Author | Thread |
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04/05/2013 09:54:32 AM · #26 |
Nothing ventured, nothing gained |
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04/05/2013 09:56:11 AM · #27 |
oops. I reversed the thread :-)
Message edited by author 2013-04-05 09:57:10. |
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04/05/2013 09:56:25 AM · #28 |
Originally posted by Cory: Originally posted by theFREDfactor: Maybe this suggestion will come to nothing :( |
Don't let me discourage you - frankly the suggestion is fine. I just don't get on well with impossible tasks. ;) |
More is Less....Less is More.....nothing more, nothing less.
Message edited by author 2013-04-05 10:14:40. |
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04/05/2013 09:58:11 AM · #29 |
Originally posted by Bear_Music: FRED, you're drowning out what others have to say. You've said your piece, now let others think about it and react. Just moments ago, I posted a thoughtful and supportive post, and you've BURIED it before anyone had a chance to read it. |
You're right Robert...sorry bout that...getting carried away again. I've said my piece now. I do appreciate your supportive post :) |
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04/05/2013 10:00:18 AM · #30 |
For the nothing within, within which nothing is:
for the chill void on my life, the pointless gulf
about me through which my words drift like dust:
for all that's tattered, useless, or inane,
yet not to be denied: and for the dull ache
of little remembered out of nothing learned:
for emptiness unbridged: I give this poem to you... |
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04/05/2013 11:02:44 AM · #31 |
Nothing....
1. To do.
2. To say.
3. To taste.
4. To think.
5. To cry about.......etc etc a whole LOT to do..... with "nothing"... I can see many shots with people's expressions in varying sets/scenes....... |
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04/05/2013 11:09:26 AM · #32 |
Seinfeld made a show about nothing, I imagine we could take pictures of it. |
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04/05/2013 11:16:07 AM · #33 |
Originally posted by chazoe: Seinfeld made a show about nothing, I imagine we could take pictures of it. |
But... He didn't!
Sure, it lacked coherence as a collection, but each individual episode was indeed very much about something.
:)
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04/05/2013 11:21:25 AM · #34 |
Originally posted by chazoe: Seinfeld made a show about nothing, I imagine we could take pictures of it. |
You YANKOED me! |
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04/05/2013 11:36:33 AM · #35 |
Add me to the "I like the idea" crowd.
First thing I thought of was the Image Without Subject challenge. It's similar but different. Or maybe it's not similar at all and they having Nothing in common.
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04/05/2013 12:39:23 PM · #36 |
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04/05/2013 12:48:25 PM · #37 |
Originally posted by pixelpig: |
But... That's not nothing.
That's a couch, in a field, with swingsets and a large movie screen on a cloudy day during mid-afternoon.
I really don't get it. Even a photo of a lens-cap on the body is a photo of something.
Message edited by author 2013-04-05 12:48:53. |
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04/05/2013 12:51:51 PM · #38 |
Originally posted by Cory: I really don't get it. Even a photo of a lens-cap on the body is a photo of something. |
That's because you're being too literal. Nothingness is a state of mind, not a physical reality. The challenge is to create a visual metaphor of a state of mind. We all will approach it differently, and the results will be interesting. |
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04/05/2013 12:54:48 PM · #39 |
Originally posted by Bear_Music: Originally posted by Cory: I really don't get it. Even a photo of a lens-cap on the body is a photo of something. |
That's because you're being too literal. Nothingness is a state of mind, not a physical reality. The challenge is to create a visual metaphor of a state of mind. We all will approach it differently, and the results will be interesting. |
Oh, so it's a Zen challenge.
That I understand. |
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04/05/2013 01:05:27 PM · #40 |
Originally posted by Cory: Originally posted by Bear_Music: Originally posted by Cory: I really don't get it. Even a photo of a lens-cap on the body is a photo of something. |
That's because you're being too literal. Nothingness is a state of mind, not a physical reality. The challenge is to create a visual metaphor of a state of mind. We all will approach it differently, and the results will be interesting. |
Oh, so it's a Zen challenge.
That I understand. |
Here's the full text of my "Nothing" poem: it's full of things, but of concepts too.
**************
For the nothing within, within which nothing is:
for the chill void on my life, the pointless gulf
about me through which my words drift like dust:
for all that's tattered, useless, or inane,
yet not be denied, and for the dull ache
of little remembered out of nothing learned:
for emptiness unbridged: I give this poem to you.
What is the architecture of desire?
Did void itself have shape before space formed?
Is heart defined by blood? Flower by seed?
I've totaled up my body, cell by wandering cell,
factored lymph, summed spleen, subtracted gall,
and all my chemistry has come to this:
as brick will seek an arch, I will seek love.
Orion's call is surging down my blood,
a primal madness of the hunt, a scent
of autumn leaves aflame, the falling year,
and if flesh knows how isolation is complete,
still blood no more heeds heart than love does mind:
the dream that shapes the void within me cries
aloud, cries out for light, and so I burn.
