A super-high shutter speed on a high-speed train produced this hypnotic video. On repeated viewing, you start to pick up the small, almost imperceptible gestures that seemingly immobile people are making. The parallax caused by the moving camera gives the scene a startling 3-D effect, probably because the motion is so smooth and unblurred.
It’s basically the same principle as those 3-D fly-throughs that are created with a huge array of still cameras fired simultaneously and then stitched together to give the appearance of motion. Watching it, however, I had the vivid sense of seeing something truly new.
I am excited, nervous, and proud; I’ve worked long and hard to get to this moment, and I’m aware that the hard work is just beginning! But had I not started this blog over a year ago, there’s no way that I would have found my way to this new business, and I am truly grateful to my readers for encouraging me day by day.
I am thrilled to be able to offer truly beautiful products at a price that represents real value. I hope that you will all check out Quellebelle—maybe someone on your holiday list would enjoy a gorgeous, delightfully silky scarf that will both bring her pleasure and evoke complements whenever she wears it! (I’m offering free shipping at the moment, too.)
Please feel free to pass the link on to others, or to post a link on your own blog; I’d be also be grateful if you’re inclined to “Like” or share the Quellebelle home page on Facebook. My blog at Quellebelle will keep you up to date on my products, special deals, and other silky doings.
And whether you make a purchase or not, I’d love to hear what you think of the website and the scarves.
Inside this box there are sixty yards of silk fabric. But it contains much, much more than that.
It contains my hopes and dreams for the future. It holds the promise of hard work: physical, creative, intellectual, and entrepreneurial. It bundles up my belief that self-reinvention is always possible.
This modest-sized, ratty-looking cardboard box is my treasure.
I am tempted to make a bad pun based on the name of Proctor Crater, where these dunes are found on Mars. Yes, Mars. Not your colon, despite their microscopically bacterial appearance.
Honestly, this image looks like it was produced by a CAD program. To appreciate the true insanity of it, click through to the large version and zoom in.
I used to have fantastically keen vision. Now, I need glasses for everything; I cannot see clearly without them. Of the many indignities of middle age, this is the one I feel the most.
I yearn for this kind of detail: the edges of the leaves, the way the colors blend at a distance, yet are entirely distinct. There is some primal sector of my brain that is profoundly soothed by this image. It makes me see the world as full of promise.
The light is disappearing early now, and a wintry chill has infiltrated the sunniest of days. I don’t mind winter, in moderation (after all, it’s necessary if we are to enjoy spring and fall), but I hope we can avoid last year’s excesses.
I’ve been thinking a lot, lately, about what we leave behind—both literally and metaphorically. Whatever I leave behind, I hope it’s something beautiful.
People kept telling me about something called color theory and a tool called a color wheel. I’m sure they’re both very useful, but despite an extensive post-graduate education neither of them actually managed to stick in my head. These days, I have reference books that I consult when necessary.
Now I am about to save you some money on tuition.
You want to know what good color design looks like? Photograph something beautiful that you see out there in our glorious wide world of wonder, and then have at it with the eyedropper tool and build yourself a bunch of swatches. They’ll go together because they already go together!
It’s an appalling cliché, I know. But there’s something about a formal garden that cries out for sepia. I’ve done it before, and I’ll surely do it again.