Ezmia: A Villainous Perspective

What if Cinderella’s stepmother had a rough childhood? What if the Evil Queen lost a lover? What if The Little Mermaid’s deal is just another cultural offense?. I believe that, a villain possesses the same qualities as the hero or the heroine, and due to that in the end of the day, the bad guy is a bad guy because their story hasn’t been told yet.

ATTACK OF THE FIERCE-TY FEET BEAUTIES

The Last Chapter of 2013

Sirens, that's the only thing I can hear, or at least observe, apart from the loud cries of the panic. The high pitched tones of the mortals that sing a song of the mainstream, the gestures that only the people of earth do. Isn't it just odd, how people take photography as a part of what they call, memory, whereas it's just, senseless?. They play in their sense of wonder, or more like, wander. I mean, like, that's how they just back down. They back down, sweetie, because the games too rough for their manicured nails.

They come in colonies, or in a singular method of not only being radioactive, but also promoting a sensitivity, yet a trait of just, having fun. That's how I really could describe the roars of the artistic imagery coming out towards frames, that's how I see my creative process. They are, gigantic, and overwhelming, and definitely bigger than life. Sure, I take in the inspirations from the mass-and from the ones who taught me, but they, moreoverly, come from my visions, and how they crystalize onto a freedom of speech-visually.

The portfolio is not an exploitation of ego, yet it is a personification of how my artistic visions take a scroll through the realistic stuff. They are not a thread, but in the same time they might appear to be an immense imagery of a gigantic, harmful substance. This is not an act for what the world calls cocky, this is beyond that, this revolution is, in the most artistic way, FAB.

The past may deliver my art in such cold, harsh, rough manners, but after Halcyon and the recognition, I just thought that a more, appropriately cheery, slightly blonde-loud sort of presentation might be ideal. That is exactly what this long introduction is trying to say. This is the visionary of the lighter alter ego.

1. Opera House, Australia

Roaring above the artistically, iconic building. Bending in a half circular, yet edged end. Lies two insecure souls. One with a heart on her cheek, the other with an alien-like forehead and mole holes. Their heart lies within the buildings on their bending formation. Like their only name, the insecurity, and like the building, the Opera House, the House of emotions. They bend their ego with it, not realizing their inner, weirdly beautiful features. Their over exaggerated eyes, their over exaggerated sense of humor, and their over exaggerated passion, one on her goal, the other on a virtual, Korean partner. Their hearts don't lie, they just haven't found their true fierce-ness yet. The only thing that keeps them together, is the fact that they only have each other.

2. Statue Of Liberty, America

Then the party starts here, as two redheads comes out in the passion they believe in, one coming from the 90s, the other a complicated band girl. Insecurity might be absent, but the overwhelmed joy causes a disturbance in the art, forming it's own form of art. The rebels, the outcasts, and especially the freedom obtained, code name, ghetto. Indifference is only a factor, and a matter of difference. In the liberty they trust, the power of endless, boundless freedom allowed. It's an affair between love and lust, and it definitely is a rule of every femme fatale - that freedom shall only be allowed for beauty and the opportunities of ego. A queen-like structure. The rapid demand of wealth instead of health. This form of beautified, hardly sophisticated demand only comes in a gigantic size. And may all parties be as fierce as this immense amount of joy.

3. Grand Canyon, America

There, comes another piece. Altered by time, in the coldest, yet fiercest way. There is just an underdog, sort-of basic imagery to the piece. Embellished in a mixture between the classic and the urban. A tres-chic sort of imagery. Mickey mouse blinded, and the husk smell of the leather-draped hunk. The people behind the stage, the support team, that's how cold the fierce-ness just blazes through. It's as if the flames come in a blue shade. The immense blizzard and it's radioactive method. That's how their art, just works, it comes off clean, but more striking than ever. The power that stands tall and falls, and re-creates the stones, the Grand Canyon,

