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Bernd Mueller

@bmller6953

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lived in: Moscow, Boston, Nancy, Porto, Brasilia DF, Singapore, Warsaw, Tokyo, Paris, This is my life👇👇 “traveling, art”

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👇👇Rocky Mountain National Park,Colorado #USA ,#denver #rocky #rockymountains #rockymountainnationalpark #hiking #hike #colorado #usa #coloradohikes #reels #incredible_shot #coloradomountains #beautifulview #francismueller #likeandfollow #likeforfollowback #reelinstagram❤️ #likecolorado #coloradophotography #coloradophotographer #coloradohikes #coloradooutdoors #like4like #bouldercolorado #coloradotrail #reelsi̇nstagram #amazingtravelbeauty #beautifuldestinations #beautifulnaturephotography #beautifullandscape taken in Colorado, USA by @bmller6953

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2 years ago

👇👇Palácio Nacional da Pena , Sintra #sintra #outdoors #kunst #reels travel #reelsvideo #sintraportugal #beautifulphotography #beautifuldestinations ##palacionacionaldapena #naturelovers #streetart #art #artlover #portugal #like #reelsinstagram #reelslovers #reisenbildet #reels #portugal #exklusive_shot #amazingreels #instagramreels #exclusive #palaciopena #beautifulview #reisenfuerweltentdecker #peña #brasil #usa #reelsvideo #amazingphoto #likeportugal taken in Sintra-Portugal by @bmller6953

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2 years ago

👇👇ROBERT PIASECKI -THE CITY WAKES- read more 👉”Axel de Chevron-Villette's L'Océan endormi evokes a city that breathes with memories. The piano constructs its architecture-geometric and orderly, yet brimming with hidden emotions. Each note is like another street, another trace of presence, a fragment of a story inscribed in the silence.
The strings are the face of this city-or perhaps half a face-lending it a human aspect. They see, they hear, they feel. They permeate the coldness of the architecture, revealing what words cannot express. They carry longing, tenderness, and a yearning for closeness-as if, behind the geometric structure of the world, there lies a heart still waiting for love.
There is a sense of both solitude and hope in this music-as if someone, lost between memory and dream, were searching for another human being. Sounds emerge and fade, leaving behind emotions that cannot be held onto-much like fleeting moments, glances, or a touch that passes, yet remains in one's memory Fieber.
And yet, the music does not surrender to the silence. It flows like an ocean-seemingly asleep, yet concealing an infinite movement beneath its surface.
For human beings, regardless of time, solitude, or the transience of life, always long to love. They yearn to be seen, heard, and understood-to find a face in which they might glimpse a part of themselves, and a presence in whose company they no longer need to hide their feelings.
Perhaps that is why the piano is the city, and the strings are the face. One gives love space; the other gives it meaning.
And music reminds us that, even in the most geometric, orderly world, what remains most important is that which cannot be seen-a heart that yearns, and a human being who still longs to be loved. “ taken in Art in House - Dom Aukcyjny i Galeria Online by @bmller6953

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16 hours ago

👇👇ARKADIUSZ KULPA – GARDEN OF FULFILLED DREAMS – read more 👉”Garden of Fulfilled Dreams“ is a harmonious, poetic painting about longing, inner maturity, and the quiet realization that fulfillment does not always mean achieving even more. It depicts not an ordinary garden, but an inner world where nature, the cosmos, and the human soul merge.
At the center stands a woman dressed in vibrant orange-red. Her eyes are closed, her head slightly tilted. While blossoms, spheres, planets, and points of light grow around her, she remains perfectly calm. She does not gaze at her garden—she seems to feel it within herself. Perhaps she did not find this place, but rather allowed it to grow within her over the years.
Orange and blue unite two opposing forces. Orange represents vital energy, passion, and creative power; blue stands for tranquility, vastness, and the spirit. The long blue fabric moves freely through the composition. It might symbolize the past and experience: they accompany us without needing to hold us back.
The blending of blossoms and planets allows the microcosm and the universe to flow into one another. Each blossom could represent a matured experience; each sphere, a dream; each point of light, a possibility yet to unfold.
Remarkably, the woman reaches for nothing. She does not tally her successes nor attempt to possess the beauty surrounding her. She simply exists in the moment. Perhaps this is why fulfillment does not mean that every wish has come true. Some dreams are fulfilled when we realize them—others, when we recognize that we no longer need them.
The garden can also be viewed as a biography: encounters, journeys, love, losses, and new beginnings coalesce into a unified whole when viewed in retrospect.
Perhaps happiness begins the moment we stop reaching for the next dream and realize: some things we have long sought have already grown within us. Longing transforms into gratitude— and from many individual experiences, our own garden. taken in Warsaw, Poland by @bmller6953

