#sick rose

[rosemelodyshah]

I'm sick enough to take a nap.

Pray for my soul everything hurts real bad (and just as the fic mind really kicked in))

A good fics have to be on hold bc I'm in too much pain..okah bye!!

[jeanlouiecastillo]

“Aswang Skin” (long sleeve) by Jean Louie Castillo Fashion collection “FEAR CESSATION” 2021-2.

This garment was designed with the intention of embodying the idea of ‘fear’ through the exploration of Filipino folklore’s Aswang phenomenon: the a shapeshifter or personification of fear. The designing period of FEAR CESSATION involved in-depth introspective views on what it means to feel ‘fear’, so I plagued my research with personal phobias and things that made my skin crawl.

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The most debilitating phobia of mine is Trypophobia, clusters of holes and stripes. Groups of natural-looking, minuscule hell holes. I have never understood why this affects me so appallingly. Just thinking of it makes me unwell and want to scream. I’m sure many others feel the same way. I thought that by the end of project FEAR CESSATION, my phobia would cease or at least neutralise - I was wrong.

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The Aswang Skin Long Sleeve is a beautiful outcome from such an unspeakable phobia. The garment doesn’t not nauseate me for some reason - perhaps it’s that I’m the one who made it and I know it can’t hurt nor infect me. All my life I’ve been scared of acquiring deathly infections with holes and lumps on the surface of my skin. Dermatitis is bearable but still not something I need or want on my body. (Research reference: Sick Rose by Richard Barnett, Thames & Hudson). Fatal bacteria and germs that inhabit these clusters of holes and lumps are my idea of literal hell. This is a personal phobia I’ve dealt with my entire life and it doesn’t seem to go away; constant hand sanitisation, mask wearing and avoidance of skin to skin contact with strangers still isn’t enough for me. I want to swim in concentrated bleach to know that I’m pure and thoroughly sterilised.

With this garment, I’ve managed to become a philocalist of trypophobia… (only for a second) if you look past the revolting clusters and the logical meaning that there are millions of deadly inhabitants writhing inside, then you’ll see the beauty in repetition of lines, circles and dots in textile form. The stretch cotton long sleeve has pintucks (fabric manipulation) on the sleeves and torso, the worst places to be infected, if so, with black fabric paint to enhance the trypophobia appearance. If you’re a fashion fan, you’ll see the Margiela reference through the silhouette (Martin Margiela, Sock Sweater, AW91). This piece, stylistically, is a heavy nod and a love letter Martin Margiela (my saviour).

[thetwofacesofjanus]

[canforasoap]

“Giovane Viennese di 23 Anni. La med[esima]: un’ora appresso l’invasione del Cholera, e quattr’ore prima della morte”

A young woman of Vienna, aged 23 years. The same woman one hour after the onset of cholera, and four hours before death.

Amanda J. Thomas, The Lambeth cholera outbreak of 1848-49 (2010)

[deadenddesign]

Redraw of an image from “The Sick Rose: Disease and the Art of Medical Illustration”

[redleafhaiku]

O sick rose, couldn’t 

some love have warned you when that 

worm got hold of wings? 

—Red Leaf Haiku by © John Clark Helzer

[safrona-shadowsun]

What Kind of Herb are You? 

Results: Dandelion

You grew up too fast and all you know is the calluses on your fists and the thousand invisible scars that you pretend don't ache. Your anger burns so bright, so hot or maybe not at all, so deep you could never tell it was there. You are yours and you will defend that to the death after so many years of being ripped apart and denied your own agency and maybe you are still facing the bastards who stole your innocence but you will survive because that's the only thing you know how to do without breaking, the only thing you know besides protect, protect, protect, protect, yourself or sometimes those few others you claim as yours. You are a thousand sharp edges but impenetrable, a traumatized child so covered by thorny armor that you promised yourself you're grown now, you're stronger than anyone who has ever hurt you. You're safe. Nothing will ever hurt you again. 

You're so alone though sometimes, in a world that sees you as too much or too broken or too angry or too hurt, and you want to scream with the too-much of it, prove that you're okay, that you're self-reliant, that you are strong enough to stake your claim on your body, on your mind, on your heart, on your people, and protect it from any who dare take it away from you. You are the sea in a tempest, a howling sky, a tsunami in motion, a force of nature, no matter how much you sometimes yearn to be still, to be safe, to be small. You are a dandelion, stubborn and determined to grow in the rockiest of soil, and bloom again in spring. 

Tagged By: @irrfahrer​ - many thanks.

Tagging anyone who feels like doing it.

[taoisdumb]