#Images of Sigrid

[alfairb]

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Alone, sex in shadow walks At home with you You say you have no control At all, on you The world is an empty place Alone with you

[serennes-art]

"cry for me and maybe i'll catch you, falling star!"

[garadinervi]

Sigrid Weigel, Epistemology of Wandering, Tree and Taxonomy. The system figuré in Warburg’s Mnemosyne project within the history of cartographic and encyclopaedic knowledge, «Images Re-vues» – Histoire, anthropologie et théorie de l'art, [Online], Hors-série 4 (2013): 'Survivance d'Aby Warburg' (pdf here)

[karriethemechtech]

Exhausted. That’s what Karrie was, exhausted. The second she had finished work for the day, she stumbled back to her quarters and collapsed here on the couch. According to the chronometer on the wall, she had been for the past 32 minutes.

33 minutes now.

She groaned and sat up slightly. Not that she did much work at all, really, she thought. All those orders—strange orders at that, as if anything around Hawk was ever normal—and so many of them had slipped out of her fingers. She had done her share, she was sure, but so much of the slack fell on…on…

Sigrid. Images of jagged scars flashed in Karrie’s mind, and her hand drifted towards her torso. That arm having to do all that work…work she didn’t do. It was embarrassing, and a betrayal, that Karrie failed to even do the bare minimum for her fellow MechTech.

The morning’s brunch danced through her mind then. No. Not just another MechTech. Something…more? She pushed the thought aside. Sigrid was a friend, of course she was a friend, and that wasn’t the way Karrie wanted to treat any of her first friends in years. She needed to fix it. That was what she did. Fixing. That was who she was.

Of course, that didn’t make it any easier. She was locked-up, tired. ICEs get locked up without lubricant, you know. It was…it was hard to think. Fixing! Oh, did you make sure you checked the engine on that Thug before you sent it off? There might be containment field issues! Just like on the Orca. You remember the Orca? Karrie scrambled for a handhold. She needed fresh air. Fresh air! It’s cold outside. Remember winters back home? They always used to…

There it was. She needed something to calm her head. Hot chocolate would do the trick. She stumbled to her rattling mini-fridge, upon which a jury-rigged hydraulic piston sat, gently shaking with each rocking motion of the magneto below. Milk. Chocolate. Heat. Stir. It was simple; it was calming. She could grab hold of something like that, something she knew.

Karrie looked to the mirror through the open bathroom door. She squinted. For a moment, she saw a woman with flowing blond hair. Someone to care about. Then she blinked, and all she saw was herself.

Maybe Sigrid liked hot chocolate too.

@on-a-mechtechnicality

[misspeppermint2003]

Picrew Animated Portraits of World Politicians 15

Another but nearly two months after my collection's fourteenth part, I made the fifteenth and last part and it's consisting of 12 Picrew animated portraits of few world politicians with this image maker.

1st left: Mark Rutte & Geert Wilders

1st middle: Mark Rutte & Marine Le Pen

1st right: Marine Le Pen & Sigrid Kaag

2nd left: Karina Milei & Maia Sandu

2nd middle: Javier Milei & Giorgia Meloni

2nd right: Manuel Valls & Geert Wilders

3rd left: Tony Blair & Peter Mandelson

3rd middle: Mark Rutte & Ingrida Šimonytė

3rd right: Mette Frederiksen & Giorgia Meloni

4th left: Theresa May & Angela Merkel

4th middle: Justin Trudeau & Maia Sandu

4th right: Mark Rutte & Emmanuel Macron

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

[piyo13sdoodles]

@bi-widower-dads' barduil month day 5: family! have a post-canon royal portait :')

other barduil month entries: [1] [2] [3] [4] - [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23]

[image id: a line drawing of legolas, bain, thranduil, bard, tilda, and sigrid. all of them are wearing crowns, and bard's kids have their hair grown out.]

[lamemaster]

Men Reacting to Meeting Elves First Time

AN: Inspired by this post- by @actual-bill-potts. Idk I just felt the urge to bring this to the world. No elves were harmed in writing this.

Summary: A series of interviews brought to you by yours truly :)

Ulfang: (stares directly into camera with deadpan expression) the first time I saw Maedhros, I held his arm, his only arm (chuckles) to help him cross the road.

(Camera zooms in)

Ulfang: (shuffling in his seat) I thought he was blind. I though he was poor blind elf with no pupils. I even told the kids to be kinder to him...

Interviewer: Andreth please put down the book for now.

