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The explosion on the flower bed.

"People will decorate your own holiday only a few days,
and leave you to die in the white, cold box. . . "

Israeli artist Ori Gersht not just blow up the flower beds and bouquets
and with a very specific purpose and intent.




The project, entitled Blow Up, also known as "Explosion", inspired by the flower painting artist by the name of Henri Fantin-Latour, who created in the 19th century. However, photos Ori Gersht (Ori Gersht) "catch" the flowers at the very moment when they explode. The human eye can not see what happens when there is an explosion, but modern technology can help us to see, and for this angle.



Monte Carlo Seen from Roquebrune, 1884

But not only this is the whole point of the project. The author does not agree with the fact that the flowers - a symbol of peace and love, have to give their lives to their long admired in a vase or a wreath. And the pictures of the explosion show that the relationship that exists between violence and beauty, between destruction and birth




Blown here noga gallery

by Claude Monet paintings


There lived stars, hiding from the dawn .........


Nobody believed in what she fly
Nights succeeded dark bird
And our dreams wistfully flipping
Reading them page by page. No one could see in her eyes -
There lived stars, hiding from the dawn,
And the look of her, like a crystal tear,
Was deeper black velvet color.



Her hand is cold in the heat,
All surprised marbled skin
A burning hair, easy in the wind
In his hands was both heavier and more severe. She was able to speak quietly,
She could hear what was silent,
She, as anyone would love,
And, as any piercing dreamed ...



But every time a glass wall
As if out of nowhere grew,
When trusting someone she
Suddenly recognized that flew all night. From magical girl is to know
What do people believe in fairy tales no longer,
And at night, put all sleep,
Shuttered night, that the stars do not interfere?




by Saba at Las Brujas III




Again, she had opened my window,
Flew up into the sky a lonely bird
And her black world, substituting the bottom,
Was thick and I called, and did not give a break ...

? Copyright: Nick dreamlike 2007
Certificate publication №1705160761



Model Yulia Koltyrina
Photographer KrisCole

by Fabian Perez Paintings


Shadows, reflections, words, petals and weightless ... Artist Octavio Ocampo



 Casanova immortal, mortal crying Casanova.

Who taught you the roses, he taught spikes.

Shadows, reflections, words, petals and weightless ...

Who taught you the wings, he is taught to fall.

This is just an attempt to erase your name -

Icy, brilliant silence ...

Birds of black hair, shoulders, fingers - powerless.

Who taught you the sounds, he gave the names;

Soft sounds besslyshnym,

And sharp, and the counter-

Along polyhaniem You whisper floated ...

Who taught you to death, he knew infinity.

Who taught you to meetings, he taught separations.

In this light, the silver in a black frame

Collecting reciprocity fiery tribute

Who taught you the songs, he was poisoned by them.

Who taught naked, he was looking for it myself.

About time for lovers collection of tender -

Embark on a spearhead, where slow Your opinion

Print lips butterfly tenderness ...

Who taught thee with joy, he knew sorrow.

@ Edward Delyuzh





Marlena Dietrich - Octavio Ocampo

Mexican artist Octavio Ocampo was born on February 28, 1943 in Mexico. Studied art from early childhood, graduated from the School of Arts and Sculpture at the National Institute of Arts. From 1976 he devoted himself entirely to painting and sculpture.

"I'm fascinated by the forces of Good and Evil, the Sun and the Moon. I live in a mountainous area in the south-west of Mexico City, which is considered one of the most magical and magical places on the planet, as well as the Bermuda Triangle, in the mountains Tepotseko concentrated strange and unexplained power. "