The Ways of Travel – Features – 14/08/2011

Since these are the Summer months and many people are enjoying their holidays, I thought travel would be the perfect theme for this week’s features. However, travelling can be done in many ways: we travel to other places, inside and out, we travel with people, we watch other people travel through their lives and we talk of our journeys and impart the wisdome we have gained.

We’re starting with the ‘normal’ trip to another country, another place… Venice – wonderful all year round.

Rialto by © TaniaLosada

Rialto by © TaniaLosada

Rialto
by TaniaLosada


There is something about travel that brings about the best or worst in us. This is the best, when you help your fellow traveller.


courage III by © uncleblack
here, let me take that,
let me carry it awhile

so the forms are made,
lines and colours
create the different shapes.

i can hold this,
sit down, this can be shared

ages wither and fade in time
we learn to prop up the old ones,
learn that our time will come.

you will never see the things
i have seen

the canyon was once a stream,

and i will see what will come
after you

as my skin is still young.

let me take this for a while
season this moment with courage,
let us both taste, now,
the beauty of our lives.


We take trips not just without, but within where there’s a whole universe (maybe many of them) which are well worth seeing…

astral travel by © vampvamp

astral travel by © vampvamp


That’s where the greatest disoveries are made – within.


IT ENDS WITHIN! by © cosimopiro
It ends here!
So… I offer this,
my battered armour,
my sword sheathed in its place of rest,
and I take up in their place instead
a pen and flimsy paper
to wrap you in the words of a condemned man
who finally found his voice.

I am a condemned man;
condemned by religious bigotry,
condemned by political agendas,
condemned by social class,
condemned by racial slurs.

I stand before you
judged by fear and hate,
cast out to the fringes
before the trial began.
In fact I was condemned before I was born;
condemned by the DNA of sin,
condemned by the past guilt of ancestors,
condemned by the stories of conquerors,
condemned by the swift hands of injustice.

I was born with the mark of a devil
and a crown of thorns
embedded deep in my psyche…

…such abuse should never be placed
upon the heads of innocence…

As a child I was told,
“Harden your heart,
toughen your skin,
tighten your grip,
don’t rock the boat, son,
toe the line, boy,
It’s a tough world out there,
no place for dreamers or losers!”

… and I never questioned who made it thus…

… but it is us
who carry the lies and deceits of monarchs, pontiffs, and generals,
we who question not
those who command our youth into wars,
who even in peace time
sit on their golden thrones
and feed us crumbs to keep us pecking.

CUT ME!

… cut me and I’ll bleed,
break my heart and I’ll cry,
threaten me and I’ll be fearful,
but put me in shackles?
I WILL BREAK FREE!
For although I am steeped in condemnation
and I am guilty of silent resignation,
I’LL BE DAMNED
IF I’LL CARRY THIS CURSE ANY FURTHER!

IT… ENDS… HERE!
… within…


Sometimes we find a fellow traveller to share some of the distance with us…

I Found Love On A Two-Way Street by © Tamarra BaVincio

I Found Love On A Two-Way Street by © Tamarra BaVincio


and sometimes we find ourselves alone again, to travel onwards to new destinations.


someone by © Nathan Emery
someone please turn off the sound
of everything
because i’m so damn tired
of listening
eyes are heavy
and i’m worn down
so please love or hate me now-
but choose
because falling off
is scarier than jumping off.

the days are blurring together
into what feels like seconds
and i hate it.
god how i hate it.
everyone is leaving-
oh wait that’s me
and maybe i’m just waiting
for someone to take my hand
and pull me away
from the ledges i always get lost on.
but now i’m rotting
in ten story air.

i wish someone
would just tell me the god damn truth
cause i’m so sick
of second guessing the world
when all I want
is someone to love.
and it feels like tonight will be
the last time i will ever breathe
in your company
and i can’t do anything about it
until it’ll be too late,
cause i’ve always lived
a few minutes behind.

it’s this air i breathe;
i swear somedays it’s poison
and makes my stomach empty
like the words i say.
but i hope someday
someone will hold my hand
and give me an escape;
into their eyes and heart,
and maybe climb the walls
around mine.


When we’re young it’s easy to seize the day, and make every second last a life time. It comes naturally.

