Käthe Kollwitz
Pietа́, 1903
Keni

oozey mess

pixel skylines
trying on a metaphor
Jules of Nature
tumblr dot com
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祝日 / Permanent Vacation
KIROKAZE

Kaledo Art
Sweet Seals For You, Always
$LAYYYTER
todays bird
Sade Olutola

roma★

tannertan36

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Stranger Things
noise dept.
Misplaced Lens Cap

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@moonjellyfish
Käthe Kollwitz
Pietа́, 1903
First Memory, Louise Glück
“Personal shame becomes dissolved as its structural causes are collectively identified.”
— Mark Fisher, No Romance Without Finance
Leonardo da Vinci, Salvator Mundi, detail, circa 1500, oil on walnut, Louvre Abu Dhabi
Talking with the Sun
I believe in the sun. In the tangle of human failures of fear, greed, and forgetfulness, the sun gives me clarity. When explorers first encountered my people, they called us heathens, sun worshippers. They didn’t understand that the sun is a relative, and illuminates our path on this earth.
After dancing all night in a circle we realize that we are a part of a larger sense of stars and planets dancing with us overhead. When the sun rises at the apex of the ceremony, we are renewed. There is no mistaking this connection, though Walmart might be just down the road. Humans are vulnerable and rely on the kindnesses of the earth and sun; we exist together in a sacred field of meaning.
Our earth is shifting. We can all see it. I hear from my Inuit and Yupik relatives up north that everything has changed. It’s so hot; there is not enough winter. Animals are confused. Ice is melting.
The quantum physicists have it right; they are beginning to think like Indians: everything is connected dynamically at an intimate level. When you remember this, then the current wobble of the earth makes sense. How much more oil can be drained, Without replacement; without reciprocity?
I walked out of a hotel room just off Times Square at dawn to find the sun. It was the fourth morning since the birth of my fourth granddaughter. This was the morning I was to present her to the sun, as a relative, as one of us. It was still dark, overcast as I walked through Times Square. I stood beneath a twenty-first century totem pole of symbols of multinational corporations, made of flash and neon.
The sun rose up over the city but I couldn’t see it amidst the rain. Though I was not at home, bundling up the baby to carry her outside, I carried this newborn girl within the cradleboard of my heart. I held her up and presented her to the sun, so she would be recognized as a relative, So that she won’t forget this connection, this promise, So that we all remember, the sacredness of life.
Joy Harjo
Albarran Cabrera —– Instagram
This is you here
#146 Pigments, gampi paper and gold leaf.
“I have never been particularly excited about any straight distinction between fiction and non-fiction, unless we understand such a distinction to be declarative and discretionary. In a sea of many definitions of fiction, the one I like the best is also the oldest, and it comes from Aristotle. Fiction is always a kind of truth…” “…I write fiction, but it is never pure fabrication. When I write, I have to feel everything inside myself. I have to let all the living beings and objects that appear in the book go through me, everything that is human and beyond human, everything that is living and not endowed with life. I have to take a close look at each thing and person, with the greatest solemnity, and personify them inside myself, personalize them…” “…I believe I must tell stories as if the world were a living, single entity, constantly forming before our eyes, and as if we were a small and at the same time powerful part of it.” -Olga Tokarczuk, extracts from her 2018 Nobel Price in Literature lecture.
“… we decided to use our own photographs along with the anonymous ones, unifying all of them using the same printing process and thus, generating the identity and memories of someone who never existed. The portfolio ‘This is you’ has been growing over time. Creating this fictitious family has helped us to go deeper into the concept of identity and as a result, we have become interested in the relation between place and identity.This new exploration has taken the form of ‘This is you here’”. -Albarran Cabrera, extract from “This is you here” statement.
Richard Gordon Photo Booth, County Fair, Santa Cruz, California 1973
MilkWood Art aka Lvcernarivm aka Martyna Siekierska (Polish, based Warsaw, Poland) - Doorway, Drawings: Pencils
A striking and surreal landscape, Artist’s Palette at Death Valley National Park in California got its name from the patches of color spread across the rugged hills. The greens, blues, golds and purples advertise the presence of metals and minerals left behind by earlier volcanic activity. On a normal bright day, too much sunlight can make this rocky spectrum seem dull. So, they’re best seen during the evening or on rare overcast days. All it takes is a rousing drive and an easy walk to explore this incredible place. Photo by Jon Fischer (www.sharetheexperience.org).
“Love is a flame that burns everything other than itself. It is the destruction of all that is false and the fulfillment of all that is true.”
— Adyashanti
Anton Chekhov, from a diary entry featured in “The Notebook of Anton Chekhov,”
“Blind with loss all winter,”
— Anne Sexton, from The Complete Poems; “Pain For A Daughter,”
“When you create a problem, you create pain. All it takes is a simple choice, a simple decision: no matter what happens, I will create no more pain for myself. I will create no more problems. Although it is a simple choice, it is also very radical. You won’t make that choice unless you are truly fed up with suffering, unless you have truly had enough. And you won’t be able to go through with it unless you access the power of the Now. If you create no more pain for yourself, then you create no more pain for others. You also no longer contaminate the beautiful Earth, your inner space, and the collective human psyche with the negativity of problem-making.”
— Eckhart Tolle