For it pleases me, all for your sake, to row My own oars here on my own sea, And to soar heavenward by a strange avenue, Singing you the unsung praises of Death. -Pierre Ronsard, "Hymne de la Mort," A Louys des Masures
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DEAR READER
Sade Olutola

PR's Tumblrdome
Keni
Three Goblin Art
hello vonnie
Stranger Things

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
occasionally subtle
Misplaced Lens Cap
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
almost home
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
d e v o n

#extradirty
we're not kids anymore.
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
dirt enthusiast

Love Begins
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Italy

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

seen from Australia

seen from Russia
seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Taiwan

seen from Argentina

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Finland
seen from Peru
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seen from Hungary
seen from Saudi Arabia
@spacetimepaperpages
For it pleases me, all for your sake, to row My own oars here on my own sea, And to soar heavenward by a strange avenue, Singing you the unsung praises of Death. -Pierre Ronsard, "Hymne de la Mort," A Louys des Masures
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My wife has a head of smoke My wife has a leg of flame My wife has a hand of bone My wife has a silent name My husband walks upon the walls My husband is ten miles tall My husband is the atmosphere My husband is a living prayer My daughter sleeps up in the trees My daughter is a complex creed My daughter keeps a shaft of light My daughter moves in degrees of might My son has invisible eyes My son laughs as though he cries My son maintains a perpetual stride My son wanders in dreams at night My sister waits behind the moon My sister binds her mind in books My sister's voice must crush the sun My sister snaps the shepherd's crook My brother's face is a hexagon My brother revolves at increasing speed My brother heals as he harms My brother decries what he has decreed My mother excretes a reality My mother puts her torch to sleep My mother spreads her ribcage wide To guide the trumpet blast inside My father is my mother's bride My father resides in rocks and stones My father has fins and wings and claws My father is my husband's throne
Some diagrams from linguist Gustave Guillaume's Foundations for a science of language (English translation from 1984, from Guillaume's writings and lectures 1911–1960)
Mandy El-Sayegh, No aesthetic without my freedom, 2025. Site-specific installation: oil, acrylic on canvas, objects from artist’s archive, vinyl, spray paint, dimensions variable. Image courtesy of Public Gallery, London.
Daniel Buren, Paris, April 1968
N.H. Pritchard
#nhpritchard
Aeolian harp in the old castle of Baden Baden
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Spaghetti Club
After school club since 2018
linktr.ee/spagclub
@spaghetti_clurb
James Ensor (1860 - 1949) L'âme de la musique (The Spirit of Music), 1940 / 1941 oil on canvas 29 x 22 3/5 inches (73.5 x 57.5 cm)
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Western Electric 15A
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Stephen Willats Travelling with the Good Connector, 2019 Watercolour, ink, Letraset text on paper 27 1/8 x 54 in
The time tumbler is itself an unknown object and a speculative means of slotting new variables into lived reality. Although Willats’s British Museum project was ultimately never realised, and his time machine has not yet seen the light of day, an intriguing series of drawings emerged from these conversations. In diagrammatic works such as Passing Through the Time Tumbler and Re-mixing the Fragments, the time tumbler represents a function that triggers subjective and collective deviations from the dictates of linear time, scrambling and reordering the chaos of fragments that compose everyday experience. In our planned, clockwork world, we are all stuck inside time boxes which organise these fragments in a particular way, composing a normalised image of the present. But, at the same time, we are all potential time tumblers. – John Kelsey
September Orange Pavilion (part 2 of 7), 2023 Ink, graphite, photoshop file and png export Dimensions variable