[inlovewiththemooon]

Ascension

Charcoal and graphite sketch

[centuriespast]

Unknown Maker, German Bust of Saint John the Baptist

RISD Museum

[bestiolin]

Polina Kostanda

[perriaeyjeve]

[tinyghosts]

“I want you to do this with me for one month. One month. Write 10 observations a week and by the end of four weeks, you will have an answer. Because when someone writes about the rustic gutter and the water pouring through it onto the muddy grass, the real pours into the room. And it’s thrilling. We’re all enlivened by it. We don’t have to find more than the rustic gutter and the muddy grass and the pouring cold water.”

— Marie Howe, Boston University’s 2016 Theopoetics Conference  (via mothersofmyheart)

[ymutate]

Alexander Akeya (Aayanga) (Siberian Yupik, 1928-2011),

Figure of polar bear and cub, ca. 1975. Savoonga, St. Lawrence Island, Alaska. Sculpture: ivory and paint, 8.3 x 3.3 x 5 cm

[illustratus]

Detail of Verdure with Deer and Shields, accompaniment to the Holy Grail tapestries woven by Morris & Co. 1891-94 for Stanmore Hall.

[zemestoun]

sandro botticelli, dante and beatrice in stars

[detournementsmineurs]

Vintage “Typewriter” charm in gold, pearl, ruby and sapphire.

[looselambinajungle]

Polina Kostanda

[apollonicheskoye]

The painting "Girls on the Riverside" by Mikhail Nesterov

[7pleiades7]

Love's Messenger, (Details), (1885), by Marie Spartali Stillman (British, 1844 – 1927), watercolor, tempera and gold color on paper mounted on wood, 32 in (81.2 cm) x 26 in (66 cm), Delaware Art Museum, Wilmington

[dailyclassicart]

Edmund Leighton - "The Dedication" (1908)

[saltedsnailstudio]

homesick for something not yet known:

spring-fed, heart-led, overgrown.

linocut print on lokta paper.

[horsefigureoftheday]

Horse figure of the day: Wena Art "Calipso"

[cuties-in-codices]

14th c. pheasant hunting trick (a pheasant being lured into a hunter's trap by its own reflection in a mirror, which it believes to be a particularly beautiful mating rival that it needs to fight)

illustration from a manuscript of henri de ferrières' hunting manual, le livre du roy modus et de la royne racio. paris, c. 1375-1400

source: Paris, BnF, Français 1297, fol. 88r ; for more context on the mirror trick see this blog entry by artifexinopere as well as this edition of ferrières hunting manual (pp. 283-286 for the pheasant chapter)

[ismenes]

When my son was about to turn two, strangers would offer condolences. There’s a collective cultural dread of toddlers, who get described more like animals than people. Kids in their "terrible twos," I was warned, are illogical, unregulated, and feral. "Good luck," people would say. "He'll grow out of it."

I'm lucky: My son is a very easygoing kid. But I remember the first tantrum he threw for me. He was standing by our front door and asked to go outside. So I opened the door and grabbed his shoes. But as soon as he stepped onto the porch, he pointed back into the house.

"Inside," he said.

"Okay," I said. I picked him up and brought him inside.

But as soon as I shut the front door, he pointed outside.

"Outside!" he said.

You know where this is going. We went back and forth, inside and outside, again and again. He got more frustrated. And I got more frustrated. Eventually he wound up straddling the threshold of our house, sobbing. When I tried to comfort him, he screamed at me. "You go wherever you want!" I said. He just got madder. I felt trapped, convinced he’d concocted the whole episode as a pretext to unleash his rage at me. It was ridiculous. I consoled myself with the thought that he was just being a toddler.

But later I kept thinking about him wailing at our front door, one foot inside, one foot outside. His misery wasn't unreasonable, or trivial, or silly. My son was experiencing the agony of wanting two things that were impossible to have at the same time. What a fundamentally human sorrow! My son wasn't being a toddler; he was being a person. Adults may not walk around howling, but that same pain rages within us. In that moment, as a father, I was powerless to solve my son's problem. I told him he could go wherever he wanted, but of course I was wrong. To be where he wanted was impossible.

Make Believe: On Telling Stories to Children by Mac Barnett