like an artist's muse. like history's muse.

oh, to be immortalised. (and what of to immortalise?)

[artist-immortalisation]

"I'm doing it, by the way.

I'm going hunting/foraging/scavenging for artist-immortalisation (tentative title) posts.

This is my therapy to make up for the constant threat of panic that hung on the edge of my skin for the past few days.

I'm excited. (That's the coffee kicking in.) (And also probably the energy of panic being tapped and redirected.)"

— me, Oct 7, 2021, 12:52pm

[shouty-y]

The artist and their muse ✨ - Prints

[juneacademia]

“you’re so pretty,” okay write poetry about me then.

[m1male2]

"The Satyr and the Bacchante" by the sculptor Jean-Jacques Pradier (1790-1852) was presented at the Paris Salon (Salon Carré, Louvre) in 1834. It was a scandal for being considered pornographic: too explicit, too large and too frontal …Things of the time.

Louvre Museum

[darksswords]

you are someone who I wanna do art about

[saintgregorythegenerous]

Blackbeard as girl in the red kimono

[sawasawako-archived]

oh chen chen we’re really in it now…

[embraceofday]

bro,,, to be seen as poetry???? to have someone look at you and see art?????? bro.

[artist-immortalisation]

[layvendar]

Tired: The Shakespeare’s sonnets 1-126 about the Fair Youth are inspired by Crowley talking about Aziraphale, while sonnets 127-154 about the Dark Lady are inspired by Aziraphale talking about the demon.

Wired: The Shakespeare’s sonnets 1-126 about the Fair Youth are inspired by Aziraphale talking about Crowley, while sonnets 127-154 about the Dark Lady are inspired by Crowley talking about the angel.

Inspired: All 154 of Shakespeare’s sonnets are over all inspired by the ineffable husbands being in love and Will just chose to play around with the pronouns because an angel and a demon are nonbinary entities.

[suits-of-woe]

y’all i’m crying about the fair youth sonnets again

not even the actual poems but the reason they were written because like? it was largely to commemorate that beautiful young man, to immortalize him, to make sure that even after he aged and died his beauty would live on eternally in the written word. and that’s just such a beautiful human impulse, right? to create, to record what is temporary, to make a love that lasts forever. but how many people throughout history have failed at that goal? how many millions have wanted to make sure their loved ones weren’t forgotten but weren’t able to make that happen?

but shakespeare literally just…fucked around and was so brilliant that he became the most famous writer in the western world. and we still read about his love and think about that man more than 400 years later. it worked. it actually worked to a scale he couldn’t have imagined during his lifetime. and just. what the fuck. what the fuck. tell me that isn’t one of the greatest acts of love of all time

[dbaydenny]

People are poems

rough drafts walking everywhere

in broken cadence

moving odes, types of free verse

penned by the skilled hand of God.

.

D W Eldred

[wedge-of-poetry]

You go home and invent a story about me, and now you can't separate me from the person you've imagined me to be. You call that, I suppose, being in love; as a matter of fact it's being in delusion.

Virginia Woolf, Night and Day

[wedge-of-poetry]

You go home and invent a story about me, and now you can’t separate me from the person you’ve imagined me to be. You call that, I suppose, being in love; as a matter of fact it’s being in delusion.

Virginia Woolf, Night and Day

[dbaydenny]

Bonded to nature,

with the kiss of rising mist,

the call of each bird,

emerging bud turning full,

artists, poets and their kind.

.

D W Eldred

[myredbike]

”On some days she made me laugh until I cried, and on others inspired me to contemplate the meaning of life. We drank steaming coffee on chilly mornings as the world drifted by, and red wine at midnight, marveling at the sparkling sky. I wanted to give her the moon and the stars above, but all she asked for was my affection and time.”

Copyright © Dirty Romantic

[undead-morrison]

My mouth begs to follow the path those pearls have cleared away;