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oozey mess
Janaina Medeiros
#extradirty
One Nice Bug Per Day
hello vonnie
Origami Around
KIROKAZE
Keni
art blog(derogatory)
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Xuebing Du
Andulka
Discoholic 🪩
★
AnasAbdin
ojovivo
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Monterey Bay Aquarium
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from Japan
seen from Spain
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Ecuador
seen from Palestinian Territories
seen from Palestinian Territories
seen from Ireland
seen from Palestinian Territories
@mostimportantday
The lovely ladies of Charlestown High School working on their parkour skills, ca. 1899.
From the collection of photographs of Boston Public Schools taken by A.H. Folsom for exhibition at the 1900 Paris Expo from the Boston Public Library. (Link to the full collection in my previous post.)
@katiusrex … Parkour
#currentmood
Never not reblogging old school acrobat ladies.
Photo of Suffragette Mabel Capper 1912. Copyright: Public Domain
hats coats & suffrage
Greetings from the bean sprout family. #beansprouts #beardsprout (at Kosciuszko Street)
By Miroslav Holub, from Grand Street 52--Spring 1995. The glories of the bookshelf in this little corner office. #JeanStein
Ursula K. Le Guin refuses to blurb a story collection with no female writers.
“Gentlemen, I just don’t belong here.” This is what a badass sounds like.
100% perfect letter.
Best.
Amen forever.
Always a sublime read: Wisdom on love and life from “Dear Sugar”
Well goodness, I hope so.
"Taken the 5th day of July, the day Mother was buried & Ken and Ruth were married. The wind was blowing quite hard."
Aspirational photograph discoveries.
Tied Shoe
When evening breaks up its mass of clouds the grass fire can be seen raising its smokes flowers come up in the ravines a little of the day is left as a boy in an iron-grey smock leans toward the ruts in the road to tie his shoe with no boredom about life no trace of absence.
—Jean Follain, from “Eleven Poems from D’Après Tout.” Photography: Michael Rudd.
Poems for evening, I like them.
Went to visit Molly aka mostimportantday
in Roanoke (the Blue Ridge mountains are indeed very blue)
Saw the sights, including Happy’s, an indoor/outdoor flea market, which is the most bizarre juxtaposition of slightly threatening (occasional confederate flags & nazi paraphernalia) &...
Aww Qainat this is true loveliness!
Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep, really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.
Ernest Hemingway (via elige)
AWP cruisers: draw a circle on your name tag if you're into ladies, a triangle if you like the gents, and a smiley if you go for folks of any gender. Me, I find 'em all sexy, but you do you.
The world has lost a couple of joy-bringers, and I feel all weepy and elegiac. Within minutes of waking up this morning, I learned that since I was last conscious and paying attention, both Shirley Temple Black and Leonard Knight had passed away. I'm sure you know about Shirley. Leonard is the man who build a giant every-colored, mountain for Jesus out of clay and paint out in the desert in California. It's become a major folk art landmark and has appeared in several films. I first met Leonard in 2009, when I spent a month in Slab City, the squatter community next to Salvation Mountain. He was already suffering from dementia then, and on the short audio recording I made of our conversation, he mostly repeats the words,"Love is simple. Don't get it complicated." To have these two go on the same day gets me thinking about how people are connected. Shirley and Leonard were on earth almost all the same years (Shirley was 85 when she died, Leonard was 82), lived through the same wartimes, youth movements, art movements, cruelty, rock n' roll, cults, gas rationing, perms, hysteria, joy, tupperware, life. Certainly Leonard knew about Shirley, would have likely watched her dance and sing in the movies when he was a little boy in Vermont during the Great Depression. I'd like to think Shirley knew about him too. In the version of the world I prefer to imagine, she visits him at Salvation Mountain. Stepping out of her car onto the hot dust, she turns and sees the impossible green and pink domes of the mountain. Leonard is there, holding one of his nameless cats. He and Shirley exchange kisses on the cheek. Wordlessly, he takes her hand and leads her up the striped path he spent years carving into the mountain's face. From the top, they can see mountain ranges folding out on all sides. They can see the gorgeous, putrid manmade sea shimmering down in the valley. Puffs of steam from geothermal power plants rise gently into the blue. A light breeze lifts the hair off their foreheads and for just a moment, everything smells like peppermint. The world can always use another tap dancer, another technicolor mountain-maker. Sleep well, beautifuls.
Siren by Louise Gluck I became a criminal when I fell in love. Before that I was a waitress. I didn’t want to go to Chicago with you. I wanted to marry you, I wanted Your wife to suffer. I wanted her life to be like a play In which all the parts are sad parts. Does a good...
Following
I love trains. And people. On my way back from visiting the illustrious Jamila Keba in Vancouver, I met many beautiful people. I met a professional flamenco dancer and a man who had just finished walking across the country. I met workers, vacationers, survivors, mothers, daughters. I shot some video and recorded some audio to make this little collage.
Special thanks to Keith, Glen and Kathleen.
Music: Laura Gibson's "Sweet Deception" from her album Beast of Seasons.
ars poetica
the NYT said “the poet’s work is to make a private vision public” but fuck the NYT I’m the public vision made private
Jasper Johns said a fork makes a better painting than a painting makes a fork but fuck Jasper Johns from now on I’m eating with Guernica
twenty first century girl
I was shooting a video of the Bucktown neighborhood for my job this weekend, a little real estate montage about how harmonious and lovely the neighborhood is. Here are a few things that won't make it into the video.
1) Seen below a basement level window. Fly well, sweet winged friend, to the land where there are no hard pieces of sky.
2) He saw me admiring his cool bike contraption (which he designed and built himself) and asked if I wanted a picture of it. I said yes, and then he got very mock stern and threatened to sue me for my "beautiful, dangerous smile."
3) View of the city from the bridge near the dump.
4) Evening sun on the dump.
5) This man saw me all set up with my tripod from the other side of the intersection. When the crosswalk signal turned on, he walked into the middle of the street and did variations of this face for about a full minute.
6) Only three reasons?!