Every Second of Every Day by © tori yule

Every Second of Every Day by © tori yule


It’s when we get older that we listen for the silence and our place in it.


Silence Is. by © imagineation
Silence is eraser shavings.

It is the space in-between a smile and a goodbye. A word and the page it is no longer on.

Silence is a mouth interrupted. A hug halfway through. An arm around the waist for a second.

It is the last three words of a sentence cut short. Because no one was listening anyway.

Silence is an unsent letter.

It is signing your name by listening too hard.

Silence is a siren on what must be a busy street, the clatter of what must’ve been a misplaced dish, the beep beep beep of a dial tone.

Silence is when you hear the most

Because you’re listening so hard

For something else.


We watch our children start on their journeys and we hope and we pray.

Run baby, run! by © Caterpillar

Run baby, run! by © Caterpillar

We treasure every moment of all the time we spent together and hope for more.


I Have Only Met You by © kashmirecho
I have only met you
Only known you a short while
And already you are leaving
Traveling across the country
To start a new journey
In a new place
Let’s hope our time apart
Is short in the scheme of things
And that we will see each other again
And spend many more moments together
Making splendid memories
As we have already done


We try to impart some knowledge and wisdom before our ways part.

The Godkeeper 32 by © Alenka Co

The Godkeeper 32 by © Alenka Co

And, once we go on different journeys, what is left but travel within to find ourselves.


What is growth but a difference between now and then? by © DominicSavio

I would do anything for
you
but what do I
do
when the thing I have
to
is nothing?
That’s when
the tables have turned
you see
and the question becomes
not what do I do with
you
but what [the heck]
do I do
with
me?


I hope you enjoyed the journey. Please tell the artists and leave a comment on their pages if you liked what you saw. Have a lovely weekend!

Advertisements

Features 20/02/2011 – Softly, gently

It’s foggy out there and all the sounds are muted, which led me to today’s theme.

Laurie’s beautiful image is all gentle and quiet. I love the colours and soft feel of it.

Be Still, My Heart by © Laurie Search

Be Still, My Heart by © Laurie Search

Here’s a little something we do well to remember now and again by Rishani.

A breath by © Rishani Sittampalam

Life is but a breath … a whisper in the wind
Here today and whisked away so suddenly.

I love the simplicity and colours of Peter’s lovely shot.

...seedling… by © peter holme III

...seedling… by © peter holme III

Another gentle reminder of what is important by Hollyann.

one drop by © hollyann

one drop
dries up
all alone
but mixed with others
becomes
a puddle
a rivulet
a river
a flood

feeding gentle fishes
tending the sea weed
crystaling salt
and playing tide music

an ocean of beauty
you know
we can’t do this
on
our
own

I’ve always been a fan of Dorina’s art, and this one is special. I love the title and the way she executed this painting, full of questions and doubt and beauty.

Daisies…and doubts by © dorina costras

Daisies…and doubts by © dorina costras

And here’s another of my favourites on RB – Lisa’s poem is mysterious and magical.

mercy by © Lisa Jewell

her alabaster lip
pouted
seductively

her tangled spirit
rolled
achingly

her desire for touch
spilled
into waiting hands

her tears
washed
all the feet that walked into her heart

her heart
broke down
the truth had been lost in lies

her shadow of a vessel
slipped silently
back into the alabaster jar

A little bit more heat now from Randy. I couldn’t resist this clever image – full of fire and passion and more.

Embers by © Randy Monteith

Embers by © Randy Monteith

More passion, even if it’s of a sad kind by SimplyRed. You can’t help but be touched by these words.

Burning of the old Homefire by © SimplyRed

He walks silently through
pristine snowfall
each footstep…. beating crisply
in time with his heart

pumping heart of lonely
but chilled to the very core
the homefire burns
with thoughts of her

there will be no greeting
of warmth nor doorstep of comfort
no welcome mat
of open arms to make him smile

three winters now
since death stole her
creeping in through
night times darkness
swooped away on
wind of ill fate

vacant empty rooms
filled with memories
their love dusting tabletops
and chairs of comfort

footsteps deep and crisp
homeward bound
life now barron
as winters landscape

his breath fogs
as a single tear
tracks an icy cold chill
upon his cheek

Rebecca’s whimsical image brings new hope.

