THE COLOR OF POMEGRANATES (1969). Sergei Parajanov directs this lush Soviet biography based on the life of Armenian poet Sayat Nova.

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THE COLOR OF POMEGRANATES (1969). Sergei Parajanov directs this lush Soviet biography based on the life of Armenian poet Sayat Nova.
Pablo Picasso
Femme Se Coiffant, 1952
Jean Cocteau, La sangre de un poeta, 1930
Depictions of Kali portray cognitive dis-integration of the mental body-image as dismemberment, and the sensation of splitting into multiple selves, with each of these sub-selves existing in an isolated time-slice.
XXXXIV
Drawing Produced by the Henry Drawing Machine, by D. P. Henry, 1960s, "The method of paper-shifting and ellipse distortion is such as to introduce varied degrees of randomness into the designs, thereby ensuring that no two are exactly alike.”
Yannoulis Halepas (August 14, 1851 – September 15, 1938) in front of his sculpture, Sleeping Female Figure (1877), Tomb of Sofia Afentaki, First Cemetery of Athens.
In 1878, Chalepas suffered a nervous breakdown. He began destroying some of his sculptures he created and made several suicide attempts. His condition worsened and from July 11, 1888 to June 6, 1902, he was committed to the Mental Hospital of Corfu. In 1901 his father died and the next year his mother went to Corfu and took Chalepas to Tinos. After his return, Chalepas lived under his mother’s strict supervision, who blamed sculpture for her son’s illness and prevented him from sculpting, destroying everything he created.
"Η κόλαση των ζωντανών δεν είναι κάτι που αφορά το μέλλον. Αν υπάρχει μια κόλαση είναι αυτή που υπάρχει ήδη εδώ, η κόλαση που κατοικούμε καθημερινά, που διαμορφώνουμε με τη συμβίωσή μας. Δυο τρόποι υπάρχουν για να μην υποφέρουμε. Ο πρώτος είναι για πολλούς εύκολος: να αποδεχθούν την κόλαση και να γίνουν τμήμα της μέχρι να μην βλέπουν πια. Ο δεύτερος είναι επικίνδυνος και απαιτεί συνεχή προσοχή και διάθεση για μάθηση: να προσπαθήσουμε να μάθουμε και να αναγνωρίσουμε ποιος και τι, μέσα στην κόλαση, δεν είναι κόλαση, και να του δώσουμε διάρκεια, να του δώσουμε χώρο"
Crumbled remains of a statue of Alexander III, 1917.
Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire.
Jorge Luis Borges, Labyrinths (via fernsandmoss)
Aaron Siskind(American, 1903-1991)
Utah 84 1976
غصه خوردن (ghosseh khordan)
To be sad; literally, to eat sorrow.
Psychiatry taught me that you have to come up with your own version of neurotic happiness. I’m never going to be a normal person. No one changes, no one gets better – once you make friends with your neuroses you can plan a life.
John Waters (via cnephas)