Folding Chairs Blog

Check out these Folding Chairs images:

chair-2

Image by bob.biscuitweaver

cool folding chairs Photos:

prep porn

Year peak of McBeth
Recently I have learned by now the best way to yer quality pornography: Bulk. The variety contains an astonishing display from around the world (Belgium beats from Germany. FYI) . The set design team need to get an impressive amount of fake porn videos for a scene in the movie, so they borrowed a number of empty DVD cases, as X-Acto blended images from the printed pages in the clear DVD case, a voila passen.Während pastime we went for long meandering stories of Robin (left, bottom to top). It was agreed to encourage, before we had to explore Robin, still poses some clothes, their first plans to attack either the address of drugs or alcohol (or both) to search their problem has been classified as 40 miles of bad street.

Red and yellow

Year peak of Nina Matthews Photography

Zombie Chynna, the Salton Sea Ridazz go

Year peak of alexbcthompson
Chynna, mapped, a zombie-shooting made while we were there.

Some cool Folding Chairs images:

I’m pretty sure this is cheating… but I didn’t see anything about it in the instruction manual. Later on in the evening one of them tied someone’s shoes together while she was singing. They will stop at nothing for victory.

Image by colorblindPICASO
Another shot from a party we went to. As stupid as I find Rock Band, it really is a good game for a group of people to play together. It even goes ok for people who have never played. Still… I think killing alien monsters with powerful energy weapons is more socially redeemable.

Some cool Metal Folding Chairs images:

Image by wakingphotolife
Raining – 1.

I slumped against the railing at the bus stop. It was raining, just a little bit, not enough for an umbrella, and cold. It’d be at least half an hour until the one I was supposed to take, would arrive. The streets weren’t so busy, it was Monday afternoon, and most of the people who needed to get to places were already there. Here, most of the people who were out were either children, the elderly or the idle. They moved up and down the sidewalk and storefronts in an eternal slouch, without any sense of purpose or aim.

I looked through the window of the building across the street. On the second story, a man was cutting a woman’s hair. It was a large single piece of glass that gave whoever looked through it, the impression that they were looking through an aquarium. The man moved with a deliberateness that made it seem as if each step he took while he revolved around the woman and the salon chair was part of some larger drawn out choreography. His back was straight and he moved with the awareness of someone who was careful to mute their footsteps, so as to not disturb the silence in a cave. The woman, seated in the chair closest to the window was ordinary. Besides the fact that she was in the salon, there was nothing remarkable about her. She likely was one of the townswoman on an errand or indulging herself. The man made quick vertical cuts along the strands of her which were held in the valleys of his fingers.

That was when I felt a weight fall onto my shoulder, a woman had placed her head on my shoulder. The sudden physical contact made me lean forward and shift off the railing. “I’m sorry, I guess I feel asleep,” she said. She must have came and stood by me while I was entranced by the scene in the salon. Whenever I am, caught by something, I am unaware of everything else.

“That’s alright,” I said. She had a slender, yet round face. She hid her behind a pair of Wayfarers and with her short hair coming down the sides like carefully planted ivy vines, she gave the feeling of a boyish femininity.
“Are you waiting for the bus downtown?” she said.
“No. I’m not,” I said.
“That’s too bad. You’re not away from here right?”
“I’m not. How’s you know?”
“There aren’t too many people around here. I pay attention to the new faces. They’re easy to pick out. Where are you staying?” she said.
“The Hotel Villete.”
“That’s not too far from it. Actually, you could barely walk it if you’re in the mood. It might take longer, but it’s a nice day today,” she said. She reached into her purse and drew out a cigarette. It was a 120 and she held it between her fingers in the same way that the barber across the street had held the woman’s hair. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all”. I reached into my breast pocket for my own cigarettes. It was my last one and I held the lighter flame against the tip. It was raining on the way to the bus stop and I had walked at least half a mile to the bus stop. The cigarette was bent out of shape and torn. Nothing happened so I threw it onto the sidewalk where a small stream took it to the gutter.

