#softhues

[totegoddess]

Lotus Flowers Tote Elegant lotus flowers with minimalist lines and soft hues, creating a serene and refined design.

Get yours here >

[herbalnature]

The tranquil waters of Mill Lake nestle amidst the rugged Sawtooth Mountains, reflecting the soft hues of dawn. A serene escape into nature's embrace, where the treeline whispers secrets to the alpine breeze.

[jahrohi-unltd]

Soft Hues: Child of God

A palette of vintage dreams! 🌺 #VintageDreams ___________

Shop below 👇

redbubble.com/people/Jahrohi-Unltd/shop?asc=u

[gallerygurls]

Blush exterior. Feeling inspired by soft and delicate shades? This blush exterior is the epitome of grace and charm. Get ready to fall in love.

[yorkshireword]

“We like to call it biographical design,” says Aujla. And sometimes their work becomes auto-biographical, such as 2018’s Collection 3, which was largely inspired by Satyajit Ray films, the décor of Indian public spaces, and the bamboo and jute craft one finds in Punjab region, where Aujla’s family is from; Collection 4, meanwhile, which included lots of metal and welding jackets, was inspired by Bloomstein’s grandfather, a naval architect at the Brooklyn Navy Yard. It’s an unerring, deeply personal sensibility that represents a radical departure from the ubiquitous, softhued “is it real or is it a rendering?” aesthetic that dominated the mid-to-late 2010s.

[7r0773r]

A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man by James Joyce

This spirit of quarrelsome comradeship which he had observed lately in his rival had not seduced Stephen from his habits of quiet obedience. He mistrusted the turbulence and doubted the sincerity of such comradeship which seemed to him a sorry anticipation of manhood. The question of honour here raised was, like all such questions, trivial to him. While his mind had been pursuing its intangible phantoms and turning in irresolution from such pursuit he had heard about him the constant voices of his father and of his masters, urging him to be a gentleman above all things and urging him to be a good catholic above all things. These voices had now come to be hollow sounding in his ears. When the gymnasium had been opened he had heard another voice urging him to be strong and manly and healthy and when the movement towards national revival had begun to be felt in the college yet another voice had bidden him be true to his country and help to raise up her language and tradition. In the profane world, as he foresaw, a worldly voice would bid him raise up his father's fallen state by his labours and, meanwhile, the voice of his school-comrades urged him to be a decent fellow, to shield others from blame or to beg them off and to do his best to get free days for the school. And it was the din of all these hollowsounding voices that made him halt irresolutely in the pursuit of phantoms. He gave them ear only for a time but he was happy��only when he was far from them, beyond their call, alone or in the company of phantasmal comrades. (pp. 72-73)

***

He drew forth a phrase from his treasure and spoke it softly to himself:—A day of dappled seaborne clouds.

The phrase and the day and the scene harmonised in a chord. Words. Was it their colours? He allowed them to glow and fade, hue after hue: sunrise gold, the russet and green of apple orchards, azure of waves, the greyfringed fleece of clouds. No, it was not their colours: it was the poise and balance of the period itself. Did he then love the rhythmic rise and fall of words better than their associations of legend and colour? Or was it that, being as weak of sight as he was shy of mind, he drew less pleasure from the reflection of the glowing sensible world through the prism of a language manycoloured and richly storied than from the contemplation of an inner world of individual emotions mirrored perfectly in a lucid supple periodic prose. (p. 146)

***

Perhaps they had taken refuge in number and noise from the secret dread in their souls. (p. 147)

***

Where was his boyhood now? Where was the soil that had hung back from her destiny, to brood alone upon the shame of her wound and in her house of squalor and subterfuge to queen it in faded cerements and in wreaths that withered at the touch? Or, where was he. 

He was alone. He was unheeded, happy, and near to the wild heart of life. He was alone and young and wilful and wildhearted, alone amid a waste of wild air and brackish waters and the seaharvest of shells and tangle and veiled grey sunlight and gayclad lightclad figures of children and girls and voices childish and girlish in the air.

A girl stood before him in midstream: alone and still, gazing out to sea. She seemed like one whom magic had changed into the likeness of a strange and beautiful seabird. Her long slender bare legs were delicate as a crane's and pure save where an emerald trail of seaweed had fashioned itself as a sign upon the flesh. Her thighs, fuller and softhued as ivory, were bared almost to the hips where the white fringes of her drawers were like feathering of soft white down. Her slate-blue skirts were kilted boldly about her waist and dovetailed behind her. Her bosom was as a bird's, soft and slight, slight and soft as the breast of some dark-plumaged dove. But her long fair hair was girlish: and girlish, and touched with the wonder of mortal beauty, her face.

