tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74748689345560137412024-02-21T07:04:55.784-05:00Darlene Foster-Artistimage enhancement, impressions and interpretations, fine art photography, digital painting, retouching, restoration, collageDarlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.comBlogger131125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-63687000261042520132023-09-14T17:08:00.004-04:002023-09-14T17:19:08.477-04:00Sanctuary<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIS9-rK6I9v-ZJK0LOhaQcS9HYMiYwK0BLAVlDFAIgF6JKfLwS7xV0lfWg9j6KFpJnEIJgWbwthoxYO6BD4wsXngrI1qnqw0NB9KHlFWjCadzaTAWl3eUj9By451d0ULVh6JU7BEpnx9kJFfkQ2pGqFrsS5g0oeYSaB6FN5Ya3MjLKMobmvXsvf_JocyR/s1000/Sanctuary%202022.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1000" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNIS9-rK6I9v-ZJK0LOhaQcS9HYMiYwK0BLAVlDFAIgF6JKfLwS7xV0lfWg9j6KFpJnEIJgWbwthoxYO6BD4wsXngrI1qnqw0NB9KHlFWjCadzaTAWl3eUj9By451d0ULVh6JU7BEpnx9kJFfkQ2pGqFrsS5g0oeYSaB6FN5Ya3MjLKMobmvXsvf_JocyR/w640-h512/Sanctuary%202022.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><span style="font-family: arial;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Sanctuary ©2022</b> - At some point in our lives, all of us have the need for a place of refuge from something, whether it’s physical, mental or imagined. Some seek it in religion, some in nature, others through meditation. However you get to this shelter, be it physical or mental, wouldn’t it be comforting to know you could enter a single space, available to all creatures, whenever needed? Such is the nature of this piece. I began with an image I captured of a somewhat broken, bare tree with limbs that seemed to be flailing at a sky filled with menacing, dark clouds. The original foreground was too overgrown so I replaced it with tall grasses and small flowering plants from another image. The amazing crows, sadly often associated in folklore with misfortune and death, have been maligned enough to seek a safe haven from time to time. The ethereal Monarch butterflies, their numbers in decline with loss of habitat and milkweed plants (the only food their caterpillars can eat) could also use a safe place to land. Enter my young heroine. She has the power to shelter them from the approaching storm and other misfortunes. One by one they make their way to her, for beneath her parasol lies the portal where all creatures are welcome to enter the “Sanctuary”.</div></span><p class="p2" style="font-family: Arial; font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-size: 11px; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 0px 18.5px; min-height: 12px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.4px;"><br style="text-indent: -0.4px;" /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 0px 18.5px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.4px;"><br /></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 0px 18.5px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.4px;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px 0px 0px 18.5px; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.4px;"><br /></p>Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-50813511770929858352023-09-14T16:48:00.002-04:002023-09-14T16:48:40.648-04:00Under a Gypsy Moon<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhh00NrbtUFOy2tblGq8LtrLVLO-wv62uqu6_9HN3vybvkp5XEbHMj4id7FzgWTAmboAHWqnh0yFypNKHA9lhGrBLcae-yD-UEczC-26441MEZdejhf4YM2Ax9m4sbG7zWS4aEBTNJnqnSrC8TRPGpRI93DXWVYRRLrE0FNZ7TvR9s4p-evB864_mY3PEv/s1000/Under%20a%20Gypsy%20Moon%202021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1000" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhh00NrbtUFOy2tblGq8LtrLVLO-wv62uqu6_9HN3vybvkp5XEbHMj4id7FzgWTAmboAHWqnh0yFypNKHA9lhGrBLcae-yD-UEczC-26441MEZdejhf4YM2Ax9m4sbG7zWS4aEBTNJnqnSrC8TRPGpRI93DXWVYRRLrE0FNZ7TvR9s4p-evB864_mY3PEv/w640-h512/Under%20a%20Gypsy%20Moon%202021.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><b style="font-family: arial;">Under a Gypsy Moon ©2021 - </b><span style="font-family: arial;">The background of this piece is a foggy field of gold and burgundy grasses with mostly bare trees I captured in the vicinity of Middle Valley NJ. Even though it was late in the afternoon, the moon was not present but was added later in the composition. I came across the wooden horse with peeling paint in an antique store in Peddler’s Village, Lahaska, PA (near the town of New Hope, PA). His wings were added from one of the many vultures I’ve photographed (I also added a tail from a real horse as his original was mostly torn away). I’m not sure if he was formally part of a carousel, but in the antique store he was a “rocking horse”. The narrative I envisioned is similar to the fairy tale of Pinocchio who, as a wooden puppet, wanted desperately to be a “real boy”. One night my wooden horse is befriended by a woman (a self portrait) who helps him escape the carousel and fulfill his dreams. She leads him into a field and under the spell of a full Gypsy moon. Bathed in it’s magical light, his transformation into a real horse with wings to fly begins. The crows and a flock of blackbirds (from my travels) were added to give him the confidence and inspiration needed for his journey to freedom.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: arial;"> </span></div><p></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">A Gypsy Moon</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Come walk with me under a Gypsy Moon</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">through trees laden with beads of mist,</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">shimmering like diamonds from every limb.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Follow my footsteps over golden grasses</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">softly falling aside; a path in this place</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">conjuring hope for magic, desires and dreams.</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Fly with birds that swoop and soar and glide</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">through fog filled skies; no fear, no regret,</span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;">calling out it’s time, come and test your wings!</span></p><p class="p2" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 12px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><p class="p1" style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>- Darlene Foster</span></p>Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-50958964942123121682023-09-14T16:24:00.002-04:002023-09-14T17:25:32.869-04:00The Gingerbread Men<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Yd8moptEhv76gKKYAjbV3n5BaXED8mth77UAI1AsQgY6qI1NanJo3Yq3gUk_IM2gjxMf2CF611Zf8xcJyTldDP9SZ8rGuTNGL8vLycIwMBXOUx-S6XkvzvAiP2hKH_2dwoowc2_Ak_L1bKg7bYgLmqcDWC5dci8lcJgyIzt2Fz6IPwHKvqsiFcKo-YzE/s1000/The%20Gingerbread%20Men%20%C2%A92021%20copy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Yd8moptEhv76gKKYAjbV3n5BaXED8mth77UAI1AsQgY6qI1NanJo3Yq3gUk_IM2gjxMf2CF611Zf8xcJyTldDP9SZ8rGuTNGL8vLycIwMBXOUx-S6XkvzvAiP2hKH_2dwoowc2_Ak_L1bKg7bYgLmqcDWC5dci8lcJgyIzt2Fz6IPwHKvqsiFcKo-YzE/w512-h640/The%20Gingerbread%20Men%20%C2%A92021%20copy.