The woman offered me one of hers. I smiled and took it. It was a entirely white and had a small green line that went around it towards the lower end. It felt fragile and I was careful not to hold it tightly. She leaned forward towards my face and touched the glowing end of her cigarette with mine. I inhaled and watched the edges of the paper turn black and red. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”

It started to rain again. At first it was a drizzle, after a few seconds, it grew into downpour. We watched the start in silence. The bus arrived shortly after. It pushed a wake of water across the sidewalk and under our shoes. She was wearing white heels. Just high enough to be suggestive but modest still. “Well, I’ll see you around. It’s a nice day for a walk.”

She walked up the stairs, with the handle of her purple umbrella hung over her forearm and took a seat towards the front of the bus. I watched her in the window. She watched me.

Thomas was standing on his knees on top of the chair by the window when I got back. He didn’t turn to look behind him when I opened the door and kept staring out the window. I took the towel from the bathroom and wiped my head down. Draped my wet shirt across the metal bar in the bathroom. Thomas’ elbows were on the window sill. His cheeks were stuffed against the palms of his hands. At twelve years old, his features began to distinguish themselves. They drew clear lines as to what he inherited and from who. The texture and thickness of his dark brown hair was just like his mother’s. It even curled in the same elongated “S” shape whenever it grew too long. And like his mother, the ends at the back flared out like small wings and touched the bottom of his ear lobes. The roundness of his cheeks and wide jawbone though were my own. His temperament and disposition towards those around him, also completely my own.

“What are you doing?” I said.
“Nothing. Just looking outside. I’m bored.”
“You’re bored?” I put my arm on his shoulder and smelled the top of his head, “You smell terrible. Did you wash your hair this morning?”
“I did,” he said.
“I don’t think so. Honestly, when was the last time you washed your hair?”
“Four days ago.” He stood up on the chair. Thomas was tall for his age and with the added height of the chair, he was almost level with my head. “When was the last time you washed yours?” he said.
“I don’t remember. Maybe yesterday or the day before.”
“It smells terrible.”
“Like yours?”
“Worse.”

I picked him up by his arms pits and set him on the floor. I knew soon, I wouldn’t be able to do this. He wouldn’t want me to. I looked out the window and wondered what Thomas was fixated on but I couldn’t see anything of interest. It had stopped raining and the sun came through a gap in the clouds. It formed a rainbow that I had to strain to see against the haze of the nylon screen and outside. “The carpet’s cold,” Thomas said.

“Well buddy, if you had put on your socks and remembered to turn on the heater, it wouldn’t be so cold.” I turned around. He was standing there with his hands in his pockets and his bare-feet. He was wearing a pair of shorts and a faded black t-shirt that had become an ash colored gray. “Why’d you get into bed for a bit,” I said.
He got into bed and pulled the sheets around his body so that the only thing I could see was his face. “Just stay there until you’re warm,” I said. I took my wallet from the coffee table and folded out a few bills, a five and ten dollar bill. “Here. Why don’t you take this and buy a pair of scissor, a razor, shampoo and some shaving cream from the store down the street. Do you remember? We passed by it on the way to the hotel.”
“You gave me fifteen. Are you sure it’s enough?”
I gave him another five, “Alright, here.”
He nodded his head. “Can I keep the change to?’
“It’s all yours. You can get some food on the way back if you want. Don’t forget to take your jacket and umbrella in case it starts up again.”

Thomas dragged the sheets with him off the bed and took the socks that had been hanging on a hanger on the closet. He put them on and then slipped his feet into his shoes. They were a pair of Converse hi-tops that were torn just a little along the edges and scuffed along the side soles. “You don’t have to go right now.”
“I want to,” he said, “I’m bored.
“Okay, where’s the money?” I said.
He pulled the hood of his blue jacket over his head and patted the outside of his breast-pocket. “Button it,” I said. He pressed the snap button close, took the umbrella and walked out.

The window overlooked the street in front of the hotel. It was on a small downward slope. I could see all the way down to the end of the block and the rest of the street, which was empty. There were only a few cars parked on either side. The grocery store was on the left. It was very small and wasn’t much of a grocery store. I watched Thomas come out from underneath the awning of the hotel and cross the sidewalk. It started raining again, he popped the umbrella open and became a bright yellow dot moving down the hill.

