"welcome to the jungle"

meanderings of a curious mind

[ouilavie-deactivated20191107]

Bruno Barbey. Tunisia. Djerba island. 1990. Sailboats in the water.

[artist-gauguin]

Girl with a Fan, 1902, Paul Gauguin

Medium: oil,canvas

https://www.wikiart.org/en/paul-gauguin/girl-with-a-fan-1902

[duxuebing]

Photography by Xuebing Du

[radstudies]

William Adolphe Bouguereau (French, 1825-1905) - The Pearl, 1894

[weavingviolets]

Forgotten by the world, but not by nature.

[vauxshop]

[aubreylstallard]

Paule Marrot

[lafoliemaniacomelancolique]

[equatorjournal]

[victoriavonzipper-deactivated20]

[historyofartdaily]

Hilma af Klint is an icon, and here’s why:

She made a bold and badass career choice: she went to the Academy of Fine Arts to become an artist, at a time where few women had access to higher education.

She was obsessed by the paranormal. With her girl friends, she created a group of female artists called “The Five” and organized mystic séances to make contact with spirits. She believed these “High Masters” brought her inspiration and her symbolic paintings were gates to other dimensions.

She was a pioneer of abstract art. Hilma produced more than 1.000 paintings and drawings, and wrote her artistic and esoteric theories in 125 notebooks. She created abstract works years before her better known male counterparts: Vasily Kandinsky, Kazimir Malevich, and Piet Mondrian. Thanks to recent exhibitions (Moderna Museet, Serpentine Galleries, Guggenheim Museum), Hilma af Klint’s contribution to art history is getting the recognition it deserves - finally!

Images: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

[lovesaweetie]

[queercelebs]

Alia Shawkat photographed by Dan Doperalski for WWD magazine (2016).

[nathankotecki]

[gharibajameel]

food is THE love language. let me bake you some fucking bread.

[driflloon]

tandi reason dahl for vogue italia may  2019

[muffyblogs]

“My mother boils seawater. It sits all afternoon simmering on the stovetop, almost two gallons in a big soup pot. The windows steam up and the house smells like a storm. In the evening, a crust of salt is all that’s left at the bottom of the pot. My mother scrapes it out with a spoon. We each lick a fingertip and dip them in the salt and it’s softer than you’d think, less like sand and more like snow. We lay our fingertips on our tongues, right in the middle. It tastes like salt but like something else, too—wide, and dark. It tastes like drowning, or like falling asleep on the shore and only waking up when the tide has come up to your feet and you wonder if you’d gone on sleeping, would you have sunk?”

— The Alchemy by Carri Thurman (via wellconstructedsentences)

[idleminds]