LOVE IS ETERNAL

My religion, between our palms

[yohjimuse]

prada ss1998

[389]

Saroyan Humphrey

[damnvm]

Isabelle Huppert, Malina, 1991, dir. Werner Schroeter.

[jinxproof]

Guinevere Van Seenus | © Mark Borthwick

[worldscoolest]

Keith Bernstein

[huariqueje]

Nostalgie - Ida Lorentzen ,  2009.

Norwegian - American , b. 1951 -

Oil on canvas , 130 x 160 cm.

[sometimesthepossible]

“Interior” - John Sten

[lamignonette]

[toiich]

Medea (1969), dir. Pier Paolo Pasolini

[wintercorrybriea2]

Simon Carle

[stoyadoll]

[theflaneurfilosopher]

Kea, 1979

Igor Mitoraj

The Kea (1979) is one of the most tender and unusual works in Mitoraj's bronze catalogue — a female torso from which two delicate hands emerge: one cradling the chest, one resting at the waist, in an intimate gesture of self-embrace. Published by Artcurial, Paris, in an edition of 250, Kea predates the more widely collected mythological series of the 1980s and 1990s and belongs to Mitoraj's early Pietrasanta period.

About the Kea

Kea was made in 1979, the same year Mitoraj made his first trip to Carrara — the moment that shifted his practice decisively toward stone and bronze, and toward the fragmentary human body as his central subject. The work anticipates all that follows: the truncation of the body, the intimacy of scale, the copper-brown patina that recalls both ancient bronze and warm flesh.

The title Kea refers to the Greek island in the Cyclades — a place associated with classical sculpture and the Aegean tradition of the idealised human form. In giving this intimate female torso a geographical title, Mitoraj connects it to the landscape that shaped his vision of antiquity.

Unlike many of Mitoraj's later bronzes — where the body is cut, bandaged, or pierced — Kea is strikingly whole in its torso form. The arms are absent, but the body itself is unbroken; the only addition is the two hands, which seem to appear from outside the figure, as if another — or the figure itself — reaches in to hold what remains.

[22iw]

[sioltach]

James Bradley

[rose1water]

Tehran underground station dedicated to the Virgin Mary

[propertiesofjoy]

from the shadow texts (posthumous) by alejandra pizarnik

[lifeinpoetry]

“i know the tongue she speaks— grief is a kind of language you can touch.”

— Ojo Taiye, from “Is This Still What I Want?” All of Us are Birds and Some of Us Have Broken Wings