


old house...
once someone's pride and joy
is gone.
old stair...
once polished steps
forsaken now...
| camera | unknown |
| exposure mode | full manual |
| shutterspeed | unknown |
| aperture | f/0.0 |
| sensitivity | unknown |
| focal length | 0.0mm |
| resolution | 1000x751 pixels |
|
My Peachtree Street: The Weight of Time
old house... once someone's pride and joy is gone. old stair... once polished steps forsaken now...
comments (17)
That's quite a poignant picture really. The stairs remain, but the reason for them is long gone
VZ: This happens with many things around us, Ellie. At times, it happens with us.
One picture can tell a story of a lifetime...you captured this great, love the PP in it, great colors for the right sad atmosphere.
VZ: I was sitting across this stair for quite some time, before I took the picture. I saw a confederate solder, kissing his young wife and two kids goodbye on those steps, leaving for the war against the North, that was lost before it has even started.
Poor man's Inca pyramid.
Love that the weeds have more than made up for the withdrawal of attention by humans...these steps need not feel lonely and unloved.
VZ: The nature can't stand the void. As soon as humans move out, mother nature moves in.
And even the steps are slowly being reclaimed by nature. Love the choice of tone Viktor, it suits this picture perfectly
VZ: It doesn't take much time for nature to claim what's hers.
the steps
lead to memories of a life once polished now forsaken
VZ: There is always hope
That a life forsaken will have a second chance Then, once again, it’ll shine.
I love such places of decay and invincible life! The nature ( Why not a deep darkgreen toning?) has conquered the steps again which are leading to a nowhere. Looking at your pic I remember old gardens which are running wild behind abandoned castles ....or Roman steps in Jerusalem which as it is told Jesus and his disciples often have used on their way from the olive Mountain to the city and suddenly these steps gain a kind of new reality and meaning.
VZ: I guess we're on the same page, Philine. There are two things I'm not indifferent to: all things decay and their songmeister Monsieur Baudelaire.
These were once the steps to someones heaven
VZ: ...and now they're steps to someone's hell.
Very atmospheric, especially after reading the title/description.
VZ: Thanks much, maestro.
Looking at this makes me wonder if I'm leaving or coming...
VZ: that means you're stuck, Aksel.
Not forsaken as you find it ... "Parce que le beau est toujours étonnant, il serait absurde de supposer que ce qui est étonnant est toujours beau" ... If I was born in 1821; I'm sure I would have been Charles's lover ...
Has a very European feel to this shot Viktor - reminds me a little of the imagery of A. Tarkovsky.
VZ: Do you mean a dark visual imagery of Andrei Tarkovsky, of a dark poetic imagery of his father Arseny Tarkovsky?
Now, finally has the elevator arrived. The stairs was about to become a personal inferno.
(Anders Zorn)
VZ: To my shame, the only Zorn I know is a fantastic jazz musician John Zorn. I had no idea Anders Zorn is the most famous Swedish painter, and I wasn't the last student on the History of Art classes. Next time I'm in New York, I'll check his paintings at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
time: the most ferocious predator
VZ: Oh, tell me about it. But for women, time competes with gravity to be the most ferocious predator.
I like Ray's comment, and agree with Bill's comment about the tone- the green makes the light glitter.
VZ: We're in agreement then.
What a fascinating image , history through structure is always very moving. Great shot. :o) John
VZ: Thanks John. All structures were once new.
I love this.
So many questions. How mother nature has reclaimed the space. The colouring works well. A really excellent shot
VZ: Thanks FlOOG. It's rather a simple image. I was focusing more on a emotional side, than on a technical one.
Great work, Viktor. Positively resonates with those past lives: shame stone can't speak...then again it has.
VZ: Stones do speak, Dave, to those who's willing to listen.
|
|



