Evan Walsh @evan-walsh-07 - Tumblr Blog

current aesthetic: crying in my bed ab the state of my life and the things in it, but then thinking about it objectively and cackling because it is actually quite funny if you imagine it like a romantic comedy

frankocean

I read in the paper that my brothers are being thrown from rooftops blindfolded with their hands tied behind their backs for violating sharia law. I heard the crowds stone these fallen men if they move after they hit the ground. I heard it’s in the name of God. I heard my pastor speak for God too, quoting scripture from his book. Words like abomination popped off my skin like hot grease as he went on to describe a lake of fire that God wanted me in. I heard on the news that the aftermath of a hate crime left piles of bodies on a dance floor this month. I heard the gunman feigned dead among all the people he killed. I heard the news say he was one of us. I was six years old when I heard my dad call our transgender waitress a faggot as he dragged me out a neighborhood diner saying we wouldn’t be served because she was dirty. That was the last afternoon I saw my father and the first time I heard that word, I think, although it wouldn’t shock me if it wasn’t. Many hate us and wish we didn’t exist. Many are annoyed by our wanting to be married like everyone else or use the correct restroom like everyone else. Many don’t see anything wrong with passing down the same old values that send thousands of kids into suicidal depression each year. So we say pride and we express love for who and what we are. Because who else will in earnest? I daydream on the idea that maybe all this barbarism and all these transgressions against ourselves is an equal and opposite reaction to something better happening in this world, some great swelling wave of openness and wakefulness out here. Reality by comparison looks grey, as in neither black nor white but also bleak. We are all God’s children, I heard. I left my siblings out of it and spoke with my maker directly and I think he sounds a lot like myself. If I being myself were more awesome at being detached from my own story in a way I being myself never could be. I wanna know what others hear, I’m scared to know but I wanna know what everyone hears when they talk to God. Do the insane hear the voice distorted? Do the indoctrinated hear another voice entirely?

disgruntledperson

2016

gurbirgrewal-deactivated2020120

Wreck Beach, Vancouver w/ @evanblaise

anotherplacemag

East Philadelphia | Saleem Ahmed

These photographs were made in East Philadelphia, a place that does not actually exist. It is a combination of neighborhoods and communities that I explore on a daily basis with my camera. It is home to a diverse mix of cultures, where industrial landscapes meet street art and normal oddities. This is my new home, and a record of what I experience.

website

blog

All images & text © Saleem Ahmed

Gilles and Gotscho embracing, Paris. 1992

Nan Goldin

#nan goldin #london #gay love #gay intimacy #HIV crisis #goldin #photography #film

chrigert

bobbycaputo

My Last Day at Seventeen | Doug DuBois

Doug DuBois first went to Ireland at the invitation of Sirius Arts Centre in 2009. What began as a month-long residency grew into a five-year project about youth, Ireland, and an exceptional group of young people from a few blocks of a housing estate in Russell Heights. The resulting photographs are an exploration into the promise and adventure of childhood with an eye toward its fragility and inevitable loss.

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