New York Artist Lorna Simpson Photographed for The Edit “The Interview”
October 17th 2013 Modern Classics Issue
Portraits: Bjorn Iooss
Stylist: Sofia Catania
Production: Peta Bell
$LAYYYTER
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I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

Discoholic 🪩

pixel skylines

PR's Tumblrdome

Kiana Khansmith
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

Origami Around
KIROKAZE
noise dept.

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
The Stonewall Inn
sheepfilms
todays bird
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Keni

shark vs the universe
Cosmic Funnies
seen from United States
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seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from Mexico

seen from Singapore
seen from Canada
seen from Uruguay
seen from United States
seen from United States
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seen from United States
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@hoitycoity
New York Artist Lorna Simpson Photographed for The Edit “The Interview”
October 17th 2013 Modern Classics Issue
Portraits: Bjorn Iooss
Stylist: Sofia Catania
Production: Peta Bell
I went home and Googled the statue to see what the internet had to say about this mysterious black man, and I found that the New York City Parks Department website did not mention the presence of a second human being in the monument at all. Instead, it read: “The work, set in a picturesque pink granite steele designed by architect Henry Bacon, features a heroic-sized Lafayette standing next to his horse.” Lafayette and his horse. His horse. Nary a mention of the grown man standing there, blanket over his shoulder and a look on his face like he’d rather be someplace else. I was perplexed, and then angry, and then curious. I went to the library. The statue, by Daniel Chester French, had been commissioned when a Frenchman turned Brooklynite named Henry Harteau died and left the city $35,000 to cast a monument to his celebrated countryman. (Lafayette and Harteau are identified on the statue’s base, and it was dedicated in 1917.) He asked that the statue be based on a painting called Lafayette at Yorktown by Jean-Baptiste Le Paon. The painting was actually of two men named Lafayette; one was the familiar marquis, and the other was named James Armistead Lafayette. The marquis was white and James was black. Still, I wondered: Were they brothers? Why did they share a last name? It turns out that James Armistead was an enslaved man from Virginia who enlisted to fight against the British and ended up working as a double agent. The information he acquired helped to win the battle of Yorktown; hence, the heroic painting. He served under Lafayette, and the two men became such close friends that the marquis successfully petitioned to have James made a free man, after James’s own request for manumission was denied. (Apparently, they were only freeing “slave-soldiers” who fought in the war; being a “slave-spy” didn’t qualify.) James Armistead then took the name of his friend out of affection and gratitude. He lived a long life and become a farmer and a family man.
The Invisible Black Man on a Prospect Park Statue (New York Magazine)
02.29.16
The day I realized I’m an adult. Long story short, I’m dating a woman a decade younger than me and that’s only possible, logistically, if I am ancient years old.
Maxwell Street, 1982, Chicago. Marc PoKempner
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Facebook has made it so I don’t have to watch SNL because my friends will just post the best clips
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Santigold Announces New Album “99¢”, Shares “Can’t Get Enough of Myself”
Yessssss
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Activist Grace Lee Boggs in Detroit, 1950s. She died this morning at the age of 100.
When the TSA agent waves you through and you go ahead and move on and unload and undress and put everything on the conveyor belt and turn around and see your person stuck at the checkpoint and you leave everything, including the cannabis mints in your dopp bag, abandoned to maybe cause a TSA 'person of color with drugs’ reaction, because for days you’ve been quietly rage stroking at the palpable homophobia and transphobia that saturates environments you travel through that aren’t a part of your safe ritual and rather than do something that will attract police state attention you settle on constantly touching your person and ensuring that these people see you’re both wildly, infinitely invested in each other’s well-being and happiness and you realize that someone, this agent, might have slipped past you with his authority, and sure enough, he refuses to engage in an interaction with someone whose presenting gender doesn’t comfortably reflect the sex initial on the plastic thing besides lying to them and ignoring them and therefore denying them the freedom to travel until I, a person who has the required cisgender privilege, use that privilege to force the worthless piece of shit to do his job. The world is an endless battlefield for some folks and their/our love is no less than an act of radical fucking resistance.