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lemuseum

#Garden at Arles #vincent van gogh

Banquet of Flower by Reiji Hiramatsu

#Reiji Hiramatsu

myfairynuffstuff

Johannes Larsen (1867 - 1961) - Wave, Kerteminde Bay. 1948. Oil on canvas.

#Johannes Larsen #Waves

ymutate

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.

#Philip Arthur Larkin

nobrashfestivity

Kaigyokusai Masatsugu (1813–1892) "No Evil" Monkey Wine-colored amber Raymond and Frances Bushell Collection (AC1998.249.87)

more

#jim denevan

lunosphere

Hilma af Klint, The Ten Largest; Childhood (1–2), Youth (3–4), Adulthood (5–8), Old Age (9–10)

#hilma af klint

You must love in such a way that the person you love feels free.

jca-archive

Mitsunaga Kurenuma, from Photographers Index 1 (1985)

jca-archive

Yu Kasamatsu, 1980

blue-voids

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.

#Brigit Pegeen Kelly