A woman was coming up in the opposite direction. Thomas walked past her without stopping and disappeared into the grocery store. I continued watching the woman. She held open a purple umbrella that hid her face. At the end of the block, facing the hotel, she looked up towards my direction and tilted the umbrella down slightly. I tried to catch a glimpse of her face but couldn’t see clearly.

The rain was coming down in larger and more sustained sheets. I unlocked the window and pushed it outwards hoping to catch another look at her face as she turned right and walked beyond the vantage point of the hotel window. Maybe I was tired. She said she was watching the bus downtown so she shouldn’t have been around here. I couldn’t remember if she said she was going downtown or if she asked me if I was.

I ran my fingers through my hair. It felt thick and my mustache had grown much coarser over the past few days. When I looked in the mirror it was almost a full-on beard and not something a simple razor could clear out without any pain. Thomas and I had been traveling for weeks and we never had the time to notice these things and take care of ourselves. Now that we were planning to stay a few days, they revealed themselves and asked for our attention.

I went down to the lobby and went up to the front desk man. “Do you know where I can get my hair cut?” I asked. He was sleeping and stuttered awake. I repeated myself.
“You can go to Ken’s. It’s close to here,” he said.
“Can you show me?” I took out a pocket sized journal from my bag and tore a page out so he could sketch a generalized map. It wasn’t far. It was the same one I looked into earlier while waiting for the bus.

While I was in the lobby, Thomas came back from his errand. He closed the umbrella outside and tucked himself through the revolving door. He was carrying a plastic bag in one hand. In the other hand was small wax paper bag that hid a sandwich that was already bitten through. “Did you get everything?”
“Yeah. A scissor, shaving blades, shampoo and shaving cream,” he said.
“I forgot to ask to get soap, but that’s okay, we can use the shampoo.”
“Your son?” the front desk said, “I could tell. The two of you look alike. Sons always take after their fathers.”
“Is that so?” I said.
“Always, at least they do around here.”

I thanked him for the map and went back up the stairs and into our room with Thomas. He took off his coat and shook out, causing water to small droplets to lose themselves in the wooden door of the closet. I took the bag and set everything out on the bathroom counter. “Why don’t you wash your hair and I’ll cut it for you,” I said.
“I don’t want you to cut my hair.”
“Come on, you look like some furry animal.”
“I don’t think you know what you’re doing,” he said. He took his wet socks off and put them next to the shirt I hung earlier.
“I do. I use to cut your hair all the time when you just this tall.” I leveled my palm out and pushed it down to a space just above my kneecap.
“What if you mess up?”
“We can always get it fixed. Come on. Stop complaining. I don’t mess up. You can ask your mom. I cut her hair too,” I said.
Thomas put his hands back into the pockets of his shorts and looked at me. “Okay.”

"Just wait in the bathroom. I’ll get the chair by the window.” I brought the chair into the bathroom and set it in front of the sink. Then I took a towel off the rack and folded it in half. This, I lined across the edge of the bathroom counter. “Hey, come here and sit in the chair,” I said. Thomas sat down. “Don’t move.” I tilted the chair until his front legs were off the ground and the back of the chair was pressed against the folded towel. I put my hand underneath the back of his head. The hair was greasy and damp. “Tilt your head back a little,” I said and guided it until it was almost level with the sink. I had folded another towel, this one into fourths, and slide it underneath his neck. “I’m going to wash your hair, so don’t move.”

I cupped some water and poured it through his hair until I thought it was enough to form a lather. I squeezed the shampoo into a palm and massaged it through his hair and onto his scalp. Though still soft, it was much more firm than I remembered. I already forgot how long had it been. If it even happened at all or was it just some memory I made for myself about Thomas. Anyway, it didn’t matter, we were here now.

I pressed down with my fingers along his scalp. I rinsed the suds off and added more shampoo, this time, I pressed down with both hands across the strands.
“Feeling better?” I said.
“Yeah. I feel like I’m going to fall asleep,” he said.
“Not just yet, we’re not done.”

In the light and steam of the bathroom, his hair was much more brown than when I arrived earlier while he was staring out the window. I always marveled at how the color of Dorothy’s hair shifted its saturation with the day. In the bright afternoons and mornings, outside, it was a bright auburn. In the evenings and blue hours, it deepened into voluminous black and any hints of brighter tones were completely gone.