4. Eiffel Tower, Paris

Then comes the hopeless romantic, the ones who'd kill for love, that cliche, desperate mood. The ones who'd travel the world with class, or without, just for the other half. Forming an Eiffel as distorted as the Pisa tower. The one a dog lover, with a heart of such complex behaviors, that white is a compilation of it's complicated behavior, the other one a shy, yet strong, small town girl. With a slight interracial twist and a passion of another. One a rose, the other a doodle, and a slight hope of freedom. The boundaries of race, the boundaries of age. That's what makes the piece bigger than life. The art reference varies from the gargoyles, with the fleeing lonely ones. Like the gypsies, all the wealth and the dark reference in the world can be obtained, but not the Love. That is the point of living. Art always wins, because in the desperation, only Art can form a crystallization of beauty.

5. Capitol Building, America

After all the factors, comes Sacrifice, comes the power of giving up the body for the soul, giving up the ego for the mind, giving up the personality for the art. Comes a power of having to give more to the things worth the future, not the ones worth the present. Comes the process of having to sacrifice the social living for the process of being an artist. Like camouflaging, disappearing like a ghost-like, invisible imagery, from the rest of the crowd, and with a proud tone, being an artist. It's not about the money, recognition, and fame, it's about living, breathing, and finally dissolving in the art. And trust me, this part hurts like a stab in the a** from at the Capitol Building, the house of rules, the house of logic and politics. D.C. at it's finest. Helplessly, the ego just, lies there, in agony, trying to bend back the bones onto a stronger form, you know what they say, a hybrid is always an adapted form, it always turns better. Pushing the boundaries may get a stab, and a beautiful levitating piece of performance art of the body. Like a Wrecking Ball.

6. Japan

But then, the other part of the blue, the other part of the world, comes the word F.A.B, this part is where recognition matters, where the play of eccentric behavior for fame matters. The effort for the applause, the effort just to get a pat on the back. A resulting of the lonely heart and it's antiques. A force of being a star, of being known an artist. The modification of culture, the act of bringing an eastern country, a developing one to the bigger canvas. Glamorizing the act of the culture with boundaries, onto a bigger image. The idea of bringing art to fashion, in the most, glamorized, yet artistically challenging factor. An iconic piece of, draping. The idea of bringing that is another bigger than life factor. Bringing the attitude and the ego of being fab, being an icon of arrogance and whatever the upper class possesses. Deserving any liquor on rocks. The ego dressed in the passionate, red contrast, demonstrating the art of the orient, with colors of silver on the altered hair, made to the left by such immense quirkiness of ambition. The striking features of the effort to be iconic.

7.  Zaanse Schans, Holland

But then, the memories that brings us to our nostalgic imageries, the small town behavior, the factors that makes us who we are, our first steps, our first bike, our first kiss. The acts that reforms the person you are today, is another bigger than life factor. The little picnic with the braid, and the walk through the river, the splashes and the excitement the wind gives. These riverside memories are the gravity to our ego, the things that keep us sane, not forgetting where the hearts truly belong, or once belong. Without the boundaries having to matter. The days where flying seems like a piece of cake. Where the unicorns are only a part of the backyard, and when the carefree horizon just passes through the skies.

8.  Grand Canyon, America

The final form, however, is the climb. The formation of all art, love, and dreams carved onto one. It's not about all the goals and the particular demand of a particular stepping stone. It's more of the pride to be on the ride, like a ride or die motto. A perfect mixture of having the perfect love life, in that portion with a truly kindhearted, supportive partner, the other being a crystallisation of the dreams, finally being a part of the dream as living on it is a piece of cake, and the last one, a formation, a visionary, and the most provocative, explicit, yet beautiful and sophisticated avant-garde pieces being formed within the problems. One holding on to culture, the other holding on to gravity, and the last one unleashing the true spirits of being a free mind, being a visionary to one's own art. The passionate mixture of red and blue. The final form of, The Photographic Sense.

