morph-this-image

3

lmao

Morphed the three celebrities my husband has been told that he looks like over the years. The morph image has a different eye shape and color and lower eyebrows but everything else is him.

For some odd reason, a lot of filipinos that we’ve met thinks he looks like DiCaprio. Like, a lot. I guess you have to see him in person to get what they’re saying. Idk. I don’t really see it.

I will always remember

I’ll always remember how we met.

How a mutual silence is all we shared.

How that turned into an awkward acquaintanceship.

I’ll always remember when you started staying up just to talk to me.

How late nights held laughs and tears; both yours and mine

How we cracked open our sternums to exhibit our hearts; as they were.

They were cut, dried, bruised, hardening, but still big and still beating.

I’ll always remember how we were always going to guard each other’s back.

How we convinced ourselves it was you and me against the world.

How I told myself that this was love. 

I’ll always remember how ignorant that thought was.

How I morphed a unreal image of you to hold up to my eyes and convince myself that this was a path I was going to take.

I’ll always remember when you said we weren’t meant to be.

I’ll always remember how venomous I became.

How I pointed the finger at myself and shouted “victim”

How I morphed the tale that you were the oppressor; denying me a right.

How my words were hot bile spat at you, burning you.

You began to push away, with good reason. The right reasons.

Yet, I still was childish. 

I’ll always remember how I would gesture at knife in my back that I could not see.

While you turned from me and I ignored a blade in your spine. 

Deep in it with guess who’s fingerprints.

I’ll always remember how I became the person you and I sought out to protect from one another.

How you were no longer a friend but villain in my blinded eyes.

I will always remember the day you said “no more”

I will always remember the silence.

How that silence became a demon I conjured.

How the taste of alcohol was honey.

How refusing caution was a way I could gather your attention.

I will always remember how dry heaving over toilets became a ritual.

How self destructive behavior was no longer taboo.

I will always remember how I would have to be dragged in order to live.

I will always remember how I got over it, let my sadness turn into rage turn into peace.

I will always remember that it was me

I was oppressor

I was the villain

I shot out venom

I drove you away

I did this

I will always remember that you’re better off without me

I will always remember. I don’t deserved to be absolved.

You never deserved it. Any of it. All of it.

I don’t want forgiveness because what I did to you, what I took from you. Was unforgivable. 

I will always remember who I was.

I will always remember that is who I hate.

I will always remember not to do it ever again.

I will always remember you.

I will always remember my sins.

I will always remember.

You’re making me feel pity for a person you’re not letting learn to grow their own way. If you’re going to force your opinions on them such as “teaching your child to be straight” and to take them to that therapy that is supposed to psychologically make them not gay, then don’t. That type of therapy, firstly, is known to mentally damage, and secondly, people are born with a sexual orientation. I wasn’t born straight and I didn’t choose to be pansexual. Your child wasn’t born straight and they didn’t choose to be gay. I get you’re concerned, but guess what. The way you react towards these things when it’s quite clear your child knows what they’re doing and knows who they’re talking to, makes it obvious that you’re just trying to morph your child into your image, instead of giving them their own life. A life they need to build themselves. Parents are there to teach them basic principles and good morals. They are not there to force them to be homophobic and to go against true feminism. That’s their choice to make. Not yours.

Little Paper Planes is pleased to introduce our March 2015 artist, Jesse Moretti, and to offer seven exclusive prints of her work.

Artist Jesse Moretti first appears to be a painter, but a closer look finds her pieces subtly making inroads into sculptural space. This morph from image to object and back again mirrors Jesse’s own working process of sketching, rendering, printing and painting, as the forms in her work jump through multiple translations to land in their final state.

To read her interview with @maggiehaas
http://blog.littlepaperplanes.com
#lppblog #lppfeaturedartist

Everyone who has one intellectual conversation with me starts talking of how alike we are and this connection they’ve made with me. But I don’t connect with anyone. I’m just really good at molding. Really good at knowing how to be what someone needs at that moment and how to shape to them specifically at that time. It’s not that I’m not being me, it’s just not all of me and I’m sick of people morphing their image of me into themselves. I’m not like anyone, really. I can’t tell them that though so eventually they’re let down. Understanding, facts, having things in common- That’s not connection but it can be a learned skill. They don’t get that. Stop expecting me to be your krutch just because I can psycho analyze you.