Then, for the burning: for the dream of fire:
for self-denial staggering up the blood:
for what brick does with arch: for every touch
of gracefulness wrenched from the dying earth:
for flower: for seed: for patience of desire:
for light: for pain: for hope: and yes, for love:
here is your poem from me, born of my silent world.
****************** |
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04/05/2013 01:24:44 PM · #41 |
Originally posted by Cory: Originally posted by pixelpig: |
But... That's not nothing.
That's a couch, in a field, with swingsets and a large movie screen on a cloudy day during mid-afternoon.
I really don't get it. Even a photo of a lens-cap on the body is a photo of something. |
There's no movie on the screen -- nothing is on.
There are no people on the sofa --nothing is on the sofa. Or Nobody.
An empty chair is a repository of nothingness. That's what's there until someone sits in or on the chair. Same with an empty wine glass. A lake without a boat. Nothing for dinner would be an empty plate or bowl. blah blah blah |
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04/05/2013 02:17:01 PM · #42 |
Originally posted by pixelpig: Originally posted by Cory: Originally posted by pixelpig: |
But... That's not nothing.
That's a couch, in a field, with swingsets and a large movie screen on a cloudy day during mid-afternoon.
I really don't get it. Even a photo of a lens-cap on the body is a photo of something. |
There's no movie on the screen -- nothing is on.
There are no people on the sofa --nothing is on the sofa. Or Nobody.
An empty chair is a repository of nothingness. That's what's there until someone sits in or on the chair. Same with an empty wine glass. A lake without a boat. Nothing for dinner would be an empty plate or bowl. blah blah blah |
Hmm, I am admittedly suspicious that you've just defined nothing as equal to empty. Not sure that's right, but at this point I'm caviling anyway - if that's the point of this, I think I could do very well in this challenge. |
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04/05/2013 02:24:09 PM · #43 |
Originally posted by Bear_Music:
**************
For the nothing within, within which nothing is:
for the chill void on my life, the pointless gulf
about me through which my words drift like dust:
for all that's tattered, useless, or inane,
yet not be denied, and for the dull ache
of little remembered out of nothing learned:
for emptiness unbridged: I give this poem to you.
What is the architecture of desire?
Did void itself have shape before space formed?
Is heart defined by blood? Flower by seed?
I've totaled up my body, cell by wandering cell,
factored lymph, summed spleen, subtracted gall,
and all my chemistry has come to this:
as brick will seek an arch, I will seek love.
Orion's call is surging down my blood,
a primal madness of the hunt, a scent
of autumn leaves aflame, the falling year,
and if flesh knows how isolation is complete,
still blood no more heeds heart than love does mind:
the dream that shapes the void within me cries
aloud, cries out for light, and so I burn.
Then, for the burning: for the dream of fire:
for self-denial staggering up the blood:
for what brick does with arch: for every touch
of gracefulness wrenched from the dying earth:
for flower: for seed: for patience of desire:
for light: for pain: for hope: and yes, for love:
here is your poem from me, born of my silent world.
****************** |
I don't know that this has really helped to define how exactly one would convey nothingness, but it is a really fantastically coherent, meaningful poem that flows easily and comfortably - in fact, I found it quite the antithesis of nothing, it's something special indeed!
At any rate, it probably beats nothing = empty in terms of usefulness. |
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04/05/2013 03:29:28 PM · #44 |
This challenge idea is giving me a lot of existential angst. |
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04/05/2013 03:56:14 PM · #45 |
Nothing is not something you can take a photo of, or if you did no-one could see it anyway. All you can do is take a picture of everything around the nothing. |
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04/05/2013 04:18:18 PM · #46 |
one of my favoritest poems is about nothing. The Snow Man by Wallace Stevens.
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
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04/05/2013 04:48:25 PM · #47 |
Don, thanks for sharing that. Very lovely. |
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04/05/2013 04:54:31 PM · #48 |
Great share Don.
This is my favorite Wallace Stevens poem, an underdog's delight.
Bantams in Pine-Woods
Chieftain Iffucan of Azcan in caftan
Of tan with henna hackles, halt!
Damned universal cock, as if the sun
Was blackamoor to bear your blazing tail.
Fat! Fat! Fat! Fat! I am the personal.
Your world is you. I am my world.
You ten-foot poet among inchlings. Fat!
Begone! An inchling bristles in these pines,
Bristles, and points their Appalachian tangs,
And fears not portly Azcan nor his hoos.
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04/05/2013 05:26:07 PM · #49 |
One of my favorite sci-fi stories is It Was Nothing, Really! by Theodore Sturgeon |
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04/05/2013 06:05:50 PM · #50 |
The piny watchers watch.
A ripple takes the pond,
whose stagnant waters lie
deeper than eye can reach,
as deep as mud can sift.
A tree breaks from its leaves.
Nothing that lives, but grieves... |
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