Daily Archives: February 23, 2011

newport-oregon-beacH photography


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Photography by Nicholas Alan Cope


21
February

Photography by Nicholas Alan Cope

Posted under ArtInspirationPhotography

Raised in Maryland, Nicholas moved to Los Angeles in 2004 and attended Art Center College of Design. Since graduating Nicholas has worked for a number of commercial and editorial clients while also working on personal projects. His most recent work focuses on form and volume.

 

FROM gnomebomb.tumblr


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The signs are obvious; I follow the red line.

The signs are obvious; I follow the red line.

New York Fashion Week: Fix Up, Look Sharp

New York Fashion Week: Fix Up, Look Sharp

sometimes you have to go alone

sometimes you have to go alone

I am one hundred and eight years old, and some days I act accordingly, all 108 years showing in my stride and in my gaze.   Other days I pick another age. I am 7, inches of snowfall; I am 12, on the soles of each shoe; some days I am just born, seeing the world for the first.   But when picking an age, I make sure to ignore my waist size, my thread count, or the vintage on last night’s bottle of Burgandy. 

I am one hundred and eight years old, and some days I act accordingly, all 108 years showing in my stride and in my gaze.

Other days I pick another age. I am 7, inches of snowfall; I am 12, on the soles of each shoe; some days I am just born, seeing the world for the first.

But when picking an age, I make sure to ignore my waist size, my thread count, or the vintage on last night’s bottle of Burgandy.

My journey is now reaching new heights and new speeds; it has me frightening myself and falling down, looking through goggles and learning how to snowboard.

My journey is now reaching new heights and new speeds; it has me frightening myself and falling down, looking through goggles and learning how to snowboard.

cold is creeping into my core, and i am losing my ability to remember what it is to be a warm gnome. 

cold is creeping into my core, and i am losing my ability to remember what it is to be a warm gnome.

I told you about the time I chased a bus, and how taxicabs have an aversion to picking up gnomes, but I never told you how I wait for subway attendants who never seem to inhabit their little boxes.  In New York, anyway of getting there is a way of getting frustrated.

I told you about the time I chased a bus, and how taxicabs have an aversion to picking up gnomes, but I never told you how I wait for subway attendants who never seem to inhabit their little boxes.  In New York, anyway of getting there is a way of getting frustrated.

Approaching the beast, I expected animation at any moment, but I then noted the groups and families freezing before the bull’s face, and smiling towards cameras. Surely this tremendous animal had been put under some sort of a spell; I imagined the bull at the height of youthful power and force over stepping some godly law, upsetting the balance, and then being instantly transformed into bronze and sentenced to an eternity along an urban street. But what of myself? Having been cast out of my garden by a journey and set among the concrete. I had left my gnomely life and family in search of something, and one day my veins may run metal, and my beard gleam bronze, my eyes lifelessly reflecting light. It was with this thought that I grabbed hold of the bull’s misfortune; I anchored myself with his golden horn and thrust my leg over his neck, fully dominated him. I cast my glance towards the camera and tried to smile, thinking of what must have been done to deserve this fate; where his journey had taken him.

Approaching the beast, I expected animation at any moment, but I then noted the groups and families freezing before the bull’s face, and smiling towards cameras. Surely this tremendous animal had been put under some sort of a spell; I imagined the bull at the height of youthful power and force over stepping some godly law, upsetting the balance, and then being instantly transformed into bronze and sentenced to an eternity along an urban street. But what of myself? Having been cast out of my garden by a journey and set among the concrete. I had left my gnomely life and family in search of something, and one day my veins may run metal, and my beard gleam bronze, my eyes lifelessly reflecting light. It was with this thought that I grabbed hold of the bull’s misfortune; I anchored myself with his golden horn and thrust my leg over his neck, fully dominated him. I cast my glance towards the camera and tried to smile, thinking of what must have been done to deserve this fate; where his journey had taken him.

the greatest pleasures in life are created over time with deliberation, are savory and best served thinly sliced.

the greatest pleasures in life are created over time with deliberation, are savory and best served thinly sliced.

I have to stand up for myself, by myself

I have to stand up for myself, by myself

I am resolved, 2011 will bring me someone to play with.

I am resolved, 2011 will bring me someone to play with.

I miss you, but my aim is improving.

I miss you, but my aim is improving.

The important thing is not that you fell, or how you got right back up; it’s about the fun on the way down.

 

Gotika by Savador Pozo