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  • Old Guild Username: Goldmarble
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    1. Goldmarble 11 yrs ago
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monstahunta said
43 million!? It looks like someone just stuck a band-aid with the squared edges onto a piece of paper, and plunged it into some old watercolor water that had A LOT of orange pigment dissolved in it.


http://www.christies.com/about/press-center/releases/pressrelease.aspx?pressreleaseid=6755
My apologies. It was estimated to sell for $43 million at Christie's New York Auction in 2012.

It actually sold for $86.8 million.
Alex said
The following people did not post in the thread affirming that they voted:
Goldmarble


My apologies. Didn't read. Voted.
Sherlock Holmes said
Great. Now let's see you do a master study of one of those (or even just explain to me why they work compositionally) and actually do something impressive.


This is the reason I'm not an "artist".

I cannot intellectually deduce the compositional elements of emotion and thought....

IE: I can't make up enough flowery bullshit to describe some stupid ass painting to convince someone to pay a ridiculous amount for it.



How the fuck does that sell for $43 MILLION? Seriously, how the fuck can anyone feel that is worth that much money? How much of a con artist was the painter, or whoever started this piece's rise to ridiculous expense?

Fuck painting. Fuck art. I'm going into the forest to take pretty pictures.
Dervish. I think you are missing a step between 6 and 7.
For those who use facebook frequently, I guess this could interest them.

But being the sort of person who only uses facebook to...be reachable by family and friends, I can't see the appeal personally.
It took you half an hour to google some famous paintings? Shit man, either you type slower than my grandmother, or your google-fu is weak. Nothing to be proud of here.
8 said
Turn up the aperture speed, it'll make the water look a lot better. Unless you're purposely doing a long exposure to get that smooth water effect, even then some changes might be made, looks a bit wonky right now. /amateurphotographerPictures look great, all that aside!


Intentional. Might be going too long. Generally in the area of a 15-25 second exposure.

Going to try shorter exposures, and a few other tweaks to my set up. Second pic was my attempt at HDR, subtle effect. Problem was that neither pic lined up. Forgot to turn off autofocus, and taking a remote with me.
Smiral said
These options are garbage and not even in a fun ironic way


Blame the people who nominated.
Barioth said
Where'd you take these pictures?


Vancouver Island, B.C., Canada.

Drakel said
Those are really nice Marble.


Thanks Drakel!
Tyko nodded, five total then. It shouldn't be too bad, plenty of time to get out for a hike on his own if he started to feel clustered, only for a week, he tried to tell himself. The edge of doubt crept into the shadows of his consciousness again before he pushed it aside, pulling a pair of pants from the drawer and rolling them into a more compact bundle before stuffing them into the day pack. He loaded a couple of novels as his listened to Danny, his head nodding as he closed the drawer and drew out the other, each drawer gliding on roller bearings for smooth use. If Danny's partner was there already, that likely meant that the trail ahead would be cleared for them, and at least some wood would be ready. He started filling his pack with dry grains packed in bags that had sealed and then vacuum packed at home, both to lengthen the time it took for the grains to spoil, and also saving packing space inside the drawer.

At the mention of other person in the parking lot, he looked up from his task, and leaned back to look around the truck to see who Danny was mentioning. A mild surprise greeted him when he saw her, and noticed her very dark complexion; to see someone who wasn't white wasn't unusual in Calgary or its environs, considering that the city's population was twenty percent of visible difference, but most of the visible minorities were of Asian or Indian decent. Black men and women being fairly thin on the ground in the western side of the country for reasons that were beyond Tyko's understanding.

As Danny continued about his friend, Tyko tucked a few more items into the pack, testing its ability to close, and then tucking another flashlight into the pack. Loaded up, the pack was solid, but far from being an overbearing burden. A quick roll of his sleeping bag before stuffing it into its sack, then a neat folding of the thermarest before he lashed them to the top and bottom of the day bag with some webbing straps. Scanning the back of the truck, he eyed the fishing rods and decided they could come tomorrow. Impi, his crosscut saw, named after his grandmother, would come along tomorrow as well, same as his axe.

~~~

She felt relieved to be in the green again, the air smelled more pure, and everything she touched felt cleaner. Less like there was a layer of something clinging to it, entrapping it. But those worm things were worth that feeling. The texture soft, slick, and with a resilient squish, almost like great, thin long worms. But so very different. Very uniform, and with such flavour she hadn't experienced since. She would find that food tin again. She would savor those again some day, she would find a way. Better yet! She had her human! Louhi still wasn't sure why being near the man brought such peace, or what had driven her to find that weight in the world that had guided her to him. Most humans had been nuisances, making all kinds of noise when she was just trying to eat from the food tins they had left out for her and her sisters.

As Louhi laid in the under growth of the shrubbery, she stretched out, relishing the movement as she blinked and looked around her. She didn't understand the surges of emotions she felt when he was near though. They were powerful, confusing, and sometimes consuming...something moves from the corner of her vision, he looked back to the rock ground where the humans were, and saw another human approaching her human and their current traveling companions.

