#headrig

[armandposting]

also I officially grounded myself for the rest of this run of day sails and I'm actually extremely proud of myself for a) going aloft underway (multiple times!) and b) knowing when to fuckin quit lol. I think it's extremely cool that I did that this year and while I will go ahead and certify next year just so I have the option I also will not be sad if I never do it again. congratulating myself for finding my limits, edging over them, and then setting a boundary about them

[sakurabreeze]

There were leaves on the trees

And growth on the headrigs

You could confess

Everything to.

Even your fears

Of the night,

Of people

Even.

Seamus Heaney, A Herbal from Human Chain, 2010

[tam--lin]

woke up yesterday to two separate text threads informing me that Martha (Lady Washington's figurehead's) boobs fell off during headrig work

[focsle]

Went on the Boat for the first time since last September and returned with all my fingers. Went out on the headrig and didn’t fall into the harbor. A success!

[aspergillosis]

dynema lashings on Puritan's headrig

[guspedrosa]

[paultheanimator]

A headrig of the previously posted basketball character. It was fun to 3D-fake his cylinder hair. Completely made out of the shape layers.

Gif made by Paul the Animator

[mair-animation-illustration]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Mair Perkins (@mairperkins)

Head rig test for a current animation project. I've been working on this project for quite a few months on the research and preproduction with the client so I'm super excited to be starting the animation phase! 😁 #animation #aftereffects #motiongraphics #motiondesign #mograph #animator #design #illustration #digitalart #characteranimation #headrig #joysticksnsliders #headturn (at Mair Perkins Ltd. Animation and Illustration)

[3dscanninglosangeles]

Results from our #crosspolarization #crosspolarized #headrig #photography #photographer #photogrammetry #3dscan #vfx #3dscanninglosangeles #3dscanning #losangeles #zbrush @capturingrealitycom #3dscanningservice #cinema #vr (at 3D Scanning & Photogrammetry of Los Angeles)

[copperspun]

"Oh dear, let me. You are all a little too gruff for your own good, I think."

[poem-today]

A poem by Seamus Heaney

Follower

My father worked with a horse-plough, His shoulders globed like a full sail strung Between the shafts and the furrow. The horses strained at his clicking tongue. An expert. He would set the wing And fit the bright steel-pointed sock. The sod rolled over without breaking. At the headrig, with a single pluck Of reins, the sweating team turned round And back into the land. His eye Narrowed and angled at the ground, Mapping the furrow exactly. I stumbled in his hobnailed wake, Fell sometimes on the polished sod; Sometimes he rode me on his back Dipping and rising to his plod. I wanted to grow up and plough, To close one eye, stiffen my arm. All I ever did was follow In his broad shadow round the farm. I was a nuisance, tripping, falling, Yapping always. But today It is my father who keeps stumbling Behind me, and will not go away

Seamus Heaney

1939–2013

Listen to  Seamus Heaney read his poem.

[ninakaina]

headrig naps ❤️

[diablo-3-quotes]

Some scars don’t heal and there’s no point in scratching at them, is there? This world isn’t made for redemption.

Headrig Eamon

[p-isforpoetry]

Follower by Seamus Heanley (read by Sam Neill)

"DONT BE FRIGHTENED Let’s just have a chat this sunny morning ..." (SamNeillTheProp IG)

Follower by Seamus Heanley

My father worked with a horse-plough, His shoulders globed like a full sail strung Between the shafts and the furrow. The horses strained at his clicking tongue.

An expert. He would set the wing And fit the bright steel-pointed sock. The sod rolled over without breaking. At the headrig, with a single pluck

Of reins, the sweating team turned round And back into the land. His eye Narrowed and angled at the ground, Mapping the furrow exactly.

I stumbled in his hobnailed wake, Fell sometimes on the polished sod; Sometimes he rode me on his back Dipping and rising to his plod.

I wanted to grow up and plough, To close one eye, stiffen my arm. All I ever did was follow In his broad shadow round the farm.

I was a nuisance, tripping, falling, Yapping always. But today It is my father who keeps stumbling Behind me, and will not go away.

[ukdamo]

Follower

Seamus Heaney

My father worked with a horse-plough, His shoulders globed like a full sail strung Between the shafts and the furrow. The horses strained at his clicking tongue. An expert. He would set the wing And fit the bright steel-pointed sock. The sod rolled over without breaking. At the headrig, with a single pluck Of reins, the sweating team turned round And back into the land. His eye Narrowed and angled at the ground, Mapping the furrow exactly. I stumbled in his hobnailed wake, Fell sometimes on the polished sod; Sometimes he rode me on his back Dipping and rising to his plod. I wanted to grow up and plough, To close one eye, stiffen my arm. All I ever did was follow In his broad shadow round the farm. I was a nuisance, tripping, falling, Yapping always. But today It is my father who keeps stumbling Behind me, and will not go away

[alanwattscripwalk]

willamette valley gothic

saplings sprout on clearcut slopes that were once old growth forest. across the county moss grows on the peeled-paint houses and log trucks sit in the field collecting rust and sprouting vines. the giant circular saw stands still and silent at the headrig on the edge of town: the mill closed before you were born, but you remember it running

you spend every day of summer break playing baseball in this empty lot. but before you can throw the opening pitch you have to clear the gangly blackberry vines. they come back every morning. after a winter of rain the lot’s turned entirely to a thicket. maybe you can find another lot this summer

the trees of the hazelnut orchard are uniformly regimented, a series of clones disappearing into the horizon. it’s warm when the sun rises. the cold settles with the fog. the trees look like ghosts. it doesn’t help that they’re moving

you go camping at the spot up siuslaw where grandpa used to take you skeet shooting. you’re woken in the morning by the woodcutters’ saws. there aren’t any firewood pickups on the drive back down the mountain. in fact there’s a landslide blocking the main road. the river rises with the heavy rain. the saws still rev. you wish you had your grandpa’s 12 gauge

you smell the big dairy before you see it. when you see it, you wish you hadn’t

your buddy wants to move to eugene so you go until you’ve burned too many bridges and spent all your money. you move to salem but hear too much screaming and see too many cop cars. you move to portland and it’s the nicest place you’ve been. your buddy wants to move back home. you’re not sure where that is