Just by way of posting more big photos, some croppings I didn't get around to posting back in November.
This last one, below, was cropped too small to be able to post it big, but I like it anyway, so I'll post it smaller.
I'm hankering to take more pictures, feel quite deprived of it, but seem to lack the opportunity, or the inspiration. I don't quite know what I'm waiting for. Spring, I suppose. I've still got a few left in the store cupboard, anyway.
12 comments:
All that life, waiting to burst forth!
Love all the things you see with your sensitive eyes!
Belle of Amherst....
Lucy, these are enchanting. I love their diverse colours, shapes and textures.
The thing that looks like an emptied conker shell looks astonishingly menacing and might well be a close brother to the oursin; proof of what you can do with radical cropping. As Leni Riefenstahl once said.
Oh yes...bigger is better.
Oddly, as I clicked on your link, I considered how lacking in subject and inspiration I seem to be. Your photos remind me how lucky we are to have beautiful things around us, even in the starkest of months.
I love that you see beauty where I can't?
"The secret ministry of the frost".
Your chestnut burr photo has the same vaguely erotic feel to it as do most of Georgia O'Keefe's art works...only the burr is more...uh...menacing, as BB said.
:)
Thanks all.
I love getting a Ghost Gift. What made you think of Emily? Was it the colours and textures in the last one?
The chestnut burrs are rather nasty things really, you think you can get into them with fingers but they always bite, and the sting stays with you. Boots and gloves are what's called for. Though I think that one was still on the tree, having shed its fruit without dropping, which may be a cultivated variety designed to do that, as it was in the arboretum.
What a gorgeous set of pictures these are. The middle one is rich and stunning, somehow. The next-to-last one reminds me of a chick, crying to its parent for food.
Thank you for sharing these.
I have a bit of a thing for seed pods and they frequently creep into my paintings. It all started with a stroll through a 'succulents' park in Barcelona where it wasn't possible to turn a corner without discovering another beautiful seedcase strewn on the path in front of me. I stuffed my pockets with, and despite dire warnings fro Peter that I would be stopped at airport security at one end or other of the journey and taken into custody for the crime, they snuggled safely all the way home, where I was able to lay them out on the mantelpiece of my studio. Thereafter seed-pods appeared in many still-life paintings, and moreover the collection grew because friends brought seed-pods for me too.
Yours are beautiful. Wonderful sculptural shapes that I may steal for a painting I have in mind. There's just something so appealing in the endless inventiveness of evolution when it comes to packaging seeds. Thank you for catapulting my mind into creative byeways.
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