@knedli - Tumblr Blog

moandieu

Isabella Rossellini walking for Blumarine, 1995

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Group Think (2021) Khôi Bảo Phạm

11oh1

DeBÍ TiRAR MáS FOToS

perfil-de-um-cidadao-comum

Onde Fica a Casa do meu Amigo? (1987)

Abbas Kiarostami

#soon ill rewatch you

silentauroriamthereal

awkwardpenguinproductions

A masterpiece like this requires screen-reader acessibility:

My husband plays the trumpet, which is a sort of loud pretzel originally developed to blow down the walls of fucking Jericho and, later, to let Civil War soldiers know it was time to kill each other in a river while you chilled eating pigeon in your officer’s tent twenty miles away, yet somehow, in modern times, it has become socially acceptable to toot the bad cone inside your house before 10:00 a.m. because it’s “your job” and your wife should “get up”. What a world! If one was feeling uncharitable, one might describe the trumpet as a machine where you put in compressed air and divorce comes out, but despite this— despite operating a piece of biblical demolition equipment inside the home every bright, cold morning of his wife’s one and only life— the trumpet is not the most annoying thing about my husband.

yanklbonkl

from The Witches are Coming, by Lindy West

parkslopepr1ncess

sabinahahn

Dmitry Shostakovich (1906–1975)

Shostakovich’s contemporaries do not recall seeing him working, at least not in the traditional sense. The Russian composer was able to conceptualize a new work entirely in his head, and then write it down with extreme rapidity—if uninterrupted, he could average twenty or thirty pages of score a day, making virtually no corrections as he went.

But this feat was apparently preceded by hours or days of mental composition—during which he “appeared to be a man of great inner tensions,” the musicologist Alexei Ikonnikov observed, “with his continually moving, ‘speaking’ hands, which were never at rest.”

Shostakovich himself was afraid that perhaps he worked too fast. “I worry about the lightning speed with which I compose,” he confessed in a letter to a friend. Undoubtedly this is bad. One shouldn’t compose as quickly as I do. Composition is a serious process, and in the words of a ballerina friend of mine, “You can’t keep going at a gallop.” I compose with diabolical speed and can’t stop myself.… It is exhausting, rather unpleasant, and at the end of the day you lack any confidence in the result. But I can’t rid myself of the bad habit.

- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey

#dailyrituals #inktober #shostakovich @masoncurrey

#my man 🩷🩷

antiquedeuce

🫑🌶️🫑

tomdestry

Blue Velvet (1986) dir. David Lynch

jazz-improvisation

Miles Davis and John Coltrane at the Cafe Bohemia, New York City in 1956

photos: Metronome/Getty Images

necrophagesaint

watching twin peaks for the first time and kyle maclachlan is just sooooo cute he looks like a porcelain wedding cake topper who wished to be a real man

m3f1c50v2-deactivated20200911

>random guy in shit tier iron armor shows up one day saying a dragon is burning down a city >don’t know why the guards let him in >figure I can throw another body at my court wizard so I shuffle him over >Comes back with arrows sticking out of his body and holding the tablet out for my court wizard like its nothing >Hear reports someone killed literally every bandit, rat, wolf, and rabbit between here and the spot he was sent >I now need to get this pain immune lunatic murderer out of my city. >Dragon shows up >Ohthankthegods >Send the guy out on a suicide mission to kill a dragon >End of my worries >He comes back, apparently having killed the dragon and eaten its soul >According to reports just stood there and let the dragon burn him while chugging addictive and dangerous health potions he made himself. >Now standing in front of me eating an entire bushel of apples, two loaves of bread, and an entire side of beef while everyone looks on in horror and disgust >Need to get him away from my children as fast as possible >Tell him he needs to climb the tallest mountain in Skyrim and stay with the Graybeards >He leaves without a word >Hopefully thats the last I’ll see of him.