Photography painting poems, awe.
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...the bird is on the wing in the winds, flexible to every breath, a living spark in the storm, its very flickering depending on its supreme mutability and power of change...Now, now, the bird is on the wing in the winds...The strands are all flying, quivering, intermingling into the web...The perfect rose is only a running flame, emerging and flowing off, and never in any sense at rest, static, finished. Herein lies its transcendent loveliness. ---D.H.L.These are outstanding, sublime pictures, Roxana. But what if the raven does not settle, but only tears? And what if "night is also a sun"? b.
i think we should approach these photographs like they were the first cave paintings: with a sense of awe.
love this, the metamorphosis is beautifully done. reminds me of an Audre Lorde essay I recently read -On The Uses of the Erotic, a wonderful read http://www.metahistory.org/guidelines/EroticUses.php
ah my beautiful friend, this is breathtakingly beautiful, the transfiguration the infusion into the dream vein.you are soooooooooooo wonderful at working with subtleties-you have just the right balance image of the woman tearing softly through her self the thought incarnated"if my thoughts could turn into ravens fly I would whisper fly"but it becomes you that flies after spinning this gorgeous silver wrap-what an awesome use of the textile of life so magical and scintillating and then this beautiful exotic creature is born to fly but with the fineness of your wand, she is threaded with mortality as instead of flying she lies prostrate before her erotic love feeling the soft tearing of Eros' sharp arrow inflicted wound.ew beautiful Roxana,an early happy valentines to you also.sending you heartshaped kisses.♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
Wonderfully shamanistic...as though a rite of transformation.
Oh! My heart took flight with this post.
Roxana, on the brea[d]th of wings you have BECOME THAT BIRD, and soaring as you are. i applaud the creativity and courage of expression in this magnificent flight of yours. thank you.
May you never cease to enchant us beyond all reason... you set ravens flying free across vast infinite skies...
words seem useless ... oh, this is beautiful, and she is beautiful -- but what is that? ... then i am quiet and realize that stunned muteness is useless, too ... what i want to say is, body torn by desire like words (that is, night. hands, breath), words torn by the wings of ravens ... but that is useless, as well, because you have already said it and forever ...how beyond photography this is!! photography offers us the bodies of lovely women to desire, and this is a kind of death, this longing for the body that has already gone forever, longing for the breakage at the edge of time which is the moment of the image ... but you (how?) shoot the gap between the gaze and the body, where time and death are irrelevant ... this is eros, this is dream, this is love, this is suddenly i remember that the darkness of ravens was her light and filled me beyond all .....
And beautiful Roxana, I followed your link, it was as if here on the floating bridge of dreams -the sense of direction follows our gaze you build upward the idea of the metamorphism the flight of eroticism then we think laterally as we view your link and my dream is that raven 18 becomes totally silverly enveloped in the silken rapturous thought dream reaching a climax of both thought and feeling and at the same time the silver wrap assumes a cocoon as the dream fades and another metamorphosis is underway.beautifulmore valentine kisses for you.♥
das vierte bild erkläre ich zu meinem liebsten hier. es ist so erhaben, lebendig und wunderschön und wie einzigartig, der gedanke als fliegender rabe, und niemand soll ihn aufhalten, kein einziges sinnbild, nicht der leiseste zweifel..!einen grossartigen wind voll grosser gedanken schicke ich dir und meinen ehrlichen dank, dass es dich gibt..!renée, lächelnd zum himmel aufblickend..!
these are haunting photos ...
I can't but help the painterly comparisons. 1 and 3 reminded me of certain paintings by Francis Bacon. Despite that, the intense originality of expression and style cannot be denied. Everything pulses, vibrates and quivers in ecstatic swooshes of light. I can hear the beating of wings...
ce usoare sunt miscarile in care ea se asaza.are adapostul ei de spuma,de fluturare,vraja in care lucrurile ametesc si se indeparteaza,lasand-o in alb.sfioasa,si atat de curajoasa...sunt langa ea.
1st one: iconic, absorbing, stunning.
The motion of poetry.
i am very grateful to all of you... you, your words, your warmth, your enthusiasm and thoughtfulness have filled me with joy and wonder - that i could see and feel something and that that "something" can resonate in another heart, so deeply, so that the act of sharing is made meaningful - in fact, that being-through-sharing gives meaning to everything ... i am sorry for not having too many words tonight, i will get back to each of you, on your blogs...thank you~~~
Oh, but this!This. You wrote as well as saw? I can barely believe such apprehension. MTS
Sublime série, papillon nocturne ;)
"fly you whispered so flown"