On the last day, before she left, she sat in a chair outside and asked me to chop it down to her shoulder blades. She had long wild, unkempt hair, that curled at the center of its length. When I was done, I brought the mirror outside and moved it about her head. She only nodded. “I like it. I feel good. I feel much better.”

NYC – Metropolitan Museum of Art: Statue of Yuny and His Wife, Renenutet

Image by wallyg
Yuny and His Wife, Renenutet
ca. 1290–1270 B.C.E.; early Dynasty 19; late reign of Sety I–early reign of Ramesses II; New Kingdom
Egyptian; Asyut
Limestone; H. 34 in. (86.4 cm)

These figures represent Yuny seated next to his wife Renenutet. Yuny, who lived in the city of Asyut, was a chief royal scribe and holder of many other offices, perhaps including that of physician. Additional inscriptions on the base of the statue further elaborate Yuny’s responsibilities. On the center fold of Yuny’s pleated skirt is an inscription that reads: "May everything that comes forth upon the offering table of [the god] . . . and all pure food that comes forth from the Great Enclosure [the temple complex at Heliopolis] be for the chief scribe, royal scribe of letters, Yuny, justified."

Renenutet affectionately places her right arm around her husband’s shoulders. On the back of the statue she is described as a chantress, or temple-ritual singer, of Amun-Re. In her left hand, she holds by its metal counterweight a heavy bead necklace called a menat. Menat necklaces were ritual implements that were held in the hands and shaken like cymbals, especially in the service of the goddess Hathor.

Appropriate to their high secular and religious positions, Yuny and Renenutet wear the elaborate wigs and fine linen attire fashionable in their time. Renenutet is adorned with a lotus fillet and a necklace called a broad collar. The beads are in the shape of nefer hieroglyphs (meaning "good" or "beautiful"), offering vases, and floral petals. Traces of black remain on the wigs. The couple sit together on a bench with elegantly carved lion-paw feet.

On the back of the chair in both sunk and raised relief are two scenes illustrating the ancient Egyptian ideal of affection and remembrance among family generations. In the upper register, Yuny and Renenutet receive offerings from their son; in the lower, Renenutet offers food and drink to her parents.

Rogers Fund, 1915 (15.2.1)

**
The Metropolitan Museum of Art‘s permanent collection contains more than two million works of art from around the world. It opened its doors on February 20, 1872, housed in a building located at 681 Fifth Avenue in New York City. Under their guidance of John Taylor Johnston and George Palmer Putnam, the Met’s holdings, initially consisting of a Roman stone sarcophagus and 174 mostly European paintings, quickly outgrew the available space. In 1873, occasioned by the Met’s purchase of the Cesnola Collection of Cypriot antiquities, the museum decamped from Fifth Avenue and took up residence at the Douglas Mansion on West 14th Street. However, these new accommodations were temporary; after negotiations with the city of New York, the Met acquired land on the east side of Central Park, where it built its permanent home, a red-brick Gothic Revival stone "mausoleum" designed by American architects Calvert Vaux and Jacob Wrey Mold. As of 2006, the Met measures almost a quarter mile long and occupies more than two million square feet, more than 20 times the size of the original 1880 building.

In 2007, the Metropolitan Museum of Art was ranked #17 on the AIA 150 America’s Favorite Architecture list.

The Metropolitan Museum of Art was designated a landmark by the New York City Landmarks Preservation Commission in 1967. The interior was designated in 1977.

National Historic Register #86003556

Some cool Folding Chairs images:

A maze of chairs

Image by Ed Yourdon
This view is facing eastwards, with the rear entrance of the Public Library in the background, and you can begin to see the helter-skelter jumble to folding chairs and small tables that were scattered all over the area.

Note: this photo was published in a May 20, 2009 blog titled "Folding Chairs Needed for George Gee Orchestra on Friday Afternoon for Frankie 95."

*************************************
Things have certainly changed in Bryant Park, behind the main branch of the New York Public Library, during the past 40 years. In 1969, I recall the park being a staging area for several Vietnam protest rallies (click here for an example); today, it seems to be used for concerts, public movies, picnics, sunbathing, and petanque.

