Brooklyn-based photographer Jonathan Smith has abstractly captured Iceland’s northernmost region of streams in the remote fishing town Siglufjörður. The images in Streams artistically depict a desolate frozen land with deep blue water streams in alternate perspectives. Its juxtaposition between up-close and distant shots create an aura of mystery, making it difficult for the viewer to decipher the photographs in front of them. The minimalist approach reveals a silent yet powerful beauty.
Josh Keyes (HF Vol 12 cover artist) and Brin Levinson (covered here) both illustrate an affinity for animals in their paintings. Working in acrylic and oil respectively, their collective exhibition “Reclamation of Nowhere”, which opens tomorrow at Antler Gallery in Portland, illustrates desolate environments from the animal’s point of view. Josh Keyes chose to convey feelings of liberation and reclamation in his new series. “It is suggesting surrender, or letting go, or loosening of the psychological framework and preconceptions that can sometimes hold and restrain our imagination and natural impulses,” he explains.
About 450 edits and alterations later, with approximately 5 hours removed, my re-edit of the Hobbit trilogy into the 3-hour “There and Back Again” is complete (at least until the extended edition comes out and I slip the new scenes in there). On Friday I will post again with a link to the Vimeo page as well as the torrent, along with a list of many of the changes that were made (but not all, I want to leave many as a surprise for your enjoyment).
Thanks again for all of your feedback and encouragement. Of course, it’s impossible to please everybody, as one person will send me an email that says “please more Beorn! fill it with Beorn!” and another email that says “remove all the Beorn stuff it doesn’t move the story along”. Apply this duality to literally every single scene in the movie and you can imagine the torment I face…so the decisions that I’ve made through this edit are just that: my decisions, and maybe you disagree or would do it differently and that’s of course fine, this is all just for fun anyway!
I’m gonna keep on doing the finishing touches and making sure the files are maximum quality (I spent many hours researching maximizing quality with small file sizes using x264 codec, so the torrent should be around 4gb and be much higher quality than my last release, as my source footage is from 30gb bluray files).
Keep any eye out some time on Friday and thanks again for motivating me to keep going!
Ef Amar/Renu Brar … happy birthday and all our good wishes for a delightful day filled with happiness and joy ever ..
A day of hours in the length of its habitual, passes, ending, desperate desolate and with hoped balance. Another within similar lengths of habit ends intact, protected, restored saved and cheerful …. LIFE - vivacity, animation, liveliness, vitality, verve, high spirits, sparkle, exuberance, zest, buoyancy, effervescence, enthusiasm, energy, vigour, dynamism, go, elan, gusto, brio, bounce, spirit, spiritedness, activity, fire, panache, colour, dash, drive, push; business, bustle, hustle and bustle …
LIFE - Old English lif Proto-Germanic libam Old Norse lif Dutch lijf Old High German lib German Leib … or so inform many sites on what is now our alma mater ; the net worth of commonly understood networks.
Different connotations to the same, different letters except the first for its pronounce, different tongues for its presence, different regions for its exists .. yet with meaning yet to be adequately researched or explained or intelligible !!
What holds for us is unheld in time ! And at times the reverse ! It educates, teaches, tests, makes mockery, slings example across, swings by in justified swells, exhilarates, brings the lungs the power of an unused facial - laughter, converts it to those drops that emote from each eye, births and then debirths !!
One can only respect it .. that is the best that can be done ; its predictability and its unpredictability both !
Images of life shall be of form and deformed both. Those that can configure are the blessed. Those that cannot are blessed too. “Man ka ho toh achcha .. na ho toh zyaada achcha” .
But of this there is no doubt … lif, lib, lieb, lijf … are extraordinary metaphors, allegory, parables, analogies, for all the blame, the credit, the ails and ills, the triumphs the defeats, that one living, encounters and bequeaths to ..
Thank you gratefully to ‘language’ .. for introducing me to this vocabulary called LIFE ..
I saw her before me, beautiful, young, expectant, a butterfly that by
a happy accident had flown into my down-at-heels, shabby room, into my
insignificant, meaningless life, with me and yet not with me—a breath
merely, and it might rise and fly away again… . Blame me, condemn
me; I couldn’t, I simply could not say No, […] We were standing by the window, the mist pressed and broke in waves against the panes—and I felt that behind it lurked again the secret, the hidden, the past things, the damp days of horror, the desolation, the filth, the shreds of a waste life, the perplexity, the misguided frittering away of strength in an aimless existence; but here, before me in the shadow, disconcertingly near, the quiet breathing, the unseizable present—warmth, clear living—I must hold it, I must win it.
― Erich Maria Remarque, fromThree Comrades,transl. by A. W. Wheen (Popular Library, 1958)
“[William] Ward was born on Toronto Island in 1847. His father had emigrated from Yarmouth, England seventeen years earlier and had settled on a desolate part of what was still technically a peninsula. The area soon took on the name Ward’s Island. William Ward was a renowned oarsman and for a time held the single skiff championship of America. He also had the distinction of rescuing 142 people from the often treacherous waters of Toronto Bay and Lake Ontario. The first rescue was performed when he was just 15. Ward also helped recover victims of 11 shipwrecks and was made captain of the Dominion life saving crew in 1881. Sadly, he was unable to rescue his five younger sisters, when the rowboat in which the children were travelling, capsized as they crossed the bay after visiting the city. Ward died at his home, 68 Brunswick Avenue, on January 25, 1912 at the age of 65”
“My Sorrow, when she’s here with me, Thinks these dark days of autumn rain Are beautiful as days can be; She loves the bare, the withered tree; She walks the sodden pasture lane. Her pleasure will not let me stay. She talks and I am fain to list: She’s glad the birds are gone away, She’s glad her simple worsted gray Is silver now with clinging mist. The desolate, deserted trees, The faded earth, the heavy sky, The beauties she so truly sees, She thinks I have no eye for these, And vexes me for reason why. Not yesterday I learned to know The love of bare November days Before the coming of the snow, But it were vain to tell her so, And they are better for her praise.”
‘What am I? A poet?’
Poets don’t ask questions.
'Am I a-’
I’ll stop me there.
I am what I feel-
Less ordinary than usual,
Less usual than ordinary.
I am an astronaut.
Yes, you heard me.
An astronaut strewn out into the cold dark unknown
The deafening screech of an empty oxygen tank blurring my senses.
My mind clear;
There is only the bleak explosion of galaxies before me as I drift through the desolate collection of stardust and paint.
I know pretending is useless.
These ramblings of the young woman sleep evades are a bundle of pretentious angst,
But I prefer them to the truth.
The truth where I know exactly what I am-
The one who doesn’t need to ask questions, for the difficult answer is simple:
I am sad. And I miss you.