Andreth: (annoyed Edain noises) Ah yes the shadow in the East-

Interviewer: Nope not this again (Athrabeth flashbacks). We're talking about your first meeting with Aegnor

Andreth: He was so still I walked past him confusing him for a lamp. (Love crazed smile on her face) Gangly limbs and wild gleaming hair and very eerily still. And then I jumped ten foot into the sky when he suddenly called for me.

Andreth: Flame and moth, (dreamy sigh) thats what they call us.

Beor: We really could not see anything but a blob of light and follow the music that filled the air. I mean what else would anyone assume. Only gods hold such prowess.

Interview: (muttering under breath) Well Celebrimbor and Ar-Pharzon would disagree...

Beor: What (confused dad smile)?? So I approached Nom, whose form stood shrouded by glowing hair that seem to carry the notes of his music.

Beor: At that moment I knew I fell in love, he would be my people's salvation.

Turin: The first time my mother took me to Thingol I scream cried for an hour (Embarrassed head shake).

Interviewer: You lived after that??

Turin: I did because Thingol thought my reaction after seeing a semi-transparent Melian was better...I thought she was the ghost of the crazy lady who lived next door...can you image the childhood trauma of all that in one day...(continues shaking head vigorously. I was scarred. That damned Saeros never let me live it down...

Beren: (Cuddling into Luthien) Society says twisted taste, I say man of culture.

Luthien: They won't dare love (percariously taps her claws on the interviewer's table).

static noises

Aragorn: (barging into Boromir's interview) Why was I not invited?

Interviewer: part elven and the Dunedain don't count...too desensitized.

(Bickering continues)

Interviewer: What was it like meeting the king of woodland realm?

Bard: I was half delirious and running on adrenaline I think I saw four of him and rolled with it. Altough Tilda and Sigrid did complain about unfair hair privillages.

Interviewer: I see (agressively scribbles crying emojis)

[enbeemagical]

been wanting to post this picture I drew of Destiny from the scene where they get new clothes. baby is trans gemder and loving it

ID: a pencil sketch of an androgynous person in a suit with curly shoulder-length hair. They have a surprised expression on their face and are surrounded by a curved mirror frame /end ID

ID: the same image as before, but now with the lyrics "I love who I see, looking at me in the mirror" to each side and along the bottom. The edges of the paper are visible /end ID

lyrics are from Mirror by Sigrid, which has trans vibes to me

Quote from the scene:

"I looked confident. And really good. Not quite like a boy or a girl. ...... I looked stronger than I was, more confident than I was. I looked… right."

[carraways-son]

Dimanche

Ciel très habité, jonquilles et narcisses partout en fleurs, aubade offerte aux canards par un saxophoniste solitaire, lune ennuagée : quelques images d'un dimanche paresseux en partie passé avec "Jenny", roman de la Norvégienne Sigrid Undset (prix Nobel de littérature en 1928). Sinon, ma fille s'est pour la première fois accordé un week-end pour elle seule à Tokyo, avec au programme voyage en shinkansen, cocooning à l'hôtel, visite de plusieurs expositions, balade, liberté... avant de retrouver son mari et ses kids. Je suis trop fier d'elle.

[rebockey]

Silly art full of dnd campaign references that only an audience of 10 will fully understand. If that, tbh. Even I don't fully understand what happened here.

--

Please don't make me do an image descriptio-

We're in the mancave of the Creature of the Deep, an Aboleth overlord of the passage of dead, aka Father or Dabby to the cool above-table kids. Reclined on a sofa that probably smells, Dabby plays the playstation with Sigrid, a monster hunter Ranger-turned-Fathomless Warlock who sports facial war paint, tribal tattoos and scars, and a t-shirt that reads Women Want Me, Fish Fear Me. She has lil pink sockies because she deserves pretty things. From Sigrid's outrage and the smug look exuding from the Aboleth's three eyes and huge toothy grin, it looks like Dabby's winning what is probably FIFA considering the green glare from the TV. Which is impressive, considering he's also smoking a joint, waving a cap that reads Kiss My Bass, spilling a bowl of crisps, dropping a Queen coin in Sigrid's drink, generally wiggling gleeful tentacles, and crushing a beer can over newly-employed Reika, a dark elf blood hunter who defends against the beer spillage while playing darts. She's looking great considering she's dead. And a werewolf. Around the room are references to the campaign including a wanted poster of everyone's favourite undead friend Qwyn, a Jaws poster (signed by Jaws of course), and a book written by Asmodeus on 'How to Win Conduits and Influence Mortals' resting on a stone table that's inscribed Property of Bardh Museum. How are you doing, listener? Had enough yet? Sit tight, about 40% more to come. A bonsai tree provides the only semblance of life in this room while a model ship with golden sails brightens up the place under an equally bright neon sign that reads 'My Cave My Rules'. Stalactites drip into buckets and make you realise just how smoky the room is and how dank and damp the walls and floor are - and is that a black humanoid cat creature peeping through a crack in the wall? Why yes it is! That's Moonlight-Through-Rain who explored some faint archway runes the last time she was having a near death experience. And by exploring I absolutely mean chipping through a wall out of curiosity rich on the hubris scale. But it's fine, since Dabby has since installed a bolt on the runic arch so there's no letting that curious kitty into the eclectic scene. There's also a rug here. Ocean colours. It doesn't have a joke, I just wanted to fill a space.

