Claire Keane
Love Begins
h
wallacepolsom
No title available
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
roma★
ojovivo
trying on a metaphor
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Mike Driver
Acquired Stardust
d e v o n
No title available
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Keni
YOU ARE THE REASON
Game of Thrones Daily
art blog(derogatory)
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
seen from Italy
seen from Malaysia
seen from Italy
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Singapore
seen from Bangladesh
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Israel
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Norway
seen from Singapore
seen from Türkiye
seen from Brazil
seen from Spain
@lesmiserabby
Time to Equip Our Barricade
Barrel of Powder
Bottle of Vitriol
Carnival Torches
Fire Pot "left over from the King's festival
Calvary Saber
Pistol (in holster)
Powder Horn
Saddler's Awl
National Guard Cartridge Box
Gun
PIke
Bullet mold (flatware and pewter to melt available in venue)
It's Almost June 5
Build A Book-Canon-Compliant Barricade:
Iron Bars (fresh off the wineshop windows)
Paving-Stones (fresh off the street)
Barrels of Lime (fresh from Anceau's cart)
Empty Casks (not-so-fresh out of Mme Hucheloop's cellar)
Blocks of Rough Stone (unknown origin, courtesy Feuilly)
Support Beams (fresh off the neighboring house)
Rubbish (served by Gibelotte)
Omnibus (horses and lady passengers not included)
A hod of plaster (at Gavroche's request)
A glass door (just trust Gavroche on this one)
Some rope (to make the flagpole stay up)
Tables (all but two from the wineshop)
Build a Barricade (5.1.5 Metaphors Edition)
A Heap of Ideas
A Heap of Woes
Liberty (the summit)
Fraternity (presumably in the middle)
Equality (the base)
Progress
Light
More light
No, really, so much light
A bridge through the darkness (despite all that light)
Dawn
rest in peace george michael you would’ve done numbers on here
Pedro Pascal talks his toxic GPS relationship (2026)
Do you know this Musical Song? #280
I know the song and the musical
I know the song but not the musical
I know the musical but not the song
I may know this
I have never heard this
tumblr I swear to god if your ads on mobile keep opening popup webpages because my FINGER touched them while I was SCROLLING because they are SO BIG that they FILL THE SCREEN AS I SCROLL PAST THEM I am going to MANIFEST SNAKES IN YOUR WALLS
if the PAGE-FILLING ADS on your INFINITE SCROLLING MOBILE APP register FINGER MOVEMENT as ANYTHING OTHER THAN SCROLLING I am LEGALLY PERMITTED to HUNT YOU for SPORT
Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”
Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.
"What x are you?" quizzes are a gift actually because people, like cats, actually do like being in boxes as long as it's their choice, there are zero consequences for being in the box, and they can leave the box any time they want. Just sitting in a box that says Mint Chocolate Chip.
when i was a tiny baby queer (aka a 24-year-old), i went to my first pride festival probably three months after i kicked ex-gay therapy to the curb and came out to my parents. being the people they are, my parents came with me. they weren’t really sure about this whole gay thing, but they loved me and wanted me to be safe and happy and wanted to be involved in what was important to me, so they came along. (i also think my mother still might have thought i might get drugged or murdered or beaten by a protester of which there were plenty.)
anyway i wanted a memento of my first pride, you know, and this one vendor was selling keyrings, and i liked it, so i bought one. do you remember those italian charm bracelets that were all the rage like 10-15 years ago? it was a keychain like that, and it had a rainbow rooster, a rainbow cat, and then just a rainbow, and so I bought it.
i run into my mom a couple of vendors over and she goes oh you bought something? what’d you get? so i showed her, and i was like, “I’m not sure why it’s a rooster and a cat. Seems kind of random. But I liked the rainbows.”
and my mom, who was some form of minister’s wife for most of my childhood and teenagerhood, stares at me like she thinks i’m joking.
“What?” i say.
