Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
About Me
the feeling of beauty is the feeling of 'muga': no-self or ecstasy
Nishida
Nishida
collaboration with Michael Tweed
the beautiful foolishness of things
on-going project uniting my photographs and text by Michael Tweed
on-going project uniting my photographs and text by Michael Tweed
Blog Archive
Labels
- about photography (14)
- Alejandra (3)
- ars poetica (7)
- autumn (38)
- balloons (4)
- Belogradchik fortress (2)
- Berlin (5)
- birds (5)
- black (51)
- blue (21)
- butterflies (2)
- Carpathians (6)
- clouds (10)
- cohen (5)
- colours (30)
- countryside (1)
- craiova (8)
- Danube plain (2)
- death (57)
- dream women (10)
- drunk (10)
- end (1)
- evanescence (4)
- exhortations (4)
- expressionist poetics (3)
- fields (20)
- fish (5)
- fruit (8)
- grace (40)
- gratitude (5)
- hands (26)
- happy (2)
- homage to botanique (1)
- Horezu (10)
- however (4)
- impressionist poetics (4)
- in-between (2)
- Italy (6)
- Japan (60)
- journey (12)
- joy (2)
- kanji stories (2)
- last meeting (5)
- light (32)
- loneliness (4)
- longing (31)
- lotus (10)
- m (29)
- Manuela's guest (1)
- me/imagining (67)
- memory (39)
- mirror (3)
- mist (9)
- mountain (17)
- mourning (1)
- music (7)
- my dolls (3)
- my flowers (112)
- my japanese self (32)
- my mythological selves/goddesses (3)
- my secret girl (14)
- my secret women (122)
- my untold stories (15)
- night (32)
- palimpsest (5)
- paris (5)
- past unreal conditional (15)
- pictorialist poetics (2)
- poetics of tea (18)
- poetics of wonder (9)
- poetique des elements (44)
- poppies (1)
- pottery (5)
- quiet (7)
- rain (5)
- realities that I fail (9)
- red (8)
- Romania (6)
- romantic manifesto (1)
- roses (29)
- sad (4)
- sea (3)
- shelter (7)
- spring (51)
- summer (45)
- sweet irony (2)
- the blooming forest (7)
- the demonic (9)
- the floating bridge of dreams (8)
- the Foolishness-project (2)
- the impossible (1)
- the kiss (5)
- the prayer of the objects series (1)
- the sister (5)
- this pleasure so dark (7)
- time (25)
- Tree of Life (31)
- tulips (4)
- vases (1)
- veil (5)
- Veliko-Tarnovo (2)
- video (11)
- when the child was a child (32)
- wings of desire (6)
- winter (32)
- winter trilogy (2)
- writing (3)
all texts and photographs belong to me unless otherwise noted.
minunat!
ReplyDeleteeste o atmosfera asa calda si intima in aceste imagini.
doar prinvindu-le imi imaginez frumusetea femeii care cutreiera aceste campuri.
i am envious on her. and also on these photos. they are wonderfully imaginative.
Stepping away from life's asphalt roads,
ReplyDeleteUpon joy providing ground;
Providing purple healing colour,
To be won;
Lifting thoughts and passion as well,
Fleeting like summers wind in a field.
regained implies that it as lost or diminished some how, if so i am glad that those fields of spender again has enfolded you in there beauty.
ReplyDeletewho is she gathering flowers for?
ReplyDeleteSimple beauty, simply evoked, simply wonderful...
ReplyDeleteBeautiful scenario played out in wonderful simplicity.
ReplyDeletethe images are really nostalgic.. and they remind me of couple of cinemas.. Sunflower and Mosow never believe in tears..
ReplyDelete.. A true virgin walking with her great legs on wild earth.. out of.. and free from everything.. technology, ideology, and even religion.. Bravo!!
her pale fire she snatches from the sun
ReplyDeletesuch sensual gaze, towards the dry and the light, as well as the flesh.
ReplyDeletei don't know which is more alive, the skirt clothe moving into the field in second image, or the light on that once grass summering.
i don't think it matters. All is the sensual body moving through time, all!
thank you.
de-aia-i bine să fii sincer! dar e greu, nu ştiu cum poţi aşa, la infinit. parcă simt cum ierburile uscate zgârie poezii pe picior neapărat.
ReplyDeleteaaa, nu, nu te-ascunde de bucurie, stii ca vin aici pe muţeşte :). doar că mi se zbârliseră fulgii de frică, numai când ai menţionat de o scufundare a podului, vreodată.
perfect summer pics, could almost reach out and touch the fields.
ReplyDeleteyou bring back childhood to me. it was a dark one, but filled with the glories of fields, woodlands, streams....catalpas, luna moths, owls....a haunted place then and now ...my mother always there....
ReplyDeletenow....i cannot say...the shadowlands of age deepen as i look for the Poem.....
The casual grace of the summer day when time's passing makes being the the moment more sweet --- I've nothing deep and theoretical to say (nothing, for instance, about the traditional equivalance of girls and flowers or the minatory flicker of shadow from "regained" in the title): I like it and walk this field with her....
ReplyDeletewe've not really had summer here and it's already the end of august, rusty autumn flowers are claiming their few short days of light - frenetic undercurrents, attempts to grasp the last bright days. the generous summer in your photos helps soothe.
ReplyDeleteps how did this post slip under my radar... i see it's been here since monday, hmmm...
ReplyDeletelooking forward to (2) - will keep eyes peeled (isn't that an interesting expression :)
hug
aahh...another series of pictures with bedsheets made into skirts and...dress like thingies.
