Salmon Cycle
July’s print for print club!
Keni
will byers stan first human second
Misplaced Lens Cap
dirt enthusiast

oozey mess
🪼
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
RMH
One Nice Bug Per Day
AnasAbdin
almost home
art blog(derogatory)

blake kathryn
taylor price
noise dept.

Kiana Khansmith
No title available
Jules of Nature
Acquired Stardust
Peter Solarz

seen from Malaysia

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@spacient
Salmon Cycle
July’s print for print club!
Story of a traumatized child
what if memories can endure different lifetimes? (a "what if" abt Zombie Island that i've always wanted to draw) happy pride! :)
Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”
Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.
PARENT: I got "rubber duck" for my child's "bath" and she loves it.
AUTISM RESPONSE: Rubber ducks and other rubber bath toys can accumulate mold on the inside because of small holes underneath where moisture becomes trapped. The mold often goes unnoticed because it's not visible from the outside.
CORRECT RESPONSE(?): That's nice, I am unaware of how mold could impact this situation.
Customer: Forgot to put my orange juice on the conveyer belt.
PENDING RESPONSE: That particular brand is currently being sued for sanitation issues in its factory the next town over
IMPORTANT NOTIFICATION⚠️: A grocery store cashier is supposed to successfully sell items to "customer"
who let biologists play dnd
i heart you john pokemon
Vaporeon and Leafeon
A suggestion from a commenter on Pinterest
It kind of fucks with me that somebody killed ötzi the iceman because ötzi himself is like whatever but the silent presence of human hands that drew back the string of the bow that shot the arrow that killed him is crazy. the idea that there were various people involved in that situation and while one of them has had his last hours painstakingly reconstructed and studied to no end, the others now only exist insofar that an arrowhead had to get into his shoulder somehow. imagine killing someone and then suddenly your entire existence is only a vague shadow implied by the fact that you killed them. much to consider
Testing the mummified bone marrow of ötzi to figure out his ancestry whole time there’s definitely another person, maybe more than one, standing in the room with us but I can never see or speak to them because I only know them through the assurance that they were there too in the form of one single arrowhead. I hate prehistory so much it’s unreal
I hate it too tbh
also very funny that like. you can say you’ve moved on from supernatural. but the second one of those fuck ass actors open their mouths we’re all like
oops narrative parallels
Memento mori, 18th century