Ichiro Tsuruta
Sade Olutola
occasionally subtle
almost home
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blake kathryn
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

titsay
KIROKAZE
d e v o n
dirt enthusiast

Discoholic 🪩

祝日 / Permanent Vacation

ellievsbear
Sweet Seals For You, Always
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

Kaledo Art
RMH

Product Placement
will byers stan first human second
i don't do bad sauce passes
seen from Germany

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seen from Hungary
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@bilancini
Ichiro Tsuruta
Shuji Terayama
- Throw Away Your Books, Rally in the Streets
1971
some more twin peaks stuff because i’m still thinking about it
prints (1 & 2)
and when you see the one that’s meant to help you, you will weep with joy.
prints
“the ending is always the same”
war of the foxes - richard silken / waterloo - ABBA / euripides’ medea - the little theatre / anne carson / the three fates - luca cambiaso / the oresteia - aeschylus / road to hell II - hadestown / when i met you - mira lightner / andersen’s fairy tale anthology
Golshifteh Farahani for Vogue Paris (May 2011), by Karim Sadli
Michelangelo Pistoletto, Mirror Paintings
Holly Andres, The Missing Bird
How They Met Themselves, Rossetti
Beloved You, lost from the start, Beloved, never-achieved, I don’t know what melodies might please you. I no longer try, when the future surges up, to recognise you. All the vast images in me, in the far off, experienced, landscape, towns, and towers and bridges and un- suspected winding ways and those lands, once growing tremendous with gods: rise to meaning in me, yours, who escape my seeing. Ah, you were the gardens, ah, I saw them with such hope. An open window in a country house – and you almost appeared, near me, and pensive. Streets I discovered – you’d walked straight through them, and sometimes the mirror in the tradesman’s shop was still dizzy with you and, startled, gave back my too-sudden image. – Who knows, if the same bird did not sound there, through us, yesterday, apart, in the twilight?
Rilke
In fact, reading in youth can be rather unfruitful, owing to impatience, distraction, inexperience with the product’s “instructions for use,” and inexperience in life itself. Books read then can be (possibly at one and the same time) formative, in the sense that they give a form to future experiences, providing models, terms of comparison, schemes for classification, scales of value, exemplars of beauty—all things that continue to operate even if the book read in one’s youth is almost or totally forgotten. If we reread the book at a mature age we are likely to rediscover these constants, which by this time are part of our inner mechanisms, but whose origins we have long forgotten. A literary work can succeed in making us forget it as such, but it leaves its seed in us. The definition we can give is therefore this: 3) The classics are books that exert a peculiar influence, both when they refuse to be eradicated from the mind and when they conceal themselves in the folds of memory, camouflaging themselves as the collective or individual unconscious. There should therefore be a time in adult life devoted to revisiting the most important books of our youth. Even if the books have remained the same (though they do change, in the light of an altered historical perspective), we have most certainly changed, and our encounter will be an entirely new thing.
Italo Calvino, Why Read the Classics?
Chie Fueki, Heather
Durer, Coat of arms and skull
Stevie Nicks - Gypsy (circa. early 1980)
This is a lovely demo take with only electric piano accompaniment. Without a full band backing her, the goosebump-inducing beauty of Nicks’ voice really shines. Several early takes, like this one, were recorded in 1980 and the song was slated for possible inclusion on her first solo album, Bella Donna. Eventually, it was held over for Fleetwood Mac’s 1982 album Mirage. Otherworldly stuff.
Reet Petite, Jackie Wilson in claymation.