All of these pieces are shot for Cafe @ Cita, Cita Hati School, as prints for the Cafe. The idea of doing something "larger than life" is moreoverly inspired by "Attack of the 50 ft Woman", however, adding messages and ideas onto it felt neccesary, with a comical look, and the youngest fashion sense, inspired by icons like Miley Cyrus, Kyary Pamyu Pamyu, Hayley Williams, Bryan Boy, and imageries from fairy tales, the Great Gatsby, and High School Musical. All of these models are NOT professionals and are winners off my Models Wanted competition with Cita Hati (everyone are students or alumni, including the teams involved)

The idea of incorporating The Photographic Sense's journey is clearly candid, an idea crystallized while writing the editorial, or more like a journal, since Diaries are just way to sassy. I might start selling prints next year, so, email me if you're interested! Thank you so much for always being a kind reader to the blog, Unions, this portfolio is another end-year project like last year's "Masquerade Ball", aiming for a lighter imagery, and something more age related to where I am standing right now. I hope I get to inspire more next year, I promise that I'll blow more minds next year. Thank you so much for all of the time spent just to read my blog right here, resulting from the, encoruagement I get, I get to be known by the world a lot more. Thank you so much guys, you guys RAWCK!

UNIONS! The Photographic Sense wishes you a Happy New Year! May next year be a lot more artistic and filled with intense excitement and passion! Xo Reinhardt Kenneth

The Photographic Sense Goes To School

Portfolio Pieces.

1. Opera House, Australia (INSECURE-ITY) 

PAR. Reinhardt Kenneth

Models. (left-to-right) Monica Liemantara, Claudia Sonia

MUA&Hair. (on Claudia) Irene Wihandi Putri

Stylist. Reinhardt Kenneth

(on Claudia) Kyary Pamyu Pamyu inspired Bow by Catharina Avellia 

Backdrop Credits. Kelby Immanuel Rusli

Backstage Team. Theresa Gunarso

2. Liberty, America (Party In The U.S.A)

PAR. Reinhardt Kenneth

Models. (left-to-right) Meliana Tjahja, Irene Wihandi Putri

MUA&Hair. (on Irene) Irene Wihandi Putri, (on Meliana) Yunita Rebekah(MUA) and Livia Kriwangko (Hair)

Stylist. Reinhardt Kenneth 

Backdrop Credits. Clarissa Hanggresta

Backstage Team. Theresa Gunarso

3. Grand Canyon, America (ART)

PAR. Reinhardt Kenneth

Models. (left-to-right) Yunita Rebekah, Janice Tandiokusuma

Stylist. Reinhardt Kenneth

Backdrop Credits. Kelby Immanuel Rusli

Backstage Team. Theresa Gunarso

4. Eiffel Tower, Paris (Love)

PAR. Reinhardt Kenneth

Models. (left-to-right) Kelby Immanuel Rusli, Laurenzia Juvelin 

MUA&Hair. Livia Kriwangko (Hair), Yunita Rebekah (MUA)

Stylist. Reinhardt Kenneth

Backdrop Credits. Vania Aprillia

Backstage Team. Theresa Gunarso

5. Capitol Building, America (Sacrifice)

PAR. Reinhardt Kenneth

Models. Catharina Avellia

MUA&Hair. Irene Wihandi Putri (Make Up), Livia Kriwangko (Hair)

Stylist. Reinhardt Kenneth

Backdrop Credits. Kelby Immanuel Rusli

Backstage Team. Theresa Gunarso

6. Japan (FAB)

PAR. Reinhardt Kenneth

Models. Stephanie Soekosin

MUA. Yunita Rebekah

Hair. Livia Kriwangko

Stylist. Reinhardt Kenneth

Backdrop Credits. Kelby Immanuel Rusli

Backstage Team. Theresa Gunarso

7. Zaanse Schans, Holland (Home//Mary Jane Holland)

PAR. Reinhardt Kenneth

Models. (left-to-right) Schanaz Purnama, Kevin Jackson, Emmanuela Michelle

MUA&Hair. (on Schanaz) Hair by Livia Kriwangko

(on Emmanuela) MUA. Yunita Rebekah

Hairstylist. Theresa Gunarso, Yunita Rebekah

Stylist. Reinhardt Kenneth

Backdrop Credits. Bryan Andrean Putra off Coffee Cream & The Caffeine

Backstage Team. Theresa Gunarso

8. Grand Canyon, America (Hall Of Fame//Regal Royal Manga Baby)

PAR. Reinhardt Kenneth

Models. (top-to bottom)(left-to-right) Caroline Beauty Stacia, Karina Novia, Nadya Joy Soetanto