Rays of Sunlight – Morning Mist by © Rebecca Tun

Rays of Sunlight – Morning Mist by © Rebecca Tun

I couldn’t resist this poem by PJ either. For me it’s full of light.

the colors of lightening by © ShadowDancer

He asked her
“Have you ever seen lightening
before it leaves the clouds?”

She softly smiled
and shook her head in response.

(never daring to tell him
that it has 8 colors
and she sees it
every time his eyes meet hers)

There’s something sad about Ruby’s image, but it’s a gentle sadness, one that has almost given up. Touching, very.

God Help The Outcasts by © Ruby Del Angel

God Help The Outcasts by © Ruby Del Angel

Finally, Mohawk Man’s poem. It seemed a fitting match to Ruby’s image and a fitting end for these features.

the insanity of inanity by © mohawk man

Trapped
in all my freedom’s glory
not a care in the world
nor a worry
save the love of my lives

Caged
by the very uselessness that set me “free”
with too much time
to ponder
the what if’s of yesterday

Hopeless
seems tomorrow
regardless of the dreams
of a young man
with the world in his hands

Enjoy!

First Features of 2011 – 02/01/2011

Here are the first features of the year. It is always a joy to do the features for Touched by Fire – there is so much interesting art and writing that the difficulty is deciding what not to include.

I am starting this journey off with a little house, an unusual house in a setting that seems to to draw you in.

SHELL HOUSE by © KEIT

SHELL HOUSE by © KEIT

And since the house looked like something from a fairytale it naturally lead me to this fantastic poem…

No Fairytale Ending by © kat86

What happens when you spend your whole life
Thinking you’re the ugly duckling who turns into a swan
Then you realise there is no fairy tale ending
and the hope you had is gone.

What happens when prince charming finds your slipper
But your foot is just too big
The frog you kissed goes missing
and your pumpkin turns out wrong.

Just because you dont love your reflection
Doesn’t mean the clouds will always rule
Look beyond the magic carpet, the jokers not always a fool
Don’t play the damsel, the world has enough distress

Heroes save your heart, you’ll have to do the rest.

In the neverending story of this thing that we call life
Your time is just beginning, don’t end it with a knife.
Just put on your overalls, wipe off the cinder ash
Finish your chores, steal from the chocolate stash.

Get your dress ready, dance with your bestfriend
Be home by midnight
A curfew is not the end.

There’s something special about this image. You’re not sure if she’s fleeing or running towards something. I like a bit of mystery.

...come Closer…...... by © CORA D. MITCHELL

...come Closer…...... by © CORA D. MITCHELL

Assuming that she was running towards something, I wondered if it might be the new year and all the things that might be on their way.

hello new day by © hollyann

the start
of the new three six five
lucky to be alive
and hovering on this new
extension
the light looks clean
and showing me out
of the tunnel

i am moving towards
the next horizon
and when things
feel an uncomfortable
fit
i twist and turn
until the landscape
bends
making amends
for the new seeds
and the new branches
poking through
the dirt

we are on this journey
together
your hand in mine
after all this time
we take the road
together
the road
less travelled by
mostly gravel
but leading to
the open sea

with sails unfurled
and winds caught up
we move across the
white capped waves
with telescope to eye
looking for first sight
of land

But life’s not always gentle and there might be some dark days ahead…

Dark Days by © Rebecca Tun

Dark Days by © Rebecca Tun

BUT there is always hope…

Adrift by © AnniG

Tonight I cast my sins, fears, tumultuous thoughts
upon the vast inky waters of this bottomless ocean
sending them to drift along the turbulent raging tides
to wash up upon your pristine sundrenched shore
buried on a coastal beach of bleached salty sand
to shrivel under the sweltering gaze of unrelenting
sun

perhaps you will hear the primal wails in sheer agony
perhaps you will pick and weigh them in your palm
perhaps you will rescue, cleanse, hold them close
perhaps you will breathe new life in purification
perhaps, you may even learn to live with them
perhaps you could learn to love this part of
me

maybe the new year will bring release
maybe it will come in time to let go
maybe I will finally be set free to
be

I loved this image for the focus on what’s important and the hope it makes me feel.