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>The Gingerbread Men ©2021</b> - Two images of the ruins of the Bethlehem Baptist Church in Hunterdon County, NJ are blended together for the background of this piece. I first photographed it in June 2020 when it was blanketed in lush greenery inside it’s walls. I returned to photograph it again in March 2021 when the leaves were gone and only bare, crawling vines were left, exposing more of it’s interior. Built in 1858, it was abandoned in 1906 as many members moved out of the area. The owner, whose family was part of the congregation, still cares for the surrounding property and graveyard while allowing the church to slowly return to the earth. The 2 young people perched in the vines atop the stone wall (from my vintage photo collection, restored and colorized) brought to mind the dark fairy tale of Hansel and Gretel. The story harks back to the great famine of 1314 to 1322 when starvation led people to killing or abandoning their children and even cannibalism. One of the more palatable versions by the Grimm brothers involve the wicked stepmother forcing the father to abandon Hansel and Gretel in the woods as they can no longer feed them. Overhearing the plan, Hansel leaves a trail of bread crumbs to follow home. The crumbs are eaten by birds and after being lost for days, they follow a beautiful, white bird to a clearing and find a cottage made of gingerbread, cake and candy. A witch, who built the house to waylay children to cook and eat, appears and lures them in with promises of food. As she opens the oven door to check the fire, Gretel, realizing the plan, shoves her in and slams the door. The children discover a vase full of precious jewels, escape with the treasure, and live happily ever after! In my version, Hansel and Gretel rest on the stone wall after following a black vulture (instead of a beautiful white bird) to the witches domain (the church ruins instead of the cottage). My witch (a composite of 3 vintage figures) approaches via a window on the church alter offering a basket brimming with animated gingerbread men (from my Xmas tree ornaments) making their way to Hansel and Gretel. This is where my part of the story ends and the viewer’s begins!</span></span></div><p></p>Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-91347843352030783222023-09-14T15:58:00.002-04:002023-09-14T17:20:57.327-04:00A Battle of Wills<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVidAN3wYPge50w1Wibwxfwrxy7qihq8AUSqOGS6J3ZKOboiPaFIGuHpbATSuU1EpyxmdDFJPk1GF9PswRKXeqXuFvTVtzp_LuzDJOqr-EU761fr4FI8PhTKF5-q80tYYqWS9rBLnMA6rY0ZCYl3n6OLb44ovoMwAycvpN0czQFoxGW9iOARCO7s1dWqC/s1000/A%20Battle%20of%20Wills%20%C2%A92021.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1000" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlVidAN3wYPge50w1Wibwxfwrxy7qihq8AUSqOGS6J3ZKOboiPaFIGuHpbATSuU1EpyxmdDFJPk1GF9PswRKXeqXuFvTVtzp_LuzDJOqr-EU761fr4FI8PhTKF5-q80tYYqWS9rBLnMA6rY0ZCYl3n6OLb44ovoMwAycvpN0czQFoxGW9iOARCO7s1dWqC/w640-h512/A%20Battle%20of%20Wills%20%C2%A92021.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>A Battle of Wills ©2021</b> - I began this piece with an image of a field from western NJ with a backdrop of tall, glittering grasses. Unfortunately, a highway was behind them so I replaced it with a wall of birch trees taken in another area of the field. The fox, sadly, was not photographed live but behind glass as part of a group of animals on exhibit created by a taxidermist. The raven, happily, was very much alive at The Turtle Back Zoo in West Orange, NJ. The vintage bird cage, which seems to be causing much tension between the fox and the raven, I photographed while visiting an antique shop. The young man (from by vintage photo collection) seems to be quite amused at the unfolding of the scene before him while the rabbits (from my travels) peek out curiously between the grasses. The crows (also from my travels) startle upward in the background as all await the winner of “A Battle of Wills”. Color, select filters and texture were added to complete the final piece.</span></p>Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-50026249248728902292020-12-14T14:05:00.001-05:002020-12-14T14:06:44.105-05:00Happy Holidays<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvcZ28lEMxtTTzV8ixTcY0sVZJ6cOT38pczev9DlxZNXF5wVqQwR2mdg0AuLOOiOEr5salrTgKkapH9oxHNviBoLJvZFJDyffYZDBB5K5Qhub0nQPWBE2xz7KfaIwAD1_CEpDNeFFJDP9U/s1000/xmas+2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvcZ28lEMxtTTzV8ixTcY0sVZJ6cOT38pczev9DlxZNXF5wVqQwR2mdg0AuLOOiOEr5salrTgKkapH9oxHNviBoLJvZFJDyffYZDBB5K5Qhub0nQPWBE2xz7KfaIwAD1_CEpDNeFFJDP9U/w640-h640/xmas+2020.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /> <p></p>Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-58852956397268701192020-12-14T13:48:00.002-05:002023-09-14T16:27:27.302-04:00The Three Bears<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNY1sVQCxk0XpMj3jd2A-s0c0LzAt1OGSxc_hRJgLTi7LEJKox1Sa1WSySZy_v7XGMdK_vCGaK-FsK76kP78Emhxc9irWqLGpZ57T4craiaiRFd1aMDJukZq7CNKURSPBDKsOiofkncvDv/s1000/The+Three+Bears+%25C2%25A92020.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1000" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNY1sVQCxk0XpMj3jd2A-s0c0LzAt1OGSxc_hRJgLTi7LEJKox1Sa1WSySZy_v7XGMdK_vCGaK-FsK76kP78Emhxc9irWqLGpZ57T4craiaiRFd1aMDJukZq7CNKURSPBDKsOiofkncvDv/w640-h512/The+Three+Bears+%25C2%25A92020.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"><b>The Three Bears ©2020</b> - A road trip to The Great Swamp National Wildlife Refuge in Morris County NJ provided the background image and inspiration for this piece. The bears and fish were photographed at The Turtle Back Zoo in West Orange NJ, the butterfly in Pottersville NJ and the “bear’s cottage” is the caretaker’s house from a cemetery near Long Valley NJ. My “Goldilocks” is a composite of two vintage photos from my collection and the crow is one of many from my travels. As I’m sure you have surmised by now, this montage is loosely based on the fairy tale “Goldilocks and the Three Bears”.</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">It’s original title, “The Story of the Three Bears”, was first recorded in narrative form and published by British writer and poet Robert Southey in 1837. Prior to that, the story was only in circulation by word of mouth. As it goes, three bears live together in a house in the woods. Each bear has his own porridge bowl, chair and bed. One day at breakfast, the porridge is too hot to eat and they take a walk while it cools off. While they are out, a vagrant old woman called Silver Hair enters the house, eats the smallest bear’s porridge, sits in his chair and breaks it, then falls asleep in his bed. When the bears return and discover her and the damage she has done, she wakes, jumps out the window and is never seen again. The earliest written version was a poem by Eleanor Mure in 1831. It was handcrafted into a book complete with watercolor illustrations as a gift for her nephew, Horace Broke. In her version, the infuriated bears, after finding the woman, throw her into a fire and then into water before finally impaling her on top of St. Paul’s Cathedral and leaving her there. In 1849, Joseph Cundall published the story in his Treasury of Pleasure Books for Young Children and changed the antagonist from an old woman to a young girl to make it more appealing to children. In versions after that, she has remained a young girl although her name has gone from Silver Hair to Little Silver Hair, Golden Hair, Goldenlocks and finally, Goldilocks. Her fate in the end varies in the different versions from running into the forrest, being almost eaten by the bears, to becoming good friends with the bears. I think all would be more appealing </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">than being impaled as in Muer’s version!