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a day ago

👇👇BOŻENA SIECZYŃSKA -PEACE- read more. 👉 Her head is slightly bowed, her hair tousled by the wind. A blue dress, veiled in white, ripples like seawater in the moonlight.
Black touches her body and hands, and an irregular streak cuts across her face-as if everything she cannot express in words has left its mark there.
Into this silence enters *Nocturne Dominus Ira*. The cello speaks with a deep, velvety tone, evoking memories and a longing for closeness. Its melody flows like a dark river. Suddenly, the violins join in-abrupt, dramatic, sharp as a flash of lightning tearing through the night sky. Their voice is like the wind tugging at a solitary tree, unleashing emotions that have been locked away in silence for too long.
The earthy background evokes a vision of nature which, despite its harshness, never ceases to give birth to life. A touch of pink blossoms on her dress-a delicate trace of tenderness that has endured. Like a flower pushing through cracked soil, it serves as a reminder that suffering need not strip us of our sensitivity.
The woman does not pick at her wounds. She need not revisit every painful memory to acknowledge its significance. She chooses peace-not as an escape, but as an acceptance of life, free from the constant need to settle scores with the past.
The music follows her transformation. The cello softens, and the violins, shed of their vehemence, seek harmony. Their voices intertwine, as if even conflicting emotions might find a shared space. A reconciliation with what cannot be changed begins to emerge.
The woman does not know the entire path, yet she dares to take the first step. It is the color pink that catches the eye-as if life were reminding us that even in the darkest of tales, a new color can appear.
As the final notes of *Nocturne Dominus Ira* dissolve into silence, there remains a woman who is reclaiming her own rhythm-and with it, the right to peace, freedom, and a life that, once again, belongs to her. “ taken in Art in House - Dom Aukcyjny i Galeria Online by @bmller6953

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👇👇JOANNA RZADKOWSKA -EON- read more 👉“This is the music of a woman who has walked through fire and refused to let it extinguish her light. She need not shout to demonstrate her strength; she simply endures.
The cello is her backbone-deep, powerful, and unyielding. It carries dignity, courage, and the weight of battles she has shared with no one. Its sound does not beg for attention; it is like the presence of a woman who knows her worth and has nothing to prove.
An open circle hovers above her head—a symbol of freedom, an unfinished story, and a light that cannot be confined by boundaries. It is not a saintly halo, but a mark of her own power.
Her own light. Her own rules.
Geometric shapes bring order to the world of emotions. Lines define boundaries, sharp angles recall difficult decisions, and triangles symbolize ambition and the relentless drive to move forward. Yet, beneath this precision beats a heart that defies all geometry.
The cross becomes an intersection of suffering and hope, of solitude and intimacy. It signifies the burden she had to bear and the strength that allowed her to save herself.
And then, the singing begins.
It does not diminish the cello's power; instead, it answers that strength. It brings longing, tenderness, and a truth that no armor can express: even the strongest woman sometimes needs someone by her side.
Not to rescue her. Not to take away her independence. But so that she might, for a moment, cease to be indestructible.
Nocturne Dominus - The Lightbearer is music born of pride, yet one that makes room for tenderness. It speaks of a woman who can be her own light, but need not shine alone.
For true strength does not lie in needing no one; it lies in being able to stand before another person without armor-and still remain yourself. “ taken in Warsaw, Poland by @bmller6953

