Coin de jardin avec papillons, 1887 Vincent van Gogh
tumblr dot com
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
styofa doing anything

titsay
will byers stan first human second

blake kathryn
Cosmic Funnies

JBB: An Artblog!

No title available

shark vs the universe

⁂

No title available

roma★
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
NASA
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

No title available

if i look back, i am lost
Show & Tell
Acquired Stardust

seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Mexico

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from Canada

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Australia

seen from Türkiye
seen from Sweden

seen from Sweden

seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States
@serandori
Coin de jardin avec papillons, 1887 Vincent van Gogh
Garden at Arles, 1888 Vincent van Gogh
The Green Vinyard (1888) by Vincent van Gogh
Louis Le Brocquy
Louis le Brocquy HRHA (1916-2012) DUBLINERS - SACKVILLE STREET, 1986
Louis le Brocquy
The North Gallery After Heavy Rain
He dreams the museum has flooded. Docents pole gondolas through galleries where saints blister under green water. At the bottom of the Impressionist wing, a marble fox and hound are fused snout to tail by calcified silt. She watches from above, pressing her face to the skylight, noting how coins and crucifixes spiral in the same slow drain — devotion and transaction sharing a geometry. Below, a pendulum swings. She thinks: we never agreed on which side means yes. The plaques beneath paintings have all been revised into questions. Even the exit signs flicker ambiguously: depart or become light. He carries two candles that gutter toward each other, following her through galleries, the flames bending like litigants over a map.
'Full Moon'. Kazuyuki Sutoh.
Domestic Study with Orange and Reversible Light
He cannot sleep now. The ceiling fan divides and redivides the dark. On the windowsill, a moth batters itself against the reflected room, believing another moth contests its claim. Outside, dawn unstitches the horizon with its usual false dilemma: night relinquished to day, as though shadow were not still folded inside every lit thing. He thinks of magnets, their evangelical poles; of lovers who turn arguments into architecture; of how the body keeps manufacturing left and right despite the heart’s refusal to stay on either side. Beside him she murmurs in sleep, a language made mostly of crossings-out.
When morning enters, it enters unevenly. The kettle shrieks. A truck reverses in liturgical beeps. They stand in the kitchen passing an orange back and forth without peeling it. The fruit glows like a minor sun between their hands. Neither of them says what they suspect: that every border is the scar of something once continuous, that choice itself may only be a hallway mirror teaching depth through duplication. Still, he reaches for the knife. She reaches for the salt.
Marginalia for a House with Two of Everything
They wake in shifts. She names the sounds outside: owl or hinge, weather or animal. He says every noise is a corridor with two doors pretending not to share a function. The radiator knocks like a tenant learning Morse through a wall. Somewhere, a siren lifts its hem over the district, red-blue, artery-vein, accusation and rescue braided in one rotating mouth. He thumbs through a book on heresies and marginalia, finding each century invented twins to drag through the square: elect and damned, reason and fervor, empire and ash. The mind, he thinks, loves a clean incision, the butchered fruit split to disclose its mirrored chambers. Yet the peach pit resembles a clenched ear more than a verdict.
Vase With Roses, 1890 Vincent van Gogh
Portrait of Armand Roulin, 1888 Vincent van Gogh
Off (with your head)
Off the cuff Off the wall Offhanded Off colored Offshoot Offbeat Offspring Offshore Off the record Off-key Offload Off the charts Off limits
We Are All Connected, 2021 Anja Rožen, Slovenia
Blue Print
Our glass phalera medals blue in borrowed light.
The overnight gallery, incandescent and ever unlocked.
City lights below us, failing in private sequences.
An act named Propaganda inside a sea of ambient feedback.
Once upon a time in South Pasadena, jacaranda shadows, warm asphalt after midnight.
Not a reason to be so quiet.
Only the constant hum, glass without reflection, distance begging measurement.
Burrito King | Silver Lake, Los Angeles| Roy Hankey
Portrait of Adeline Ravoux, 1890 Vincent van Gogh