A trip through Yosemite National Park and the stars created by Colin Delehanty and Sheldon Neill.
The Saatchi Gallery thinks that gifs are worthy as art. This is of course something the internet always knew, but they call it motion photography and make it classy. The gallery held a contest to gather high quality work which you can see here and some of my favorites are below…
tattle in the sky ten days after the full moon the lion attacks the universe sees you float outside the airlock gentle with love the sky pours out who can say where it begins yet where it peels back Haiku contributed from Nite Rote.
a star casts a shadow of neutrinos on the earth just to say farewell a supernova arrives holding the echos of the moon and earth Janus tilts his faces February’s denial of spring forged in the arctic Haiku contributed from Nite Rote.
Gregory Colbert’s Ashes and Snow is a film about people and animals that evokes a poetic fantasy world where some boundaries dissolve.
the full moon unnoticed passes the entire sky when you blink the small sea reflects rays of full moonlight a whale surfaces all who share the earth face the threat of extinction from entropy’s trap Haiku contributed from Nite Rote.
the new moon spits an intention for the new year onto a hot jade stone hard to unravel yet much more difficult to weave journey into fog a smoke halo hangs utterly bare on winter up from our embers Haiku contributed from Nite Rote.
There is one piece of art on the moon: One crisp March morning in 1969, artist Paul van Hoeydonck was visiting his Manhattan gallery when he stumbled into the middle of a startling conversation. Louise Tolliver Deutschman, the gallery’s director, was making an energetic pitch to Dick Waddell, the owner. “Why don’t we put a […]
are the crows upset with us because we forgot the sky was theirs first the task of the tides is to ebb and wax to best discover the shores time flies is a crow in resurgence against tides of the universe Haiku contributed from Nite Rote.
bohemian bird brilliant in character waxes in cold sun the coppiced woodland desolate in my childhood now home for waxwings the sun whispers grow to coppiced trees that listen even in moonlight Haiku contributed from Nite Rote.