But I will go down the path – for all you girls in my life – of reminding you that you should never fall into the trap of thinking you can change a guy. For all your talents, you don’t have superpowers. And changing someone – morphing them into that perfect image you hold in your head – isn’t reality. It won’t happen.
—  Jim Higley on Thought Catalog
6

Layering Photos - Layers in Photoshop - Week #5

Here, we were tasked with layering photos from two different sources on one image. I actually ended up working more with filters, experimenting with how layering different blend modes can achieve a different or mixed effect - mostly greater and finer variations in tone and shadows, but this can also be achieved through manual adjusting. I layered different blurs (lens and field blurs) combined with erasing the fine edges of the morphed in image to create a much finer blend and make it less (or more) obvious that other things were put into the original image.

Little Paper Planes is pleased to introduce our March 2015 artist, Jesse Moretti, and to offer seven exclusive prints of her work.

Artist Jesse Moretti first appears to be a painter, but a closer look finds her pieces subtly making inroads into sculptural space. This morph from image to object and back again mirrors Jesse’s own working process of sketching, rendering, printing and painting, as the forms in her work jump through multiple translations to land in their final state.

To read her interview with @maggiehaas
http://blog.littlepaperplanes.com
#lppblog #lppfeaturedartist

youtube

“This time-lapse shows flowers opening on a ‘Daydream’ hybrid echinopsis cactus,” explains succulent enthusiast Greg Krehel http://instagram.com/echinopsisfreak. “The video shows eight hours of action. The flowers open overnight and rarely last more than a single day.”

After years of owning desert-loving cacti that succumbed to Miami’s sogginess, Greg one day inadvertently took home an echinopsis, a genus of frequently-flowering cactus that thrives in humidity. What started as a chance encounter soon became an obsession.

“Now I’m at 100 echinopsis species and hybrids,” says Greg. Through time-lapse photography, Greg is able to capture, condense and share his many cacti’s brilliant blooms. As Greg explains, “my passion for the cacti themselves has morphed into a passion for imaging them.”

To see more vivid time-lapse videos of Greg’s diverse echinopsis family, visit the Instagram blog: http://blog.instagram.com/post/955653…

Coffee Shop

Featuring my OCs Natasha, Kairi, and Elle.

Coffee Shop

Tangling her hands in her hair, Natasha grumbled as she drew her pencil across the expanse of white stretched before her. The image she was trying to recreate kept blurring out of her memory, as if it was purposefully eluding her, the sharp edges of the object blurring once she managed to focus on it. Left, right, curling and then fanning out; the charcoal of her utensil slowly began to etch out an image, terrible shadows morphing into terrifying images from what some would consider nightmares.
“Quite a dark piece,” a voice chirped over her shoulder, making Natasha jump and throw her arms over the table as if protecting her sketchbook, her trance retracing. The voice came from a girl who had stopped behind Natasha, probably walking to one of the empty tables in the coffee shop, a steaming cup of something in one hand and the other clasped around the strap of her backpack which was thrown haphazardly over her right shoulder. The girl stood taller than Natasha by a few inches at least, with dark curly hair pulled up and hazel eyes that seemed more blue against the dark blue t-shirt she wore over her well fitted jeans. She had a simple smile and an intrigued look in her eyes that Natasha was attempting to decipher before she realized that she was staring. And being incredibly rude.
“Oh, well uhh yeah I suppose. It’s not something I’d normally draw but I just had the image stuck in my head you know,” Natasha smiles nervously as she scratches the back of her neck. The taller female grins back and gives a small laugh, one that makes Natasha grin, before asking, “Then what kind of images do you normally have in that head of yours?”

