Uploads from Ben Heine, tagged vitesse, with geodata

Pencil Vs Camera - 63

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Fri, 09 Mar 2012 10:36:51 -0800

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King of the place, here is the mighty lion.

Some innovations in the series: drawing with colors and black paper... This is somehow the "Beta Version" of "Pencil Vs Camera". Many more works coming soon. I left the drawing unfinished on purpose (I wanted to attract the attention on the lion's face mainly). You can view some details and the sketch in progress here below. I took this picture in Tunisia and I also made the drawing.

Update: See THIS VIDEO showing some 18 Pencil Vs Camera images in progress (with a small animation and an original musical composition).
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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Venetian Lifestyle

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Mon, 27 Jun 2011 14:53:58 -0700

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A picture I took from a small bridge in Venice, Italy.

The above photo has been shot with the Samsung NX10,
provided by Samsung Electronics. Co., Ltd.
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For more info about my work: info@benheine.com
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I'll Never Forget You

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 20:18:28 -0800

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A picture I took in a parc in Brussels a few days ago. I know, it's
quite a strange title for such an image. It is dedicated to someone.
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I'll Never Forget You

A poem by Peter S. Quinn

I'll never forget you
...In the waves of winter dark
As gleam light comes thru
Our memories shall spark
In the blue of the blue light
When my heart is still
Before tomorrow’s bright
For my aspirations to fulfill

My wings are to follow you
Onto the night of the night
Where no one but dreams go thru
In a morning of morning’s delight
Oh love - just come back
I shall become your one in one
And no song again to lack
Until two hearts are gone

Or I’ll never be singing again
Summer songs of new spring
My entire search will be in vain
Till I hear you again sing
Oh sweet love don't forget me
As winter comes in soon
And we to our dreams fly free
In the morning on gold lagoon

Evening Traveller

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Wed, 08 Sep 2010 15:49:47 -0700

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Taken near Fira in Santorini, Greece.

The above photo has been shot with the Samsung NX10
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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Evening Traveller

A poem by Peter S. Quinn

Sailing thru the deep
Somewhere there around
Hours to moment keep
Nowhere is still there found
Flowing away today
Page by page morning
On oceans wave play
With its weave of yearning

Dreams are there still
Coming to their light
With new hours to fulfill
At the seashore sight
Drifting there by along
Oceans waves in glows
In its magic on song
That no one still knows

Primes in to and fro
All through its hours
As these instant’s go
And new thoughts empowers
Dark in its leading shade
In freshly colors revolve
To each essential made
For new time to resolve

Disorder

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Sat, 04 Sep 2010 15:04:29 -0700

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Long exposure photo in a street in Mykonos, Greece.

The above photo has been shot with the Samsung NX10
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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The Sky Said So

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 04:59:03 -0700

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I've taken this photo near Angoulême in France

The above photo has been shot with the Samsung NX10
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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The Sky Said So

A poem by Peter S. Quinn

The sky said so
Always remember me
I will rise and then go
Like a merry-go-round free

Whisper my softly tone
For you only to hear
When you are quite alone
With only the blue there

Flow flow tones so flexible
Nothing to take away
When there's mist irresistible
Freshness of the coming day

Dreams that are there still
In every traveling about
With your moments to fulfill
When you are in doubt

The sky said so
In its forever eternity
As clouds go about to and fro
For times to come and be

I'm love of delicacy
Life seeds to be blessed
Every roadway of opportunity
The heart has always caressed

Pencil Vs Camera - 24

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Sat, 29 May 2010 06:54:41 -0700

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Nowadays life has become a capitalist game... Good or bad?

I took this photo in Montreal, Canada (I also made the rough
sketch, inspired by Super Mario Bros, of course)

Update: See THIS VIDEO showing 18 Pencil Vs Camera
images in progress (with a small animation and music).
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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Limerick

A poem by Peter S. Quinn

Here comes Mario on the run
He's just having so much fun,
Catching a dime
Whole lot of time,
Nothing's new under the sun!

Pencil Vs Camera - 20

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Sun, 16 May 2010 20:03:09 -0700

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I took this photo a few days ago and also drew the rough sketch... I wanted this to be a "frame in a frame" with optical illusions.

This is dedicated to Yves Rossy alias "JET MAN" (also known as "Fusion Man"). I admire him a lot.

He is a Swiss pilot, inventor and aviation enthusiast. He is nicknamed "Jet Man" and "Fusion Man" for being the first person to achieve sustained human flight using a jet-powered fixed wing strapped to his back, reaching a top speed of 304 km/h (189 mph). He developed and built a system comprising a back pack with rigid aeroplane-type carbon-fiber wings with a span of about 2.4 metres (7.9 ft), powered by four attached jet engines. He already flew across the English Channel, the Strait of Gibraltar and over the Alps. Next, Rossy plans to fly across the Grand Canyon in Arizona in the USA...