It’s also amazing to see the high-tech, almost space-age, office buildings that now tower over the park, on 42nd Street, and Avenue of the Americas. When I worked in this area in the 1970s and 1980s, there were mostly 2-story and 3-story ramshackle buildings here, with pizza joints and tourist-junk stores on the ground floor…

I walked around the park for about half an hour, at lunch-time on a pleasant summer Saturday afternoon. Saw lots of interesting sights, did my best to capture the overall mood and feeling…

A few nice Metal Folding Chairs images I found:

Trestle Dining Table and 4 Wicker Chairs from Pottery Barn

Image by w2scott
neworleans.craigslist.org/fuo/1427102237.html

This table and chairs were bought from pottery barn several years ago.

The table is a pair of metal trestles and a plank top. The plank rests atop the trestles making for very easy storage.

The chairs are heavy metal frames with wicker panels and fold, again for easy storage.

Trestle Dining Table and 4 Wicker Chairs from Pottery Barn

Image by w2scott
neworleans.craigslist.org/fuo/1427102237.html

This table and chairs were bought from pottery barn several years ago.

The table is a pair of metal trestles and a plank top. The plank rests atop the trestles making for very easy storage.

The chairs are heavy metal frames with wicker panels and fold, again for easy storage.

A couple of folding chairs

beautiful pictures I found:

Glastonbury Trust

Year peak of Annie Mole
Amazingly beautiful folding chair en.wikipedia.org / wiki / Glastonbury_chair

Folded

Year peak of Erix!

tables / chairs at Chase Commerce Center

Year peak of Pete Prodoehl
There is a conference room (with a projector), which has about 25 folding chairs and some tables. The tables are plump, not sure how easy it is, move them …

Check out these Folding Lawn Chairs images:

Jessica Sundheim

Image by onBeing
Repossessing Virtue: Humility Is the Basis of My New Faith (December 14, 2008)
(this essay originally appeared on SOF Observed as part of the Speaking of Faith series, "Repossessing Virtue" at speakingofaith.org/first-person/repossessing-virtue/)

Editor’s note: We asked our listeners and readers to tell us their stories about the moral and spiritual aspects of the economic downturn. In the coming months, we’ll be featuring some of these on SOF Observed an as part of our First Person project, "Repossessing Virtue."

Jessica Sundheim reminds us that personal transformation and understanding happens at any age. She kicks off this first person exploration, and continues our series of interviews with wise voices, including Martin Marty, Prabhu Guptara, Esther Sternberg, Rachel Naomi Remen, and others to come.

Since I was very young, like just about everyone I know, I had a strong mechanism deep within that could smell injustice, layer upon layer of it. I knew at age three that going to daycare sucked, and I knew that my peers were favored because we were cared for by their mother. However, the complexity of greater social injustices didn’t really begin to sink in until I turned 25. Before then I think of myself as a protestor/whiner. I saw the injustice at face value and whined about it. Growing up on poverty and years of watching PBS documentaries of war demonstrations, the liberation of concentration camps, civil rights marches, The Wonder Years, and listening to my parents old LP’s of The Beatles and Janice Joplin had left their mark.

The tragedy of 9/11 took place just weeks after my 23rd birthday. It was shaking, like someone had struck a chord that had resonated for years and then on 9/11 someone struck a new chord, a chord no one knew. I quit my job to stay home with my kids. I flew home to Tennessee with my toddler and eight-month-old baby to visit family. We bought a new car. We waited. I was ready to act, but no direction came. I also began to seek out spiritual renewal and joined a very fundamentalist Bible study. Soon, my car was tuned to a different station, one that focused on my family and my role in it instead of news and the world. My head was filled with directives to isolate, seclude my young, and become as perfect as possible. My goal was to be Jesus Christ and to get everyone else to be just like me.

The mechanism that smelled injustice began to be tweaked. "Could it really be injustice if the person isn’t a Christian? God works for the good of those who believe in him." Personal behavior and faith status became the stick with which I measured out those who suffered for no cause of their own and those who deserved it. No longer a sheep in the flock, I wasn’t even the shepherd; I was the butcher, me and about 5 million others. So when the war that I had been fated to protest for years came, I was blinded by a belief system that mandated an eye for an eye.