[onwesterlywinds]

PROMPT #14: Telling

Ahtyn did not know what prompted her to lift the katana in the Sandsea's basement from its stand, but she knew at once upon doing so that it was much too fine a weapon for her to wield.

It wasn't so much that she could see the craftsmanship that had gone into it, though it was certainly one of the most beautiful blades she had ever laid eyes on up close: she felt its balance with every movement she made. Even the slightest shifting of her own weight between her feet would cause the katana to move accordingly in her hands, as though it could sense her subconscious intentions.

She did not trust herself to hold it safely without causing damage to the rest of the forge, and so she brought it out to the gym for a few practice swings.

The stances she had learned did not return to her readily. Ahtyn had always found physical memory the most difficult to master, and her near decade of practice with longer, thicker, heavier blades only made her study of the katana more obtrusive in some respects. Still, as she lifted the sword over her head, she at once sensed that her back muscles were not in proper alignment: her stance was still too primed for the deck of a boat rather than for the execution of a slice, and her footwork was - and she could still hear Mylla's shout in her head - "a bloody mess at best."

When at last she was certain she could do justice to the katana even the slightest bit, she swung it downward in a diagonal arc, then sideways through the air.

The smith's mark - a unique TK engraved in a bold hand that seemed to Ahtyn at odds with the delicate details intrinsic to the rest of the blade - gleamed against the overhead lights.

"Not bad," came a low voice from behind her.

Ahtyn had not known that anyone else was awake so early in the morning, but a woman leaned against the doorframe that led to the showers, herself freshly bathed. It took a moment for Ahtyn to place her, with her silvered hair still heavy with moisture and devoid of a sky pirate's trappings - but her elegant face was unmistakable.

"You're-" Ahtyn blushed as her memory failed her. "I'm so sorry - we met in Sharlayan during the Final Days; you were coordinating with the Redbills."

"That's right," the woman confirmed. "It's Sigrid."

With that reminder, Ahtyn recalled that she was Sigrid Keane - and that her family had built the house that now served as the Riskbreakers' center of operations in Ala Mhigo.

"Quite alright," the captain continued. "I daresay you were busier than any of us when the sky turned red."

Ahtyn shrugged. "I never did get to thank you for all you did, though."

Sigrid let out a single laugh as sharp as her stare. "Glad to have helped. As it turns out, ordering Leofard around for a day makes for an excellent remedy for despair." She glanced down at a watch on her wrist, though not in a sense that made Ahtyn suspect she was bored. "Radlia contributed to the gathering of adamantite as well, of course, though she'd sooner take a long walk off a short deck than admit it."

"Yeah," Ahtyn said, and found herself laughing as well. "Yeah, that tracks."

As their conversation slowed and died, Ahtyn looked down at the sword in her hands, and Sigrid did the same.

"Have you been studying the katana long?" Sigrid asked her.

"What? Oh, no. Only about a few moons." Even then, she'd put her learning aside throughout her journeys in Tural. "Just wanted to try something new, y'know?"

Sigrid gave a little "mmm" in affirmation. "I'm glad that that one found its way to your hands."

"I'm definitely not keeping it," Ahtyn said firmly. "Not trying to be humble about it, or anything - but it's way too nice for me to be lugging into battle." A mental image emerged, before she could suppress it, of her carrying around Zenos' bag of swords. "And that's without me barely having a grasp on the basics."

Sigrid stepped forward, redirecting the positioning of Ahtyn's hands until her stance felt much more aligned. "You'll get there," she said. "A blade this fine was meant to be used. Its creator always said as much."

Only with those words did Ahtyn remember that Bull had called the sword a Keane masamune. "And… what was his name? Your dad?"

