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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)
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- pictorialist poetics (2)
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- the prayer of the objects series (1)
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- time (25)
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- 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.
and so she breaks new ground and presents us with another profound vision...
ReplyDeleteExquisite.
ReplyDeletediaphanes poésies...trou noir et etoiles vives..
ReplyDeletec'est beau Roxana ..
je t'embrasse..bonne fin de soirée...
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
ReplyDeletelove them and I love your title.
Magically incandescent. A field lit up by a host of fireflies. The pictures hum with energy.
ReplyDeleteunbelievable 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).
ReplyDeletehi! :-)
b.
Looking at these
ReplyDeleteI 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
Des coquelicots flottants, lumineux, comme des lucioles écarlates...le rêve se poursuit...
ReplyDeletefirst one for me.
ReplyDeleteLosing evidence of a camera. It seems as though you have dipped your brush into a pot of light to create these.
ReplyDeletei 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...
ReplyDeletete imbratisez
Nice color painting, Roxana!
ReplyDeletemac 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
ReplyDeletethese 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...
ReplyDeletewhen we dreamed the whole grammar of beauty, we woke, yearning, and needed these images to take us back there...
Wouahhh !
ReplyDeleteJe 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...:)
her inner chaos
ReplyDeletewie schön, und voller Leben und Freude! Diese Bilder, so finde ich, übertreffen alles, was ich bisher von Dir gesehen habe!
ReplyDeleteIch schicke Dir ein Lächeln, liebe Roxana und ein Dankeschön!
Renée
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.
ReplyDeleteaufwachen, nimmermehr. fort sollen sie mich nehmen, hinein in ihr leuchtend rot, hin und über den tod, zurück ins leben.
ReplyDeleteAnd again
ReplyDeleteAnd again
One does not tire
Of drinking
These visions
să te tot scufuuunzi
ReplyDeleteMichael,
ReplyDeletei 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!
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 :-)
ReplyDeletedear 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).
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!
ReplyDeleteand 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? :-)
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...
ReplyDeletebises 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!
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.
ReplyDeletete 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)
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.
ReplyDelete(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?
Prospero
ReplyDeleteshe 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...
Finalement, je dois être plus soft Roxana... J'hallucine est peut-être fort finalement...:)
ReplyDeleteJe dirais alors, "Tes coquelicots sont vraiment "bandants" Roxana"...
C'est mieux je crois ! ! !
Bises "B.S"...:)
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.
ReplyDeleteJe suis un peu triste, je dois l'avouer.