As it turns out, the young woman named Kairi was from the same university as Natasha, and she was in an art studies class that she had taken in the previous year. Which is why she stopped to comment on the artwork the young woman named Natasha had been creating, Kairi had recognized her from seeing her on campus. At least that was the excuse she gave herself as she looked at the young woman in front of her, black rimmed glasses and hair tossed haphazardly on her head with a green button down flannel open over a white tank top. Tan skin pinked slightly on her cheeks whenever she did this adorable grin, her hand having a habit of tangling itself in her hair or rubbing her neck when asked about her artwork or personal life. Kairi found it endearing how this stranger seemed to be so absorbed in their conversation—about mythology no less—considering she had just randomly met her.
“—but yeah, I completely agree with Hera in that case. I mean if my wife had cheated on me-” Kairi tried to hide her surprise at the word “wife” assuming that Natasha had just slipped up until she saw that cute pink burn it’s way across those tan cheeks. “You mean husband,” Kairi offered questioningly, her voice much more hopeful than she would have liked and she cursed herself when she saw Natasha retreat into herself a bit and frown momentarily as that busy hand of hers rubbed her neck again. She wondered if Natasha’s hands were soft or not. “N-no. I meant wife. I mean if that ever becomes legal I suppose..” Natasha stuttered over the no, refusing to meet Kairi’s eyes momentarily before looking up with an expression that Kairi couldn’t place. It was a mixture between uncertainty and pleading, perhaps a plead to understand her and not judge. Natasha’s hand tightened around her pencil and she pulled one of her legs up into the chair so she could lean her chin on her knee, and on instinct Kairi reached out and places her hand on Natasha’s. Her skin was impossibly soft. Kairi flashed a reassuring smile and was pleased to hear a nervous chuckle find its way from Natasha’s chest as that blush creeped back into her cheeks, a similar burn flashing across her own face as she thought about how cute Natasha looked.

After the moment was over, Kairi took her hand back and they continued talking for quite some time. Natasha ordered Kairi another coffee—which she took black—and ordered herself a chocolate milk. She found out that this female in front of her loved to play sports, and excelled at many she played. She looked like she was a sports star for sure, and Natasha was pleased when Kairi lit up talking about her hometown team and how they were currently going to state for volleyball, and how proud she was of her old team. It was just easy to talk to her, and Kairi seemed to feel the same because after she glanced at her phone and noticed the time she shot up and apologized because she was late getting home. “Ahhhhh, I’m really sorry I have to go! It was such a pleasure to meet you Natasha,” she said with one of the most shinning smiles Natasha had ever seen, her own lips turning up as she waved her hand goodbye. Kairi had just walked out the door before she ran back in, looking slightly nervous, as she handed Natasha a small piece of ripped notebook paper with a phone number scribbled haphazardly across it. With a smile she ran back out the door, jogging across the parking lot to the bus stop where a bus had just pulled up, and she was gone. Natasha watched as she went and smiled when she looked down at the scratchy numbers again, taking out her phone and typing the number in, shooting her a quick text.

"I could have given you a ride if you were late for the bus—Nat"
Almost instantly,
“No it’s not a problem! It takes me back by campus where my car is parked but thank you. I really enjoyed talking to you.”
A grin erupted across Natasha’s face, resting her chin back on her knees as she flipped pages in her sketchbook. The image she wanted came easily to her, fair skin and a beautiful smile. Curly hair and stunning eyes, she sketched for a while more. Texting Kairi until the barista, a close friend of hers, got off work and came over to her table with her eyebrow raised and a sly smile on her face.

"Someone looks pleased with herself," she said as she ran her hand through her styled hair, little spikes flipping every which way from having been under her cap for an eight hour shift. Natasha gave her a small playful glare and they both laughed as Natasha packed up her things and threw her backpack over her shoulder, standing and stretching her stiff shoulders.
“Yeah yeah whatever you say, Elle. So what do you want for dinner,” Natasha said as she walked towards the door with Elle close behind, a knowing grin on her face.
“I don’t know. But I guess eating out is always delicious,” she laughs as Natasha blushes and shoots her a dirty look over her shoulder. Elle knows now that Natasha really likes this new girl, and she’s determined to see them together. Let her planning begin.

Little Paper Planes is pleased to introduce our March 2015 artist, Jesse Moretti, and to offer seven exclusive prints of her work.

Artist Jesse Moretti first appears to be a painter, but a closer look finds her pieces subtly making inroads into sculptural space. This morph from image to object and back again mirrors Jesse’s own working process of sketching, rendering, printing and painting, as the forms in her work jump through multiple translations to land in their final state.

To read her interview with @maggiehaas
http://blog.littlepaperplanes.com
#lppblog #lppfeaturedartist