My OBT

What if you spent every day looking for One Beautiful Thing?

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Architecture Of Flesh

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A bonus OBT (One Beautiful Thing) today:
This is a post by Contra Spem Spero… Et Rideo (Latin for “Hope against hope . . . and smile”) very appropriately entitled “Architecture of Flesh.” It’s a very well-written article, and I’m fascinated by these images. I would absolutely volunteer if I was certain I wouldn’t 1. run into anyone I know and 2. be identifiable. Would you?

Valentina's avatarContra Spem Spero... Et Rideo

tunick88Volunteer participants pose naked inside the Stadschouwburg theatre in Belgium during a photo session with Spencer Tunick in the northern Belgian city of Bruges. (Reuters/Peter Maenhoudt)

“Individuals en masse, without their clothing, grouped together, metamorphose into a new shape.” (– Spencer Tunick)

For 20 years now, New York-based photographer Spencer Tunick has been creating human art installations all over the world, calling together volunteers by the hundreds or thousands. He asks them to remove their clothes, in order to photograph them in massive groups. And they do.

His aim is an architecture of flesh where a great number of human bodies blends with the landscape, or juxtaposes with urban structures.

Warning:  Since the nudity is central to Tunick’s art, the following photos are not screened out all depict naked human bodies.

tunickNaked volunteers pose for the US photographer Spencer Tunick on the largest glacier in the Alps, Aletsch glacier, in Switzerland, as…

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This gallery contains 16 photos


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Grief is Borne when Loss is Born

As you know, I rarely re-blog, but this picture is so powerful and lovely, I had to share it.

Broken Light: A Photography Collective's avatarBroken Light Collective

Photo taken by contributor MB, a 52-year-old writer and photographer living in recovery from depression in southwest London.

About this photo: “I took this in September in a cemetery near where I live.  I think it’s rather unusual in that it depicts loss and grief, but also beauty and love.  I had to time the shoot rather precisely because I wanted the sun to be setting just above one of the angel’s shoulders, but I also needed to be out of the cemetery before it closed.  I feel that photography has given me a new lease of life, with fewer feelings of helplessness and hopelessness – in fact this photo won an award in a borough-wide photography competition with the theme of conflict and remembrance.”

Find more from MB at her blog.

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The gift that gives back: The Broken Light Strength Bracelet!

**Visit Broken Light’s…

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Two Anniversaries!

50th-wedding-anniversaryToday marks my 200th consecutive day of blogging AND my 24th anniversary at work. It’s a gala day!

My blog makes me so happy. It is my daily joy to share with you the things that make me go oooh (and also awww, and ewww). Happy anniversary to us all!

I’m also fortunate enough to work with some outstanding people, so today, I celebrate the whole lot of you!

 


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Becky says things about … being a rubbish woman

I do not reblog often, so you know this is something special.

I couldn’t have loved this post more. I suspect Becky and I are very similar. While it’s true that I’m a glad hand with a makeup brush and my hair goes all mermaidy on its own just to be agreeable, I am also a tragic klutz and in denial about the last 100 pounds I acquired (in weight, not wealth). I, too, fall, blunder, break, spill, and set afire. It’s just when I do those things, I leave a pretty smear of makeup behind like a calling card. I’m like fat Barbie after an hour of spinning around in the back yard.

Anyway, enjoy the perfectly funny and self deprecating Becky who, it turns out, says things.

beckysaysthings's avatarBECKY SAYS THINGS

Firstly, I’m going to neatly gloss over the fact I haven’t blogged in nearly two months by using Stickman’s yoga skills as a distraction.

woman1

woman2

woman3

Thanks, Sticky. You’re a pal.

Sublime listeners, I am rubbish at being a woman. There are so many things that society expects of women that are simply beyond my capabilities as a human being with boobs.

I cannot style my hair. I think I have the wrong type of hair. I think my hair is broken. I am forever gazing enviously at women with whimsical corkscrew curls, with sleek businesslike ‘up-dos’, with fringes that sit happily at their allocated angle, with pins and clips and grips that create veritable fountains of  coiffured abandon – whilst I sit under the humdrum melancholy of a frizzy ponytail.

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I have tried, Listener. I have followed YouTube videos to the letter, I have bought contraptions and equipment more reminiscent of open heart surgery…

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