Congratulations, and a big piece of yummy cake, for LW from The Pink Front Gate the winner of the Tim Irving photos giveaway! I'll be in touch. So many entries in this giveaway but what a giveaway. Thank you again Tim. If you didn't win, head over to Tim's Shop and purchase that favourite piece. There's even free worldwide shipping. Oh and then get yourself some cake to celebrate.
Did you know that followers of Artemis, goddess of the Moon, commemorated her birthday on the sixth day of each month by making a cake of flour and honey. I think this is a fine tradition. Let’s have birthday cake and a party at least once every month - with or without veggies.
Yes…a giveaway! Tim Irving is a widely published photographer based in Granada Spain. He is a ‘travellin man’ traversing the world and taking his inspiration from any area that inspires and stimulates him. Often using vintage and handmade cameras Tim takes us on a world tour with soul. Enter to win any three photographs from Tim’s Etsy Store, Opart. Enter up to six times by leaving a comment here (1 entry) visiting Tim’s store and then letting me know which photo is calling to you (1 entry), following this blog (1 entry), following Tim’s blog (1 entry), doing a blog entry about this giveaway (1 entry), doing a ‘tweet’ about the contest (1 entry). The contest is open for seven days, ending midnight Brisbane time on Monday 28 September.
If you’d like me to host a giveaway for you on this blog, please send me at email at hfmedia@bigpond.net.au
I'm feeling much better and making tentative steps back to a 'normal' life. Here's to feeling contentment and joy in every precious moment.
Photos of Hot Air Balloons that I collaged a while ago via Flickr - I’ll add individual credits at a later date.
It seems a lifetime since I last sat at this computer. I’ve been hospitalized with some strange bugs in my lungs. I’m home now and being given iv drugs through a picc line by visiting nurses…and visits by pathology for blood tests to monitor the levels of the potent drug cocktail. It’s been horrible but necessary. I’m thankful for the medical care I’ve received. And so grateful for family and friends who’ve been there for me. I wish I could say more – something wise and insightful – but my brain isn’t functioning too well. I’ll do a post next week when I can stay vertical long enough! Meanwhile, why not visit some of the other commenters – you’re all lovely people.
I haven't been able to complete a new work for the Three Muses 'Moonstruck' Challenge this week but did write a verse here a few months ago. Yes, I know it's kind of cheating...but...I'm out of action for the next week or so getting some medical treatment. So please forgive me and send some lovin!
'Fashion is not something that exists in dresses only. Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what is happening.' Coco Chanel
Private Moon Series by Leonid Tishkov and Boris Bendikov via Moscow House of Photography 'Private Moon is a visual poem, telling a story about a man who found the Moon and stayed with her for the rest of his life. In the upper world, in the attic of his house, he saw the Moon which had fallen from the sky. At first she was hiding from the sun in a dark, damp tunnel and was constantly frightened by the passing trains. Then she came to the house of the man. Wrapping the moon in a thick blanket, he gives her autumn apples and drinks tea with her. When she finally recovers he puts her on a boat and carries her across a dark river to a high bank, where moon pine-trees grow. He descends to the lower world wearing the clothes of his deceased father and then returns, illuminating the way with his private moon. Transcending the borders between worlds via narrow bridges, sinking into sleep, taking care of the heavenly body, man turns into a mythological being living in the real world like in a fantastic fairy-tale.' Leonid Tishkov
I'm besotted by the art deco setting used in this clip. The furniture, the glamour, the atmosphere. A gorgeous little movie. The handbag I'm afraid only played a bit part for me. If $1500 is a little pricey for you as well, and you have a hankering for this designer, you could always purchase a vintage Dior accessory. Maybe you could create your own intriguing romantic tale.
