l'art pour l'art
Fine Art Gallery
I love the story behind the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s not just about architecture—it’s about courage. As iconic as the Brooklyn Bridge is—the suspension bridge connecting Manhattan and Brooklyn over the East River—it stands as more than an engineering marvel; it’s a monument to Emily Roebling’s defining achievement.
When her husband, the chief engineer, became bedridden with decompression sickness, Emily stepped into his role from 1872 to 1883, mastering advanced mathematics and complex engineering calculations to supervise construction... READ MORE
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One of my favorite images I've ever taken. My daughter, on her first trip to New York City, rests on a bench in front of The American Museum of Natural History.
From underground to the top of the rock
Positano, Amalfi Coast, Italy
Amalfi Coast, Italy
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments; love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring bark
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom:
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
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William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116
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Cumberland Island, a stunning barrier island located off the coast of Georgia is known for its pristine maritime forest, undeveloped beaches, rich history, and diverse wildlife. Only accessible by boat, entry is restricted to 300 people at a time.
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Every time I look at this image, that hangs next to my bedroom door, it reminds me of the beauty and mystery intertwined in this island and its most unusual story.
16th century cobblestone streets of Madrid, Spain
...Numberless crowded streets, high growths of iron, slender, strong, light, splendidly uprising toward clear skies,
Tides swift and ample, well-loved by me, toward sundown,
The flowing sea-currents, the little islands, larger adjoining islands, the heights, the villas,
The countless masts, the white shore-steamers, the lighters, the ferry-boats, the black sea-steamers well-model'd,
The down-town streets, the jobbers' houses of business, the houses of business of the ship-merchants and money-brokers, the river-streets,
Immigrants arriving, fifteen or twenty thousand in a week,
The carts hauling goods, the manly race of drivers of horses, the brown-faced sailors,
The summer air, the bright sun shining, and the sailing clouds aloft,
The winter snows, the sleigh-bells, the broken ice in the river, passing along up or down with the flood-tide or ebb-tide,
The mechanics of the city, the masters, well-form'd, beautiful-faced, looking you straight in the eyes,...
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Walt Whitman, Mannahatta