</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">In mine, the bears discuss the fate of their intruder as Goldilocks, entangled by the swamp, awaits their decision. A local crow takes pity on her and tries to give advice while a resident fish seems too enthralled by a butterfly to be bothered with any of this. And always, as the viewer, you are entitled to your own interpretation.</span></div><p></p>Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-7131128908819365562020-06-25T17:11:00.003-04:002023-09-14T17:23:26.329-04:00Crossing Over<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Crossing Over ©2020</b> - I captured the background image of this piece in the small community of Oldwick, NJ. The little triangular island in the middle of the stream seemed to be an appealing start for a composition. Normally, I would avoid including the limb in the foreground jutting across the entire top of the frame, but in this case, I thought the depth it provided had creative possibilities. A year later, one of those possibilities began to formulate in my mind. I placed a historic stone building I photographed in Lebanon, NJ called Taylor’s Mill on the island. Built in 1760, it’s dark, foreboding entrance emulates a portal to an unknown world. The alligator slipping into the water in front of it is from the Turtle Back Zoo in West Orange, NJ. These creatures are ancient and have evolved very little from their beginning over 50 million years ago, thus representing a deep connection with Mother Nature and her cycles that we are all subject to. The boat is from a vintage image in my collection that originally contained 2 women, one with a pair of oars, having an afternoon outing on a lake. I removed them from the boat, fashioned a pole from the oars, and added a different woman and man also from my vintage photo collection. The narrative I envisioned is loosely based on the Greek Mythology story of Charon the Ferryman whose duty it was to transport the souls of the dead over the Rivers Styx and Acheron to reach the underworld. His payment was a single coin placed in the mouth of the deceased prior to burial. In my piece, the woman holds a silver coin in her hand to compensate the ferryman for a calm and peaceful journey across the stream. Looking on from above is a trio of crows, prophets of and witnesses to the crossing over below. Fog in the background, color, filters and texture were added to complete the piece.</span></p>Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-26027632162086805422020-05-06T15:39:00.000-04:002020-06-25T17:15:52.748-04:00A Matter of Trust<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b style="text-indent: -1.3px;">A Matter of Trust ©2020 - </b><span style="text-indent: -1.3px;">A road trip in November of 2019 on route 202 just over the border from New Jersey into Pennsylvania yielded a property with an extraordinary bare tree. With it’s huge limbs fanning out and reaching like tentacles for the sky, it became (along with the weather-beaten old barn behind it) the background for this piece. My little falconer (defined as a person who keeps or trains birds of prey) is a carte de visite (or visiting card) from my vintage photo collection and dates from the 1860’s. Most people associate daguerreotypes with that era, but these small cards were albumen silver prints, the first commercial method producing a photographic print on paper from a negative. They became extremely popular and were</span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-indent: -1.3px;"> </span><span style="text-indent: -1.3px;">commonly traded and collected among friends and visitors during the Civil War years. After some restoration, minor adjustments and coloring, she fit nicely into the composition. Her menagerie consists of a magnificent Andean Condor that I photographed at The Turtleback Zoo in West Orange, NJ and a large venue of black vultures. Oddly, when I photographed them, they were gathered on the roof of a large modern home in a well manicured neighborhood. I thought they looked much more at home on the roof of the old barn and the bare tree limb. The Andean Condor, coming in for a soft landing, is an imposing creature with the longest wingspan of any raptor (10 to 11 ft). As it’s name suggests, they inhabit the Andes Mountain range along the Pacific coast of western South America. These large scavengers, like other vultures, are principally carrion eaters (meaning they eat animals that are already dead). As nature’s clean-up crew, they help keep us safe from contaminates and the environment clean. After bringing all these elements of my composition together, color, texture and select filters were added for the final piece. As the young falconer would probably tell you, a flutter of wings can quicken the heart or soothe the soul; it’s all “A Matter of Trust”. </span><span class="Apple-converted-space" style="text-indent: -1.3px;"> </span></span></div>
Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-8220919996296674952019-11-18T14:02:00.000-05:002019-11-18T14:04:15.889-05:00Some Velvet Morning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><b>Some Velvet Morning ©2019 -<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></b>The background image in this montage was captured in the area of Phillipsburg NJ shortly before crossing into Pennsylvania. While driving along, this lake caught my eye due to the hundreds of snow geese surrounding it or floating on it. Snow geese don’t like to travel without the company of another dozen or two and can form flocks of several hundred thousand, especially when flying south for the winter. They mate for life and at winter’s end fly north to their breeding grounds on the Arctic tundra. The great expanse of white feathers reminded me of a<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>beautiful black and white Paint horse I photographed near Pottersville NJ who would fit nicely walking along among the geese. The terms “paint” and “pinto” are sometimes both used to describe Paint horses but “Paint” is the breed and “Pinto” is actually the coloring. So, all Paints are Pintos (any spotted horse) but not all Pintos are Paints. The lady from my vintage photo collection was in reality looking down and reading what seemed to be a letter. So to insert her interactively into the composition, I removed the letter and photographed my own hand in the position needed to have her holding gently onto the horse’s mane as they strolled along the shore. To add a sense of mystery, I placed a young gentleman (also from my vintage photo collection) in the sunlight streaming through the trees across the lake. A small murder of crows was added flying from him to accompany the young lady and her menagerie.The final composition and lighting inspired the title “Some Velvet Morning”, a song written by Lee Hazlewood and originally performed as a duet with Nancy Sinatra in 1967. Hazlewood confessed he did not really know what the lyrics mean but that he was inspired by Greek mythology. The lyrics consist of the male part describing a mysterious, powerful woman named Phaedra, who “gave” him life and made it “end”. The male part alternates with the female who identifies herself as Phaedra and speaks over ethereal music about beautiful nature imagery and the secrets held by an unknown collective “us”.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>So there I will leave the story or meaning to the interpretation of the viewer.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
