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🍂 Led through the mist, by the milk light of moon... 🌙
My cross-stitched Halloween pillow is finished!!
Real love, tenderness and gratitude are disruptive emotions. They challenge our identity, our values and sense of reality. In order to be renewed by them, we have to risk losing our old self.
Our Genre Fiction Has a Sentimentalism Problem
[...] It is just easier then to commodify books. The goal of a perfect product is customer satisfaction. To fulfil expectations, take no additional liberties, and demand nothing in return. Any amount of intelligence, attention, commitment, taste or erudition required to access a product is deemed a symptom of bad design.
-The novel is dead, long live the novel
On Gothic Victoriana, BookTok, middle-class hypocrisy, and our sensemaking crisis
Substack seemed like a good place to publish this.
🗡️👑🛡️How tenderly I would love you my prince...
Handmade book cover for Becket (J. Anouilh) in velvet, faux fur, golden ribbon and embroidery
[...] we do not love classic books, paintings, plays or music because they’re objectively better than what could be created today or tomorrow. We love them because of how bravely their authors embodied their zeitgeist. They took on the challenge of the times they were given, they stood artistic ground to make new harmony out of chaos. They interrogated the past while navigating the present. An artist is not called to imitate their masters’ solutions, but to embody their courage here and now. To embody their questions and carve out their own path.
Where is art now? (newsletter)
so im preparing podcast episodes on people with a strong personal myth and ofc my picks were
I could no longer tell revenge apart from forgiveness. I wanted to go up to his room and rip his bad star from his chest, the only heart he had. To keep it with me forever, encased in a glass bell jar. Maybe eat it. And if I had to go, go to hell then, and go with him. There were no human words for what I wanted.
We Knew Damui, M. Candìa
