Vintage image
161 creative works found
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Also available without the old-paper border: / Also available as a T-Shirt:
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This is the version without border, suitable for matted prints, framed prints etc. with a border of your choice, for example: You may want to check the version with old-paper border: Also available as a T-Shirt: More hands: click here!
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My first HDR! the clouds are slightly noisey but overall im quite pleased with how it turned out!
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Old folk art fine modern photography digital photo image poster print rustic country cloe up macro rural log cabin wood vintage posters
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A look at the aristrocratic upbringing of Penelope Peregrine held few clues to the adventures that would be her destiny, save for her tendency towards tomboyishness, her affinity for birds and her trailblazing bobbed hairdo. Educated in the finest boarding schools Boston had to offer, by the 5th grade she had already trained an owl to bring her dazed field mice, a talent not generally held in much esteem by her fine-bred female peers who would often find them burrowing furtively in their hope chests. Faced with the prospect of several years of finishing school, Penelope decamped to the wilds of Maine and began training her birds in earnest. A Master Falconer before she was 20, only the promise of a European tour could lure her away from her training mews. Accompanied by her prize falcon, Thaumaturge, she embarked on a 2 year tour of the Continent, leaving a trail of paramours as dazed and shell-shocked as field mice in her wake. While her charm, wit and beauty were the talk of Paris, London and Berlin, her strange tendency to attract birds of prey like star-struck suitors did raise a few eyebrows. For the most part, though, it merely added to her intrigue and brought her to the drafty castle of the handsome and eccentric Baron von Eigenbrotler who promised to show her the workings of his strange mechanical birds. His unfortunate and abiding affinity for Schnapps, however, overrode any plans he may have had for the evening and that is how a bored Penelope found herself poking around the turret study of a German spy in the midst of World War I. She secured a copy of the mysterious map and instructions she found there to Thaumaturge’s leg and dispatched him to British Intelligence, bidding him to return to her before dawn. And that is how Penelope launched her career as one of the Allies most valued secret operatives. Penelope is pictured here in one of her fantastic winged hats preparing Thaumaturge for his departure from Baron von Eigenbrotler’s castle. The Baron’s mechanical owl, Dragoslav looks on from his perch. Original measures 8” x 6” x ¾” and features vintage images and German Dresden trim with metal accents and satin ribbon (view original at http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=13308507). This original artwork is copyright Ramona Szczerba 2008. Copyright is not transferable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – image cannot be reproduced without my
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Born into one of New Orleans’ oldest and most venerable families, Eugenia Planchette was no ordinary Southern belle. No matter how many governesses informed her that methodically dissecting crawdaddies and baby alligators was NOT ladylike behavior, little Eugenia would not be deterred. Despite her indelicate hobbies, Eugenia grew up to be an uncommonly fetching young lady, so if she was a trifle vain, who could blame her? She was certainly at no loss for suitors when she took up her studies at Tulane (medical school, of course), and her grades seemed impervious to her habit of dancing the nights away in the French Quarters’ most notorious nightclubs. Perhaps it was at one of these that she inadvertently insulted a voodoo priestess or just irked one of her more chemistry-minded classmates, but someone spiked her absinthe with something that caused an inexorable descent into madness. As far as the good doctors could tell, she became convinced that the best way to preserve her youthful appearance would be to remove her face and keep it in the icebox, only to be used when she really “needed” it, and apparently that is exactly what she did. Although the results would have made her a useful instructable for an anatomy class and certainly a pertinent case study in psychiatry, her surgical adventure, needless to say, ended her medical career. What Eugenia lacked in practicality she made up for in execution, however, and in truth the Face (as it came to be called) held up quite well. Eugenia and her removable face are pictured here in her parlor while her astonished cat, Poutine, looks on. This original artwork and story are copyright Ramona Szczerba 2008. Copyright to this material is in no way transferable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – neither image nor story can be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks!