>>> Review from THE DAILY MAIL for this picture: "Trick of the eye: Ben Heine's drawing takes optical illusion to a new level as a hand holds a paper aeroplane" (Kerry McQueeney, The Daily Mail, Sept. 2011)

Update: See THIS VIDEO showing some 18 Pencil Vs Camera images in progress (with a small animation and an original musical composition).
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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Flying

A poem by Peter S. Quinn

We are all geniuses today
One by one I observe and say
Breaking rules of what we can
Making abstract of the uncommon
This and that we didn’t know
That it is we must show
Plainly done or complex
Take it easy now relax

Fly me fly me to the moon
Let me pass into deep space
New galaxies I’ll see soon
In their turning many ways
Deep beyond and further still
Where no man has gone yet
Every dream I must fulfill
On my own and with my jet

We have made our day clear
Finding out and all steer
That was not suppose to be
But we anyway did it free
Asking question not of why
Only doing what we try
This is so much fun to feel
Taking off to what isn’t real

We are passing through a stage
All their feeling and debates
Nothing seems unreachable
Not being unmade unteachable
We have made the sky fall
With our inventive certain call
All is undependable on a thought
And that we did or even ought

Fly me fly me to the moon
Let me see all the distances
New galaxies I’ll see soon
Let me take my chances
You and I together are
Feeling these times now
Let us hope and reach a star
To all our dreams somehow

Captured Sun - 2 -

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 22:43:58 -0700

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I took this from a train in Belgium, very early in
the foggy morning... and at a very high speed :D
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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Captured Sun

A poem by Peter S. Quinn

Captured sun to follow
Dreams are getting dark
Feelings inward hollow
Once did grow and spark
Evening in golden shine
Dripping in its foggy way
Murky times shading line
Now is early winter's day

Low and high day´s light
The futures coming on
Days for clearance bright
Some are thru and done
Yesterdays were so great
In their captured yearning
What is now their fate
In coming lights of learning

You and I were finding
Roadways ahead to know
Every worthwhile combining
In given moments to grow
Phone lines connecting thru
Everything has its own tie
High speeds between the new
Up to the break of day high

Random Sunrise

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 19:16:49 -0700

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I took this from a train in Belgium, very early in
the morning... and at a very high speed :D
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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Discover Kenya

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Sun, 04 Oct 2009 09:38:47 -0700

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Usain Bolt, Text Portrait

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Sun, 06 Sep 2009 21:22:43 -0700

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Enlarge HERE

This is a Text portrait I made with Usain Bolt's FULL biography! The whole work is actually a black and white digital painting with a huge text in the background. The original size of my Bolt's text portrait is huge (9000 pixels wide, 300dpi).
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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Usain Bolt is a Jamaican sprinter and a three-time Olympic gold medalist. He holds the world record for the 100 metres, the 200 metres and, along with his teammates, the 4x100 metres relay. He also holds the Olympic record for all three of these races. At the 2008 Summer Olympics, Bolt became the first man to win three sprinting events at a single Olympics since Carl Lewis in 1984, and the first man to set world records in all three at a single Olympics. In 2009 he became the first man to hold the 100 and 200 m world and Olympic titles at the same time.

Travelling Through Time

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 14:38:04 -0700

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She was running so fast, she could almost touch the future... I took this photo
near Spa in Belgium. (I played with my zoom to get this dynamic effect...)
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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(English version of the following poem below)

Tic Tac

Par Ben Heine

Attendre, attendre, attendre,
Le temps n'a rien à me vendre,
La pendule me gouverne égoïstement.
Les secondes me charrient cruellement.

Mais il me suffit de courir avec élan,
Alors, c'est le futur que j'aperçois,
La vitesse dérobe au temps,
Un instant d'éternelle vérité.

Le retour semble improbable,
L'ivresse est complète,
L'espace se désintègre,
Hier n'était qu'un rêve.

Je m'enfonce encore
Et m'accroche à la lumière.
Un soupçon d'égarement,
Dans un océan de matière.

Mais je ralentis à présent,
Le passé me rattrape.
Ce voyage était une illusion.
J’erre à nouveau sans repère.

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Tick Tock (English version)

By Ben Heine

I must wait, wait, wait,
Time is haunting me,
The clock controls me selfishly.
The seconds taunt me cruelly.

But I simply need to run fast,
Then, I can see the future,
Speed is the way towards
One minute of eternal truth.

The return seems improbable,
The ecstasy is complete,
Space around me disintegrates,
Yesterday was only a dream.

I am so attracted by this.
Light is coming with me.
A moment of distraction,
In an ocean of matter.

But I slow down now,
Past catches up with me.
This travel was just an illusion.
I wander again with no landmark.