ReplyDeletethere is an american innocence about these pictures. also for some reason they remind me of that pop hit "fields of gold"
by the way, that first digital picture of yours was sumptuous.
Mi-e dor si mie de plimbarile astea pe campurile aurii cu iarba inalta,vara totul este atat de luminos si colorat ...eu insa m-am indepartat de locurile care odata imi placeau, simt un fel de singuratate apasatoare oriunde merg :|
ReplyDeleteAs always, Lovely.
ReplyDeletei haven't expected all these comments, i am really overwhelmed! thank you all, so much -
ReplyDeleteCristina :-P
Robert, fleeting like summer's wind in a field, this is indeed the most liberating joy - oh, the sadness of forgetting this feeling, when we grow up.
ah, finbar - if you knew how touched i am by the attention you give to my pictures... and now you write here for the first time, and i thank you, deeply. yes, i was somehow cut off from this summer's vitality, now i am slowly healing - right in time to fall prey to autumn's nostalgia :-) but this is unavoidable, and i have come to love it, this soft sadness of autumn taking over me. but there will be other posts for this, and other tales to tell. i wonder whether you will still be here, by then?
ah, b!!!!! how come you can find a question i could have never imagined for this post? :-))) would you like those flowers? shall i gather some especially for you? :-P i think i can still do it, if not you will have to wait for next year's summer, but what is a few months, a year, ten even, to a black sun? i hear they are eternal?
ReplyDeleteOwen, i thank you, simply but truly.
thank you for coming by, the Watcher, for watching my fields, even if there are no birds there this time...
Peter, even blinded like this you seem to read a lot of stories in my images :-) but perhaps it is because you are blinded? so maybe we shouldn't try to heal you :-P
oh Prospero, however did you think of this line? you are a mystery to me -
but if you example me with thievery, then we all should plead guilty, we who take pictures, what are we other than thieves of light?
dear mansuetude, i have long fallen in love with the way you look at my pictures, and still you surprise me every time with your poem-like descriptions - "the sensual body moving through time", ah, if indeed my images can reveal this, then - what more could i wish...
ReplyDeleteah, dar nu, sper si eu ca nu, ca nu va veni vreodata ceasul 25 pentru podul meu mic si plutitor, chiar daca ma apuca din cand in nebuniile sa il trimit la plimbare printre corali si nisipuri aurii, dar vai, mute :-) poezii zgariate pe picior neaparat, e de bine asta, sau nu? dar banuiesc ca daca te poti apara vreodata de poezie, atunci nu e poezie adevarata, deci o sa zic ca e tare de bine si o sa ma bucur si mai mult :-)
Sorlil, thank you - i imagine they never look like this, the Scottish fields? they have to be always green, i think?
sutton, i am so touched - this brief glimpse into your childhood days - makes me speechless. i know you haven't intended this comment to be a gift for me, you couldn't imagine that it would be one, i think, but it is. if only a picture, or a line, could protect us from that deepening -
James, you don't have to say anything deep or theoretical :-) my fields are here to be walked upon, the sweet fleeting moment to be enjoyed, up and beyond that point when sweetness and bitterness become one - i am happy you came to tell me this, with your silent steps.
Manuela, i didn't know that expression, it is funny :-) oh the famous canadian summer i keep learning about (and starting to fear it actually, even if today the southern sun has completely destroyed me :-)
ReplyDeleteand your looking forward for 2 makes me a little nervous, especially when i think that there will probably be a 3 as well, trilogies are almost always doomed to fail :-) - but this damn computer is refusing to upload now, so i will have to remain nervous until tomorrow :-)
Zuma, bravely surviving the hell of Indian summer, without becoming allergic to summer mythologies? :-) (i prefer to think there is something as the innocence of a myth in this series, i don't know about american innocence here, how do you see that?)
what does "dress like thingies" mean?
and no, sorry to contradict your bedsheet fixation, this is not one of THOSE, it is a proper skirt, in fact this is exactly the Indian skirt i told you about, as it will become clearer in the next post :-)
(sumptuous, i think i like that word now :-)
Edith, nu stiu, poate ca este inevitabil, si toti ne indepartam de ele, incet incet, si pana la urma ramanem prinsi in umbra unei oglinzi, incercuiti in singuratate, asa cum atat de frumos o spun imaginile tale... dar atata vreme cat ele pot povesti asa, atunci inca nu este totul pierdut, nu?
my dear Susan, i thank you from all my heart.
"how come you.."
ReplyDeleteoh, i dunno. Guess asking too many questions is a bad habit I've picked up-from God knows who or where (and it's not going down too well with my Taliban brothers either!)
yes, eternal, but they long for the finite..or so they say.
No, forget the flowers. can't you make it something edible. I'm starving! :-)
Keep well,
b.
b, still alive or i am arriving too late with those french chocolates? :-)
ReplyDeletede la pure poésie... tu es toujours en pleine création, bravo!!
ReplyDeletethe innocence and optimism of country songs.
ReplyDeleteof course i know its a skirt, I was just being mean ;-)
no, great, couldn't feel be.. fi..er..a !*.... .._____
ReplyDeleteZuma, you mean you were just being yourself :-P
ReplyDeletebilloo!
ReplyDeletewhere is Folded, so that she might ask for that BS-decoding machine :-)
i think i can live without knowing what those letters stand for,
but i am plagued by that little star, what is it?! the mighty sun weakened by cake-fever?
nothing to say really - it's enough for me to just come back here again and again to bask in these splendid old-summer hues
ReplyDeleteffflaneur...
ReplyDelete(silent smile)