a river called time.

"Il y a dans l’art quelque chose de plus, qui ne s’explique pas, qui est essentielle" — Pierre-Auguste Renoir.

[arivercalledtime-blog]

it was.

[sakrogoat]

Wojciech Weiss - Obsession

[reorganizei]

Transeuntes eternos por nós mesmos, não há paisagem senão o que somos. Nada possuímos, porque nem a nós possuímos. Nada temos porque nada somos Que mãos estenderei para o universo? O universo não é meu: sou eu.

Livro do desassossego, trecho 123. (via reorganizei)

Não há paisagem senão o que somos.

[life7imitates7art]

‘Vase With Five Sunflowers’ by Vincent van Gogh (1853-1890) 

[drakontomalloi]

There are, indeed, things that cannot be put into words. They make themselves manifest. They are what is mystical.

Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (via drakontomalloi)

[via-appia]

La Plaine de Gennevilliers, 1888

Gustave Caillebotte (1848–1894)

[arivercalledtime-blog]

Caillebotte - La Plaine de Gennevilliers - Sec XIX (1888)

[quotemadness]

To me, the whole world is a homeland, like the sea to fish.

Dante Alighieri (via quotemadness)

[unbridledmodernism]

Frantisek Kupka - The Yellow Scale (1907)

[arivercalledtime-blog]

Kupka - The Yellow Scale - Sec XX (1907)

[talesofpassingtime]

The senator had only one argument in his favor: his feeling. When the heart speaks, the mind finds it indecent to object. In the realm of kitsch, the dictatorship of the heart reigns supreme.

Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being (via talesofpassingtime)

[artstoria]

Gustav Klimt, Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, 1907

[arivercalledtime-blog]

Gustav Klimt, Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, 1907

[introspectivepoet]

We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment (via introspectivepoet)

[bombaim]

By The Sea (1892)

Paul Gauguin

[arivercalledtime-blog]

Paul Gauguin (1892)

[emotional-algebra]

"I see the sun, and if I don’t see the sun, I know it’s there. And there’s a whole life in that, in knowing that the sun is there."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

[dappledwithshadow]

[arivercalledtime-blog]

Bed of Chrysanthemums, Claude Monet (1890)

[yama-bato]

[arivercalledtime-blog]

Roger Ballen

[ralexmarshall]

Some gardeners hate the weeds that spoil their design – the ugliness in the midst of beauty, litter in the midst of a serene order. Some others are quite unemotional about them: just a problem to be solved, an extra job to be done. Not that it makes a difference to the weeds; both gardeners exterminate them. If asked or given a chance to pause and ponder, both would agree; weeds must die not so much because of what they are, as because of what the beautiful, orderly garden should be. Modern culture is a garden culture. It defines itself as the design for an ideal life and a perfect arrangement of human conditions.

Zygmunt Bauman, Modernity and the Holocaust, pp91-92

[lonequixote]

[arivercalledtime-blog]

Meadow in the Garden of Saint-Paul Hospital ~ Vincent van Gogh