Sea of Freedom

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 11:34:45 -0700

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It is a composite image based on several photos I took in different countries.
I wanted this to look very neat and clean with a surreal atmosphere...
The Zebra was taken in Kenya, the background in France.
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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I am The Wind Says The Wind

A poem by Peter S. Quinn

'I am the wind' says the wind,
I will improvise pictures in the sand;
What I've explored or chagrined,
You shall come to understand.

'I am the rain' says the rain,
I will sooth your mortal flesh;
With a drink from my reign,
There are no other holier fresh.

'I am the fire' says the fire,
I will open up darkness to you;
Give you longings and more desire,
In each thing you make and do.

'I am a child' says man's child,
Each word I make shall stand;
I'll make my rules out of the wild,
In each my way I command.

'I am the earth' says the earth,
You are nothing without me;
I gave you and your forefathers birth,
I set each thought and thing free.

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The poem appeared on www.poemhunter.com/peter-s-quinn

It's a Speed Life's Game

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Fri, 10 Jul 2009 09:27:57 -0700

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It's a Speed Life's Game

A poem by Peter S. Quinn

Each love is like racing cars,
Driving through the final line;
Wounds from losing - all its scars,
Shiver up your spine.

You, the driver of speed car,
Formulates through the years;
Rotten deals with feelings are,
Making clouds from tears.

Take the car and steer it well,
To lives fortunes and each fame;
You could likewise drive to hell,
It's a speed life's game.

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The poem appeared on www.poemhunter.com/peter-s-quinn

Abstract Big Bang

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Sun, 25 Jan 2009 17:36:29 -0800

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Big Bang Generation

Lyrics by Duran Duran

Falling into space at the end of time black as the black in your eyes
Staring through a hole in the ozone there's nobody home
to play back your answers from Climax out of blue
with just another high no there must be something new
Now that I'm so alien

Entering the atmosphere don't know what is waiting here oh no
If there's nothing left to fear when we come to gather
in the big bang generation

Teardrop in the sky bursting my eye sound of the morning sigh
This life is stranger than fiction surreal addiction it's all I recognize
Feeding of the habit losing control where is it leading to
now that I'm the alien

Entering the atmosphere don't know what is waiting here oh no
If there's nothing left to fear when we come to gather
in the big bang generation
(Feel like I'm losing control) Big bang generation
(Now that I'm here all alone) Big bang generation
(Feel like I'm losing control) Big bang generation
(Feel like I'm losing it) We're gonna come to gather here

Where you coming from when we gonna burn out don't know
Having so much fun greetings from the big bang generation
Big bang generation meet you in the big bang generation
Together in the big bang generation together
with the big bang generation

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Duran Duran's official website: www.duranduran.com/

Flashed

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Tue, 23 Sep 2008 17:09:52 -0700

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The Creation

A poem by James Weldon Johnson

And God stepped out on space,
And he looked around and said:
I'm lonely--
I'll make me a world.

And far as the eye of God could see
Darkness covered everything,
Blacker than a hundred midnights
Down in a cypress swamp.

Then God smiled,
And the light broke,
And the darkness rolled up on one side,
And the light stood shining on the other,
And God said: That's good!

Then God reached out and took the light in his hands,
And God rolled the light around in his hands
Until he made the sun;
And he set that sun a-blazing in the heavens.
And the light that was left from making the sun
God gathered it up in a shining ball
And flung it against the darkness,
Spangling the night with the moon and stars.
Then down between
The darkness and the light
He hurled the world;
And God said: That's good!

Then God himself stepped down--
And the sun was on his right hand,
And the moon was on his left;
The stars were clustered about his head,
And the earth was under his feet.
And God walked, and where he trod
His footsteps hollowed the valleys out
And bulged the mountains up.

Then he stopped and looked and saw
That the earth was hot and barren.
So God stepped over to the edge of the world
And he spat out the seven seas--
He batted his eyes, and the lightnings flashed--
He clapped his hands, and the thunders rolled--
And the waters above the earth came down,
The cooling waters came down.

Then the green grass sprouted,
And the little red flowers blossomed,
The pine tree pointed his finger to the sky,
And the oak spread out his arms,
The lakes cuddled down in the hollows of the ground,
And the rivers ran down to the sea;
And God smiled again,
And the rainbow appeared,
And curled itself around his shoulder.

Then God raised his arm and he waved his hand
Over the sea and over the land,
And he said: Bring forth! Bring forth!
And quicker than God could drop his hand,
Fishes and fowls
And beasts and birds
Swam the rivers and the seas,
Roamed the forests and the woods,
And split the air with their wings.
And God said: That's good!

Then God walked around,
And God looked around
On all that he had made.
He looked at his sun,
And he looked at his moon,
And he looked at his little stars;
He looked on his world
With all its living things,
And God said: I'm lonely still.

