#unphotographable

[garbagedei]

Home

[pay-per-crime]

this is not an innovative sentiment but if someone wrong “my funny valentine” about me i would end up in prison

[biglisbonnews]

The Unphotographabe: Walt Whitman on Birds Migrating at Midnight Sometimes, a painting in words is worth a thousand pictures. I think about this more and more, in our compulsively visual culture, which increasingly reduces what we think and feel and see -- who and what we are -- to what can be photographed. I think of Susan Sontag, who called it "aesthetic consumerism" half a century before Instagram. In a small act of resistance, I offer The Unphotographable -- Saturdays, a lovely image in words drawn from centuries of literature: passages transcendent and transportive, depicting landscapes and experiences radiant with beauty and feeling beyond what a visual image could convey. https://www.themarginalian.org/2023/02/04/walt-whitman-birds-migrating-at-midnight/

[biglisbonnews]

The Unphotographable: The Moon, the Tide, and the Living Shore Sometimes, a painting in words is worth a thousand pictures. I think about this more and more, in our compulsively visual culture, which increasingly reduces what we think and feel and see -- who and what we are -- to what can be photographed. I think of Susan Sontag, who called it "aesthetic consumerism" half a century before Instagram. In a small act of resistance, I offer The Unphotographable -- Saturdays, a lovely image in words drawn from centuries of literature: passages transcendent and transportive, depicting landscapes and experiences radiant with beauty and feeling beyond what a visual image could convey. https://www.themarginalian.org/2023/01/21/the-living-shore/

[deviandnouria]

Nouria

[crossandcanvas]

A limb hangs amputated from its branch, dangling by Christmas light. Springtime, so harsh a glare, out of season: electrocution by perennial bright. Strangled star-spangled arm snaps as joy to the world coils over, over, over.

[herhushedsecrets]

This is a picture I did not take of the last breath Apollo had to make so that Nyx may live out there by the steadily dying embers in the horizon, of an unending war that will last as long as their immortal lives, his golden touch of warmth drowning in a sea of concrete trinkets that salutes the goddess with dots of steady tapers, and she tries to hold his hand, but he has sunk when she came.

[yvonnemonteiro-blog]

Lady wearing a beautiful stripe dress. #bandra #Unphotographable #story #need ##colorsofbombay (at Veronica Street)