H-K264 by © hsien-ku

H-K264 by © hsien-ku

And the next poem seems to encapsulate all that I felt when I looked at the picture.

Circumnavigation by © Kristin Reynolds

It was dark when the light came
like a memory
like a firefly
like a nerve—

like the last of the fallen angels;
like the most beautiful thought
tossed off a bridge
in the quiet
and absolute still

of stars making waves below.

I find myself in this madness,
shaded and sharp
as a moment of glory;

curved
like the palm
of the moon;

two steps behind
never-ending.

I can’t say I was surprised
when the whistle blew
my hair back
like wheat in a gale—

or when the gods
poured down like
slow golden rain

from the crown
to the sea
to the wind;

to life growing seeds for angels

to will
to union
to root—

gifts of the being alone;

or when dawn
washed through
like infinite hands

anointing
my shroud
with the currency
of a perfectly fluted memory

with which
to see
in the dark

an arc
of bodiless
gold.

This next image impressed me with its composition as well as the feelings it evoked.

Wings of Desire IV – II When No One Comes by © Darren Vannoy

Wings of Desire IV – II When No One Comes by © Darren Vannoy

The next fabulous poem makes the perfect companion with its thoughtful whimsy.

WHEN WE SLEEP by © Kirrill D’Kainn

When midnight points to the moon
With the voice of wolfs
And when all winds motion bloom

The night … she replies

In the realm of fragrant foliage
Smooth are the sounds of shadows

Flights of silver owls feeding
In fashion of rose-mooned pearls
And the scent of carrion

A little true twisted crescent
The humour of this quintessence
Shift in daydreams of desire … and

The night … she replies

With melodies
That gather the spirits of rain … and
Pain of lightning struck twice

Strange and dying winds
Where desolation
Runs in rivers of cold gray sleep

End

However I wanted to end these first features of the year on a hopeful note and this image seemed to show me all the little tendrils of hope for the year just started.

Meditation of Green by © linaji

Meditation of Green by © linaji

May we indeed “step gracefully” through the coming year.

Doors of Life…. by © SimplyRed

Stained with life’s destiny
solidly standing
but gently framed
the doors of time
always slightly ajar
are closing fast

cautiously peering outwards
a gentle nudge of passage
the door creaks softly
hinges hung with peril…..
on threadbare scent of cedar

hold tight to my forever key
unlocking…
each knot of wood…
forged in place

my right of passage
peering along time aging corridors
onwards to the rapid hands of time
forever taunting….
slow the hands on the clock

please set them free
I want to stay in the real life
so many more memories
I want to take with me

realisations of harshness
tightening hinges
too young to surrender,
more things to remember
wishes sliding through key holes
close not my solid cedar door
instead …..
knock gently
and wipe your feet
softly ….
as we step gracefully
through life

I hope your enjoy the features and have a very happy New Year.

Scary Tree #15 by Ben Loveday

This photograph to me is like watching clouds. I see so many things when I look at it. The title led me to see it as a dragon, reaching into the sun as it flies away from it’s frightened victims. In another glance, I see the curves of a woman, beautifully bathing in the moonlight. In another moment, it transforms into a deep meaning of peace in solitude, or reaching for something glorious. So go ahead, look at it with open eyes and mind and see what it says to you.

Touched by black and white – Challenge winner

Nothing like going back to basics, when it comes to a challenge. This time, the idea was simple: “share a picture that touches you with it’s use of black and white“. One of our cohosts, Matthew Dawkins, was voted challenge winner with An Ode to Katie. Go visit his RedBubble profile ASAP!

What the artist wrote:

Taken July, 2007

An Ode To Katie

Hey you! Good afternoon
Everyone is staring at me
Its been forever
Since I’ve been able to see
Been able to see that beautiful face
And I know that I can’t leave
Or have just one last embrace

Yeah I’m a fool for love
You’ve got me stuck
And left me on
Just like I knew you would
I know I’m a fool for you.

Now I’d love to have you back
So you can tell me what to do
But God has taken you
Not ashamed of the life I choose to live
You’ve got my heart
And its all alone
And I’m far away from the things I’ve shown

Yeah I’m a fool for love
You’ve got me stuck
And left me on
Just like I knew you would
I know I’m a fool for you

Now its time
And I’ve been so alone
But now its time to go
And let go of that Tuesday night

Yeah I’m a fool for love
You’ve got me stuck
And left me on
Just like I knew you would
I know I’m a fool for you.