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Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-42110632648319589192019-04-19T20:33:00.000-04:002019-11-18T14:16:43.888-05:00Requiem<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Requiem ©2019</b> - The background image of this piece is a rolling field of multi colored grasses captured in the area of Washington Township in Morris County NJ. The wall of bare trees at the rear was blanketed with fog that was hovering over the entire area that day providing an eerie, unearthly kind of mood. I caught the flock of geese on a nearby lake just as they were taking flight into formation. There is an abandoned property in that area, specifically Middle Valley, NJ, that I have photographed several times over the years so I stopped by to do an update and see what changes may have taken place since my last visit. As I wandered through, something white<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>caught my eye in the underbrush beside the path. It was the skull of what appeared to be a deer. Upon closer examination, the rest of the skeleton seemed to also be there, partially submerged in mud. I decided at that point that at least the skull (which was in remarkably good condition) would find a new home at my house. After a bit of cleaning, it was ready to be photographed for its second life as an art subject. The young lady in mourning was restored from my vintage photo collection, the lilies are from a recent bouquet whose intoxicating fragrance permeated my house for days, and the crow is one of many I’ve captured in my travels. Color, selected filters and texture were applied and the Requiem began.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Lovely Bones</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You fell sometime ago</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">or mourn your end.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even creatures who roam</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">the lonely woods should be</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">remembered; and so I bring</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">lilies, pale as the moon.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A requiem for your lovely bones.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>- Darlene Foster<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span></span></div>
<br />Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-11429652588172435272018-11-15T19:43:00.000-05:002018-11-15T19:43:14.651-05:00The Beguiled<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>The Beguiled ©2018 - </b>The inspiration for this piece came from a favorite illustration by Gustave Dore for Fables of La Fontaine in 1868 titled “The Rabbits” as well as the legend of the Pied Piper of Hamelin.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>The background is a montage of two images taken two years apart in very different locations but blended together perfectly for the effect I wanted. Oddly enough, the rabbits (actually consisting of three rabbits in multiple poses) were captured in Pottersville, NJ, two of them on 7-28-18 and one on 7-28-17, same day, same town one year apart!<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>In Dore’s illustration, the rabbits are startled by a gun shot from a man hidden in the bushes with a rifle and scurry into the forest for protection. In my piece, the rabbits (and perhaps several crows) are being drawn slowly into the forest by the beguiling melody coming from the violin of the lady in white.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>As the legend goes, in the year 1284, the people of Hamelin (a town in Lower Saxony, Germany) hired a piper (or flutist) dressed in multicolored (pied) clothing to lure away an infestation of rats with his magical pipe.<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>When they refused to pay for his service, he used his powers on their children, leading them away as he had the rats. While I’m not convinced my violinist has anything quite so sinister in mind, I’ll leave it up to the viewer as to the fate of “The Beguiled”.</div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>The Wizard’s Apprentice ©2018 - </b>I began this piece with an image of the Raritan River I captured from under a bridge on Old York Rd just outside of Readington Township, NJ. There were some interesting bare trees along the bank that were leaning precariously toward the water in almost a domino effect. Between two of them, looming in the distance, I placed a graceful, white house from Belvidere, NJ. The tall, elegant heron standing calmly in the water as well as the two turtles basking in the moonlight on a piece of floating wood, are from the area of Princeton, NJ. My little wizard mouse is in reality one of my Halloween decorations who normally carries a small skull in his hands. For this adventure however, I fashioned a magic wand for him by photographing the handle of an antique, silver hand mirror and a crystal charm from a necklace. The wolf, faithful guide, protector and familiar to the wizard, was photographed at the Turtle Back Zoo in West Orange, NJ and the young “apprentice” is from my vintage photo collection. A crescent moon, crows, and a dragonfly were added to complete the composition. Texture, color and filters were used to blend the final image and create the atmosphere I envisioned for my traveling trio as they discover what is unveiled at the end of their journey.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>- Roald Dahl, novelist, poet and screenwriter</span></div>
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<br />Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-21293321978326830412018-04-14T12:28:00.000-04:002019-11-18T14:07:35.867-05:00A Tender Trap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="s1"><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">A Tender Trap ©2018 -</span> </b></span>When I found the vintage photo of the girl with the hypnotic eyes in an antique store, I couldn’t wait to use her in a new piece. Even so, I did wait, several months in fact, before the right elements and composition came together for this montage. The background image, with it’s quirky little bent over tree and rolling hills, was taken in northwestern New Jersey just before crossing into Pennsylvania.The Jaguars are residents of The Turtle Back Zoo in West Orange, NJ. These beautiful and powerful beasts were prominent in ancient Native American cultures. In some traditions, the Jaguar God of the Night was the formidable lord of the underworld. The name jaguar is derived from the Native American word “yaguar”, which means “he who kills with one leap”. The Mayans, Aztecs and Inca all worshiped the jaguar in some form. Unfortunately, today they have been eliminated from most of the United States due to habitat loss, over hunting and killings to protect livestock and are endangered in Central and South America. I finished the composition with some crows, clouds, and a large black feather (considered to be a sign of protection by angels). Texture, color and select filters completed the piece. The title was inspired by the 1955 movie, “The Tender Trap” which referred to love. In this case, it seems a trap of some sort is definitely being set; however, I leave it to the viewer as to who is doing the trapping, beauty or the beasts?<span class="Apple-converted-space" style="font-size: x-small;"> </span></span></div>