She was alone and still, gazing out to sea; and when she felt his presence and the worship of his eyes her eyes turned to him in quiet sufferance of his gaze, without shame or wantonness. Long, long she suffered his gaze and then quietly withdrew her eyes from his and bent them towards the stream, gently stirring the water with her foot hither and thither. The first faint noise of gently moving water broke the silence, low and faint and whispering, faint as the bells of sleep; hither and thither, hither and thither: and a faint flame trembled on her cheek.

—Heavenly God! cried Stephen's soul, in an outburst of profane joy.

He turned away from her suddenly and set off across the strand. His cheeks were aflame; his body was aglow; his limbs were trembling. On and on and on and on he strode, far out over the sands, singing wildly to the sea, crying to greet the advent of the life that had cried to him. Her image had passed into his soul for ever and no word had broken the holy silence of his ecstasy. Her eyes had called him and his soul had leaped at the call. To live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life! A wild angel had appeared to him, the angel of mortal youth and beauty, an envoy from the fair courts of life, to throw open before him in an instant of ecstasy the gates of all the ways of error and glory. On and on and on and on!

He halted suddenly and heard his heart in the silence. How far had he walked? What hour was it?

There was no human figure near him nor any sound borne to him over the air. But the tide was near the turn and already the day was on the wane. He turned landward and ran towards the shore and, running up the sloping beach, reckless of the sharp shingle, found a sandy nook amid a ring of tufted sand knolls and lay down there that the peace and silence of the evening might still the riot of his blood.

He felt above him the vast indifferent dome and the calm processes of the heavenly bodies: and the earth beneath him, the earth that had borne him, had taken him to her breast.

He closed his eyes in the languor of sleep. His eyelids trembled as if they felt the vast cyclic movement of the earth and her watchers, trembled as if they felt the strange light of some new world. His soul was swooning into some new world, fantastic, dim, uncertain as under sea, traversed by cloudy shapes and beings. A world, a glimmer, or a flower? Glimmering and trembling, trembling and unfolding, a breaking light, an opening flower, it spread in endless succession to itself, breaking in full crimson and unfolding and fading to palest rose, leaf by leaf and wave of light by wave of light, flooding all the heavens with its soft flushes, every flush deeper than the other.

Evening had fallen when he woke and the sand and arid grasses of his bed glowed no longer. He rose slowly and, recalling the rapture of his sleep, sighed at its joy.

He climbed to the crest of the sandhill and gazed about him. Evening had fallen. A rim of the young moon cleft the pale waste of sky line, the rim of a silver hoop embedded in grey sand: and the tide was flowing in fast to the land with a low whisper of her waves, islanding a few last figures in distant pools. (pp. 150-51)

***

. . . . When the soul of a man is born in this country there are nets flung at it to hold it back from flight. You talk to me of nationality, language, religion. I shall try to fly by those nets. (p. 180)

***

To him she would unveil her soul’s shy nakedness, to one who was but schooled in the discharging of a formal rite rather than to him, a priest of the eternal imagination, transmuting the daily bread of experience into the radiant body of everliving life. (p. 196)

***

—Then, said Cranly, you do not intend to become a protestant?

—I said that I had lost the faith, Stephen answered, but not that I had lost selfrespect. What kind of liberation would that be to forsake an absurdity which is logical and coherent and to embrace one which is illogical and incoherent? (pp. 216-17)

***

To discover the mode of life or of art whereby your spirit could express itself in unfettered freedom. (p. 219)

***

—Look here, Cranly, [Stephen] said. You have asked me what I would do and what I would not do. I will tell you what I will do and what I will not do. I will not serve that in which I no longer believe, whether it call itself my home, my fatherland or my church: and I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can and as wholly as I can, using for my defence the only arms I allow myself to use, silence, exile and cunning. (p. 219)

[doodlingartpreet]