My belief system had little sympathy or compassion for people who could not control their sinful nature. I didn’t even believe in funding public schools, or that women should work outside the home. Our society was falling apart because of working women, sex, Godless public education, taxes, and fast food. I really, really believed in this.

Shortly after 9/11 my husband became the director of an environmental learning center. Two years later, when the funding was cut and the center folded my life changed. I started a cleaning business at seven months pregnant because no business would hire me, and I got a job as a coordinator for an after school program (in a public school). I also became vehemently opposed to any business that would have the audacity to discriminate against a pregnant woman.

My husband worked endlessly. He had three jobs. He went to tutor at the school at 3:00 p.m., from there he went to his overnight factory job at 6 p.m. He got home after working an 11-hour shift at 5 a.m. At 9 a.m., after four hours of sleep, he went on call as an EMT with the local ambulance service. He could still catch some sleep if he didn’t get a call. Without the paycheck that we had become accustomed to, public school began to look like a good deal, my dream of home schooling was fading. Something I had railed against for years (welfare) began to look like a social safety net. I’ll never forget the time I was at a Christian women’s meeting and the director of the food shelf leaned over and said, "You can go to the food shelf so many times per year. You should go." She squeezed the life out of my hand, as if to say if you don’t go I’ll hurt you. I went.

I’ll never forget that experience. I, a hard working, educated, sober, business woman was going to a food shelf! The people were so nice. The form was one page, about five questions. I thought we’d get enough food for one meal, but I had to pull my car around so that I could unload box after box into my car. We were given so much, I couldn’t fit it all in my cupboards. We ate every last can of tuna, box of instant potatoes, and even SPAM with relish.

Humility is the basis of my new faith.

I do not look at the state of our country’s economy as a crisis in the same way as most. The state of affairs is an opportunity, in many ways. I still have a sense of justice, and so I think that someone should pay for the frivolous, machismo, arrogant politics and policies of the last 15 years. But, I know that for the most part the powerless, not the propagator, will suffer most in this mess.

However, poverty for me is no longer a judgment handed down to the lazy, uneducated, drunken, egocentric sloth. I no longer define poverty by neighborhood, class, education, or even bank account. Poverty is to lack the ability to help others as one would want to help oneself. Poverty is the inability to forgive — the blind, misinformed faith that isolates and secludes a person from joy, self-forgiveness, compassion, and love for one’s neighbor.

Our family has gone through a financial crisis much like what the country is facing now. We have learned a lot and I feel that we are better off. The leadership I am looking for at this time is a leadership that believes in everyday people. Leadership that doesn’t look at the person’s bank account or position of status to find value, but instead a leadership that understands the inherent value of every citizen of this country. A leadership that doesn’t seclude or isolate, but reaches out to all of us and in turn gives some useful direction, a map.

What am I doing differently? I am no longer a secluded housewife. My kids go to school. We moved to a new community. I am grateful for welfare, food stamps, and Medicare even though we no longer use them. The food shelf still rocks. Involved in my local political party, I fought hard for a candidate with real vision as a delegate to the DFL state convention. (I am the former chairperson for the Big Stone County Republican Party). For the last year I worked two jobs, helped plan a fundraiser, door knocked for Barack, had a house party, marched in a lawn chair brigade in many parades for my local candidate for Minnesota House Seat 10A. As the volunteer coordinator for A Center for the Arts, I naturally voted "yes" on the constitutional amendment.

I find wisdom at a unique church. The church is actually two churches, United Church of Christ and a Presbyterian church, which came together to worship in the same house when a tornado blew through town almost a hundred years ago. The six of us live in a two-bedroom house on the tracks in the "ghetto" of Fergus Falls, and I let the kids play with the neighbors. I could not be more different, or any further from my old idea of "perfection."

I find leadership in my elders, veterans, the people who grew up during the Great Depression, and my grandmother. I also look for ways to be of use. I find spiritual renewal in many forms of art, but my favorite is dance. I enjoy other’s points of view and I don’t always know mine. I like collaborating.