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For the wife of a Caliph, Salome was certainly unusual. She was very beautiful, but that wasn’t odd – the wives of a Caliph were, without exception, heartbreakingly lovely. She had regal bearing and a penchant for issuing orders, but that would be expected to come with the territory as well. No, it was much more a matter of the Queen’s hobbies, which ran to the, shall we say, exotic and her insistence on absolute equality with the Caliph, a man with the welfare of all of Chalcedony at his command. / The favorite daughter of a distant and powerful sultan, Salome had insisted on an ironclad contract that the Caliph take no other wives in her lifetime before she had agreed to marry him. The Caliph, completely smitten, had eagerly agreed and, in his utter devotion, proceeded to cater to his lovely young wife’s every desire. Did she want jewels? No, she did not. She wanted armor, the finest that could be forged in the land. Did she wish to lounge about the opulent palace, nibbling Turkish Delight and being gently fanned by servants? Heavens no! She bidded the kingdom’s most learned scholars come to the palace and provide tutorials on every subject under the sun to her and whomever else in the kingdom wanted to learn. Would she like a massage? A new wardrobe? A pedicure? No, but she would love some rousing competitions of athletic physical prowess to keep her in top physical condition. Amusements, perhaps? Entertainment? A jester, a bard, some dancers? Utterly tiresome. No, Salome wanted a workshop stocked with all manner of tools and materials and skilled tradespeople to instruct her in their use. How about a companion animal? A graceful Persian cat, perhaps, or some devoted hounds? No, thank you, but she had always wanted her own rhinoceros. This last one almost knocked the Caliph off his throne, but he took a deep breath and sent off for a rhino that Salome named Wilhelm. / The Caliph, Salome and the kingdom passed many happy years together until war broke out, as it does, and the caliphate was besieged with threatening hordes under the command of a jealous neighboring sultan. While the Caliph was handsome and learned and just, he was a gentle man, which was among the reasons that Salome loved him, and he had no talent for war. The conflict raged on, bloodier by the day, and threatened the very perimeter of the kingdom. Salome had had enough. On a night when the crescent moon rocked low in the sky like the grin of a purring cat, Salome summoned her most formidable and bravest competitors. She bid them follow her to her workshop and they issued a collective gasp at what they found there. She stripped naked and asked that they do the same. “Really?” squeaked one particularly modest young lady. “Trust me,” replied Salome. As dawn broke, she hopped aboard Wilhelm, who, with the aid of a steam engine and wheeled hooves had been transformed into one hell of an armored vehicle, and led her troops forth to the battlefield. At the sight of an enormous advancing battalion of naked warrior women thundering forth astride mechanical beasts, the majority of the sultan’s army dropped their weapons and ran screaming like little boys in the direction of the rising sun. Those who dared stand their ground against the fearsome “sorceresses”, as they came to be known, where dispatched quickly and without much fuss. The peace of the kingdom fully restored, no one dared to challenge it again in Salome’s lifetime. This original artwork and story are copyright Ramona Szczerba 2009. Copyright to this material is in no way transferable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – neither image nor story can be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks!
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Of the many dusty and decrepit thrift shops advertising that they specialize in “antiques” that I have been in, the one where I got the bottle was not even especially remarkable. What could one expect from a shop perched at the end of a boardwalk in a seedy little seaside town? Usually I am looking for Victorian photos for my artwork, although it’s very rare that I find any, but “Cosette’s Seaside Antiques” looked promising if only for the fact that it was situated in a crumbling but charming Victorian cottage. Chiefly, there were seashells, as one might expect (I suppose some of the larger ones could be over 20 years old), but among the drifts of knick knacks and bric-a-brac, a certain bottle caught my eye. It was a delightful shape, curvy as a showgirl, and it was so seaworn that it was completely opaque. Some very tenacious barnacles clung to the bottom, and its cork and the wax sealing it were surprisingly intact. I made my way to the proprietess, a woman so old she seemed to be collapsing in on herself, and asked how much. “Zat ees a true antique”, she asserted, “zo I could take no less zan $100. Eet ees from 1854!” She took a long drag from her Gauloise while my left eyebrow arched into my hairline. “But today, a special for you, $10” she said quickly, exhaling a plume of blue smoke in my general direction. My eyebrow stayed where it was and I paid Cosette my ten dollars and hurried back to my bed and breakfast with my overpriced treasure. / I thought long and hard before breaking that seal, you can bet, because even with my crafty