Then God sat down--
On the side of a hill where he could think;
By a deep, wide river he sat down;
With his head in his hands,
God thought and thought,
Till he thought: I'll make me a man!

Up from the bed of the river
God scooped the clay;
And by the bank of the river
He kneeled him down;
And there the great God Almighty
Who lit the sun and fixed it in the sky,
Who flung the stars to the most far corner of the night,
Who rounded the earth in the middle of his hand;
This great God,
Like a mammy bending over her baby,
Kneeled down in the dust
Toiling over a lump of clay
Till he shaped it in is his own image;

Then into it he blew the breath of life,
And man became a living soul.
Amen.Amen.

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The poem appeared on famouspoetsandpoems.com

Funicular in Lisbon, Portugal

nobody@flickr.com (Ben Heine) — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 15:40:15 -0700

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I took this picture in the very centre of Lisbon, Portugal.
It is dedicated to the Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa...
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For more information about my art: info@benheine.com
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I Know, I Alone

A poem by Fernando Pessoa (*)

(translated by J.Griffin)

I know, I alone
How much it hurts, this heart
With no faith nor law
Nor melody nor thought.

Only I, only I
And none of this can I say
Because feeling is like the sky -
Seen, nothing in it to see.

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(*) Fernando Pessoa (1888 - 1935) is the most celebrated Portuguese poet, who had a major role in the development of modernism in his country. Pessoa was a member of the Modernist group Orpheu; he was its greatest representative. He wrote under several "heteronyms", literary alter egos, who supported and criticized each other's works. During his lifetime Pessoa was virtually unknown and he published little of his vast body of work. He lived most of his life in a furnished room in Lisboa, and died in obscurity there.

Fernando Pessoa was born in Lisbon. His father died when Fernando was young. His mother married the Portuguese consul in Durban in South Africa, where he lived from 1896 to 195l. During these years Pessoa became fluent in English and developed an early love for such authors as William Shakespeare and John Milton. He also used English in his first collections of poems. Pessoa was educated in Cape Town and in Lisbon. Soon after 1905 he gave up his studies, and got a job as a business correspondent.

Pessoa earned a modest living as a commercial translator, and wrote to avant-garde reviews, especially to Orpheu, which was a forum for new aesthetic views. His praising articles of the saudosismo (nostalgia) movement provoked polemics because of their extravagant terms. Pessoa's first book, ANTINOUS, appeared in 1918, and was followed by two other collections of poems, all written in English. It was not until 1933 that he published his first book, MENSAGEM, in Portuguese. However, it did not attract attention.

The bulk of Pessoa's work was published in literary magazines, especially in his own Athena. Under his own name Pessoa wrote poems that are marked by their innovations of language, although he used traditional stanza and metrical patterns. The poetical technique for which Pessoa has become especially noted is the use of heteronyms, or alternative literary personae, resembling the verse personae of Ezra Pound. Ricardo Reis is an epicurean doctor with a classical education, Álvaro Campos, an engineer, represents the ecstasy of experience in the spirit of Walt Whitman, and Alberto Caeiro, a shepard, is against all sentimentality. Each persona has a distinct philosophy of life. Pessoa even wrote literary discussions among them.

In 'Toward Explaining Heteronomity' Pessoa criticized distinction of three generic types or classes of poetry - epic or narrative, in which the narrator speaks in the first person, drama, in which the characters do all the talking, and lyric, uttered through the first person. "Like all well conceived classifications, this one is useful and clear; like all classifications, it is false. The genres do not separate out with essential facility, and, if we closely analyse what they are made of, we shall find that from lyric poetry to dramatic there is one continuous gradation. In effect, and going right to the origins of dramatic poetry - Aeschylus, for instance - it will be nearer the truth to say that what we encounter is lyric poetry put into the mouths of different characters."

Pessoa died on November 30th, 1935 in Lisbon. He had avoided social life and the literary world, but his poetry started to gain wider audience in the 1940s. Several of his collections have been published posthumously and translated into Spanish, French, English, German, Swedish, Finnish, and other languages. Among the most important works are POESIAS DE FERNANDO PESSOA (1942), POESIAS DE ÁLVARO DE CAMPOS (1944), POEMAS DE ALBERTO CAEIRO (1946), and ODES DE RICARDO REIS (1946).

Known above all as a poet, Pessoa also wrote short essays, several of which were briefly sketched or unfinished. His LIVRO DO DESSOSSOGEGO (The Book of Disquiet), the "factless autobiography", written under the name Bernardo Soares, appeared for the first time in 1982, almost 50 years after the author's death. The Book of Disquiet is a collection of prose manuscripts, written in the style of an intimate diary. Its protagonist is troubled by alienation and the absence of meaning: "And I, truly, I am the centre that doesn't exist except as a convention in the geometry of the abyss; I am the nothingness around which this movement spins..."