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</style>Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-41412032262334568452017-12-30T20:06:00.001-05:002017-12-30T20:06:58.530-05:00Penguin Dreams and Stranger Things<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAxk8G0L-QOTxRoOxXwA_39JIU2AB1eCP43tpLmmZu0ssNZLY1w3mbLdL7bd5VfnNW8guYTi2mcMB3Hzz7OVrG0obvnruYW1W0IMVaEvLzbEcWlXTFv-i6L8AObMXXrjWgjMNY_TpYfVu/s1600/Penguin+Dreams+and+Stranger+Things+%25C2%25A92017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="720" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAxk8G0L-QOTxRoOxXwA_39JIU2AB1eCP43tpLmmZu0ssNZLY1w3mbLdL7bd5VfnNW8guYTi2mcMB3Hzz7OVrG0obvnruYW1W0IMVaEvLzbEcWlXTFv-i6L8AObMXXrjWgjMNY_TpYfVu/s640/Penguin+Dreams+and+Stranger+Things+%25C2%25A92017.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>Penguin Dreams and Stranger Things ©2017 -</b> The title for this piece came from a book by my favorite cartoonist, Berkeley Breathed, published in 1985. I fell in love with the character, Opus the penguin, when I first discovered his comic strip, "Bloom County". I photographed these adorable, tuxedoed Humboldt penguins at the Turtle Back Zoo in West Orange, NJ. The Humboldt is a South American penguin that breeds in coastal Chile and Peru. It gets it's name from the cold water current it swims in which itself is named after the explorer, Alexander von Humboldt. Although we tend to think of a penguin's striking coloring as elegant, it is actually a matter of camouflage; from above, it's black back blends into the murky depths of the ocean while from below, it's white belly is hidden against the bright surface. Considered marine birds, penguins live up to 80 percent of their lives in the oceans of the Southern Hemisphere. It is a common myth that they all live in Antarctica. In fact, the Galapagos penguin lives on tropical islands at the equator. However, in the case of my little colony of Humboldts, I've placed them on a tiny island in the Delaware Water Gap in New Jersey where they are joined by a young gentleman from my vintage photo collection who is dressed as elegantly as they are. I added a cold, full moon rising in the background behind the trees, some clouds and several crows gliding overhead. Assorted filters, texture and color created the mood and atmosphere I wanted to complete the piece.</span></div>
Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-60572376661679391162017-12-30T19:55:00.000-05:002017-12-30T19:59:13.610-05:00Pale Rider<div style="text-align: justify;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="s1"><b>Pale Rider ©2017 - </b></span>The title of this piece came from the 1985 western film, "Pale Rider", a reference to the rider of the pale horse in The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse who represents death. My little equestrian (from my vintage photo collection) received the title only for his overall pallor and not for a specific association with death (although I leave any final decision on that interpretation up to the viewer). The tree, with it's skeletal limbs and gathering crows, was captured in the area of Bernardsville, NJ.It fit nicely into the background image of a furrowed ield of grasses in the area of McGuire Air Force Base just south of Trenton, NJ. The small road cutting through the center provided a convenient bridle path for the pale rider and a hitch hiking crow trying to move things along with his riding crop. Clouds, a rising crescent moon, color, texture and filters were added to complete the mood and finish the montage.</span></div>
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Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-39527936144764837592017-07-19T13:49:00.002-04:002017-07-19T15:32:03.323-04:00The Circle Game<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-dQTMlnmKbWAy14wYa85irUljr02vkDyvLmklw0hBKjIj-DvQdMklKLTPb68vV6yAeRk6T2Ik_km7VzjypJxt4VoodX9GEoxHto0YTodw3_ngfvnVmW6Z-5ofTUOM2k8QzsA9CtXDR6Nl/s1600/The+Circle+Game+2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="720" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-dQTMlnmKbWAy14wYa85irUljr02vkDyvLmklw0hBKjIj-DvQdMklKLTPb68vV6yAeRk6T2Ik_km7VzjypJxt4VoodX9GEoxHto0YTodw3_ngfvnVmW6Z-5ofTUOM2k8QzsA9CtXDR6Nl/s640/The+Circle+Game+2017.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="s1"><b>The Circle Game ©2017 - </b></span>This piece was inspired by the vintage photo of two young girls with facial expressions that are hauntingly wistful. Dressed all in white and holding hands to form a circle, they brought to mind childhood summers of local fairs and carousels. Having no carousel images in my files, I began a search and found an unusually lovely one consisting of not horses, but an assortment of endangered species at The Turtle Back Zoo in West Orange, NJ (if you're in the area, it's located in the South Mountain Reservation and well worth a visit). Oddly enough, it included a magnificent dragon that was perfect for my composition. The background image is a montage of three different photos; two from the area around Trenton, NJ of gently, rolling hills and a sky from Watchung, NJ. I arranged the dragons descending from the clouds behind the girls and a number of crows from my travels circling around them. Selected filters, color and texture brought them all together for the final piece. The title for this one was in place before I even began and comes from the first verse of the song "The Circle Game" by the one and only Joni Mitchell, 1970:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Yesterday a child came out to wonder</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Caught a dragonfly inside a jar</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Fearful when the sky was full of thunder</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And tearful at the falling of a star</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And the seasons they go round and round</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And the painted ponies go up and down</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We're captive on the carousel of time</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We can't return we can only look behind</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">From where we came</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And go round and round and round</span></div>