skills I wasn’t sure I could recreate the effect. But I simply had to see inside the bottle, so I carefully scraped away the wax with a nail file and pried the cork out. I was more surprised than one might think to find a curled page inside, nestled in the dust of what were doubtlessly other pages that had, tragically, disintegrated. I cursed my shaking hands as I slowly extracted the page with a pair of tweezers and carefully laid it flat. “27th August, 1854. Day Two of Our Illustrious Journey. / It is our Fondest Hope that Edwina be through with her Seasickness, and through the Beneficience of our Lord, the Day today is Fair. Eunice has been Most Generous in the sharing of her Parasol against the Glare of the unrelenting Sun, and we have been Amused by our sightings of Gulls, Pelican and Albatross, as well as intrepid Sea Creatures destined to become Repast. We have kept little Effie much Occupied with the Rowing of our Vessel, although she is Quite Tiny and the effect is mainly to turn us in Circles. Her delighted Giggles are well worth the Queasiness. Eudora has kept her Silence, as have we, seeing no Point in revisiting the Wisdom of undertaking our Journey in an Oversized Teacup, as was her Insistence. Escaping the Tyranny of our Menfolk is a Worthy Cause, no matter how Doomed its Outcome is feared to be. If it be the Will of the Heavenly Creator, no doubt our Dream of reaching an Island Paradise to call our Own will soon be Fulfilled. I sign off now to apply my Compass to just that Task. Until the Morrow, I remain Yours Truly, Esther.” In my hope – my desperate wish – that there were further missives from Esther too numerous to fit in one container, I search every “antique” store I come across for bottles, and I always have my ear tuned for a legend of four ladies and a little girl who sailed to an island in a teacup. If you hear of such a thing, please be sure to let me know. This original artwork and story are copyright Ramona Szczerba 2009. Copyright to this material is in no way transferable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – neither image nor story can be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks!
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Often, after browsing through my shop, people send me emails and ask, “However do you think of all those stories?” Well, I suppose it’s time for me to come clean: I don’t think of them at all. My Uncle Wentzel (yes, that’s his real name) has always been a collector. “He’s a pack rat is what he is” insists my Aunt Angie, with a belabored sigh. And given that he has saved the miniscule amount of mercury out of every lightbulb he has ever changed and kept it in an enormous jar that must weigh about 80 pounds, I can kind of see her point. But that seems a small price to pay for the cabinet of curiosities that is their attic. Oh, you could find absolutely anything up there, anything at all. I always find some pretext for rummaging around up there whenever I visit, and it was on one such visit that I found this very typewriter sitting in an open antique suitcase, surrounded by questionable specimen bottles and a dusty old microscope. It was the coolest thing I ever saw, I had to have it. “Oh for Pete’s sake, let her take it, Wentzel! She’s your goddaughter and you haven’t touched the damn thing in three decades”, scolded my Aunt. “But, but…that’s not any ordinary typewriter!” he sputtered. “That’s a Fox typewriter from Grand Rapids, Michigan!” After 45 years of marriage, my Uncle could spot battles he was losing from a mile away. “Everybody talks about Underwoods – bah!” he said, taking me aside. “This one is the best. But be careful with it, it’s moody”, he added, mysteriously. / I lugged it home and found the perfect spot for it in my study. I had no real plans to use it, but I fed a sheet of paper into it for authenticity’s sake and admired its considerable retro charm. Then I went to bed. The next morning, I wandered in my study with my tea and found an entire story about one of my recent art pieces neatly typed out on the paper. Even under fierce interrogation, no one in the household would admit to writing it. I was awakened late that evening to the faint sound of typing coming from my study and tiptoed in to find the very lovely lady you see here hopping from key to key, giving a little shimmy and shake at the end of every sentence. She froze on one toe when she saw me and dove into an antique umbrella stand. She must have returned later to sign her work, though: Calliope Cookie. So Calliope is my muse, she writes all my stories, just as Winona Cookie inspires my art. Every once in a while she goes on strike and types “All work and no play makes Calliope a soggy cookie” over and over again on the blank sheet of paper I hopefully feed into the Fox now every time I finish a piece. When that happens, I know to leave her a shaker of dry martinis and a plate of olives and tapas, which generally results in a particularly colorful tale. So that’s the truth about my stories, and the best typewriter ever. Sometimes older technology has its advantages. This original artwork and story are copyright Ramona Szczerba 2009. Copyright to this material is in no way transferable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – neither image nor story can be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks!
