And the time comes round again and all I want to do is escape from the restraints of time, curl up at home and eat cream in a pocket of calm. For the world to not throw me back into that hell hole of stress and noise and for it to allow me to do my own thing, and explore the world in my own way.

And the time comes round again and all I want to do is escape from the restraints of time, curl up at home and eat cream in a pocket of calm. For the world to not throw me back into that hell hole of stress and noise and for it to allow me to do my own thing, and explore the world in my own way.


artandsciencejournal:

Geert Goiris

In his photographic series Whiteout, Geert Goiris explores the visual consequences of an unforgiving landscape: the Arctic. These images give the eye very little to latch onto, recalling the effect of snow blindless — also known as photokeratitis or ultraviolet keratitis — a painful condition that comes from unprotected eyes being exposed to too many ultraviolet rays. Our eyes begin to search the photo for the slightest of colour shifts so that we may at last resolve the image. Dark forms seem to cut the image abruptly while any suggestions of depth fade away.

Goiris’s work is accompanied by a short memoir titled Whiteness Report, in which he describes the rather fearful experience:

“Due to the incessant and totally uniform stimulation, my eyes were exhausted. I saw starts, and strained to surmise at least something of the trail in this luminous haze…The total absence of a horizon tricks you into wildly distorted perspectives. Suddenly we spotted two birds right in front of us, surprisingly, because we had left the coast far behind by now and on this plain there was nothing that could serve as food. We gazed at the stark white birds and when we came near they both took to the air. It took K and me a few seconds to realize that only one of te birds was actually flying. The second ran away flapping its wings, its movements betrayed it was still on ice…Light diffusion was perfect: wherever you looked brightness was equal. Front, back, up or down had lost their meaning. Only the men and the vehicles were present, everything around has ceased to exist.” (Goiris, 2009)

See more of Geert Goiris’s work here.

- Erin Saunders

(via fractalized)


bombing:

Transmissions by Dan Holdsworth

“In Dan Holdsworth’s latest series Transmission: New Remote Earth Views, he appropriates topographical data to document the ideologically and politically loaded spaces of the American West in an entirely new way. In his images of the Grand Canyon, Yosemite, Mount Shasta, Mount St. Helens, Salt Lake City and Park City, we see stark, uninterrupted terrains where meaning is made through what it is absent, as much as what is seen. What at first appears to be a pure white snow-capped mountain is in fact a digitally rendered laser scan of the earth appropriated from United States Geological Survey data, a ‘terrain model’ used to measure climate and land change – to measure man’s effect on the earth.
Belying his empirical methodology is the fact that each of these terrains has a rich and conflicting cultural legacy. Beginning with the idealised aesthetic of the Romantic sublime via the deadpan industrial frames of the New Topographics photographers a century later, each has been subject to the gaze of artistic, political, and sociological categories claiming this territory as their own. Extending ideas of the frontier and seeing anew, Transmission captures the world as if from space, functioning not only as a map of the land but as a mapping of the discourses that these lands have come to represent.” 

(via fractalized)


fractalized:

Photo’s by cc.ber  Untitled (Massive II)

I feel sad. Sad and empty and broken. Raw and emotionless. Panicked and careless. I am unmotivated, I do not care, and yet it breaks my heart to see me throw away my time like this. Be stronger, lady, have more heart.


it makes me feel sick

sick sick sick sick sick sick sick

and bone-achingly sad. It overwhelms me and fills my throat with bitterness.

I don’t want to go back, don’t make me, don’t make it. It’s too hard I can’t cope, oh god help.


xantheose:

Praia Zambujeira - Explored (by HEΛRTBEΛT)

xantheose:

Praia Zambujeira - Explored (by HEΛRTBEΛT)


xantheose:

318/365: Ocean or a Lakeshore? (by pixelmama)

xantheose:

318/365: Ocean or a Lakeshore? (by pixelmama)


fractalized:

From the collection of Icelandic and Faroese Photographs of Frederick W.W. Howell, Cornell University Library, ca. 1900. 

Just let me flee.


The build up to going back…

It makes me feel sick. Nauseous. The wait for the willful dive into an ocean of stress and tension. The pit of my stomach turns to lead and feels as if it is going to drop out of me and yet churns constantly. The hard and cold juxtaposes with the heat of turbulence and there is nothing I can do to stop it. It just builds and builds and builds and then suddenly rushes to my head in a fit of hyperventilation. I feel I cannot breathe and the panic gets stronger until it breaks with a harsh reality check.

Then the feeling builds up again, like layers of glaze: nothing at first and then overwhelming again, until I arrive back on the steps of those hallowed halls, put all my best things in their places and am flooded by a sea of beloved faces who reassure me that this is where I want to be and that I do love this crazy crazy place after all.

But until I get there, this limbo is hell.


He makes my heart swell, greater than itself, and again, and again until the joy and the love and the all of him threatens to overburden and explode my sensations. I feel the promise of explosion underneath my ribs as inhaling, breathing in, increases the pressure on that already pressured space but my heart overcomes and simply grows larger. My breath quickens and my head feels light and I think of him, of you. You seem a greater part of me than myself. You are the better part of me. You complete me.