Deborah Chiesa | Somewhere under way I started this attempt with blurring and adding layers in order to increase energy and intimacy of the pics. So I have to apply that to the images published prior to that…
Today I started my second run-through. The first selection of 322 images made me wish that I’d had taken more photos depicting the whole scenery. But in these years of shooting my ambition mainly was to come close to the players in order to show the intensity of focus, motion, reaction and emotion. So the following photos will show more of those close-ups. My idea is to give tags to each photo and make these categories available on separate pages and via the respective search term. I start with it today and hope to come up with the re-tagging for the initial 322 pics soon. You’ll find them at the bottom of each post.
…So, now I am finished with all the old photos. As you might have realized I skipped many many pics. I left them in the database in order for everybody to be able to find ‘their’ images via the search function. Some of them I will take on later by re-thinking things like frame and other things. Also I probably will be much more radical with the manipulation. I have nothing to lose and for me the arts aspect has clear priority nowadays. But first I will re-think and if necessary re-do all the twothousandsomething previous pics…
…it’s more about photography and allegory here than about individual players. Given that I only have attentive and smart visitors everybody will know that by now. Yet still one cannot explain enough…
First published on: May 4, 2025 at 06:52 as ‘n:ew pic #1559’
It happens to be that photos tagged with ITF partially are from German Bundesliga, which is another even smaller category. For me it’s ok here to distinguish between the bigger WTA and the inferior ITF stage, whether it’s all correct or not.
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I found out that one can upload pictures to ChatGPT and ask it to describe them. Obviously one can influence the way of that by the prompt. I chose to keep it quite open just asking it to decribe it ‘lyrically, like a poem, in English and in German’. Some of the words come stunningly near to what my intentions are with this project. Other parts are just so so. Hope it’s as much fun to read for everyone as it is for me. I decided not to change one single syllable of what the AI is coming up with here. Given the restrictions for non-paying users I only can do three images at a time and then have to wait for some ten hours before I can upload the next. At the moment it doesn’t make sense to me to upgrade to the required 20-bucks-per-month Plus-Version. For now I chose to be patient and do what I can with the restrictions.
At the end of the post you find a better readable bigger version of the texts…
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ChatGPT

In Praise Of Shadows
© Christian Brockmeier | all rights reserved
Where Light Learns to Dance
From the darkness
she appears like a secret
the night has chosen to reveal.
Light falls across her face in fragments,
soft as memory,
sharp as truth.
Everything else drifts into shadow,
but she remains—
a quiet flame at the center of the frame.
The racket rests in her hand
like an extension of intention,
while the ball hangs for an instant
between gravity and possibility.
Behind her, words fade into obscurity,
letters swallowed by darkness,
their meaning forgotten.
Only presence remains.
There is something playful in the gesture,
a hand raised as though greeting the moment itself,
as though she knows that every game,
every challenge,
every fleeting chance,
is also a conversation with time.
The light traces patterns across her body
like water moving over stone,
revealing and concealing in the same breath.
And for a brief moment
she stands between worlds—
between motion and stillness,
between athlete and dream,
between who she is
and who she is becoming.
The ball will fly.
The moment will pass.
The shadows will return.
But this fragment of light
will linger a little longer,
like the final note of a song
echoing through the dark.
Wo das Licht tanzen lernt
Aus der Dunkelheit
tritt sie hervor wie ein Geheimnis,
das die Nacht für einen Augenblick preisgibt.
Das Licht fällt in Bruchstücken auf ihr Gesicht,
sanft wie eine Erinnerung,
klar wie eine Wahrheit.
Alles andere versinkt im Schatten,
doch sie bleibt—
eine stille Flamme im Zentrum des Bildes.
Der Schläger ruht in ihrer Hand
wie eine Verlängerung ihres Willens,
während der Ball für einen Augenblick
zwischen Schwerkraft und Möglichkeit schwebt.
Hinter ihr verblassen die Worte,
Buchstaben werden von der Dunkelheit verschluckt,
ihr Sinn löst sich auf.
Nur Gegenwart bleibt.
In ihrer Geste liegt etwas Spielerisches,
eine erhobene Hand,
als würde sie den Augenblick selbst begrüßen,
als wüsste sie, dass jedes Spiel,
jede Herausforderung,
jede flüchtige Chance
auch ein Gespräch mit der Zeit ist.
Das Licht zeichnet Muster auf ihren Körper,
wie Wasser, das über Stein gleitet,
enthüllend und verbergend zugleich.
Und für einen kurzen Moment
steht sie zwischen den Welten—
zwischen Bewegung und Stille,
zwischen Athletin und Traum,
zwischen der Person, die sie ist,
und der, die sie werden wird.
Der Ball wird fliegen.
Der Augenblick wird vergehen.
Die Schatten werden zurückkehren.
Doch dieses Stück Licht
wird noch eine Weile bleiben,
wie der letzte Ton eines Liedes,
der lange nachklingt
in der Dunkelheit.