Goodnight Katie.

Features – 23/05/2010

My turn again. 🙂

I love doing features as there are so many fabulous images and great writes to choose from. The only difficulty is that I can only choose six of each. 😦

This time I’ve chosen portraits for the image features. There’s something about the face that’s amazing and these are all wonderful. See for yourself.

The first one is

The Illusion by Cynthia Lund Torrol

I love the emotion and the mystery int his one. And it includes one of the most amazing flowers ever – the Bird of Paradise flower.

The Illusion by Cynthia Lund Torrol

The Illusion by Cynthia Lund Torrol

I’ve teamed it up with

i know everything by greeneyedlady

i know
the depth and breadth
of everything you felt for her
i know the joy
and the elation
i know the sadness
and the devastation
i know everything
you’ve tried to hide
every sweet nothing
every passionate embrace
and every tortured goodbye
i know
i’ve seen it all there in your eyes
you try to pretend she didn’t matter
you try to convince yourself
that you can come back
and i will fill the void
and you think i don’t know
that you’re losing the battle
but i know everything

The second one I selected is

It’s about time by Terry Hinkle.

There’s something so fabulous about this. It makes you wonder what she’s thinking, who she’s looking at.

It's about time by Terry Hinkle
It’s about time by Terry Hinkle

I thought this one worked well with

Sex, death and violence

by Chitrali

Tonight I want sex and violence,

And death.

Oh yes, Death – not of many, not grisly, not butchered nor ‘arty’…
just ‘that’ Death.
Literally.

Yes, ‘that death’ of ‘that one’.
Y’ know the one I mean.

I want to let The Beast out.
I want it to rip and tear and shred to pieces that,
Which it must.
Serve, it’s own justice.

For in ‘that death’, lies it’s own slaying.
For with ‘that death’, there may be no more Beast remaining,
After, either.

With ‘that death’,
I might begin to be born anew…

After all, aren’t all births violent and red?:
A near-death, of one to create another?
A near-death of 2, to become one?

With ‘that death’, sex and violence,
Re-born,
like no other.

One of her many fabulous poems. 🙂 This on struck my with it’s intensity and power.

Perfect Day, Elise by Duffboy

was my third choice. I know, I know, it’s not a portrait, but it qualifies for mystery. This caught my eye the first time I saw it and I just loved it. 🙂

Perfect Day, Elise by Duffboy
Perfect Day, Elise by Duffboy

I teamed it up with

MR. FREER (EMMA)reworked by 8upchef

Monday 13:59
John Freer walks along Ludlow Avenue. A stranger calls out, “Come to the Freebird Baptist Church! Hear the VanZant Choir perform!” Freer accepts a brochure from the crier, and walks on. On the Back is written,

Ms. Emma Mays
14 W 40th
Ovarian. Inoperable

John drops the brochure in the next trash can, and carries on.

Tuesday 8:10
Ms. Emma Mays feels, what she believes is a mosquito, on the back of her leg, and waves it away.

Tuesday 8:12
Emma boards the #8 headed uptown. She sits in her favorite seat, lays her head back, and closes her eyes forever.

Wednesday 15:16
John enters his apartment to find a single Red Rose and a card. It reads simply…

John,
Thank You!
Emma.

John’s heart warms, as a vibration comes from his phone.

This is one fabulous story – just the bare bones, work it out yourself – but marvellous because of it. I love the way it includes the reader and makes the reader flash out the gaps.

My next choice was another not quite portrait, but again it qualifies for mystery and I love the way the light has been used.

Tracey Mac‘s When hope and dreams are far away

When hopes and dreams are far away by Tracey Mac
When hopes and dreams are far away by Tracey Mac

I thought it goes well with

Janis Zroback‘s story The Old Place

At the end of the story I had all those questions and loved the fact that I got to make up the answers all by myself… 🙂

The Old Place

Frank wanted to drive up to the Old Place one more time..

