Detail of a wide acrylic abstract painting (recent project). I titled it "Climate Changes" because I had the feeling it looked like clouds and tornadoes seen from space but with strange colors... :)
Showing posts with label Red. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Red. Show all posts
A picture I took at the Metropole Hotel in Brussels in the frame of the "Tour De France Photo". A great event!! The model on the left side, Alizée, is pregnant... Magic (thanks to Eric for making the shooting with Alizée possible). You can view some preparatory and backstage pics here below...
Models: Alizée Poulicek & Coralie Nelly
Hair Styling: Alain Spaens by Joseph
Master Makeup Artist: Avital Assayag
Fashion Design: Erika Bùs
Photography (+editing): Ben Heine
Location: Metropole Hotel
Hair Styling: Alain Spaens by Joseph
Master Makeup Artist: Avital Assayag
Fashion Design: Erika Bùs
Photography (+editing): Ben Heine
Location: Metropole Hotel
Time to Use Some 3D Glasses
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Nice, I received this in my email box a few days ago.
Many thanks to Dan Jacob for making this 3D effect!
Original picture.
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Nice, I received this in my email box a few days ago.Many thanks to Dan Jacob for making this 3D effect!
Original picture.
Final version of my Flesh and Acrylic project featuring Martin, a great friend. Please see the making and some details here below. The above photo has been shot with the Samsung NX11, provided by Samsung Electronics. Co., Ltd.
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This is a long exposure photo (30 sec).
I played with 2 small torches.
(The above photo has been shot
with the Samsung NX10)
© 2010 - Ben Heine
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(See it on Flickr)Two long exposure photos (15 and 20 seconds)
I have been playing with 2 small torches :D
(The above photos have been shot with the Samsung NX10)
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© 2010 - Ben Heine
Palais des Beaux Arts of Lille
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I took the 2 above photos in the "Palais des Beaux Arts" of Lille, France. I just added the sky in the first image to give a surreal atmosphere, as if it was an open roof. For some unknown reason, there was a canvas missing on the wall of one of the exhibition rooms (second shot). A great moment for my camera...
The Palais des Beaux-Arts of Lille is thought to be the largest general interest museum in France after the Louvre. The collections are the object of worldwide renown and provide a comprehensive over view of the great artistic movements of Europe from the 12th to the 20th century.
© 2010 - Ben Heine
I N V I N C I B L E
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© 2009 - Ben Heine
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One of my portraits of the King... RIP
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We Had Him
By Maya Angelou (*)
Beloveds, now we know that we know nothing, now that our bright and shining star can slip away from our fingertips like a puff of summer wind.
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon.
In the instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tides with the abrupt absence of our treasure.
Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone.
Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him.
He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance.
Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that.
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.
We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes.
His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us.
And we laughed and stomped our feet for him.
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given.
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square.
In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England
We are missing Michael.
But we do know we had him, and we are the world.
Without notice, our dear love can escape our doting embrace. Sing our songs among the stars and walk our dances across the face of the moon.
In the instant that Michael is gone, we know nothing. No clocks can tell time. No oceans can rush our tides with the abrupt absence of our treasure.
Though we are many, each of us is achingly alone, piercingly alone.
Only when we confess our confusion can we remember that he was a gift to us and we did have him.
He came to us from the creator, trailing creativity in abundance.
Despite the anguish, his life was sheathed in mother love, family love, and survived and did more than that.
He thrived with passion and compassion, humor and style. We had him whether we know who he was or did not know, he was ours and we were his.
We had him, beautiful, delighting our eyes.
His hat, aslant over his brow, and took a pose on his toes for all of us.
And we laughed and stomped our feet for him.
We were enchanted with his passion because he held nothing. He gave us all he had been given.
Today in Tokyo, beneath the Eiffel Tower, in Ghana's Black Star Square.
In Johannesburg and Pittsburgh, in Birmingham, Alabama, and Birmingham, England
We are missing Michael.
But we do know we had him, and we are the world.
---------------
(*) Dr. Maya Angelou is an American poet born in 1928. She is known as one of the great voices of contemporary literature. As a poet, educator, historian, best-selling author, actress, playwright, civil-rights activist, producer and director, she continues to travel the world, spreading her wisdom. Within the rhythm of her poetry and elegance of her prose lies Angelou's power to help readers of every orientation span the lines of race.
The above poem was written by Maya Angelou for Michael Jackson's public memorial at the Staples Center in Los Angeles. It was read by Queen Latifah, one of the many celebrities that paid tribute to the King of Pop. (Source)
.The above poem was written by Maya Angelou for Michael Jackson's public memorial at the Staples Center in Los Angeles. It was read by Queen Latifah, one of the many celebrities that paid tribute to the King of Pop. (Source)
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Details.