<span style="font-family: arial, helvetica, sans-serif;">In the circle game </span>Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-38887033136083459022017-07-19T13:43:00.001-04:002017-07-19T14:03:46.875-04:00When Dragons Fly<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedFudwLBG8faYi9BP1LTuKjrjp9njTYnfT4mnrcT7SFxg8nKZnZDoyJrlX9A3mqu07flGspauKKCimYifGOHuFLB0OlhDLp090U4QUcabu7lEfttNHjDPpQsrAedT5On-z-QzJW-faDbI/s1600/When+Dragons+Fly+2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="720" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhedFudwLBG8faYi9BP1LTuKjrjp9njTYnfT4mnrcT7SFxg8nKZnZDoyJrlX9A3mqu07flGspauKKCimYifGOHuFLB0OlhDLp090U4QUcabu7lEfttNHjDPpQsrAedT5On-z-QzJW-faDbI/s640/When+Dragons+Fly+2017.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="s1"><b>When Dragons Fly ©2017 - </b></span>I started this piece with the stone pool from an abandoned property in Scotch Plains, NJ. The house had already been demolished but the pool intrigued me with it's curious door shaped opening on one side that didn't seem to lead anywhere. It was surrounded by brush and debris so I placed it on the side of a sloping, stone hill I captured at Leonard J. Buck Gardens in Far Hills NJ with lovely plants growing along the top. The tree behind it came from another area of the gardens, but I loved the dripping leaves so I added it to the background and some clusters of ferns to the foreground. The little fish peering out of the water actually resides in an aquarium at my local pet store. The lady in sapphire blue (from my vintage photo collection) seems to be enjoying an afternoon stroll with her crow sporting his own blue fedora. Lastly, I added the magical dragonflies which were living on the same property with the pool. The sun that day created such ethereal sparkles of light on their wings, reinforcing a supposed connection with nature's spirit and fairy realms. It's hard to believe after hatching from an egg, this enchanting insect lives most of it's life as a brown, rather nondescript nymph under water for several years. When ready to metamorphose into an adult, it climbs to the surface at night on an emerging plant. When it's system adapts to breathing air, the skin splits open and the adult dragonfly climbs out. It spends the remainder of the night drying out and plumping up it's wings before, at sunrise, taking flight as the beautiful, agile creature we know as the dragonfly! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"I can still only see a dragonfly, it's wings as thin and light as silk and it's body the color of rainbow. But on the wings of this dragonfly I take off and fly, for my soul carries no weight. It is our bodies - these borrowed vehicles of flesh and bone - that weigh us down. Our spirits are eternally free and invincible." - <b>Daniela I. Norris, On Dragonfly Wings: A Skeptic's Journey to Mediumship</b></span></div>
Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-28755227436100671512017-07-19T13:34:00.001-04:002019-11-18T14:10:42.766-05:00And the Band Played On<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1EKJm8tq4JOj7mrAeb7t3xXM6USty-uclPve1OqCasXhmL4fHzKaoiluJXM3DFyhvEw2M_SFr8T6yp19KAumfPiROJV-Fg-E8we3PM5y1pZvOTRgNOwFkFfA8UUhXq3iORgWR8keYVntm/s1600/And+the+Band+Played+On+2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="720" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1EKJm8tq4JOj7mrAeb7t3xXM6USty-uclPve1OqCasXhmL4fHzKaoiluJXM3DFyhvEw2M_SFr8T6yp19KAumfPiROJV-Fg-E8we3PM5y1pZvOTRgNOwFkFfA8UUhXq3iORgWR8keYVntm/s640/And+the+Band+Played+On+2017.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="s1"><b>And the Band Played On 2017 - </b></span>The inspiration for this piece came from the wonderfully creepy little monkey sitting atop the piano playing his cymbals. I photographed him courtesy of Gallery on Main, a lovely antique shop and art gallery in Somerville NJ. I envisioned the composition to be a musical ensemble odd enough that he would fit right in. His first band mate to be added was a goat I captured in the area of Sergentsville NJ. In reality, he was standing with his front feet on a wire fence, scratching his head on a tree limb above. However, in my reality, his front hooves were in just the right position for the piano keys. I was able to photograph the beautiful baby grand at Raritan Music Store in Raritan NJ given I have an especially close relationship with the owner. The amphibian guitar player lives at my house (although I use that term loosely as he's not actually alive but stuffed). He was holding a very unimpressive toy guitar that didn't blend well with the piano so I decided to replace it with a more appropriate acoustic instrument belonging to the human guitar player who also lives at my house. The young vocalist (from my vintage photo collection) leans dreamily on the piano while the crow perched behind lends some backup vocals to the mix. I placed them all on the background image (taken near Princeton NJ) of a tree in a field with long, spidery limbs and missing the top half of it's trunk. Maybe a lightening strike? Selected filters, tones, color and texture completed "And the Band Played On".</span></div>
Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-43839643219291700332017-07-19T13:26:00.001-04:002017-07-19T14:04:17.814-04:00A Vigilant Eye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>A Vigilant Eye ©2017 - </b>The rolling field of grasses I used as the background in this montage was a lucky find I happened across in Far Hills, NJ. I love using different types of grasses in my pieces and this vacant property was filled with them. It's the future home of Mine Brook Farm, a housing complex being touted as producing a regenerative environment while positively impacting the local wildlife, watershed, soil and ecology. Hopefully, they can make that happen! The abandoned building I placed in the distance, with it's draping blanket of ivy, was captured in western Hunterdon Cty, NJ on a trip home from Easton, PA. The woman peering out the upstairs window is from a vintage family photo given to me by a good friend who thought it would fit nicely into one of my pieces (and I heartily agreed!). The young girl taking an evening stroll is from my own vintage photo collection, but I spotted the majestic red tail hawk accompanying her perched in a tree behind my house. I didn't notice at the time I took the photo because of all the tree branches in the foreground, but upon inspecting the image, I found he was clutching a mouse (apparently his lunch) between his talons. I toyed with the idea of leaving it in the composition, dangling across the young lady's arm but decided it might be a bit too much. So without his mouse, I placed him on her arm and added some clouds, texture, color and filters. As the moon rises in the background, the hawk keeps "a vigilant eye" on the path ahead just as the peculiar woman in the witches hat keeps "a vigilant eye" on the two of them. And perhaps they are all listening to a song being sung in the distance….