Nature always wears the colours of spirit💚💚 And I have tried to create 2 polar opposites here and I do hope that u guys like it🌟🙏🏻 Do lookout for youTube video tutorials �� . . Painting 1:- verdant mountains Painting 2:- Kaleidoscopic sky . . Materials used: @brustro_official 🪄 Artist’s watercolour paints 🪄 Watercolour paper 300gsm 25% cotton These can be bought from @creativehandsartmaterials site 💕💕 . . 🚫 Please give me the proper credits in your posts, if you take inspiration from my art or if you use my designs in any way. Don't copy without permission. 🙏🏻 . ©Copyrights Reserved To @doodlingartpreet . . For the love of doodling ♥️♥️ . . . . . #watercolourpainting #kaleidoscopepalette #monochrome #monochromepainting #monochromemountains #doodlingartpreet #watercolor #watercolour #watercolor_art #watercolourpaint #watercolor_daily #watercolourweekly #potpourriofartists #leothedark4 #ruangseni #ruangseniwatercolor #softhues #beginnerartist #watercolourabstract #watercolourartist #watercolourpaper #watercolourtutorial #watercolor_blog #greenmonochrome #multishade #pinetrees (at Land of Dawn) https://www.instagram.com/p/CIcHbd7BdL4/?igshid=ledhtg36kwx1

[lesstalkmoreillustration]

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A post shared by Less Talk More (@lesstalkmoreillustration)

Artwork by Stina Persson @stina_persson_illustration . . . . #art #painting #watercolor #artvideo #portraitart #fashionillustration #workinprogressart #softhues #portraiture #portraitpainting #instaartist #stinapersson #artoninstagram #daily_art #artistatwork #artprocess

[owencontemporary]

‘Seaside 2’ 24.5 x 24.5” encaustic on panel By Mary Long . . . #artwork #encausticpainting #softhues #seaside #wax #contemporaryart #painting #modern #design #santafe #canyonroad (at Santa Fe, New Mexico) https://www.instagram.com/p/CZkAk2vJTN7/?utm_medium=tumblr

[em-k-ald]

[luxeisle]

Balinese 🌿 Wanderlust Current mood- In 💓 with vintage prints that have details reminiscent of workmanship that came with quality garments decades ago. Adding a little boho feel with the Festival Babe Belt worn as a necklace really adds to the appeal of the Sri Lanka Kimono. #wednesdaywanderlust #balinesewanderlust #vintageprints #cottons #comfy #boho #bohemian #instastyle #festivalbabe #tassels #beaded #fringe #softhues #summer2020 #summerstyle #bohochic #festivalfashion #coolclothes #prettyoutfits #instagood #bohostyle #shopwithme (at Wanderlust) https://www.instagram.com/p/CDy47-sgJFh/?igshid=12mw95ax2hc73

[stylezato-arcart]

Love these soft pastel hues! Inspo via @kelsiemaedesigns . . . #pastelhues #softhues #softshades #pastelshades #softpalette #pastelpalette #architetto #arredocasa #arredo #arredamento #interni #interiordesign #interiordesigner #interiorstyle #interiorstyling #interiorstylist #homedecor #homedesign #interiordecor #furnituredesign #furnituredecor #arquitecto #arquiteto #architettura #designblog #designblogger #interiorblogger #interiorblog #homeblog #homeblogger

[therealgoldenhaze]

🌊 ________________________________________ #pastel #pastelaesthetic #pastelgoth #soft #softhues #kawaiigirl #milkyway #shimmer #glittermakeup #glowup #glowupchallenge #mermaidhair #prettygirls #glow #sketch #rainbowhighlighter #cosmicgirl #kawaiigirl #breakfree #mua #levelupchallenge #levelup #dreamingtones #stargaze #softgrunge #pastelgoth https://www.instagram.com/p/B3YG30zhIs6/?igshid=1iyrtug6r43wm

[pinkchairfr]

#Pinkchair Barbarella/ Rof *

[faedatayartworks]

One of my all time favourites CANNOT BELIEVE IT IS STILL AVAILABLE @tirnanogholisticcentre so much time n energy went into this one #pastelpallete #rainbow #lightworker #ethical #handcollected #foraged #feathers #upcycled #glassbeads #woodbeads #natural #natureworship #gentlevibes #softhues https://www.instagram.com/p/B1JLfEPhG3i/?igshid=1k2s30c6o5smf

[derekswalwell]

Balwyn House | recently shot for @inform_melbourne Styling by @beksheppard @dreammonstar - - - - - - #interiors #livingrooms #kidsrooms #pools #swimmingpools #architecture #interiores #softhues #pinks #pinkinteriors #tait #poolside https://www.instagram.com/derek_swalwell/p/BykMOQWJrC1/?igshid=1q2g74c7pnx6j