Darling
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Each Life is
Like a Flower
By Peter S. Quinn
Each life is like a flower
With leaves of green and yellow
And in the rain shower
They become quite mellow
Like dreams that are going by
Or flickering flames by night
The open reddish evening sky
That falls away its light
When love is in our heart
There is so much there going
From the beginning it'll start
To give of its tender flowing
You become with flames about
And feelings that inside glow
For all the fire will be out
Like streams of a river to grow
When all is done you feel inventive
Like grass that sways in wind
And to the world assentive
So tender out sided skinned
With closeness to a life you are
And deliberated with roses
Each night you drift alone with a star
As love again to you apposes
Like a Flower
By Peter S. Quinn
Each life is like a flower
With leaves of green and yellow
And in the rain shower
They become quite mellow
Like dreams that are going by
Or flickering flames by night
The open reddish evening sky
That falls away its light
When love is in our heart
There is so much there going
From the beginning it'll start
To give of its tender flowing
You become with flames about
And feelings that inside glow
For all the fire will be out
Like streams of a river to grow
When all is done you feel inventive
Like grass that sways in wind
And to the world assentive
So tender out sided skinned
With closeness to a life you are
And deliberated with roses
Each night you drift alone with a star
As love again to you apposes
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Hello Lady Red
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Like Petals
of the Rose
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
Something is going to somewhere around
Everything is drifting to the time
Feelings and sorrows so often in rime
Inside your touches so much there to be found
You are a heart that is throbbing always on
Following footsteps of love many ways
Everything coming from tinctured plays
Until those moments are forever gone
You and I just two persons far apart
On to the blueness of our daybreak's song
From our beginning where we did both start
With full of hopes and thoughts still we long
Love comes close - we sometimes are one
Like petals of the rose in the morning sun
of the Rose
A poem by Peter S. Quinn
Something is going to somewhere around
Everything is drifting to the time
Feelings and sorrows so often in rime
Inside your touches so much there to be found
You are a heart that is throbbing always on
Following footsteps of love many ways
Everything coming from tinctured plays
Until those moments are forever gone
You and I just two persons far apart
On to the blueness of our daybreak's song
From our beginning where we did both start
With full of hopes and thoughts still we long
Love comes close - we sometimes are one
Like petals of the rose in the morning sun
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(Click to enlarge)
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Just a little tutorial... :) ...and one of my first attempts to make a total digital work. This one is very simple in it's form. I will do more complex digital creations in the near future. I'm still learning everyday.
As you know, I tend to think that good concepts are more important than technique anyway.
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Danger of Love
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Love is a Sickness
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By Samuel Daniel (*)
Love is a sickness full of woes,
All remedies refusing;
A plant that with most cutting grows,
Most barren with best using.
Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries--
Heigh ho!
Love is a torment of the mind,
A tempest everlasting;
And Jove hath made it of a kind
Not well, nor full nor fasting.
Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries--
Heigh ho!
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By Samuel Daniel (*)
Love is a sickness full of woes,
All remedies refusing;
A plant that with most cutting grows,
Most barren with best using.
Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries--
Heigh ho!
Love is a torment of the mind,
A tempest everlasting;
And Jove hath made it of a kind
Not well, nor full nor fasting.
Why so?
More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoy'd, it sighing cries--
Heigh ho!
---------------
(*) Samuel Daniel (1562 – October 14, 1619) was an English poet and historian. Daniel was born near Taunton in Somerset, the son of a music-master. He was the brother of John Daniel. Their sister Rosa was Edmund Spenser's model for Rosalind in his The Shepherd's Calendar; she eventually married John Florio. In 1579, Daniel was admitted to Magdalen Hall (now known as Hertford College) at Oxford University, where he remained for about three years and afterwards devoted himself to the study of poetry and philosophy. A "Samuel Daniel" is recorded in 1586 as being the servant of Edward Stafford, the Baron of Stafford and the English ambassador in France. This is probably the same person as the poet. >>> More
--> The poem appeared on poetry.com
--> The poem appeared on poetry.com
That Muse
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(Ben Heine © Cartoons).
So is it not with me as with that muse
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By William Shakespeare
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So is it not with me as with that muse,
Stirred by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven it self for ornament doth use
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse,
Making a couplement of proud compare
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare
That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.
O, let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then, believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother's child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air.
Let them say more that like of hearsay well;
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.
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(The poem appeared on infoplease.com)
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