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Although it is not common knowledge, Alice continued to return to Wonderland well into adulthood. Apparently, once one has been immersed in that caliber of strangeness, it’s hard not to go back. Here Alice is pictured having a chat and a spot of tea with her old friend, the Caterpillar, who, it turns out, is female and named Zanzibara. A small snail slithers over to offer a Hello. This original artwork and story are copyright Ramona Szczerba 2009. Copyright to this material is in no way transferable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – neither image nor story can be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks! Original piece may be available here: / http://www.etsy.com/view_listing.php?listing_id=28353821
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Fishing boats docked at the Point Pleasant Beach Marina, Located in New Jersey. Featured on RedBubble’s Home Page – September 18, 2009 Noted Inside Solo, vol 11 in Solo Exhibition – Septemeber 25, 2009
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Eugene has been waiting very, very patiently and he would like some candy, please. / NOW!!!!!!!!!! I wouldn’t argue with him, would you? Stay tuned for more Halloween Greetings from Winona Cookie Creations. This image is copyright Ramona Szczerba 2009. Copyright to this material is in no way transferable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – image cannot be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks!
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He’s beautiful, he’s bad, he’s deliciously dangerous to know. Darius Varlet’s dabblings in the occult have made him virtually irresistable. Go ahead, try! An enchanting obsession at Halloween or anytime. This original artwork is copyright Ramona Szczerba 2009. Copyright to this material is in no way transferable with the sale of this item. The buyer is not entitled to any reproduction rights – image cannot be reproduced without my express written permission. Thanks!
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WINNER of the challenge Whitby Whitby / North Yorkshire, UK The History of Whitby Whitby has a wonderful history, a ruined abbey, a working harbour, a delightful collection of red-roofed pantile cottages, narrow cobbled streets, and claims to have the country’s best fish and chip shops. The town is also close to the scenic North York Moors National Park and the unspoilt fishing villages of Staithes and Robin Hood’s Bay. Whitby is divided in two by the River Esk. St Mary’s Church and Whitby Abbey are on the eastern headland. The Abbey is accessible by road, and also via 199 steps from the town to the summit. These steps have associations with Bram Stoker, as he based much of his Dracula novel here whilst staying in Whitby in 1890. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (better know as Lewis Carroll) also set some of his work and poems in Whitby, as he was a regular visitor. The Abbey’s history dates back to 675 A.D. when St. Hilda founded a monastery. The present structure is from 1078 and is now in the care of English Heritage. Nikon D60 / Nikkor 18-200mm / HDR one shot, handheld / PS CS3 effects / f/13.0 1/125 ISO100
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Located in Historic Allaire Village, built in the 1800s. / Howell, New Jersey / Oct 2009 / Nikon D80 Featured in New Jersey – What’s Your Exit? – October 18, 2009
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Happy Halloween! I haven’t done cartoon style in a long time, just wanted to post this to see how it is recieved. Traditional ink drawing digitally colored (in progress calab with a friend . I will load the finial when he get’s his half done. / Copyright / These Images and Writings Do Not Belong To ANY Public Domain. All images and Writing are copyright © Patricia Anne McCarty & Deep Red Tiger Images 2009. All Rights Reserved. Copying, altering, displaying or redistribution of any of these images or Writings without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. / HALLOWEEN / Image Writing / Just For Fun / Core [C.O.R.E] / IN Your Face Art!
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Yet another visual interest to enjoy at Allaire State Park. The old Allaire Village Station railroad tracks. / Howell, New Jersey / Nikon D80 w/ 24-120mm VR / Oct 2009 Featured in JPG Cast-Offs – October 20, 2009
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Battlefield Orchards / Freehold, New Jersey / Oct 2009 / Nikon D80 w/24-120mm VR
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Lake Carasaljo / Lakewood, New Jersey / Oct 2009 / Nikon D80 w/24-120 mm VR Featured in Prize Challenges!! – November 11, 2009
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Lake Carasaljo / Lakewood, New Jersey / Oct 2009 / Nikon D80 w/24-120 mm VR
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Lake Carasaljo / Lakewood, New Jersey / Oct 2009 / Nikon D80 w/24-120 mm VR
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Vintage Visions Part of a series of portraits I’m attempting – using warm light and mirror reflection – not really had a go at portrait images before, so I thought I would give it a whirl. Any tips appreciated. Model – Jasmyn / Camera – Nikon D90 / Lens 55-200mm / No flash used My own textures added plus credit to: / NinianLif at flickr for use of free textures.
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