</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>The Poet's Song</b> - Alfred Lord Tennyson</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The rain had fallen, the Poet arose,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He passed by the town, and out of the street,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A light wind blew from the gates of the sun,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And waves of shadow went over the wheat,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And he set him down in a lonely place,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And chanted a melody loud and sweet,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That made the wild swan pause in her cloud,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And the lark drop down at his feet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The swallow stopt as he hunted the bee,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The snake slipt under a spray,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The hawk stood with the down on his beak</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And stared, with his foot on the prey</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And the nightingale thought, "I have sung many songs,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">But never a one so gay,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">For he sings of what the world will be</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When the years have died away". </span></div>
Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-92230339550200897412017-07-19T13:17:00.001-04:002017-07-19T14:04:32.244-04:00Metamorphosis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih75YX0Yx4TGujypExQt9QFo4t3J3Dh65B8mWN_fXN-H-ixg4vsF0xNy5DgOj6g1khqKXCdc3nkitHgdgGihihtOqkL38GUbKtGPJeXUYsN9E50QIU-uMYHw5W_gjvT_SlcVgJDJftWfRz/s1600/Metamorphosis+2017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="720" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEih75YX0Yx4TGujypExQt9QFo4t3J3Dh65B8mWN_fXN-H-ixg4vsF0xNy5DgOj6g1khqKXCdc3nkitHgdgGihihtOqkL38GUbKtGPJeXUYsN9E50QIU-uMYHw5W_gjvT_SlcVgJDJftWfRz/s640/Metamorphosis+2017.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span class="s1"><b>Metamorphosis ©2017 - </b></span>"A change of the form or nature of a thing or person into a completely different one, by natural or supernatural means" is the definition of metamorphosis that gave me the title for this piece. I started the background with the small out building I came across on an abandoned property in the Delaware Water Gap in northwestern NJ. The area surrounding it was all rubble so I placed it in a field of tall grasses from Mine Brook Farm in Far Hills, NJ. The Red-fringed Emerald moth (nemoria bistriaria) I photographed as it was sleeping on my front door. Although that is it's species name, it's wings were a beautiful, pastel green; not emerald. Unlike their butterfly cousins, moths are mostly nocturnal creatures in spite of their fascination for flames and artificial lights. While there are a few theories for this mysterious behavior, none have been proven. Many Native Americans consider moths a symbol of transformation and healing while others associate them with death and bringing messages from the spirit world. I suppose the young man from my vintage photo collection could possibly be involved with both. I added the clock from the quaint town of Belvedere, NJ (timing is everything in the process of metamorphosis) and some evening clouds from just after sunset. Lastly, filters and color were selectively applied as well as texture from a daguerreotype that seemingly added tendrils of electricity to the sky.</span></div>
Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-10906822989077495142016-11-28T19:17:00.001-05:002016-11-28T19:18:18.404-05:00A Dark Day in November<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZBNumZslEXqXgkpKKupKqKHmc-G7T-DNS_g4HF0TpGuzlkO1lMm9CsA-Ep4wFvO5WXqD3d_5JcOzRAU6fo-tgAGawCzhY3rcIPNZjDgJnuHE5dRrDE_xF3H_zyicd9m1DUGsfMeJUXTU/s1600/A+Dark+Day+in+November+2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ZBNumZslEXqXgkpKKupKqKHmc-G7T-DNS_g4HF0TpGuzlkO1lMm9CsA-Ep4wFvO5WXqD3d_5JcOzRAU6fo-tgAGawCzhY3rcIPNZjDgJnuHE5dRrDE_xF3H_zyicd9m1DUGsfMeJUXTU/s640/A+Dark+Day+in+November+2016.jpg" width="512" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /><b>A Dark Day in November ©2016</b> - When I use texture in my work, the deterioration in old daguerreotypes is one of my favorites. Normally, I remove any figures in them digitally leaving only the texture for layering into my montages. When I came across this one, however, I was drawn to how the decay of the image had left the woman with such a desolate, haunting look and decided to leave it intact. In the aftermath of the presidential election, I pulled it from my files as the base image for a piece to express the swirling thoughts and feelings consuming me. I purposely left the darkness and long, horizontal slashes across her face and head giving the feel of an icy, blowing wind. I photographed and added the American flag and lilies along with bare trees and circling crows in the background. The book the woman is holding was a gift from my sister a number of years ago by the 19th century English poet, Emma Tatham titled "On the Ocean of Time: The Children of the Year". It's an illustrated calendar book with a poem for each month of the year and is open to the following page:<br /><br />NOVEMBER<br /><br />Ah, I am come! and ye greet me not.<br />Fear and aversion are ever my lot;<br />Ye shrink from the sound of my voice of storm,<br />And dread the approach of my shadowy form;<br />Ye know that my brow is heavy and dull,<br />And scarcely a blossom have I to cull;<br />Ye know that my forehead with mist is veiled,<br />And the blast, at my coming, hath moaned and wailed;<br />I have torn from the branches the leaves that stayed,<br />And bid the shivering chrysanthemum fade;<br />I have strewn the foam o'er the ocean wide,<br />And the bee hath gone to her nest to hide.<br /><br /><br />I fear for our deeply divided country but I have to believe we will get through this.</span></div>
Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-42421954685155652692016-10-12T16:25:00.001-04:002017-07-19T14:06:11.082-04:00The Picnic<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>The Picnic ©2016 </b>- "I'll affect you slowly as if you were having a picnic in a dream. There will be no ants. It won't rain." -Richard Brautigan, Loading Mercury With a Pitchfork 1976.<br /><br />I began working on this piece at the end of December 2015, put it away in May 2016 and finally deemed it finished in September 2016. I'm not sure why that happens sometimes when other pieces come together a lot more quickly. After considerable trial and error, I decided to take a break and not so much as take a peek at it for several months. When I looked at it again, with a few minor tweaks, everything fell easily into place and it finally felt right. So, back to the beginning. This montage is a combination of images dating from 2010 to 2015. The background started with a grassy field and a small abandoned building I captured in Sussex County just outside of Lafayette, NJ. The trees in the rear, filled with a large flock of blackbirds, were shot from my front yard as the birds were gathering to fly south for the winter. The lovely lady hosting the picnic is friend and model Maryanne Christiano Mistretta from a photo session we did together in 2010. For the "picnic blanket", I set up and photographed a still life consisting of a vintage table cover laden with fruits and nuts. The guests include a dragonfly, a honeybee and a chipmunk from my backyard along with several crows and a vulture from my travels. Various tones, textures and filters were added for mood and blending to complete "The Picnic".</span></div>
Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-900724530360070362016-09-14T18:17:00.000-04:002017-07-19T14:06:31.443-04:00Night of the Iguana<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYqKU5Idi4djrtkQGcrtziqKTGG-fdzgNmjrS1BQhiRl4Lux-nQjM5Aq4xpNOmIZRqwBNir1rZQJXTl96TNzlXVg-So-qvpoo7MqErqOF_SVUaO33eR_erms93weP_eJTGEXj3IYHn4xH/s1600/Night+of+the+Iguana+%25C2%25A92016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvYqKU5Idi4djrtkQGcrtziqKTGG-fdzgNmjrS1BQhiRl4Lux-nQjM5Aq4xpNOmIZRqwBNir1rZQJXTl96TNzlXVg-So-qvpoo7MqErqOF_SVUaO33eR_erms93weP_eJTGEXj3IYHn4xH/s640/Night+of+the+Iguana+%25C2%25A92016.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Night of the Iguana ©2016 -</b> The title of this piece came from the play by Tennessee Williams, "The Night of the Iguana" but has little to do with the storyline other than the obvious inclusion of iguanas. The background is a very marshy creek captured from a bridge in a small town somewhere between Allentown and Freehold, NJ. I came across the magnificent ruin of an old stone building in Warren County, NJ in Pohatcong Township. Unfortunately, there was no indication as to what it had been in it's previous life but it nestled nicely into my composition. What initially drew me to the older lady from my vintage portrait collection was the wisdom and contentment in her eyes, but she also reminded me of someone else. I searched my collection and there she was! A "mini me" of the older woman right down to her hairstyle! She fit perfectly into the doorway. The iguanas were not photographed from life but from a remarkably realistic sculpture that resides in my house. The most common type, the green iguana, is among the largest lizards in the Americas, growing to an average 6 feet long and weighing 11 pounds. Sometimes called "the benevolent dragon", they are quite gentle creatures, content with just being and appreciating the simplicities of life. Perhaps reflecting on her childhood and how far she has come, the woman has learned these lessons of the iguana well; being at peace with herself in the here and now and realizing that everything she needs already surrounds her. After adding a majestic vulture gliding overhead and some clouds in the night sky, I placed the June solstice full moon from June 20, 2016 peeking over the clouds. It's the northern hemisphere's first summer solstice full moon since 1967, aka The Summer of Love, with all it's magic. </span></div>
Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-78243191278366897512016-07-01T19:28:00.000-04:002016-07-01T19:31:14.000-04:00Tread Lightly at Twilight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYqQupgb7D-5FhUh_1nhwoEfKFnHbGo5lniOzLN7GSfmUVHFAanIYIYp9ZrMMjSlxZWivk5tyJoRovpl8rLShCKkVMuhfZMxG6Rq_3n98A5bS_M5D1Ss0Q8Tq3899TZQvC-S5GTCngSZ0d/s1600/Tread+Lightly+at+Twilight+2016++16x20+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="512" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYqQupgb7D-5FhUh_1nhwoEfKFnHbGo5lniOzLN7GSfmUVHFAanIYIYp9ZrMMjSlxZWivk5tyJoRovpl8rLShCKkVMuhfZMxG6Rq_3n98A5bS_M5D1Ss0Q8Tq3899TZQvC-S5GTCngSZ0d/s640/Tread+Lightly+at+Twilight+2016++16x20+copy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><b>Tread Lightly at Twilight ©2016</b> - Twilight is absolutely my favorite time of day. The soft, diffused light from the sky when the sun is below the horizon and a few stars become visible has a magical quality not present at any other time. The rhythm of the day is fast paced and measured by the hands of the clock, but the rhythm of the night is meditative and measured by the movement of the moon. Twilight, or "half-light", hovers between the two signaling the death of the day and the birth of the night with all it's dark secrets. The background image of this montage was in reality captured a little earlier in the afternoon around Sergeantsville, NJ. I was fascinated by the tree whose trunk seemed to grow horizontal along the ground before swooping upward. The wire mesh containers behind the tree are probably corn cribs used to dry corn, but I chose to fill them with a murder of crows exiting into the sky. Clouds were added along with selected filters and texture to simulate that hazy, watercolorish time between day and night. The young lady from my vintage photo collection was actually climbing some steps carrying a basket of flowers, but I replaced the flowers with a candle to light her way and added some grasses and stones to her path in the foreground. Hopefully, she treads lightly through the gargoyles (trying to camouflage themselves among the stones) as she makes her way through the twilight zone to a romantic tryst. </span></div>
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Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7474868934556013741.post-47818711002999486512016-04-29T13:46:00.001-04:002020-06-25T17:21:30.889-04:00The Messengers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJUrymrCI8MsTFz13kTWWIRk4Q9IboNMRM6shWM9MM3JfSsLmoLpJMkGo2Cn4yjgwB18oB8-MJl8jAF55J97mr07H9LshyphenhyphenTHpVr7OZ6ow9LmOMmGtosk89SkkqHShGD6BJSO5jvemLqEt/s1600/The+Messengers+2016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJUrymrCI8MsTFz13kTWWIRk4Q9IboNMRM6shWM9MM3JfSsLmoLpJMkGo2Cn4yjgwB18oB8-MJl8jAF55J97mr07H9LshyphenhyphenTHpVr7OZ6ow9LmOMmGtosk89SkkqHShGD6BJSO5jvemLqEt/s640/The+Messengers+2016.jpg" width="508" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>The Messengers 2016</b> - The background of this montage is a combination of two images of Green Sergeant's Covered Bridge located across Wickecheoke Creek in Delaware Township NJ. Constructed in 1872 and named for local mill operator Richard Green Sergeant, it is the last historic covered bridge in New Jersey. After being damaged in 1960, it was dismantled and replaced with a modern bridge; but, oddly enough, due to public outcry, the bridge was rebuilt from the original materials in 1961. The gulls are from a rather large flock I came across hanging out, not by the sea, but in the parking lot of Wegmans supermarket in Bridgewater, NJ. Many species have learned to coexist successfully with humans and are resourceful, inquisitive and intelligent birds. In Native American spirituality, gulls are regarded as spiritual messengers that indicate a higher communication with spirit guides is taking place. The "spirit guide" in my piece is a composite of three different women to achieve the look I envisioned. The body is one of my models, the face and hair are from two different vintage photos from my collection. The pentagram she wears at her throat symbolizes the five elements with the top point, the spirit, ruling over the other four; earth, air, fire and water. The circle encasing them all represents infinity and the cycles of life and nature. With the composition in place, I added color, selected filters and texture to complete "The Messengers".</span></div>
Darlenehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00498194272519676286noreply@blogger.com0