“…it’s a cock and a pussy, Jules,” she says flatly, and that is the story of how i died at the age of 24 while attending my first pride festival.
I love how every June this one gets dug up and passed around again, lmao.
oh no is this what we’re doing now
…relic…
*crumbles and blows away on the wind*
at some point in your life you will be boiling fruit, water, sugar, and lemon juice in a pot to make a syrup or jam. the instructions will tell you to simmer for a certain amt of time. your timer will go off and you will look at the pot and go, "hm, this doesn't look thick enough. maybe i'll let it go for another 10 minutes." this is the devil speaking. it's only so liquid right now because it is at boiling point. it will thicken when it cools down. learn from the follies of my youth and do not let this happen to you
at some point in your life you will be making a sauce or a stew in which you need to add cornstarch to thicken it. and you will prepare a slurry of starch in cold water and think "this looks like way too little starch to thicken this amount of liquid." this is the devil speaking. cornstarch instantly polymerizes at 95°C and if you add too much it will turn into an impossibly thick goop.
at some point in your life you will be making some sort of cream based dessert that requires gelatin to thicken it. and you will soak some gelatin sheets in water and think "this is too few gelatin sheets for this amount of cream." this is the devil speaking. it will thicken in the fridge and if you add too much you will end up with milk jelly
at some point in your life you will be baking cookies. you will take the sheet out after twelve minutes as the recipe instructs and the cookies will still be glistening and soft. "these don't seem cooked enough," you will think to yourself, "i should place them back into the oven until their edges are nice and golden." this is the devil talking. this is how you get dry, overdone cookies. the cookies will continue to bake on the warm sheet for several more minutes and then harden up after sitting on a rack for a while. trust the process. trust the process.
at some point in your life you will be adding a small pasta to a soup and you will think "that is not enough small pasta." this is the devil talking. the pasta will absorb the stock and expand. this is how you end up with a soup that is a solid mass of soggy ditalini.
At some point in your life you will be adding garlic to a dish and you will think "that is not enough garlic." These are angels speaking. They are correct. Add more garlic.
No transphobes allowed, only transborbs.
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We'll always go back for the others
Always
op i'm tearing up and it's not seasonal allergies
✨💝🤍🩵🩷🤍🖤🖤🤍🩵🩷🤍💝✨
Y'all want the real shit, but can't handle that somebody else's spiritual catharsis is going to sound like ranting nonsense if it's not meant for you.
Inspirational.
Please refer to my earlier post.
There is… a lot going on here.
I’m doing the dishes
it’s a warm spring day
I watch out the window as my neighbours wiener dog wanders out into the garden in its little blue bandana
I stop, mesmerised.
It’s sniffing flowers — carnations, I think — for quite some time until it becomes excited by a bird overhead and bounces around to chase it’s shadow
the dog returns to the sunlit spot by the flowers and flops over, belly up, to bask in the warm light
“I want to be that dog” I say to myself. “I want to share with the world the peaceful joy that dog must be feeling right now.”
I try to take a picture; my zoom is not enough. I get weird and grab my pigeon-watching binoculars to get a better zoom, line my phone camera up with the lens. And I take one single, illicit, sleepy dog picture.
I hope the ends justified the means.
I bet that dog is having a really nice day.
Someone just reblogged my dancing ghosts with “#digital art” and it doesn’t matter at all but I’m still fighting the urge to dm them “they are very much not digital! They’re chicken wire, tore my jeans, and left me covered in small, bleeding scratches! I got a tetanus shot about it!”
No computers were used for these - partly because I like using my hands and partly because I have genuinely no idea how to do digital animation anyway. It seems like witchcraft.
These are life-sized because I have very little experience with figure drawing/sculpting so I just used my husband and I for proportion measurements. (Which meant I was chasing him around going “come back! Let me measure your femur!”)
Video description: green light on a chicken wire sculpture of a dancing couple. It’s turning in the wind outside at night so they (hopefully) look alive.