I didn’t want to go…after all we had not been there for more than 30 years and it had changed hands many times since then…why rake up the past!!..too much had happened there that I did not want to revisit…the place always gave me the creeps anyway and since the incident..well I didn’t even want to think about that…

Besides it was too cold…it was December and snow was in the air…the Old Place was miles away…what if we got stuck on that god forsaken road again…but no.. he felt he had to go and I finally gave in…we loaded up the car with the remaning stuff and headed towards Old Farm as it was still called, even though it had not been a farm since the 50s.

Soon we left the paved highway and turned off on to the rutted dirt road, the car labouring over the ridges and sinking into the many holes, splashing muddy water as high as the windows….I marvelled at the sameness of the landscape…nothing had changed….it seemed stuck in the past century…

Just when I thought we’d never get there in one piece we turned the corner and there it was..in silence we drew up and got out of the car…
Shocked, I gasped “where is the house?”… all that seemed to be there were the two outbuildings and a heap of rubble where the house used to be….
The sheds looked lost, bereft of their reason for living…there was snow already on the ground up here and I could see clouds approaching…the house was gone…there was no reason to stick around…I sighed with relief…now we could turn right back again…..I tugged Frank’s arm…

“Let’s go” I urged…”there’s no reason to stay”…but he shook me of as if I were a fly and moved forward, not saying a single word..reluctantly I followed…the hills seemed to press in on us and I felt the old familiar claustrophobia as I got nearer to the buildings..

“You’re not going inside?”…”there’s nothing there..look no more house…they must have torn it down“

He kept on walking closer as if he was being drawn forward against his will…suddenly I stopped…damn..my shoe had stuck in the mud…why didn’t I change before we left?…I stooped to free it and then straightened up…Frank had disappeared…

Suddenly frightened, I ran towards the sheds…”Frank Frank” I called…but there was no answer…

“Frank” I screamed again…but the only sound was the silence of the Old Place.

I really, really love this portrait – the natural light, the slight smile, the beautiful face… there’s just something captivating about this.

It’s just the little glances by Matthew Dawkins

It's just the little glances by Matthew Dawkins
It’s just the little glances by Matthew Dawkins

To go with it a great poem of self affirmation and inner strength.

….never enough? by JaNae Boswell

When they look at me
I wonder what they see
Another mixed breed
My ancestors history

Just a incomplete girl
To never belong in the world
Never to fit in
Not the right color of skin

Too Dark
Too Light
I’m just not quite..
good enough to meet your standards…

have you felt it..
Unaccepted
Rejected
Well I can never be perfected
from the colors they see

will they ever understand
how it’s been so rough
how it can be so tough
that to some I will never be enough

Should I just swallow my pride?
Should I just stand aside?
and let them walk all over me..

On either side I choose
There is someone I might lose
Its given me an open mind
It’s made me colorblind
I only have eyes for the beauty in life

Well this is what everyone must see
I’m still me
Even if to you I’m not right
African American and Chippewa
my French blood makes me light
I don’t give a fuck what you say
the world is revolutionizing its histories ways
Sorry I’m here to stay
haven’t you heard the news
I’m starting up a brand new day.

The final selection is

Enjoying the Applause by Berns

I love the emotion and depth of this portrait. It’s of the moment and captures it so well…

Enjoying the applause by Berns
Enjoying the applause by Berns

The final written offering is

Macolm by Trenchtownrock

I let the poem speak for itself. I found it touching, powerful and intense.

You are Malcolm
the red headed negro boy
who manifested
before the eyes of sixties America
into that venom that needed to be silenced
you were never Martin
who preached kissed the other cheek
while the other cheek
shackled him
with memories of middle passage
you were never Gandhi
who fought his British daddy
with hunger strikes
non violence
while his head got split opened
waiting for heaven’s redemption

you were the by any means necessary negro
who stood by his window
with loaded AK47
gently peeking through curtains
ready to avenge the loss of your papa
his papa
slave masters
whose lack of humanity
was written out of history books
and whose legacy still can be smelled
their fragrance hidden in America’s bosoms

you brought dignity to the ghetto
with your well dressed Islam
telling the black man to love self
before the white man can love him
you found a new respect for women
and stood on crate boxes mountain high
calling out house Negroes
who thought they had arrived
with the shilling and pence
dispense
their chicken came home to roost

but before that twenty one gun salute
was fired in your chest
while your wife and children
witnessed your funeral dress rehearsal
you brought America to the mirror
one more time
telling her about her apathy
for the colored
letting her taste some of her vile
as your blood flowed
down the river of soul brothers
with Martin
and Evers
washing away the stench
momentarily
etching your offerings
that will be forever read
on America’s tombstone.

