bucknbury

[master-painters]

Theodore Ralli - Veiled woman (Detail) - 1880

[allvisualarts-blog]

Dolly Thompsett. 2013. Expedition Interior. Mixed media on linen. 180 x 125cm.

[detournementsmineurs]

Tiara of horn and moonstone made by FJ Partridge for Liberty & Co, England, circa 1900.

[womanhouse]

this is the oppressor’s language / yet I need it to talk to you

- adrienne rich, the burning of paper instead of children

[nokiabae]

sometimes you gotta ask ‘is it visibility politics or straight up narcissism’

[scavengedluxury]

Intrigue. Nottingham, September 2017.

[mememememe7]

RAMMELLZEE

[blackbritishreader]

The Battle of Lewisham occurred on 13 August 1977, when 500 members of the far-right National Front (NF) attempted to march from New Cross to Lewisham in southeast London and various counter-demonstrations by approximately 4000 people led to violent clashes between the two groups and between the anti-NF demonstrators and police. 5000 police officers were present and 56 officers were injured (11 of whom were hospitalised) and 214 people were arrested. Later disturbances in Lewisham town centre saw the first use of police riot shields on the UK mainland. Source

A new plaque was unveiled today in New Cross to commemorate the event that took place on this day 40 years ago.  

For a detailed chronology of events leading up to The Battle of Lewisham visit http://lewisham77.blogspot.co.uk/

[geopsych]

The moon and Venus in the east this morning.

[lifemaniac91]

[coocoolah-deactivated20190601]

I want to suggest an intimacy between anxiety and hope. In having hope we become anxious, because hope involves wanting something that might or might not happen. Hope is about desiring the ‘might,’ which is only ‘might’ if it keeps open the possibility of the ‘might not.’

Sara Ahmed, The Promise of Happiness (183)

I believe Kierkagaard makes a similar argument in Either/Or.

(via thaumatropia)

[geopsych]

Sunrise with Venus as the morning star.

[soldiers-of-war-deactivated2022]

IRAQ. Al Anbar governorate. Fallujah. 2004. In November 2004, Stefan Zaklin, a photographer then working for the European Pressphoto Agency, was embedded with a United States Army company. Mr. Zaklin photographed this soldier, who was shot and killed in a house used as a base by insurgents. The photograph ran in several European publications, and Mr. Zaklin was immediately banned from working with the unit.

It was a scene occurring daily among American troops in Iraq and Afghanistan but one that has been deliberately hidden from the American public. There has been a relatively small number of journalists embedded with military units throughout Iraq and Afghanistan. There is also a decline in the power of news agencies to embed their employees overseas. New military rules on censorship have also reinforced this tendency, and consequently press freedom suffers.

Photograph: Stefan Zaklin/European Pressphoto Agency

[advancedsystemsarray]

but one that has been deliberately hidden from the American public. 

[buildings-on-fire]

Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit - all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided. It’s the sound of failure: so much modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar sound is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them.

Brian Eno (via plasticwaves)

[furtho]

Alan Boyson’s mosaic mural for the Co-op building, Jameson Street, Hull (via here) 

[archaicwonder]

Gothic Gold and Garnet Ring - 5th-6th Century AD

[invisiblemotor]

They are our creatures, clover, and they love us Through the long summer meadows’ diesel fumes. Smooth as their scent and contours clear however Less than enough to compensate for names. Jagged are names and not our creatures Either in kind or movement like the flowers. Raised voices in a car or by a river Remind us of the world that is not ours. Silence in grass and solace in blank verdure Summon the frightful glare of nouns and nerves. The gentle foal linguistically wounded Squeals like a car’s brakes Like our twisted words.

Pastoral, Veronica Forrest-Thomson (via invisiblemotor)