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3 days ago

👇👇ANNA SZELĄGOWSKA – WIND FROM THE SEA – read more. 👉“The violin is the wind-free, elusive, unpredictable. Its melody rises gently at times, only to suddenly quicken, gather strength, and sweep everything up in its elemental force. The sounds undulate, swelling and subsiding; in their rhythm, one hears the breath of nature, a sense of longing, and a yearning for freedom.
The other instruments represent the woman-her body, her pulse, and her emotions. Low tones evoke a heartbeat-calm and deep. Softer phrases are like a breath that soothes the body, while powerful chords summon energy, confidence, and sensual strength. The music pulses within her, swaying softly one moment and accelerating wildly the next, as if her entire body were responding to the touch of the wind.
Rhythm becomes the language of their encounter. The violin darts forward, seizing the melody and eluding predictability. The other instruments respond with depth and sonic weight, establishing a stability that is not stillness, but a conscious presence. The dynamics intensify-the sounds grow dense and emotions peak, only to suddenly give way to silence and delicacy.
Tension arises from these contrasts: between turbulence and calm, between the ephemeral and the physical, between the desire for intimacy and the need for independence.
When the violin soars like a gusting wind, the woman does not lose her rhythm. When the music softens, her strength does not fade. Their sounds intertwine and part, accelerate and slow, yet neither encroaches on the other's space.
The music breathes like a living organism. It has its own pulse, its moments of tension and release, its ebbs and flows. It is a dance of two freedoms: the wind stirs the strings, while the woman gives the music a body. He is movement; she is the pulse. And when their rhythms converge in a single, climactic sound, the boundary between wind and woman dissolves.
Nothing remains but the music-alive, sensual, and untamed. It is music born of that same longing: to be close, yet remain free. “ taken in Art in House - Dom Aukcyjny i Galeria Online by @bmller6953

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👇👇lubaszewska_art - think I miss it- read more 👉”The music seems to draw out from the darkness-in which a huddled woman is suspended-everything she can no longer express in words.
Her wind-swept hair, almost merging with the background, evokes a storm of thoughts, while her dusty-pink dress is like a trace of past tenderness, love, and hope-now overshadowed by suffering. Heavy, unsettling sounds intensify the sense of isolation, and the knife clutched in her hand becomes a symbol of an inner struggle: pain, anger, and a decision she may be unable to face. The music seems to pulse in rhythm with her emotions, at times evoking despair, at others awakening a suppressed strength. It is as if every note touches a wound no one has ever seen. The woman clasps her knees, trying to shield herself, while the surrounding gloom swallows everything outside. And the knife?
Perhaps it is that heavy sword from the music-a symbol of the battle she has long waged within her own soul. We do not know if she wishes to sever ties with the past, free herself from unfulfilled love, or find the strength to survive. The sounds leave us with this question, while her motionless figure seems to wait for the moment when the inner storm finally subsides. For sometimes, the hardest battle is not fought against the world, but against what one carries within.”@lubaszewska_art taken in Warsaw, Poland by @bmller6953

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4 days ago

👇👇JOANNA SZUMSKA -THE SIXTH SENSE- read more. 👉”Strings. A recurring motif. A nervous tremor of sound that cuts through the silence time and again. The same phrase, yet each time it carries a different tension. As if the music were trying to say something but stopping just short of the answer. The sound swells. It returns. It quickens in our minds. Vibrating strings build an unease that is not yet fear. It is anticipation, an inner alertness, the sense that something remains just out of sight.
The music pulses like a heart that has sensed a change before the mind could recognize it. Blue. Orange. Red. Colors dance to the rhythm of the sounds. The woman's face remains pensive; her gaze drifts to the side. She does not see what the cat has noticed. And the cat is listening. The strings repeat their motif-tension, suspension, return. The cat lifts a paw, freezes, and stares at something unseen. As if each successive note confirmed its alertness, as if the music flowed straight from its instinct. Butterflies flutter against a backdrop of geometric shapes and flowers. A small flash of blue. Larger wings. A gentle movement that eases the tension, only for the strings to bring back the unease a moment later. And that same motif again. It returns like a thought that cannot be silenced. Like a premonition knocking ever more insistently. Sound asks. Silence listens. Intuition senses. Reason does not yet know. Perhaps that is precisely why the music sounds so unsettling-it evokes that moment when we sense something, even though we cannot yet explain it. The strings play on. And the cat keeps watching.” taken in Art in House - Dom Aukcyjny i Galeria Online by @bmller6953