I once called into an MPR pledge drive during SOF to protest the show and withdraw my membership. I am sorry. Now, I want to tell you thank you. This [essay] is humongous, but it’s been a journey and I wouldn’t be the person I am now without having listened to the different ideas and perspectives (especially an interview with an Evangelical fundamentalist a few years back). Your show makes a difference, so I look forward to tuning in.

Jessica Sundheim was born during the Carter administration and lives in Fergus Falls, Minnesota.

A few nice Folding Chairs images I found:

Duo of folding chairs

Image by Sonia From Marseille

Folding Chair in the Sunlight

Image by kylesteed

Niko Kraj REX Chair B/W 3

Image by JoeInSouthernCA
Bent/laminated maple plywood construction. These suckers are heavy!

A few nice Folding Camping Chairs images I found:

girls fencing

Image by Joelk75
Practicing for the free Shakespeare play that I can start going to when I get one of those camp chairs that folds up.

Day 017 – 2009-08-21

Image by jabberwik
Jeff and I, chilling at our campsite watching people arrive.

Watch this folding chairs? v? lge pics:

picture orcmid
picture from Sarah Ross Photography

Check out these Folding Camping Chairs images:

On a Budget 155/365

Image by attila acs
Black background: folding camping chair for
Diffusion/reflector on the right: white kitchen towel ()
Reusable water bottle: ()

Flash + Camera + Tripod + Lens (don’t know… But being entry-level Pentax, it’s probably one of the cheaper DSLR options out there)

Check it out on black!!!

edit: changed the license to Creative Commons so feel free to use it for non-commercial work

Gourmet lunch

Image by fixedgear

Me in the First Chair

Image by BevKnits
I made it mostly by myself. Rusty took this picture of me in it before he cut off the excess threaded rod. It looks like the threaded rod is coming out of my ears or something…lol.

Check out these pictures

metal folding chairs

picture tanakawho
image slambo_42 today to visit our class and brought several of her platinum prints, to show us. We talked about how the masks and their thoughts on the subject macht.Es they shot around 40 minutes was empty before they arrived, so it is when I got my camera to get my 365 shot for today. These are the chairs in the study for evaluation of the discussion time eingestellt.90/365

Some cool Metal Folding Chairs images:

Image by Mulletar
A squad of the assault team tries to figure out what to do with the threat upstairs. At this point they had some control of the sitting area to the right so they had some freedom of movement.

Disclaimer: It was very dark inside the theater. Not dark enough to be unsafe, but dark enough to make non-flash action photography almost impossible. As such a ton of these pictures turned out wretchedly, with either a whole lot of blurring or vast discoloration. I tried to correct them in Photoshop, but the picture quality suffered a lot. These aren’t showpieces by any sense of the imagination, just interesting snapshots of the game for friends and those who attended to enjoy, and my contacts list to be totally bewildered by.

B.L.O.W.W.

Image by Mike Burns
Jumping onto Suzie Skrew from the metal folding chair.

Some cool Folding Chairs images:

Yuan Style Redwood Folding Chair

Image by d_flat

Yuan Style Redwood Folding Chair

Image by d_flat

Some cool plastic folding chairs images:

Not Different Just Special Setup

Image by nickwheeleroz
Strobist Information:

Sometimes you get an idea for a picture in your head and then have to work out how to create it. Other times, you see something when you are out and about and wonder how you can incorporate it into a picture. This picture is definitely a case of the latter. When I was in the supermarket looking for food colouring to do Gravity I spotted a big jar of glucose syrup. It was as clear as water but as thick as honey. In my mind, I formulated a picture of a glass of water full of red blobs (a bit like an old fashioned lava lamp). My plan for putting the blobs in the syrup was to use water with red food colouring. I would suck a mouthful up through a straw and then poke the straw into the syrup and blow a water bubble. While this seemed like an excellent plan on the surface, the practice turned out to be slightly less workable. When I blew the bubble into the syrup, the water did indeed form a bubble, but as soon as I drew the straw out the bubble closed up and all the water squeezed back up the gap left by the straw and sat on top of the syrup.

I needed a plan B. If I couldn’t use water to form the bubbles, what if I used something more solid. Another trip to the supermarket turned up a pack of round red sweets. I tried poking these into the syrup to see if they would stay in place. They did, so I now had everything I needed to create the picture.

