Fine Art Photography
Slideshow by Lindsey Smolensky
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abandoned barn
Sitting at the top of a hill next to the softball fields in WI. Such gorgeous scenery. And totally worth the painful run up the hill to get this shot.
Photo by smoness
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When Sculpture Attacks
Large
Shot in Buffalo Bayou ArtPark. I went to their site and searched other avenues of the Internet to find information on said sculpture. I'd like to give credit to the artist where it is due, but alas, am empty handed. I love this sculpture. And I wanted to get a shot of it seemingly about to take siege upon our great city. I'd say mission accomplished.
Photo by smoness
15 of 34
we might have been speeding, what of it?
Long exposure (5 seconds at f/8) through the car window on I-70 (in Colorado I think), going 80mph. I had some fun with a bit of swirling action. I'm diggin' the results.
Photo by smoness
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City Lights (II) original image
Hanging at Te House of Tea as part of my "Urbal Sprawl" series.
Photo by smoness
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City Lights (I) original image
Hanging at Te House of Tea as part of my "Urbal Sprawl" series.
Photo by smoness
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what grows up must come down
Post Ike: Here's hoping that a lot of the uprooted trees get to be put back in place. This was a giant live oak, I'm guessing at about 160 years old.
Photo by smoness
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field & fire
We dreamed their arguments, their stricken voices.
We might embrace, but those two never did,
Come, so unlike us, to a stiff impasse,
Burdened in such a way we seemed the lighter-
Ourselves the haunters, and they, flesh and blood;
As if, above love's ruinage, we were
The heaven those two dreamed of, in despair.
~Sylvia Plath
Photo by smoness
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Stubble
I used to wonder if you loved me because I let you. Because I served you tiny sample tastes from tiny spoons that are only appealing because they are tiny. Because I gave you canvas for your scratchy, facial stubble; and I?d lie back patiently as you wrote rough drafts of labored loss upon my flesh. Penciled etchings for you to sit back and study, just as you did with those pages and pages you used to bring home from work. There were always so many; but you never tired of them. So I would let you twitch your fingers upon me in calculation, and compress your face at the curves of my body until you were satisfied. Until that moment when you would remember that the canvas had a breath. It pulsed and leaked and echoed when you called out its name. And you would get embarrassed, rub your face with half-remorse, as I refrained from editing your story. Instead I merely kissed your prickled dimples with a smile, for you somehow always left me one full spoon away from satisfied.
Photo by smoness
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Glosoli
When I saw this little girl climbing on the rocks the way she was, it immediately made me think of
This music video.
Large
Photo by smoness
29 of 34
"Okay, so I'm the dragon. Big deal."
"...You want a better story. Who wouldn't?
A forest, then. Beautiful trees. And a lady singing.
Love on the water, love underwater, love, love and so on.
What a sweet lady. Sing lady, sing! Of course, she wakes the dragon.
Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly
flames everywhere.
I can tell already you think I'm the dragon,
that would be so like me, but I'm not. I'm not the dragon.
I'm not the princess either.
Who am I? I'm just a writer. I write things down.
I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure,
I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow
glass, but that comes later.
And the part where I push you
flush against the wall and every part of your body rubs against the bricks,
shut up
I'm getting to it..."
~Richard Siken
Photo by smoness