AnasAbdin
styofa doing anything
KIROKAZE
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

PR's Tumblrdome
trying on a metaphor

titsay

JBB: An Artblog!
RMH
noise dept.
Today's Document
i don't do bad sauce passes
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Keni

oozey mess
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Andulka
Misplaced Lens Cap

Product Placement
seen from Australia
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seen from Russia

seen from Australia

seen from Türkiye

seen from Germany

seen from Thailand
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seen from United States
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seen from United States
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seen from South Korea
@oceanoon
Banquet of Flower by Reiji Hiramatsu
Johannes Larsen (1867 - 1961) - Wave, Kerteminde Bay. 1948. Oil on canvas.
Gustav Klimt – Tannenwald I, 1901
Skin
Obedient daily dress,
You cannot always keep
That unfakable young surface.
You must learn your lines —
Anger, amusement, sleep;
Those few forbidding signs
Of the continuous coarse
Sand—laden wind, time;
You must thicken, work loose
Into an old bag
Carrying a soiled name.
Parch then; be roughened; sag;
And pardon me, that
I Could find, when you were new,
No brash festivity
To wear you at, such as
Clothes are entitled to
Till the fashion changes.
Kaigyokusai Masatsugu (1813–1892) "No Evil" Monkey Wine-colored amber Raymond and Frances Bushell Collection (AC1998.249.87)
more
Hilma af Klint, The Ten Largest; Childhood (1–2), Youth (3–4), Adulthood (5–8), Old Age (9–10)
You must love in such a way that the person you love feels free.
Mitsunaga Kurenuma, from Photographers Index 1 (1985)
Yu Kasamatsu, 1980
Victor Tkachenko
The Leaving by Brigit Pegeen Kelly
My father said I could not do it, but all night I picked the peaches. The orchard was still, the canals ran steadily. I was a girl then, my chest its own walled garden. How many ladders to gather an orchard? I had only one and a long patience with lit hands and the looking of the stars which moved right through me the way the water moved through the canals with a voice that seemed to speak of this moonless gathering and those who had gathered before me. I put the peaches in the pond's cold water, all night up the ladder and down, all night my hands twisting fruit as if I were entering a thousand doors, all night my back a straight road to the sky. And then out of its own goodness, out of the far fields of the stars, the morning came, and inside me was the stillness a bell possesses just after it has been rung, before the metal begins to long again for the clapper's stroke. The light came over the orchard. The canals were silver and then were not. and the pond was--I could see as I laid the last peach in the water--full of fish and eyes.
Detail from The Lair of the Sea Serpent, Elihu Vedder 1864
Frida Kahlo corset tribute
Grant Wood - Stone City, Iowa