Fly With Me

Hi I'm Gabby :)

[kylejthompson]

Ghost Town (Remission) by Kyle Thompson

[archatlas]

The Art of Vesod

Vesod was born in Turin in 1981 and he lives and works in a Venaria Reale (TO). His artistic attitude has been fostered by his father Dovilio Brero, surrealistic painter, whose influence has an impact on Vesod since his youth: he has been therefore developing an interest in the graffiti world since the beginning of the 90s.

Vesod creates a personal language in which time is considered as a concept, which by being closed into immaterial solid shapes, is crystallized into geometric shape in order to revisit the idea of the eternal present.

Text via

[aestheticgoddess]

[r2--d2]

[jamespbrady]

[yungbambiino]

[archatlas]

Butcher Billy Boosts Bukowski: The Pop Art Series Butcher Billy 

From the artist:

Legend has it Butcher Billy once sat in a bar with Charles Bukowski and Roy Lichtenstein. This unusual and totally awesome cosmic gathering defied the time space continuum and almost destroyed the entire universe. That plus a huge hangover in the next day. But the result is a series that clashes two dimensions ruled by distinct evil geniuses overlords and strangely gives birth to an all new, all dangerous zone - a land of deeply troubled thoughts portrayed in bold strokes and bright colors.

Images and text via Butcher Billy

[cornersoftheworld]

Location: Siwa Oasis, Egypt Photographer: Yasser Alaa Mobarak https://www.flickr.com/photos/yasseralaa http://yasseralaamobarak.tumblr.com/

[arjuna-vallabha]

Adalaj Vav stepwell, Gujarat

[marci1900]

[tolackcolour]

Doc.

[thegoodvybe]

[sickpage]

[art-and-things-of-beauty]

Vladimir Donatovich Orlovsky (1842-1914) - Troika in snow landscape, oil on canvas, 102 x 130 cm.

[i-will-fly-with-you]

You cannot shake hands with a clenched fist.

Indira Gandhi 

[classicalpaintings]

La Contessa Malacrida  - Ettore Tito, 1926

[talesofpassingtime]

Through the open window the voice of the beauty of the world came murmuring, too softly to hear exactly what it said—but what mattered if the meaning were plain?

Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse (via talesofpassingtime)