Nathalie Baetens
Little Owl - Artistic Conversation - Photo sculpted by Antonin Anzil
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
almost home

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Show & Tell

#extradirty
Sade Olutola
occasionally subtle
todays bird

Janaina Medeiros

@theartofmadeline
dirt enthusiast
Stranger Things
Three Goblin Art
Claire Keane
Not today Justin
RMH
hello vonnie
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

titsay
Mike Driver
seen from Türkiye

seen from Canada

seen from New Zealand

seen from Netherlands

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Guernsey

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Singapore
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Germany

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom
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@sonvlaki
Nathalie Baetens
Little Owl - Artistic Conversation - Photo sculpted by Antonin Anzil
“Memory takes a lot of poetic license. It omits some details; others are exaggerated, according to the emotional value of the articles it touches, for memory is seated predominantly in the heart. The interior is therefore rather dim and poetic”
// Tennessee Williams, The Glass Menagerie
The Sad Hour
This rare and early example of decorative coffin plaque includes a clock which was typically set to display the exact time of the individual’s passing.
Francesca Woodman, Then at one point I did not need to translate the notes; they went directly to my hands / I stopped playing the piano / I could no longer play. I could not play by instinct / and I had forgotten how to read music, Providence, Rhode Island, 1977
Lullaby, Kevin Markwick, 2007
Lee Friedlander, Self Portraits
Klimt’s studio with the last paintings he was working on. Vienna.
lam yabqa fi qaws sabri minza’: my patience is at an end (lit.: there is no arrow left for the bow of my patience)
“The CAUSE OF DEATH was as follows: Exhaustion of Melancholia”
(1923 death certificate from New Brunswick, Canada)
c. 1894-1901 - A woman photographed with her cat at the C. M. Bell Studio in Washington
لا تَحسَبِ الأرضَ عَن إنجَابِها عَقِرتْ ، مِن كُلِّ صَخرٍ سَيأتِي لِلفِدا جَبَلُ
فَالغصنُ يُنبتُ غصنًا حِينَ نَقطعُهُ ، والليلُ يُنجبُ صُبحًا حِينَ يَكتمِلُ
سَتمطِر الأرضُ يَومًا رغمَ شِحّتِهَا ، ومِن بطُونِ المَآسِي يُولدُ الأمَلُ
El Ashleigh
في الأيام الممطرة التي تنزف باللون الأزرق، سئمت من هذا الجسم، من هذا العقل. إذا كان بإمكانك بيع كل ذكرياتك السيئة، فقط بشرط أن تضطر إلى التخلي عن الذكريات الجيدة أيضا، فهل ستظل تفعل ذلك؟ هل أنت ذكرياتك أم أنك السفينة التي تأويهم؟ هل أنت نتاج أفكارك أم الشركة المصنعة؟ عندما تكرر كذبة مرات كافية، تصبح جزءا من الحقيقة، وتتوسع وتولد نفسها من جديد.
An old postcard I found (via premierepage)