El Gato En El Tejado

Al carajo facebook yo estoy aqui...

[obscure-trust]

[kittenmeats]

“La Pieuvre Des Arbres” (1928) - Jean Painlevé 

[estesemicho-blog]

¿Los escritores? Los escritores se morían de hambre. Los escritores se suicidaban. Los escritores se volvían locos.

“Hollywood”, Charles Bukowski. (via estesemicho)

[yan-wo]

[estesemicho-blog]

Milton Glaser

[tierradentro]

“Love’s Shadow“ (detail), 1867, Anthony Frederick Sandys.

[kaijusaurus]

[strwflwr]

La Cosita Mascareño, muy Catrina…

[almarosa]

No me quería quedar con las ganas de dibujar estas flores. Así que dibujé una nena con flores de cempazúchitl conmemorando el mes de Noviembre y un poquito el Día de Muertos.

[telefante]

Samoyedo y Cempazúchitl.

[akarunhe]

[anycolouryoudislike]

Mexican Marigold - by (Any Colour You Dislike)

[ahuevomorelos]

cempasúchil by coloresdelatierra on Flickr.

[avellanna]

[femme-de-lettres]

Large (Wikimedia)

I’m so used to seeing the traditionally posed Saint-George-slaying-a-dragon scene that it took me a good minute to figure out what this is even of.

It’s Briton Rivière’s 1808–1809 painting Saint George and the Dragon, of course. It should have been obvious what it’s of.

But I’m not kidding when I say there is a traditional pose. Saint George sits on a rearing horse, stabbing (or preparing to stab) a strangely undersized dragon below. In Medieval and Byzantine versions, in High Renaissance versions, in Baroque versions, in Symbolist versions, in Expressionist versions, it’s always the same.

I guess it shouldn’t be surprising that a painter famous for his paintings of “contemporary genre, classical, and biblical themes, invariably involving animals,” as the Dashesh Museum puts it, would pay a little more attention to the roles the animals play in such a scene.

But what makes this so stunning is its honesty. Suddenly, Saint George’s feat isn’t an easy triumph: it’s gratitude for even surviving in his heaven-turned eyes; it’s a battle so hard-won that his horse lies dead or dying beneath the dragon; it’s exhaustion so severe that he himself lies—almost companionably—in the curve of his slain enemy’s body, his helmet cast to the side.

[yadoking-moved-blog]

[unit-02]

[estesemicho-blog]

Tombent de cieux.

Tornóse árbol mi sueño Cubiertas mis ramas de alas Trémulas, blancas de alucín Palpitan, vuelan y se abren Cuando amanecen, pajaritos

Mi sueño volvióse al árbol De alas cubierto su mohín Ríspidas, negras de alucín Chorrean, descienden y se abren Cuando anochecen, murciélagos

Mi árbol se vuelve al sueño Cubiertas ya sus ramas de las alas Violetas, fluorescentes en el desvarío Inmóviles, perpetuas en silencio Cuando el tiempo se detiene, formas                                   [invisibles