MUA&Hair. (on Caroline) Hair. Livia Kriwangko, MUA.Irene Wihandi

(on Karina and Nadya) Hair. Livia Kriwangko, MUA. Yunita Rebekah

Stylist. Reinhardt Kenneth

Backdrop Credits. Kelby Immanuel Rusli

Backstage Team. Theresa Gunarso

Posh Plastic

“Beauty-a complex imagery of living. To one, it may be the old beautiful brunette locks of Miley, to someone else-it may be all of the circus and the side-shaved blonde. To one it may the exotic beauty of a girl from Southeast Asia, to another, it may be the size 0 runway model running down a Chanel runway. Beauty differs from everyone’s perspective-but one thing for sure, we are all created beautiful-some of us just don’t feel like works of art.

Some of us just felt like, we were not born in the right body, some of us wake up wishing we were a size 0-some even wakes up and gets lost in the blurred lines of their identity as a person. As if every soul is jailed inside a work of art, and some of us just gets the wrong cell. The thing about beauty is that, it changes overtime. Back in the days, it was the wealthy, curvy woman, Mona Lisa-with perfect chubby cheeks like an apple who is considered to represent beauty, nowadays, lingerie-ready bodies are the perfect description of beauty-Tyra Banks, Kate Moss, Karolina Kurkova, Karlie Kloss, Heidi Klum, Gisele Bundchen, Cara Delevigne, Coco Rocha, Miranda Kerr, you name it.

All The Way To The Halcyon Days.

Ok, so the wait is over! "All The Way To The Halcyon Days" is finally up on Wattpad which you guys can click here! So basically I did peek you guys my perception of the story and how it revolves through the atmosphere, an implementation of a better living through time travel. What I've been basically comprehending these days are to change your life without basically changing who you are as an individual, how we all live in a rebirth, and change without changing at all. It's like being a snake, how you can basically change your skin without changing who you are, as being a tougher core with a tougher heart.

"All The Way To The Halcyon Days" is also a collaboration of my writing and my photographs, the vulnerability of the story itself, being a part of the inner part of my artistic core, how I travel to many places and transform these particles of memories to living art, to art pieces that mean so much to me, which can freeze strangers, going all like "wow, that is just, wow". As a revolutionary work implementing how the pretty needs to be witty enough, how a shadow only needs an extra shade in it, and how the most contrasting picture may not always have a message as powerful as normal greyscale. How each shade comprehends a specific time.

So I'm going sneak you guys several picks that will soon be up on my tumblr page. I will later post pictures that are really meaningful to me alongside 2013 itself, because this year itself is a revolutionary for myself for better days, as a challenge to reach the state of Halcyon itself. A strong implementation of both art and freedom. I'm going to collage up these pictures and post their final forms on my tumblr page. Stay tuned, unions! Love Y'all. (P.S. These pictures are A SMALL PART only one of the unions from All The Way To The Halcyon Days) itself, this section is called "EIDIE".

Tumblr

Lost In Paradise.

Hey, uni-peoples, so sorry on my 2 week hiatus, you may've realized that my blog wasn't available on the period of time, due to severe cyber crime, my blog wasn't available for any sort of published manner, due to inappropriate hacking, anyways, this is my latest portfolio, shot in Bali.I always find the waves to be beautiful, under the sun, the blue just rise so high, like royal blue the king posses. I also do find the mixture of the clouds just so, beautiful, I mean, God absolutely created the sky from  the ocean, which makes it just, extremely, dreamy.

