To those who do not know mathematics it is difficult to get across a real feeling as to the beauty, the deepest beauty of nature . . . . If you want to learn about nature, to appreciate nature, it is necessary to understand the language that she speaks in.
What I am saying, to go to the root of my message and of my artistic position, is that there isnt just one reality. Instead, there are multiple realities. And if we limit this discussion to just myself and the person asking the questions mentioned above, then there are at least two different realities: theirs and mine. We both see the world in different ways. I see the world the way it is depicted in my work, and they see the world whichever way they like. That is OK. They can have their reality, I can have my reality, and I dont see a problem with that whatsoever.
The engineer whips out a protractor and straightedge
Ib. sc. 2. This scene, dreadful as it is, is still a relief, because a variety, because domestic, and therefore soothing, as associated with the only real pleasures of life. The conversation between Lady Macduff and her child heightens the pathos, and is preparatory for the deep tragedy of their assassination. Shakspeare's fondness for children is every where shown;in Prince Arthur, in King John; in the sweet scene in the Winter's Tale between Hermione and her son; nay, even in honest Evans's examination of Mrs. Page's schoolboy. To the objection that Shakspeare wounds the moral sense by the unsubdued, undisguised description of the most hateful atrocitythat he tears the feelings without mercy, and even outrages the eye itself with scenes of insupportable horrorI, omitting Titus Andronicus, as not genuine, and excepting the scene of Gloster's blinding in Lear, answer boldly in the name of Shakspeare, not guilty.
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My goal is to create images that represent the world not as it is, but as how I see it, how I feel when I am in a specific location and how I perceive this location as a whole. Not just the part that I see, but the part that I dont see: the melting sap of Pinion pines on a warm summer days; the call of a blackbird bouncing off a canyon wall; the heat waves floating in front of me over the bare sandstone; the multitude of sensory inputs that are, by nature, non-visual. After all, a photograph is nothing but something we can look at. Yet, the reality of the world is much more than that. We experience this reality through five senses: smell, touch, hearing, taste and finally sight. A photograph only makes use of the fifth sense. It is a partial perception of the world, representing at the most 1/5th of all that we sense. I wish those that argue that unaltered photographs can represent reality would understand that. But, as I explain, it is not in my power to change their mind. Therefore, I limit myself to just answering yes when they ask me questions about whether my work is manipulated or not. Of course my work is manipulated. How could it be otherwise? Only a fool would believe that it isnt. Yes.
Sandra Effinger -- MsEffie's LifeSavers for Teachers
Perhaps the most important part of the application is the essay that must be submitted as part of the complete application. This essay should include any personal and academic information that is relevant; reasons for applying to the Institute; your interests, both intellectual and personal in the topic; qualifications to do the work of the project and make a contribution to it; what you hope to accomplish by participation; and the relation of the study to your teaching.
I look forward to reading your application and would be happy to answer any questions you may have about any aspect of the program.
» Newspapers and Thinking the Unthinkable Clay Shirky
is that of one who had habitually familiarized her imagina-tion to dreadful conceptions, and was trying to do so still more. Her invocations and requisitions are all the false efforts of a mind accustomed only hitherto to the shadows of the imagination, vivid enough to throw the everyday substances of life into shadow, but never as yet brought into direct contact with their own correspondent realities. She evinces no womanly life, no wifely joy, at the return of her husband, no pleased terror at the thought of his past dangers, whilst Macbeth bursts forth naturally