Her eyes widened at the question, but she replied, "Tieger." Again she glanced down at the sword. "He was… I think of him as being born before his time. Especially now."

"How so?"

"He always wanted nothing more than to outfit a hero of the realm. Instead, his work went to Mad King Theodoric. And to a host of other tyrants." She let out a little breath that might have been a laugh. "'The commissions pay far better when they go to gather dust.' His words."

Ahtyn made to return the blade to its sheath, only to realize halfway through the motion that she'd left it on top of its stand.

"Well," she said, and the word hung heavy in the air for longer than she would have liked. "Better to gather dust than blood."

"True enough." Sigrid's face had gone grave, even for the grim smile that had crossed her face. "...Aye. True enough."

[thinkingimages]

In “A Berlin Chronicle” the memory-plate is already associated with the figure of lighting. Benjamin writes of a flaring light (aufschieBende Licht) and of “moments of sudden lighting” (Augenblicke plötzlicher Beleuchtung) that are “at the same time moments when we are separated from ourselves [AuBurUns-Seins]”: “While our waking, habitual, everyday self is involved actively or passively in what is happening, our deeper self rests in another place and is touched by the shock, as is a little heap of magnesium powder by the flame of the match. It is to this immolation of our deepest self in shock that our memory owes its indelible images.” 

– The Flash of Knowledge and the Temporality of Images: Walter Benjamin’s Image-Based Epistemology and Its Preconditions in Visual Arts and Media History. Author(s): Sigrid Weigel, Translated by Chadwick Truscott Smith and Christine Kutschbach

[garadinervi]

Josef Albers, March 19, 1888 / 2023

(image: Sigrid (Sisi) von Schweinitz (photograph), Josef Albers, ca. 1954. HfG-Archiv Ulm. © Sigrid von Schweinitz)

[zurich-snows]

Body-and Image-Space: Re-Reading Walter Benjamin

Sigrid Weigel

Psychology Press, 1996 - Literary Criticism - 204 pages

Assembled here for the first time in English translation Sigrid Weigel offers illuminating new insights into Benjamin's theory, combining impulses from post-structuralism, feminism, cultural anthropology and psychoanalysis. The last decade has seen a new wave of interest in philosophical and theoretical circles in the writings of Walter Benjamin. In Body-and Image-Space Sigrid Weigel, one of Germany's leading feminist theorists and a renowned commentator on the work of Walter Benjamin, argues that the reception of his work has so far overlooked a crucial aspect of his thought - his use of images. Weigel shows that it is precisely his practice of thinking in images that holds the key to understanding the full complexity, richness and topicality of Benjamin's theory.

Source: routledge.com

[misspeppermint2003]

Picrew Animated Portraits of World Politicians 4

After three parts at the first day, I made the fourth part of this collection with an image maker. It is also consisting of 12 politicians from different countries.

Dutch FvD party leader Thierry Baudet (left), former U.S. Presidents Donald Trump (middle) & Barack Obama (right)

British Former Deputy Prime Minister Nick Clegg (left), former Home Secretary Priti Patel (middle) & Shadow Chancellor of the Exchequer Rachel Reeves (right)

British Labour Party Deputy National Campaign Coordinator Ellie Reeves (left), Dutch former Deputy Prime Minister Sigrid Kaag (middle) & Dutch former Socialist Party leader Lilian Marijnissen (right)

Dutch former Labour Party leader Lilianne Ploumen (left), British former Deputy Prime Minister Dominic Raab (middle) & Dutch former Second Deputy Prime Minister Wopke Hoekstra (right)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15

[barbarapicci]

Streetart by Edmundo Garcia @ Barcelona, Spain, for Unmute Gaza, organized by B-Murals Centre d’Art Urbà Reference photo by MahmouD Bassam

“On February 3th, different artists got together to paint 4 walls – one for each color of the Palestinian flag – in which we used images taken by different photojournalists from Gaza as reference; thus trying to show our opinion on the incessant and ruthless Israeli attack on Palestine and giving visibility to the work of these journalists and the Unmute Gaza collective.

Green: Nadia Jaber + Juan Kantor with a photograph by Majdi Fathi White: Jaume Montserrat with a photograph by Belal Khaled Red: Sigrid Amores with a photograph by Ali Jadallah Black: Edmundo Garcia with a photograph by MahmouD Bassam”

More info at: https://barbarapicci.com/2024/02/21/streetart-edmundo-garcia-barcelona-spain/