I had one more problem and that was filling the narrow champagne flute with glucose syrup without getting any on the glass (it is almost impossible to wipe off without leaving a messy smear). I solved that problem by wrapping the glass in plastic wrap. I also folded some inside the rim of the glass to keep the glucose off the inside top of the glass. With the wrap in place I filled the glass and then peeled it off. Perfectly filled and no spills. I dropped the sweets onto the top of the syrup and then pushed them in place with a drinking straw. After filling three more glasses with water and blue food colouring I was ready to take the picture.

The setup is pretty much the same as my other glass pictures, a sheet of glass sitting on two chairs with an Elinchrom D-lite 4 flash head in a box under the glasses and another one pointing at the seamless white paper background. Both are triggered by PW’s. I also used two SB-28′s on either side fired through translucent umbrellas, again by PW’s. The SB-28’s are set at ½ power with 24mm zoom. The background flash is set at full power and the flash under the glass is on ½ power.

If I was going to shoot this picture again, there are a couple of things I would change. I filled the blue glasses before I filled the glucose glass and the levels are not the same. Also, there are a lot of bubbles in the syrup that I could not get rid of. I think I would try heating the syrup up to make it go runny, fill the glass and then put it in the fridge to set again. This should get rid of the bubbles.

The hardest part of this picture was cleaning the glass afterwards. Glucose syrup is sticky stuff and it is a nightmare to get off glass. It took a whole kettle of boiling water to finally get the glass clean!

Picture here: Not Different Just Special Picture

Learn how to light: www.strobist.com

The Joint @ Hard Rock Hotel

Image by joellevand
Of course, people who paid for "VIP seating" didn’t have it any better. The floor is only gently slanted, so that if I’d been seated, I wouldn’t have been able to even see the television screens. Moreover, your seats are folding chairs that are tethered to each other and the rails separating sections by plastic ties. Yes, plastic ties, kids. It’s really shitty. Oh, and the opening act sucked ass, though Sarah Silverman herself was very funny.

Look at these pictures of plastic folding chairs:

picture Douglas Brown

Check out these Outdoor Folding Chairs images:

Temp Desk

Image by VeldaZ
Temp Desk Mark I

Lets hear it for Rubber folding tables and inflatable balls.

I made the "lamp" out of a string of outdoor chinese lantern lights. Instead of hanging them horizontal i ran the cable twice through the lamps staggered like to make a big vertical hanging lamp.

Hopefully the fabled ",000 Super Console Desk Of Awesome" will be ordered and delivered in about a month or so, as well as a chair I can sit back in.

Oh, and why does the photo look funny? Its a really fast and dirty HDR composite.

Summer Kino

Image by marcibeauku
The Kino is outdoors in this, our town.
We gladly climb the steps at ten at night
to sit in folding chairs or on the ground,
spread out a blanket on the grass, delight

in these surroundings, mystic woods and hill,
where once a mighty fortress rose up tall;
now gone to ruin, tumbled stone has spilled
and where it stood we will tonight, enthralled,

partake of ancient epic brought to screen
out in the open underneath the stars
in company with one another seen
so oft below in village market, bars.

Together we relive the enigma –
medieval drama outdoor cinema.

– Marcy Jarvis

A few nice Folding Lawn Chairs images I found:

Suzuki Concept

Image by aarmono
You can’t see it from this picture, but the seats in this concept car looked like those folding lawn chairs which consist of strips of plastic stretched across a frame. At the San Diego Auto Show

IMG_5580

Image by cariaso
My bed is a folding lawn chair in one of the classrooms. Surrounded by chairs, which hold up the mosquito net. Surprisingly comfortable.

IMG_5583

Image by cariaso
My bed is a folding lawn chair in one of the classrooms. Surrounded by chairs, which hold up the mosquito net. Surprisingly comfortable.

A few nice Wood Folding Chairs images I found:

Stage 4: Sitting by the flowers

Image by zawtowers

rocking chairs

Image by joguldi

A few nice plastic folding chairs images I found:

plastic folding chairs

Image by nabger

white plastic folding chairs

Image by MBK (Marjie)

Image by alesh_