What I find just extremely beautiful about the island is how it's just an ideal paradise, a vacation-island, how the rich palm trees just grow above you like the coconut scent, how the burn just sweetly burns your skin until they tan, how people from all over the world come, and just, cherish their moments under the bright sun where somewhere else is snowing. Like the waves, I believe our hearts are mend and made to bleed the royal blue behavior, like the shades of tuscany and lavender, and an extra amber from the sun, the colors just collide beautifully,

The title from this portfolio is also a song title by Rihanna from her latest album "Unapologetic", which is pure perfection, even through it's not-easy-listening behavior, the album overall is just wild and honest. I believe that, paradise is just in the back of our minds too, I mean, paradise can be anything you believe in and you don't, like the colors, filtered by the royal blue ocean, grow like the wild mangrove leaves and rosebushes.

Paradise to me, is just something to be beautifully be lost in, as for an artist, paradise to me is my own art God preserved, I believe that, the thunderstorms and the tsunami-s are just a lesson to build a better foundation, to build a better behavior, like a nationality building a better city.

Sirens come and sing their silent songs above the stones in Paradise, and they sing the sad songs of both love and decay, for they are only a creature of myth, for they are only in the back of our minds, for only their rainbow hair is never obtainable, for they are cursed with fins and wings. I believe this is how cliche immortal loathing sounds, I mean, the voices from the sea call you, and you're just looking for weary wanderers, that is what being lost is a part about, and like the sun, love is still warm, and severe.

To the end of the earth, the waves reign, like sequined top down, the song glimmers under the sky like the teal green colors the oceans hare with royal blue, it glimmers to the skin in such beauty, the waves just go to the edge of the world and come running back, breathing the live swimming underneath it, providing a life cycle throughout the continents of the world.

Like brush strokes, the ocean reign and carry a bit more of spectrum in it, a spectrum of life it posses, like the visions of light breaking the clouds, the waves will follow, like the silent voices, it mesmerizes the myth the urban citizens tell, stories about love, stories about the lost, stories about the laughters under it, That is just a piece of paradise.

Under the glory, like all the orange trends that season, the fruits emerge out of their trees, the creation sing, with paradise, with the beautiful imagery under the monochromatic spectrum, shades by royal blue and severe brush strokes. Like printed Hermes bandanas, the heart lines flow with the ocean, they flow with the beautiful sun above it, shining like vitality, shining like essential, shining like an aquatic beauty.

One thing about paradise, is that, only the ones who believe has that, only ones who achieve, and ones who fight all over their live for the truth, for those who sing their grace, and for those who ritually preserve what they should. To fight for the righteous freedom, for a revolution, for extensive, and the youth it preserves, and for the ones who aren't afraid to splash themselves under beauty, for those who aren't afraid to drawn in all the beauty.

Hallelujah, a word the paradise sings, from the pale skin and red lipstick, the word come rushing like the royal blue ocean, like all the poolside memories glimmering under the sequined sun, like all the tanned skin burnt slightly with extensive happiness, whatever the heaves declare, that is truly paradise, in the back of our minds, and one day, where we all preserve the righteous behavior we do.

PhotoVogue Features
The Looking Glass-Paradise.
Watersong
Through The Looking Glass
Dark Paradise
The Decay of Aglaope.
Like Mother Like Daughter
Aquatic Gypsy
Like Mother Like Daughter,

THE PHOTOGRAPHIC SENSE

PAR.Reinhardt Kenneth

Models.Diana Putri&Patricia Santoso

Location.Banyan Tree Resorts, Bali. Special Thanks to Uncle Jamal.

Masquerade Ball:The Untold Stories of The Artistic Womb

The Last Chapter of 2012.

A part of me knew this was going to end disastrous, but another part of me wants to become a part of this, a part of me wants all the fame and the fortune, the money, and the ultimate league, an address of the high society, the society that controls the world, the society that plays the backstage of this horrible drama. The society camouflaging reality onto a better logic, you see. A kiss so sweet, that is how it just attracts you, like honey, all the diamonds and pearls a girl can posses, that’s how it works, it’s a trap and it ends sweetly, it will end with me. That is how I call it, the face of the virtual virtues, I knew this was trouble.