Jack's 'handbag' adventure from The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde -
Jack: I don't actually know who I am by birth. I was... well, I was found. Lady Bracknell: Found? Jack: Yes. The late Mr. Thomas Cardew, an old gentlemen of a kindly disposition found me and gave me the name of Worthing because he happened to have a first class ticket to Worthing at the time. Worthing is a place in Sussex. It's a seaside resort. Lady Bracknell: And where did this charitable gentlemen with the first class ticket to the seaside resort find you? Jack: In a handbag. Lady Bracknell: [closes eyes briefly] A handbag? Jack: Yes, Lady Bracknell, I was in a hand bag. A somewhat large... black... leather handbag with handles... to it. [pause] Lady Bracknell: An ordinary handbag. Lady Bracknell: And where did this Mr. James... or, Thomas Cardew come across this ordinary handbag? Jack: The cloak room at Victoria Station. It was given to him in mistake for his own... Lady Bracknell: [Shocked] The cloak room at Victoria Station? Jack: Yes. The Brighton line. Lady Bracknell: The line is immaterial. [begins tearing up notes] Lady Bracknell: Mr. Worthing. I must confess that I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred in a handbag, whether it have handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life which reminds one of the worst excesses of the French revolution, and I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to?
Charlie Chaplin is the star of this week's Three Muses Challenge. So I thought I'd make myself a little Charlie to play with. As you can see, he's quite at home here at my place with some young girls . Don't worry I have complete control over this little man. The paper doll was made using a vintage postcard that can be downloaded here from The Bill Douglas Centre for the History of Cinema and Popular Culture. I enlarged the postcard (he's one foot tall now), printed it onto card and then used watercolor pencils to touch it up before gluing onto more card, cutting out and assembling.
Black and White written by Aesthetic Realist Louis Dienes in 1957 -
The day black and white got a break Was the day he and she and they Thought of those things black and white could convey, That is, those things could be turned into black and white And be clear to minds. There was a cloister and the rich man bought it, Brought it to where old man four-eyes could Sit on the edge, lean on the columns and all this, Old man and his hat, shadows and stone, was Down in black and white. The fingers of that girl Holding a book were down in black and white And the book was mauve on old ivory
But this secret died, the reporter Didn't note it, no one who was there remembers. Melvin lit his pipe, Brown brier and yellow match flame Were rendered in tones of grey near his nose sniffing The first puffs. Palm leaves zig-zag there And thoughts glide through to the black iron fire escape stairs Of multistoried thought buildings, clay tile- Parapeted in the slanting sun of just that afternoon. Burgeoning freight cars of black and white Overloaded with meaning and bursting their sealed doors Wait on the sidings of reverie. That man seeing
from Etsy seller A M Creations. An update - a video featuring more stunning work from this artist.
All that is not brooding, is detail-enchanted, The traceries are pearl's value, Hair of girl, disordered, fold of five and dime blouse, Curve of whisker, gleam of smiling dentures, petals' pale glow. Bursting this car's seal, we shall shun the story angle, Leaving color tonalities to the more sensual impresario, And sniff bouquet of geometry in these Blinds out of focus, Light and dark stripes of grey alternating, Next a firm jaw, Sure hands holding the scissors over a head of curls, Working horizontal hands crossed by The stern verticals of drape.
This car carries the exact Look of a pair of almond-shaped eyes of woman Cast on pasteboard for as long as paper lasts, Newly arrived in the company of pairs of dynastic eyes Egyptian drew, fixed on paper too and plainly speaking the message of self. The closed umbrella's form peers out from the Car of black and white and it is married there to the taxiing Airliner's compact fuselage. The automobile lasts longer In black and white than in steel. The disdainful look in the reposing cat's eye Is entirely present in black andwhite and the Quality of fur is transferable to mind Along with effect of whisker.
I see silver objects on flat pulp And the arm of the seller near the arm Of the buyer. The light's glint on the silver Is held and the elegance of old porcelain Is in that plate on the shelf level with The sellers bending head. The child whose face will be of another form In another year will not change on the cherished cardboard of the father's desk drawer. The sea, the wind on grass, the house's roof, Gables, and windows, the ship, the road, Everything in Walt Whitman's poems, the sun on Old stone and on newly cut stone, the fair girl's
Proud brows and full cheeks, the nervous man's posture, The tilt of the dandy's hat, the brooding clock's stance, The look of the striped shirt and the look of the white shirt, The old ladder's condition, the baby's eagerness and the old workman's casualness The telephone pole's splendid isolation and connectedness, The grandmother's smile of approval for her grandchild, The summer forest's interlacing multiplicity, The round wheel's neatness and the grass's nonchalance, The picnic's content, the pool's smoothness, The old man's thoughtfulness, All these things and ever so many more Eagerly are carried by the bursting cars of black and white And he and she and they knew it that day And for the self of William it meant, victory.
