Thursday, 24 June 2010

dark poppies grow in me

Photobucket







Photobucket







Photobucket







Photobucket






Photobucket

30 comments:

  1. and so she breaks new ground and presents us with another profound vision...

    ReplyDelete
  2. diaphanes poésies...trou noir et etoiles vives..
    c'est beau Roxana ..
    je t'embrasse..bonne fin de soirée...

    ReplyDelete
  3. I know it sounds weird but when I saw the second pic it brought to mind this painting - http://www.radford.edu/wkovarik/class/images/delacroix-liberty1.jpg

    love them and I love your title.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Magically incandescent. A field lit up by a host of fireflies. The pictures hum with energy.

    ReplyDelete
  5. unbelievable pictures, roxana (if that doesn't sound too ceremonial) the 2nd and 3rd in particular. Like everyone else here I guess, constantly amazed by your 'daily specials' (Ikiru, just in case you were wondering).

    hi! :-)

    b.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Looking at these
    I was certain
    To have slipped
    Into the depths
    Of a deep pool
    Of hallucinations
    Where ghost lights
    Roam and weave
    Yes
    You slay us
    With your
    Dark
    Magical
    Dreams
    Slay us
    And bring us
    To life
    Again

    ReplyDelete
  7. Des coquelicots flottants, lumineux, comme des lucioles écarlates...le rêve se poursuit...

    ReplyDelete
  8. Losing evidence of a camera. It seems as though you have dipped your brush into a pot of light to create these.

    ReplyDelete
  9. i find this series quite compelling and ominous - there's some hope mid-way, but then it gets darker and darker and bloodier... particularly given the title... and yet impossible to resist, so that i do end up wanting the poppies to grow and grow...

    te imbratisez

    ReplyDelete
  10. mac sau memorie?memoria mea,spritara,se stinge sub macul preaadanc pentru a fi valtoare ,in culoare.de unde si cum rasar macii?cat ma bucur ca exista anotimpuri,care sa ni-i reaminteasca in vaz,si apoi sa ne dea,lor

    ReplyDelete
  11. these are so much like paintings that it is unbelievable ... something new --- and yet certainly yours, for no other breath could touch the world in just this way ... i love them all, but maybe the first and fourth are my favorites, the world just now finding its shape as it quavers into being out of this golden light...

    when we dreamed the whole grammar of beauty, we woke, yearning, and needed these images to take us back there...

    ReplyDelete
  12. Wouahhh !
    Je vote "Oui", je signe ( où est-ce qu'on signe ? ), j'en veux un, à moi, à moi, j'hallucine... ! ! !
    Ces photos là Roxana me transportent dans un état proche du Nirvana ! 'Jamais rien vu de pareil ou alors quelque chose qui résonne en écho avec ce que j'ai au plus profond de moi !
    Ces coquelicots, je les ai rêvé, je les ai déjà vu, en imagination... et toi, tu les proposes ici, sur ta page !
    Ce genre de photographie est tout à fait du Grand Art, de la photo qui n'en est plus, qui a de l'âme...
    Mais où vas-tu chercher tout ça ?
    Et dire que je m'étais promis de ne plus trop revenir sur la toile pour laisser des commentaires ! ! !
    C'est moi qui aurait dû faire ces photographies Roxana...:)

    Je t'embrasse très coquelicots belle Roxana, là où ton coeur rejoint ton âme à la croisée des sentiments les plus fous, les plus colorés et les plus passionnés...:)... et aussi dans ton cou parfumé...

    Bises...:)

    ReplyDelete
  13. wie schön, und voller Leben und Freude! Diese Bilder, so finde ich, übertreffen alles, was ich bisher von Dir gesehen habe!
    Ich schicke Dir ein Lächeln, liebe Roxana und ein Dankeschön!
    Renée

    ReplyDelete
  14. Among my favorites yet, Roxana. How I wish my mother was alive so I could share them with her....poppies were her favorite flower. Thus, I must absorb them for her through my eyes.

    ReplyDelete
  15. aufwachen, nimmermehr. fort sollen sie mich nehmen, hinein in ihr leuchtend rot, hin und über den tod, zurück ins leben.

    ReplyDelete
  16. And again
    And again

    One does not tire
    Of drinking
    These visions

    ReplyDelete
  17. Michael,
    i can only (and humbly) bow my head and be grateful...





    merc, when my favourite painter praises my poppy fields like this, what more can i say? :-)





    clo, chere clo, comme toujours je suis tres heureuse quand tu traverses le pont et me fais signe. je t'embrasse et te souhaite une bonne nouvelle semaine moi-aussi!

    ReplyDelete
  18. Marion, weird indeed haha - but i enjoyed to be reminded of that painting (perhaps not so weird, there is the same dark romantic vein uniting us, or so it seems to me now :-)





    dear louciao, thank you so much for your enthusiasm and for mentioning fireflies, i adore them :-)





    b, i'm always wondering with you :-P
    i somehow suspected you would like this gold and red (no surprise for a faithful reader of the Black Sun, i should say, putting on my very ceremonial garment, a golden mosaic running through me, a diagonal of burnished gold that held me together, that went through my heart).