I come out with my beautiful, innocent, crimson heart, I come out and bring that as me and moreover for me and everyone else. My eyes are opened wide, they bring me over, they invite me, it’s like one of those parties I didn’t want to attend at first, but one of the best highlights of my live in the end, it’s a beautiful ceremony when everyone is just-a bit wilder, you see.

Then in the midst of this madhouse, I meet this guy, his eyes as piercing as swords, his cheek bones as striking as arrows of light, but he is the one who has the smile of an angel, an angel so pure I could never suspicious anything more than the word charming. He is as charming as the slight thin rainbows the sky posses, and his awkwardly shy behavior made the colors of his personas more attractive, he is my little lover for the night, or more like every other night, since my mind was set as a long party, whereas I danced my heart through the beautiful tunes I can never ask for more, the charm was all over him when he hit the grand piano.

He is an architect on his early age, he is a man I could never predict I would meet like a week ago, and then he comes over to me, like a crimson, charming unicorn, under the shades of his little husky voice, so sweet he sounded like the thin cigarettes floating on the smoking area on the coffee shop, he is like an ecstasy I can never resist, he is the addictive factor I can never let go, well at least for “the night”.

I am a man and a woman of many personas, I am not just one but partly 12, and this part of me doesn’t want to leave, but everybody else are alarming the alarm I can never understand, I am just a kid and usually these alarms happen turn out to be the part of me who’s right, the part of me who knows and senses the part of the world which should never be touched and burnt down by the darker shades that sound so innocent in the beginning, I am preserving myself in a way, and I can never know when to follow the alarm. The Masquerade Ball sound like my ceremony, where I can finally be hidden and masked

I fell apart on the dress, moreover like under the dress, he is as frigid and cold as his eyes, like the cold blooded creature he is the fire in the water, whereas he is the bigger fire coming over to freeze me down in immortality, I am finally changed, I am finally turned onto a new blood, more like bloodless, my tan skin turns pale, a pale version of my tan, moreover, which isn’t visible enough until I before the next dawn. I am finally realizing all of this trouble will never be worth. I am lost, my innocent is on a vacation and got hit by a star cruise, so every single part of my lighter personas follow me as slaves. I am just this wild, curious, and fierce creature I can never explain to myself, moreover like how I can never explain the beauty of blood, ombre, and inverted triangles.

I guess after all the fighting, the shopping, and the blood sucking, I just have to accept this part of me, this part of me who glimmers under my pale, tan skin which should be visible any time soon, and my hair which is messed around the area where my heart pumps faster. I am hit onto the rocky rocks of my mind, I am finally a feline, I am finally the creature needing nothing more but the prey. Whereas he became animalistic but he sounded more of an innocent, as we raced through our glimmering shoes, which may lead to spirals, he drops me onto one arena.

Everybody else holds an invisible collar for me, they should’ve suspected this heart-racing, animalistic persona which is partly being prepared to marry the dark, to marry the infinity, the immortal, and the end tips of the checker boards, to marry the dusk, to marry the night, the night holding the eye seeing up above. The eye which seeks for his hunger,  for this creature is just darkly screaming deep inside, as an animal, and as a human, as a Hybrid.

But then there’s a new voice inside of me, the voice of grudge, the grudge I want to leap onto, to the addiction which should be no other but my fault, I should’ve trusted his eyes and his mysterious heart, I should’ve sensed his cold persona deep inside that should be trouble for me, a troublesome figure to later become my role model, the king I preserve.

I realized that if he can be as sweet as roses, cupcakes, and glitter, he can be as pathetic as a homeless bird, so my vanity mind takes over, my mind set was being viewed as the femme fatale I became, a wild one, for sure. I am not only fierce, edgy, and darker than the moon, but I am as glittering as Marilyn Monroe, I am a feminist to myself, I am the female empowerment to myself under the crystal chandelier holding the power of masculinity over feminism, a subliminal orgy I can never understand, a pain I should stop becoming. I walk like the glitter I am, I become the jewelry I am worth, I become a pearl and a diamond in the exact same time, I am a final sequined dress, matched under Aphrodite with a pair of Studded Louboutins , edged out with snake skin, I am a woman of red, I am the woman of myself, I am a creature of woman.

