Title

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Fri, 30 Jul 2010 20:13:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Sat, 03 Jan 2009 03:01:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Mon, 24 Nov 2008 17:39:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 21:58:00 +0000

allahu akbar

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Sat, 29 Mar 2008 21:54:00 +0000

harry smith: "early abstractions" (1946-1957), pt. 1

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Wed, 13 Feb 2008 07:36:00 +0000

sally mann. my heroine.

Vampyr (online and in it's entirety?!)

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Sun, 10 Feb 2008 03:57:00 +0000

Of the infinite things for which I am endebted to the Notorious Doctor DJ Potter, introducing me to this film ranks right up there. I was so amazed to have found this online that I couldn't help but post it for you on this, my underutilized blog. It may be months until someone surfs into my little island on the web, but I post now with confidence that you may enjoy--if not in addition to my own precious photographs--then at least this masterpiece by Mr. Carl Dreyer.

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Fri, 01 Feb 2008 17:45:00 +0000

this is a test

Add to My Profile | More Videos

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Sat, 24 Nov 2007 18:23:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Tue, 20 Nov 2007 05:47:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Tue, 20 Nov 2007 05:43:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Tue, 20 Nov 2007 05:14:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Mon, 17 Sep 2007 01:36:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Sun, 16 Sep 2007 02:16:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Sat, 25 Aug 2007 03:36:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Sat, 19 May 2007 04:21:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Mon, 30 Apr 2007 22:53:00 +0000

on my birthday, from henry david thoreau

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Mon, 12 Mar 2007 17:43:00 +0000

"John Farmer sat at his door one September evening, after a hard day's work, his mind still running on his labor more or less. Having bathed he sat down to recreate his intellectual man. It was a rather cool evening, and some of his neighbors were apprehending a frost. He had not attended to the train of his thoughts long when he heard some one playing on a flute, and that sound harmonized with his mood. Still he thought of his work; but the burden of his thought was, that though this kept running in his head, and he found himself planning and contriving it against his will, yet it concerned him very little. It was no more than the scurf of his skin, which was constantly shuffled off. But the notes of the flute came home to his ears out of a different sphere from that he worked in, and suggested work for certain faculties which slumbered in him. They gently did away with the street, and the village, and the state in which he lived. A voice said to him, -- Why do you stay here and live this mean moiling life, when a glorious existence is possible for you? Those same stars twinkle over other fields than these. -- But how to come out of this condition and actually migrate thither? All that he could think of was to practise some new austerity, to let his mind descend into his body and redeem it, and treat himself with ever increasing respect."

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Tue, 27 Feb 2007 07:33:00 +0000

this is the lady who lives in the house the obscuras built.

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Tue, 27 Feb 2007 07:20:00 +0000

this is a camera put in the house the obscuras built.

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Tue, 27 Feb 2007 07:13:00 +0000

this is the house the obscuras built.

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Fri, 23 Feb 2007 02:49:00 +0000

this is the gentleman who photographs the lady who lives in the house the obscuras built.

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Mon, 12 Feb 2007 02:12:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Thu, 25 Jan 2007 00:24:00 +0000

noreply@blogger.com (Farmer) — Thu, 25 Jan 2007 00:19:00 +0000