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5 days ago

👇👇Natalia Fundowicz -Symphony in the Morning- read more 👉”The piano is the night. Its rhythm is slow, steady, almost motionless.
Single notes fall like droplets into a bottomless silence. Between them stretches a space where time slows and thoughts dissolve like a dream.
It is a rhythm of stillness, solitude, and closed eyes.
The cello is the voice of the day. Its rhythm pulses, quickens and slows, undulating with emotion. Long, deep phrases intertwine with sudden surges, like the breath of a waking world. Its melody stirs the soul-carrying restlessness, longing, and the vitality of life demanding to
The piano halts time; the cello sets it in motion. One breathes the calm of night, the other beats with the rhythm of day. Their sounds meet at the boundary of two worlds, creating a tension between stillness and desire, dream and reality.
Amidst this music, the woman remains motionless, her eyes closed. As if the night still sheltered her, while the day waits impatiently just beyond the threshold.
Is it still a dream, or is it already morning?
As the cello's pulse fades and the piano leaves behind its final, solitary notes, silence returns.
Yet now, the silence holds a rhythm.
For the piano is the breath of the night, the cello the heartbeat of the day, and the woman-the moment between them, where everything can be born anew.
Every dawn promises a day.” taken in Warsaw, Poland by @bmller6953

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👇👇MARIUSZ ZAJĄC -RESONASE- read more 👉”The bass hums low; the guitar plucks at the strings. The sounds brush against one another, stretching out, lingering just a beat behind. The blues has a rasp, a raw edge, and a defiant smile.
The woman watches, as if listening for something more than just the music. The bass settles beneath her ribs; the guitar grazes her skin with an invisible string. Her body responds with subtle movement-hips swaying lazily, spine rippling softly, shoulders releasing tension.
She does not dance for an audience. She dances because something within her has been stirred.
There is a confidence in her that needs no display, and a sensuality born of presence. She does not control every gesture; she lets the music guide her through tension and release, through the grit of the sound and the softness of her breath.
The swing plays with her movement-pulling close, then letting go. A lock of hair slides across her shoulder as her body finds its own rhythm. She does not merely mirror the music; she flirts with it.
Resonance is born of this encounter. The sound moves the woman, yet her presence gives it a new dimension. What is heard becomes something felt. What lies within rises to the surface-in a gesture, a glance, a shiver of skin.
Perhaps that is where her strength lies: she need not choose between tenderness and fire, between calm and passion. She allows them to coexist, just as the blues allows roughness and beauty to meet. It is unclear whether the woman follows the music or the music responds to her presence.
For true sensuality begins when we stop trying to put on a performance-when the body becomes the voice of the inner self, and every movement its own unique sound.
The music leaves a scratch upon the silence. The woman transforms it into movement. And between the sound and her skin, something is born-something that can be neither seen nor touched.
Resonance.” taken in Warsaw, Poland by @bmller6953

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6 days ago

👇👇MAGDA KŁOS – BEHIND THE VEIL OF WHISPERS – read more. 👉”Red and orange pulse across her face like the low tones of a cello-hot, deep, and quivering beneath the skin. Each stroke of the bow spills out like heat, drawing forth hidden emotions that the lips cannot express.
Blue strands of hair rise like threads, following a melody that soars above the cool pulse of the electronics. The cello drags its sound roughly across the strings one moment, then softly subsides into a tender phrase. The red intensifies, the orange flickers like glowing embers, and the blue stretches out in the cool reverb of the synthesizers. The colors are no longer merely an image-they become sound. Fire answers the bow, coolness envelops its tremor, and the woman remains between them, one eye exposed and a secret hidden in the half-light. As the cello leads the final phrase, the red gently fades, the orange loses its glow, and the blue swallows the last remnants of sound. The bow comes to rest on the final note. Its vibration dies away slowly, like light reflected on the surface of water as it closes over. The red lingers within her like glowing heat; the blue falls silent like the space following the final tone.
And the woman remains-unfinished, like a melody whose most vital note still hides beneath the surface of the silence.” taken in Warszawa by @bmller6953

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