But then this little voice of me comes out like a curtain call, it’s fury strikes like an aerial ace, like hurricane burning the end tips of my fingers, the rainbow opening a way for the leprechaun to fake fame, the voice of love, the voice of forgiveness. He may not appear with a white bloody unicorn, but he appears in studs, and with a golden cape and a crimson colored rose, I always thought roses should considerably be marked hypocritical, as it posses the petals of different shades, falling apart in the end.

So I said the word I always wanted to say as a little Alice in the Wonderland, in spirals I walk around the walk, but in the end, it’s a pair of invisible red flippers under these platform and high heels, I am walking in spirals, I am walking the live of Dorothy where in the end everybody gets what they needed, they get the shit they own from the beginning, whereas they never really realized the shades of it, the shades that lies between their insecurities, and I found mine, I found love and it glimmers better in the dark.

They talk like my heartbeat of my past when I come and open up, whereas the one I love is no longer visible, wrapped in the golden auburn horns, where I can never leave my innocence behind, but I can always change her onto me, I am finally the inner beast he brought out, I am finally the starring role of this game, I am a starring role of the dark, and believe me, it’s sometimes a lot better, I am just another girl, hit down the ground to make a change through my shadows, through these thick eyeliner I can only smirk ad blink with to look beautiful, even in my ceremony, and the attendant who I thought was the innocent Mickey Mouse, ended up to be the handler who was hiding this whole time, controlling my acts, and he holds the ceremonial with the hourglass symbol, from dirty, crimson, liquid, swelling through the writer’s nose.

I finally become the lady I’ve always looked up to, I became more of myself, the me I haven’t really met in the past few centuries in my past lives, I believe this was meant to be. I am masked, but visible, I am the creature I became earlier and more now, slowly I put my hands on his, and we closed the part of our eyes which is a medium for our handlers, the eye we see, the eye we know, which is hidden, we are bending our personas onto one, and I know where Dorothy ends up in the end, she ends up masked on her home, and as for me, I am bending my persona with him, we are finally one in two different bodies. And the staring dolls hold my sad innocence, because no one is going to take my soul away, because nobody really sold it, but in the end, I am not a product, I am a controller, I am the lost innocent because I am more of myself then.  I am the part of me I can never really be apart from, I am Ray Kellia Rhodensoma.

PhotoVogue Features:

Marry The Night

Party

THE PHOTOGRAPHIC SENSE

PAR.Reinhardt Kenneth

Models. Rania Putri Sari,Evan Darius Effendi @Red Models,Lukas Atmaja @Lookgraphy,Kelby Immanuel Rusli, Fajar Adi Sulaksono&Crew@Inter Models

Stylist.Nadya Joy

MUA and Videography.Larasati @Lara Photography, Valencia Yong

Hairstylist.Valencia Yong

Wardrobe.Diana Couture

Interior.Theresia The

Lighting Director.Lukas Atmaja @Lookgraphy

Jewelry.BarQco

Headpieces.Dawi&Chris

This will be THE PHOTOGRAPHIC SENSE's last post of the year, bloody unicorns, thank you so much for always having my back, for always being such a doll to my crimson heart, for all your art and your support, and for everything else, thank you so much,2012 had been a blessing towards my heart, see you very soon in 2013, in 2013, there will be no more lazy blogging, kunts! So, I know everyone else mostly is posting countdowns of the bests of 2012, I decided to post this because, this is the past part of me I want to expose currently, and I usually just end up getting bored on my old stuff, so enjoy it while you can, we were born for art!.HAPPY NEW YEAR, don't ever regret, a friend of mine said, that everything you own, will end up owning you in the end, thats what Jamie said. GOD BLESS YOU. xo

ORIENTAL HEARTLINES

Through embroideries, a geisha lies within, a modern one. Within her, she sleeps and dreams of nothing more but a diffusive heart line, whereas baroque comes within nothing more or less than asian embroideries. her tears are rather darker than crimson, but rather invisible after lipstick. Vanity lies within, she needs her ancestry, but also the art of the victorian. A RACE THROUGH HEARTLINES.

