Montrose Avenue

[mtaartsdesign]

Please enjoy our newest Poetry in Motion card featuring the graceful poem, Heaven, by poet Patrick Phillips which is paired with a detail image of artist Mary Temple’s percent for art mosaic work West Wall, East Light, Morning, located at the Neck Road station in Brooklyn.

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I remember showing this to you in great delight when I read it on the train!! SIGH.

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I'm so glad to have discovered Granta, though much later than i would've liked. My first read was their Japan issue. It is a subject very very dear to my heart, thanks to Pico Iyer (whom Granta Japan obviously also features). The cover of the issue was, true to all things Japan, a deceptively unidimensional concept that exuded the air of a mischievous child daring one to believe its stories. Then, I came across the piece linked below somewhere in the middle of the issue. The idea blew my mind and I attempted to imitate it (the photograph above) when I ate a couple of candies yesterday. Check it out! 

https://granta.com/primal-mountain/

[royalexistentials]

Royal Existentials is a weekly webcomic series that uses Indian vintage art and imagery to tell stories of historical (and contemporary) angst.

In #033, the king reflects on right and wrong. (Updates every Friday.)

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:) Note to my co-tumblrer

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Revolutions

I recently came upon a video that opened my eyes to the truth behind the 1978-79 Iranian revolution dubbed as the Iranian Islamic Revolution. Before diving into the cultural part of it, John Green tells us about the series of events that led to the revolution. And the pattern that you notice here is that Iran's revolution was driven by things that has incited a lot of other revolutions in the past - poor economic conditions, unemployment and a single man ruling with an iron fist. 

There is a book that I've been reading for a while now which talks about the nature of events that shape the world and there is something that connects one of the concepts in the book to the above event. I feel that Iran's Islamic revolution is a victim of the narrative fallacy as are so many other events of history. History should not to be narrated because narration leads to loss of information. Nassim Taleb talks more about this in The Black Swan. Trying to put causation to historical events retrospectively only hurts our understanding of it.

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Tagore called her Surashree

Kesarbai Kerkar, the consummate queen of the Jaipur Atrauli gharana, did not hanker for name or fame. Relentless struggle for perfection in music was her singular goal Telling the story ...

Women in art. A 4 part series. This one featuring one of my favorites, Kesarbai Kerkar.

[royalexistentials]

Royal Existentials is a weekly webcomic series that uses Indian vintage art and imagery to tell stories of historical (and contemporary) angst.

In #026, the royals go on the offensive.  

(Updates every Friday.)

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And this, from last year. This moving piece of lyric and melody is Piyush Mishra's very own bittersweet symphony. 

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An extremely moving documentary set in erstwhile exotic (in the Western perspective) India, featuring two of India's legendary musicians in their formidable primes.

[loeufnoir]

How to eat ramen. From the movie Tampopo.

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I knew this would amuse at least one of us.

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How much would you pay for the universe?

Recently, I read a long article about why we should pursue the colonization of a planet other than the earth and in the above explanation it was the earth twin, Venus. It had some thought provoking points and the one thing that struck me most was how less we spend on space exploration, SETI and to understand our universe. From how I see it, spending our time on all of these things would only lead to more jobs, advancements in science and an economic benefit trickling down to the human society. With that said, I'd like to leave this picture here from Carl Sagan's Cosmos documentary.

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The Immortals by Herman Hesse

Ever reeking from the vales of earth Ascends to us life’s fevered surge, Wealth’s excess, the rage of dearth, Smoke of death meals on the gallow’s verge; Greed without end, imprisoned air; Murderers’ hands, usurers’ hands, hands of prayer; Exhales in fœtid breath the human swarm Whipped on by fear and lust, blood raw, blood warm, Breathing blessedness and savage heats, Eating itself and spewing what it eats, Hatching war and lovely art, Decking out with idiot craze Bawdy houses while they blaze, Through the childish fair-time mart Weltering to its own decay In the glare of pleasure’s way, Rising for each newborn and then Sinking for each to dust again.

But we above you ever more residing In the ether’s star translumined ice Know not day nor night nor time’s dividing, Wear nor age nor sex for our device. All your sins and anguish self-affrighting, Your murders and lascivious delighting Are to us but as a show Like the suns that circling go, Changing not our day for night; On your frenzied life we spy, And refresh ourselves thereafter With the stars in order fleeing; Our breath is winter; in our sight Fawns the dragon of the sky; Cool and unchanging is our eternal being, Cool and star bright is our eternal laughter.

Steppenwolf is turning out to be one of those books which I'm reading at that time in my life when every word rings true and every sentence is a thought-mirror. Had to share the beautiful verse excerpt.

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"We travel for romance, we travel for architecture, and we travel to be lost." - Ray Bradbury

Fire Island Lighthouse, Long Island, NY.