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We see it constantly, on- and offline. We don't notice it, because this is how it is supposed to be.
White space separates letters, words, and lines of text from each other. It stands between paragraphs, highlights images, and breaks pages.
It doesn't have own value. Its purpose is to make other, meaningful things stand out. We only pay attention to it when it is missing.
Photographers call the same negative space, but this sounds, erm, too negative—forgive the pun.
Greenland is full of white space. It is the largest island on Earth, a huge area with a thin coastline inhabited by a tiny population. The rest, its entire interior is covered with ice.
Its map is still full of Unexplored markings, to this day. Obviously, the Age of Discovery had spent its time elsewhere, and now it's simply too late.
It seems, Greenland may remain white space for some time.
The old Civilization II computer game had a scenario with an alien military base banged dead in the middle of Greenland.
I always liked the idea.
I have had enough, I am ready to escape. 30 hours after I will have posted this, I will hopefully land in Greenland, on to discover Thule, the mythic world's end of the Greeks and Vikings, in single-digit degrees Centigrade, thirty-to-forty-something Fahrenheit, for a change.
The same scorching heat tormenting the northerners lately seems to have taken care of the sea ice along the planned route of my cruise. Ironic, I am going to benefit from what everybody around, including myself, has been suffering for so long.
Notes to self: Open windows don't make the heat disappear, quite the contrary. Retaining some decency in your attire doesn't make you feel more comfortable, but so much more confident. The life still goes on, but on a low heat, or so it seems, strange, high vs low and outer vs inner. The latter note doesn't relate to arguments, though.
Two days ago, the longest total moon eclipse in this century took place, as an omen of some kind.
I am off to pack, I hate it.
During my holiday, I won't be able to check my emails, nor tend to your orders, sorry. I will be back on August 15.
We study hotel reviews, timetables, and weather records before booking a holiday, compare test results and comments before buying a camera, even read critiques and watch trailers before heading to the cinema, putting up with spoilers along the way.
Well, I do 😳
If you are anything like me, you sure would appreciate that now you can do away with doubts before ordering your large art prints.
To be certain about how your gorgeous framed print will look like, simply order a proof paper print of the same image, with same dimensions, and on the same paper medium first.
The test print will arrive watermarked, so you probably wouldn't want to show it in public, but otherwise it will be just the same as the real thing, only without the mount. You will be able to fully assess its quality at a fraction of the cost—its price is very affordable, it comes without the artist's fee, and its postage is the lowest possible for the size!
Even better, if you decide to buy the original image after proof, the latter's cost including delivery will be deducted from your order total.
In other words, one proof is on the house with every purchase of a XL print over 120 cm on photographic paper, no matter how mounted*. Just make sure to request the repeating quote with the same email address, or mention the test order reference number in the comment field.
That's it! Now if you got big plans, you can also have the insurance that they become reality, for free!
The Proof Print option is available with every paper print quote as of now. Head over to request yours here!
*Canvas and textile prints are exempt from this offer. No Certificates of Authenticity will be provided for proof prints.
Cheap can still be not worth the money, while many things in life, no matter how expensive, are bigger than their price tag.
Like the evening a mere two days ago. Ten people met at a former restaurant to celebrate an artist, and his friend, a star chef, prepared a four-course dinner for all.
It wasn't free, for sure, but the experience was so much more than the cost.
Or, take my last holiday. I spent a week in the Italian Dolomites, in a place on the edge of where you can get by train in one day from my home.
Imagine gorgeous weather—plenty of snow and winter sun, the most iconic mountains in the whole Alps, great hiking, strenous but rewarding, fiddling with cumbersome bus schedules to get around—it's still deep province, mind you—returning to the hotel for the afternoon tea, then slipping into the sauna with panoramic windows out to those iconic mountains, seeing the light dwindle outside and wishing the time would stay still for a breath…
I mean, how would you measure this in money?
It is a mechanical piece, now being serviced at its maker's.
I miss it.
I don't know how to express the feeling. I would say I feel like falling out of time, or losing time, literally, without any connotations it may imply.
Does it make sense?
In the beginning, I caught myself keeping to glance at my wrist, looking for time, trying to tell it, not being able to get accustomed to my new watch-less, timeless state.
I would repeatedly startle at the thought that I didn't wind my watch in time, then remember that it wasn't necessary, for the time being.
December, the end of the year, the festive season, the New Year's Eve, all came and went, as it is time's custom, unmeasured, untold, unnoticed.
Slowly, I started getting the time off station clocks, my laptop at home and another one at the office, and my mobile, at last, when I commute to work and need to make time on a train.
It is winter after all—the sun and the stars are a rare sight. Even if I could read them.
I wish you all the time you'd need this year to make it a happy one.
Tags: #plainlight #whatsnew #getinspired
Oct 22, 18 04:41 PM
Jul 29, 18 03:33 PM