~~~

Half into the back of the truck, setting the second jerry can of diesel into the deep reaches of the canopy for safe storage, he suddenly became a someone approaching. It was half knowledge, half unseen vision that he decided to attribute to Louhi. Her awareness was his, and his seemed to be hers in some ways. He still wasn't quite sure how this all worked. retreating from the truck, and stepping to the parking lot, he looked over and saw the woman approaching them. Half-consciously adjusting his shirt where it had caught on the waistband of his pants, he nodded to her as she introduced herself. Extending his right hand, he in turn, introduced himself, "Tyko Vaara. If you've been waiting for someone," his voice carried a hint of his native tongue, a bit hard and flat in areas, but quite clear, "it is likely us." He heard Jack approach from the other truck, followed by the grin breaking across her face, he followed the inclination of her head back to the small little figure that silently seemed to hop from the bushes, the little brown and cream blob watching them all.

He raised an eyebrow and nodded, before looking over tothe bushes where the little raccoon had disappeared into, "Louhi?" She was already on her way before he said her name. Somehow seeming to know it was safe. Was it her intuition, or his feelings falling into her again? In the moment of calm, he was hit with the probe of her curiosity as she popped out of the bushes, her grey, black and brown tinted fur now sporting a few bits of detritus from her lounging, she approached from under the old Jeep, before popping up on her hind feet and looking up at the new person, her head tilting to the right as she looked at the new person.

~~~

THOK!!

The seasoned billet divided in two and tried its best to spring away from the driving wedge-shaped head of the splitting axe. A hand sheathed in a worn and stained leather glove snatched one of the pieces and set it back to the old stump, currently pressed into service as a splitting block. Another blow descended on the block, forming quarters, to which she would divide again for use in the old cast iron wood stove. Pausing for a moment, Allison let the weight of the head drop itself into the stump, sinking the edge into the wood a little over a quarter inch. Pulling the gloves from her calloused hands, her feet carried her to the side bench where the sharpening stones, the bottle of oil and her water waited for her. The water, cool from the chill air felt wonderful as it rushed down her throat, it was hard work chopping wood, doubly so when you happened to be at over two thousand meters of elevation, just below the tree line. The view out from the little covered wood shed was, to most, mind blowing. Surrounded by the ridges and peaks of the Rocky Mountains, to the West lay a ridge that resembled the crenelated wall of a castle, a castle for the giants themselves. North was the gleaming white of the Haig Glacier, whose runoff formed the sheer chasm of Turbine Canyon, just a little north of where the cabin's themselves were built. East, over the tops of the trees she could peek at Black Prince and Hermoine Peak. South lay the little plateau shelf over the valley, between the hard, barren ridges and peaks. Not even a kilometer to the south waited Lawson lake.

She hoped Danny and Jack were alright, that nothing had happened to them on their way here, or the other two who were apparently coming with them. Weaving her fingers together, she twisted her palms out and stretched, knuckles popping in sweet release of tension as her shoulders swung her locked hands upwards and overhead, brushing against the canted, old roof. One final splash of water, a button undone on the long-sleeved checked shirt, a quick readjustment of the elastic that held her hair back from her face, and then the gloves were back on. She wanted to get the cord done and stacked before the others arrived.

The cabins themselves were small and rustic, log construction, with narrow doors and small windows to try an minimize heat loss. The old shingle roofs had long since been replaced with a green painted steel roof when the cabins were restored several years ago. Each had a healthy overhand above the front porch of the cabins, giving a place to stow boots, and other dirty gear, while protecting it from the worst of the elements. The windows had their protective winter shutters removed, and the regular cedar shutters turned out so the windows could be flung open, airing out the cabins that had been holed up for much of the winter.
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