a community of these transplanted birds that are not native to the west coas of Canada. I captured this image with a large lens at the Fraser River in Delta, British Columbia.
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second one of cardiffs statues
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This beautiful chapel forms part of the church of St.Dominic in Valletta, Malta. It was taken on the day of the feast dedicated to the patron saint, hence the damask adorning the walls. The larger view offers more clear detail…
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Taken from the window of a jet. The magnificent solitude of these huge snowy peaks always takes my breath away. / Minor contrast adjustment only.
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Pautahanui Stream Observed Sometimes Later Than Ever Before
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Sunset taken from Belmont Bay on beautiful Lake Macquarie, NSW Australia
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Macro of a pink rose / __________ / Image copyright: Mariaan Krog / __________ / For buying info : see top right of this page
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I know it’s long past Autumn now, but I just had one last pretty one to put up…
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Somewhere on Hwy 93 through the White Mountains, New Hampshire USA, probably close to Woodstock NH. Taken Friday October 3/08. It was that kind of day, we experienced all kinds of varying weather from one minute to the next. In fact this region is known for abrupt weather changes.
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