A fusion of two different cultures, lying in the same world, both bearing love, hate, and beauty. An implementation of colors, reaching pitches between lips and hearts, yellow, red, faint teal, all racing in the sky, sweetly reaching the core pulled down by gravity.

Somehow, floral visions mark a vision of one and another, and the oriental love marks another race of human beings, like faith and fate, they lie between the back of our eyes and blood streams, running like butterflies down our tummies and segmented hands, as sweet as plum sugar and cotton candy, like embroidery and the stars under the blue and red flag. Like how i wish I saw it, but I don't, the races of wagons and phoenix, against visions of hydra, and sirens, they come together, visibly like a vision of a new fusion, a creature. Fashion, Ancestry, Love, Art, and Passion.

I believe our ancestry are meant to be, it holds a certain point of love onto it, a love for a community you are forced to be, having severely their own culture, but in the end, it is in our human nature to never feel satisfied enough. We hold a power towards something everyone who doesn't have that certain power some of us posses wants to posses, needs to. We are always exposed onto love, but we will never ever accept the love towards the culture severely, as much as loving something we will never have.

"Like salt, it is bonded through crystals and particles of water, an atom of each, combined and planted deep inside love, deep inside an embroidered, anorexic heart, dipping through red, yellow, and faint teal"

I believe that inside every soul, lies the romance, the romance of the heartline, whereas red meets yellow, where red is when someone belonging to the East, a culture of ancestry morals, carved onto the fear of country, against yellow, belonging to the West, a culture of liberation, a culture of freedom and boundless imagery carved like princesses. Like the Sun and the Moon they will never shine together, but both shines as beautiful as they are. The forbidden romance.

But then, wouldn't the drama rage up if the romance is inside our state of mind, running, dancing through our bloodstreams and DNAs, like atoms of pigments, pigments of love, pigments of the misunderstanding of one concept, growing onto a controversy of the word forbidden itself. Like a bird leaving it's nest,a rebellion, towards a fusion. A beautiful disaster, in the end.

Like embroidery, lace was then invented, veiling the embroidery of heartlines throughout the heart. Everything goes back together as one because they come from the same ancestors, through the creation of the loving God and a growth through mother nature. They all are one but somehow bonded onto several. Like particles of monochrome, painted with love in visions under the bright heartlines.

Like a wildflower blooming under the winter, it decays beautifully, the beauty of the heartlines decays onto someone's state of mind, so that it's living essence implements their whole live, both morals and religion being diffused onto one single, particle, as strong as love, a particle of her. Like vines of grapes, they grow to create this rich colored fruit, violet, which stands for seduction and the womb, a vision of girl power, The grape vine, the wild flower.

Like voices of bells under spring, eyes smile through the vision again, they simply reinvent through culture, with horses running through dragons, like golden beads of prosperity under the liberation of the stars beyond blue and red. Beyond the Eye of Love. Luck implements it's color right away, like another shade, a new embroidery, a new reinvention.

Howling through someone's state of believing, through someone's state of hope, in the end everything is just worth it. It is worth love itself, like dancing and tingling memories, of particles as a fusion. As West and East go together, as the world diffuse onto one continent, speaking of love, peace, and freedom, with qualities of morals. A beautiful feminism, a beautiful oriental wildflower dancing like the flag of the state. Everything is alright throughout it, like shades of innocence. The Oriental Heartlines running throughout us, like strands of love and a passionate imagery.

PhotoVogue Features-
Oriental Heartlines
Oriental Heartlines

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THE PHOTOGRAPHIC SENSE

PAR.Reinhardt Kenneth

Model.Diana Putri

Wardrobe.Diana Couture

Hair Stylist/MUA.Diana Putri
Backstage .Dawi, Khasmi

"Beauty is found in all sort of ways, but beauty will never be satisfied, beauty is NEVER prefect, beauty is the difference carved through flaws, beauty is inside out heartlines. Red, Yellow, Faint Teal"

  

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