I hope you enjoy this week’s features. They certainly impressed me. 🙂

Aleci – Wizardry with Light

Belgium artist Aleci is a magician when it comes to portraiture. He considers himself “a player of light in every form of creativity”. His style is dramatic – dark and deep portraits with a usage of lighting that highlights the depth of emotions being conveyed. I most enjoy his self-portraits; edgy, theatrical, and intense. Please enjoy a few of my favorite pieces.

To view more of his work, please visit his online gallery or redbubble site.

Caleb’s Quest

Caleb’s Quest by Dale Crum


(I encourage you to click on the image for a larger view of details)

The Poem “THE EASTERN SKY” below is the inspiration written by Nathaniel Caleb Crum:

There is a house built out of stone, in a place carved into our minds. This house sits atop a hill, distant, as if it exists outside the boundaries of our reach. In the garden there is a tree, old and gray, the leaves have fallen from its branches. They form remains, in the shapes of stars. This place sleeps, alone, far to the east of what we know. It waits, patiently, as if it dreams of a traveler who never comes. A cold wind blows from the north, and tells us a story of things we will never see. The path that leads to its door has faded with time, and bears no marks of tour. Quiet comforts us here, like a blanket and the fireplace we’ve spent our lives beside. Clouds loom close to the ground, and break only for the celestial lights. Sounds are muffled, and absent. The shadows cast by the clouds seem dark, in a night that is constant, yet brings no evils. We find solace, alone, amongst the familiar and unknown. This is a place where I do not feel alone. To the west a vast ocean stretches for an eternity, and meets the horizon beyond the mind’s eye. The waves crash on cavernous shores below us, but we have nothing to fear. I ask you now, in this moment, to remind me of who I used to be, when I was stronger. In my eyes you see the cruelty of time, which has taken away all the recollection of my days. You tell of the years, names, and faces I once knew so well, when our love was light. Your heart beats as Polaris glimmers, and it guides me home, only for a moment. A fog rolls across the sea now, and it covers us. A light across the water shines from a distance too far to ever be reached. The seasons have come and gone, yet we are unmoved by their passing. This place is home, dark and cold, this place is ours. The sea calls us to the shores of other grey havens, to a world full of infinite possibility, but this world is just illusion, and we are only here in our minds. You are gone now, and the leaves have fallen from every tree…

Elox – The Artist behind the Lens

EloxElox is a photographer whose work is as unique as each breath that we take, never to be replicated. He has a way of capturing moments that will burn themselves onto your cornea. Every day places and figures, shadows and moments in time – all photographed in amazingly evocative ways. Every piece is perfection through the lens; moody and intense and filled with stories. He has mastered the use of focus and blur, dark and light, shadows, contrast, framing, and perspective. The mysterious and cinematic ambience leaves the viewer breathless and always asking for more. He is by far my favorite photographer.

I had the opportunity to have a quick chat with him recently. Please enjoy this mini-interview.

Can you tell me how you got started in photography and a little about that journey?
I started with painting. I think this gave me a good sense of what I want to accomplish with photography. A sense of what I want to show, the emotions I want to convey. A good background if you like. I started photography about 5 years ago when a friend of mine bought a Nikon, I held it and it just felt right. Since then I always had a camera. I bought my own of course.

What do you wish for within your viewers when they soak in one of your pieces?
I seek impact, punch, emotions, and a break with traditions.

What are the three must-have items when you go out to take photos (excluding the camera)?
Cigarettes, a thin black tissue that I attach to my camera for some special photos, money “in case i have to get out of trouble”.

What is your creative process?
Inspiration, a heart beat, an idea. Then I disappear and let my senses take control, boundaries disappear…nothing can stop you now.

Thanks to Elox for sharing with us a glimpse of his inspirations and technique. He is a distinctive and unique artist with amazing talent and I look forward to each masterpiece that he shares. I hope you enjoy the selections of his work below;  please see more of his work on either RedBubble or Flickr.