cgl

Carolina. NYC

[nevver]

Isolation party, Guim Tió Zarraluki

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Fields - Ana Montiel "Color is the mother tongue of the unconscious mind." Carl Jung

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Maybe it's good, I said, to stop sometimes and reflect upon the things that have happened, maybe thinking about sadness can actually end up making you happy. — Jessica Au. Cold Enough for Snow

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Tate x

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(One of the) Buddhas of Bamyan

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Chuch

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The Guest House

​This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival.

​A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor.

​Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight.

​The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.

​Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond.

​

​

by Rumi

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Exotic Eve, Paul Gauguin, 1890

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Emile Bernard et Vincent Van Gogh (de dos) assis au bord de la Seine à Asnières, 1886

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The Meeting, Gustave Courbet, 1853

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“Some people, some ideas, fell on fertile ground; Vincent was never to know to what an amazing extent that was true of his own work.

The metaphor of germination meant an enormous amount to Vincent, perhaps partly because of the extraordinary, still unfolding, transformations of his own life from art dealer into preacher into painter. He also hoped for the remaking of human life into something which would escape the bitter suffering that seemed too often to be the lot of mortal men and certainly of Vincent van Gogh. Art was a way of imagining a future world. The Sower was a symbol of resurrection.”

Martin Gayford on The Sower by Vincent Van Gogh

[nevver]

Who can sleep? Sally Davies

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Henri Matisse with all my heart.

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because finally after all this struggle and all these years you simply don’t want to any more you’ve simply had enough of drowning and you want to live and you want to love and you will walk across any territory and any darkness however fluid and however dangerous to take the one hand you know belongs in yours.

Fragment "The Truelove” by David Whyte 

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Hilma of Klint 

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<3 

[escritorfrustrado]

Porque la luna sin poesía es sólo la luna.

(via escritorfrustrado)