Featured here are acid-soaked photographs taken at Boom Festival 2022's Dance Temple. Psytrance rippled across space-time as I attempted to capture these slippery psychedelic moments before whizzing past me forever.
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The annually anticipated New York International Auto Show displays the year's newest wheels, ideas and automotive designs to a buzzing international audience at NYC's Javits Center. With a focus on the future, this year the predominant idea was that of electrification. It seems that New York City is all-in on the inevitable ubiquity of EV's, from Tesla Taxis to EV ambulances, NYPD cars and garbage trucks.
A polished Toyota Takushī providing world-class service in Tokyo. (And I really do mean world-class service.)
Celebrating this Summer Solstice with a look back at a summer day spent on 'la plage' at the Franco-Spanish border beach town of Henday.
A highlighted line in my copy of Joyce's Finnegans Wake came to mind while editing these two photos I took while strolling around Seoul back in the spring of 2017, leading me to a delightfully fleeting Joycean juxtaposition. Almost as fleeting as reflected glints of light dancing long the river. "And still the light moves long the river. And stiller the merman ply their keg. Its pith is full. The way is free. Their lot is cast." "Thoughts in time and out of season
The Hitchhiker Stood by the side of the road And leveled his thumb In the calm calculus of reason" -Jim Morisson Bryce Canyon, UT.
The Garden of Forking Hoodoos. “Imagined a labyrinth of labyrinths, a maze of mazes, a twisting, turning, ever-widening labyrinth that contained both the past and future and somehow implied the stars... I felt myself for an indefinite while, the abstract perceiver of the world." - JLB, The Garden of Forking Paths Very fine Cylindropuntia spines
unwind after a long, sun-baked dry Arizona desert day. We jumped through one of those swirly Sedona portals and were vortexed into a weird, red infra-echo inter-world. Intermittent space between reverberating sounds suspended us above a proto-echoing silence. As we followed the sunrise trail a balloon lifted itself up out of an inferential vermilion void. Then another. And an another. And the nuclear sun bounced its squiggly messenger waves off the grand rugged Grandfather Rocks. Message received (at light speed), Sedona. Spacetime's speedy roll slowed down to a total standstill. Electrons and planetary heads stopped spinning. Nonplussed pupils paused and Khronos's majestic glacial quality seemed to melt at geological speed. Squiggly swigging Squiggles's chemical script.
"The summer we were gobbling all of Squiggles's white blotter, we'd time our doses to hit at sunset. We'd kick back on the coppery cliffs of Red rocks beneath a hunchbacked pine and watch the sun melt into an immense, resplendant sea. The sky stuck the total chord of the spectrum, from the crimson lump of the slipping orb through the violet haze of the canopy above. And to the east lay the distinct boundary where dusk stopped and evening began to sketch the uncertain hieroglyphs of the stars." - Erik Davis |
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