    ReplyDelete
  19. slaying and bringing to life again, ah dear Owen, what a marvelous description of the violent effect art can (should) have upon us (in my opinion, of course) - if you think my pictures are able to do this, then i am more than happy!

    and indeed, how did you know?
    "a deep pool
    Of hallucinations
    Where ghost lights
    Roam and weave"

    i would give anything to make this happen, that the Bridge becomes such a pool!
    thank you for coming back to it, again and again! (poppies? opium? they say it is addictive? :-)

    ReplyDelete
  20. K'line, tu as aussi vu des lucioles ici, comme louciao, c'est etrange, je n'avais pas pense a ca - maintenant je suis ravie par vos associations...
    bises de tout coeur!






    first one, swiss? i wish i could have the firmness and strength of your decisions, i am unable to choose among large series and so i always end up with showing a lot of pics :-)






    Stickup Artist, this is a huge praise and i am immensely grateful to you for it, losing evidence of a camera is indeed what i aim to achieve - ah and the brush, indeed, the brush strokes!

    ReplyDelete
  21. Manuela, happy that you couldn't resist :-) but poppies are like this, aren't they, compelling and ominous and impossible to resist, i think that my pictures, if they have any merit at all, only translated their essence.
    te iau in brate si eu!






    thanks, Gabriel!






    Cerasela, in vremuri indepartate, cand cuvintele tale nu mi se lasasera inca in inima, scrisesem asta, si ti-o aratasem, cumva sunt legata de acest poem si in continuare cred ca aici, cu stangacie dar totusi, ce mai conteaza asta, este celebrata moartea mea. macii!

    Vara

    Să nu te temi, Miriam.

    În ceasul morţii tale

    zei fără număr, din cerul

    fără pată,

    vor veni să te ţină de mână.



    Să nu te zbaţi, Miriam.

    Atunci când buzele tale

    vor îngâna ultimul cântec,

    la cina ta de taină

    oaspeţi vor coborî din cer,

    fără număr,

    se vor aşeza în cerc

    car de foc lângă car de foc,

    în jurul surâsului tău blând

    şi vor fuma, prietenos

    dar cu gravitate,

    pulberea ta senină.



    Să nu plângi, Miriam.

    În ceasul morţii tale

    să-ţi îmbraci rochiţa de vară

    cu margarete şi maci,

    să-ţi pui, împletit, părul tău subţire

    peste genunchi şi şolduri şi coaste

    Şi să aştepţi.



    (dar eu ma tem)

    ReplyDelete
  22. James, but how could we dream about the grammar of beauty if poets hadn't existed, to invent it, write and re-write it for our souls? it is only your longing for the Word, the impossible word, that feeds my longing for the un-word, which gives birth to these pictures. they can exist only in and through this tension, this brokenness.

    (multumesc - inseamna totul pentru mine, si mai mult decat atat)








    ah, Jeff!!! tu es de retour et tu hallucines, c'est un bon signe ca :-)
    (je te remercie ici aussi pour le petit mot que tu as laisse a cote de mon lilas fleuri)

    c'est donc a ca que Jeff ressemble, quand il est proche du Nirvana! :-) je dois remercier mes coquelicots pour m'avoir offert cette chance, ce privilege!
    mais c'est ce que j'ai cherche moi-meme dans ces images, toucher, rendre visile l'ame des coquelicots, et si tu me dis que tu l'as sentie, alors je n'ai plus rien a desirer, sinon te voir dans un etat hallucinatoire perpetuel :-)

    je t'embrasse et te souhaite une semaine merveilleuse - et a bientot, j'espere, non, Jeff?

    ReplyDelete
  23. Prospero

    she can't be without it, without dazzling gold, bleeding poppies and turquoise seas






    Liebste Renée, wenn Dir diese Bilder so sehr gefallen, dann bin ich mehr als gluecklich - ich gebe auch zu, die Bruecke ist manchmal (oft) traurig und duester, aber nichtmal sie kann solchen strahlenden Sommerfarben widerstehen :-)
    habe vielen Dank fuer das Gedicht, natuerlich liebe ich Gedichte ueber alles - ich hatte nur so viel zu tun diese Tage, dass ich keine ruhige Zeit hatte um hier zu sein und Dir zu antworten...
    lass Dich herzlichst umarmen, meine Liebe...






    Lydia, i am so touched by your words. silently grateful, i'm thinking of you and your mother...





    Robert, aufwachen, nimmermehr - so fuehlte ich auch, das war auch mein Wunsch, als ich dort inmitten des goldenen Feldes meine Augen schloss und mich dem Mohnrausch hingab - ganz...

    ReplyDelete
  24. Finalement, je dois être plus soft Roxana... J'hallucine est peut-être fort finalement...:)
    Je dirais alors, "Tes coquelicots sont vraiment "bandants" Roxana"...
    C'est mieux je crois ! ! !

    Bises "B.S"...:)

    ReplyDelete
  25. Jeff, je ne sais pas si je peux dire que je suis contente de ce mot que tu mets entre guillemets (et que tu a utilise aussi pour ma serie avec le lilas, en fait pour la fille que j'avais fotografiee la-bas, pour etre plus precise), mais peut-etre mon francais n'est pas si bon et il y a aussi d'autres significations dont je ne suis pas au courant.
    Je suis un peu triste, je dois l'avouer.

    ReplyDelete