In respect and admiration to someone’s (anonymous artist) humor, imagination & talent of course!
If you see me on it please avoid crossing my path, I am too easily distracted and therefore dangerous on the roads
It's HER!
(There is even a Boutique Hotel called Hotel Giraffe in New York…)
Un GRAND merci à ces deux jeunes filles, déguisées pour la fête de l’escalade à Genève, de m’avoir donné l’occasion de les prendre en photo dans leurs “habits” plus que originales !
Déguisement fête de l'escalade!
“La fête de l’Escalade commémore, selon la tradition, l’échec des troupes savoyardes qui se lancèrent à l’assaut de Genève le 12 décembre 1602.
Des enfants chantant le “CE QU’E LAINO”, qui raconte les événements de 1602 en vieux patois genevois, vont, déguisés, de bistrot en bistrot, tandis que les membres de la “Compagnie de 1602″ patrouillent à cheval, en costumes d’époque avec des piques et des lances.
La tradition veut que dame Royaume – épouse du monnayeur de la République – entendant le tumulte de la bataille qui se déroulait sous ses fenêtres – prit sa marmite de dessus le feu et en coiffa un savoyard qui tomba “roide”.
On doit d’ailleurs à cette illustre citoyenne la plus charmante des traditions genevoises. Le soir du 12 décembre, tous les genevois ont chez eux une marmite en chocolat, frappée aux armes de Genève et remplie de légumes en massepin. La coutume veut que le plus vieux et le plus jeune brisent la marmite ensemble, avant que toute l’assemblée ne se précipite pour la déguster non sans avoir – auparavant – chanté la première strophe du “cé qu’è lainô”.”
Extrait de : Site Genève Tourisme
Web: www.1602.ch
Une raison pour se déguiser à sa guise, fête pour les enfants et les jeunes, La Fête de L’escalade à Genève.
free as a bird?
if you describe a situation, a person or place as shambolic, you mean that they are disorganised.
(BRIT) adj.
…a shambolic public disaster…
[in French : Bordélique, en Suisse ... ch'nilleuse?]
I am one of those…
As you can see I am in my boyfriend jeans (I wash&wear them everyday!!), carrying that enormous vintage like airline flight bag to carry my shambolics & my camera! I even carried two laptops, my pilate clothes, & a pair of Converse in there, I can asure you the handles were strong…but my shoulder died on me.
Am I happy as a shambolic? I don’t have a choice as that is the only way I seem to function and in a way it seems to exasparate some people which doesn’t really bother me. We are free aren’t we?
I persuade myself that creativity needs shambling, it is reassuring even if creativity is not always present when needed…that is part of the adventure too.
Indeed!
why comment?
Patchwork from Arles
Those (imagical) memories that remained inspired me so after a long time of aridity I managed to put down into images some of the fragments I had photographed.
The patchwork is my method for respecting all that work and trying to share some it cautiously.
Patchwork from Arles
Duane Michals
Né en 1932. Vit et travaille à New York
& J.R *****
+ so many more!
Eat/manger
Drink/boire
Dance/danser
Waiting for the bus
I haven’t developed the art of telling a story, neither excelled in the usage of the right words, so I prefer to use some images to express myself…therefore this title : Segments!. / Ma mise en mots n’étant pas de qualité, comme mon manquement de piquant dans l’art de raconter une histoire, j’ai recours à ou aux images…d’où le titre “Segments d’un jour”!
Bébé tout doux
in the bus
still in the bus
long way!
wait & see
up & down
coffee break
coffee time
Portraits cachés
the odd couple
two days ago, I was walking through the tiny park next to where I live, I noticed a group of three people sitting on the grass. They were gypsies and unfortunately I was so used to see them beg that I was ready to pass avoiding all contact. Suddenly they very kindly said hello, the man and the woman tried to explain me that they were husband and wife and looking for jobs.
I smiled and tried to utter something that sounded stupid, I felt stupid.
Then, the man next to the woman made me a sign, pointing to the camera around my neck and then to his wife and himself… “please take picture together, my wife, please”. How can I refuse, I smiled and took that shot which I discovered later (with my glasses on) was, sweet, better than what I expected and it made me happy. Although their story, the little I knew, was sad I hoped to give them something to keep and that belonged only to them.
I was supposed to see them today, in the same park, but it is raining cats and dogs. I hope I will have the chance to meet them again and give them those photos I printed…he asked for and I promised!
Here they are, aren’t they beautiful? :
An odd couple
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