Hand embroidered sweatshirt đ . . . #embroidery #teardrophouse #creative #hobby https://www.instagram.com/p/CBu7PNznqo7/?igshid=12d6sk1vtj0rl

Kiana Khansmith
Sade Olutola

shark vs the universe

if i look back, i am lost
official daine visual archive
occasionally subtle
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art blog(derogatory)
Hole

gracie abrams

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"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
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KIROKAZE
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

Phantom Pulse
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TANKHALL

#extradirty

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@teardrop-house-blog
Hand embroidered sweatshirt đ . . . #embroidery #teardrophouse #creative #hobby https://www.instagram.com/p/CBu7PNznqo7/?igshid=12d6sk1vtj0rl
#alllivesmatter #blacklivesmatter #brownlivesmatter #desmondtutu (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/CAz4mknn2Lz/?igshid=bl623w2xzzx4
⢠wisteria ⢠What you see is what you get. There is more truth to these few words than meets the eye. The art of manifestation is what led us complicated creatures to inhabit this wondrous earth. What we imagine in our minds, we create it in the reality around us. Imagination is arguably the most important thing we possess, as it enables us to continue innovating, developing and thriving in abundance. If I were given a pile of scrap cloth and told to create something, I would imagine what it would look like first before I made it. Even if I have not been given a pile of scrap cloth, I could imagine what I want to create with the belief that this already belongs to me, and itâs on its way to me, and manifest the creation. The universe may not deliver it as a pile of scrap cloth, but it will always arrive in some shape or fashion. The universe is far more willing to give to us than we know. In order to receive, we must be grateful. Grateful in what we have now, grateful in the knowing it is coming, and grateful for when it arrives. I have always imagined living in a home draped in wisteria. I manifest this in my mind almost daily. It is no coincidence that I am beginning to see it everywhere. It is also no co-incidence that my partnerâs garden is filled with it, and I only began to notice when I was ready to look. These are not co-incidences, these are synchronicities. It is a simple change of mindset and positive attitude that aligns you with the universe and its abundance. I have no doubt I will live in a home welcomed by wisteria, but I am so grateful to appreciate the little lilac blossoms when I see them, for I know the universe is giving me a warm smile each time I do. . . . #teardrophouse #blog #londonbloggers #wisteria #manifestation #lawofattraction #universe #universehasyourback (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/CAxEg78HOfG/?igshid=rw4z04p5y3g9
đRumi, Rumi, Rumiđ . . . #teardrophouse #rumi #quotes #thoughts #happiness #kindness (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/CAxED-ZH_J2/?igshid=4wx81y6j2o0v
wisteria
What you see is what you get. There is more truth to these few words than meets the eye. The art of manifestation is what led us complicated creatures to inhabit this wondrous earth. What we imagine in our minds, we create it in the reality around us. Imagination is arguably the most important thing we possess, as it enables us to continue innovating, developing and thriving in abundance. If I were given a pile of scrap cloth and told to create something, I would imagine what it would look like first before I made it. Even if I have not been given a pile of scrap cloth, I could imagine what I want to create with the belief that this already belongs to me, and itâs on its way to me, and manifest the creation. The universe may not deliver it as a pile of scrap cloth, but it will always arrive in some shape or fashion. The universe is far more willing to give to us than we know. In order to receive, we must be grateful. Grateful in what we have now, grateful in the knowing it is coming, and grateful for when it arrives. I have always imagined living in a home draped in wisteria. I manifest this in my mind almost daily. It is no coincidence that I am beginning to see it everywhere. It is also no co-incidence that my partnerâs garden is filled with it, and I only began to notice when I was ready to look. These are not co-incidences, these are synchronicities. It is a simple change of mindset and positive attitude that aligns you with the universe and its abundance. I have no doubt I will live in a home welcomed by wisteria, but I am so grateful to appreciate the little lilac blossoms when I see them, for I know the universe is giving me a warm smile each time I do.
Marbling Mondays đ§Ť . . . #marbling #theartistsway #creativerecovery #creativity #selflove #artistic #teardrophouse #marabou https://www.instagram.com/p/CAnGpTAHejV/?igshid=vipbxl2ecl8v
#noexcuses #gandhi #teardrophouse (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/CAnGN9AHHR5/?igshid=u13rpyha2cf9
First attempt at making a crotchet top! đ . . . #crotchettop #crotchet #lockdown #Frills #notperfect #teardrophouse #theartistsway #creativerecovery #childhoodmemories (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/CAnFV4jndUu/?igshid=3bnjdel4gzuf
đŻđđž . . . #alberteinsteinquotes #alberteinstein #teardrophouse #imagination #knowledge #loveyourself #selflove https://www.instagram.com/p/CAnE5C3nzzk/?igshid=145t6cw6itxdo
â˘process over product⢠Tracey Emin - In The Dead Dark of night I wanted you, 2018 In quite possibly my favourite art exhibition to date, one that moved me in ways my femininity did not previously acknowledge, stood Tracey Eminâs âA Fortnite of Tearsâ. There is a process that follows this work, a movement from the visceral raw tones of pink and red, to the process of understanding ones sexual identity, to love and loss. The whole exhibition was a process, a journey, a story. It didnât happen with a neat beginning, middle and end; but there it stood as a moment in time harbouring the tumultuous feelings Emin processed during this vulnerable fortnite. I wonder if Emin was not a well known artist, this process would be as well received. Social conditioning has taught us in this commercial world we live in, that the end product, commodity and result, is more important than the process of getting there. My younger years were spent striving for some moment in the future, some end package neatly wrapped up, and with that losing all sense of the moment I was currently in. It has taken me a long time to truly understand that now is all that will ever exist. The beauty of focussing in the present is that our journey becomes a process. Our creative endeavours do not need to tidily become a product for others to admire. Stripping away this incessant need to have something to show for my creativity, I chose instead to live in my creative moments. To see each day as a process, to know that a product is always unfinished and that is OK. I will always have a lust to learn more about myself so my products will always remain unfinished. If this thought sits uncomfortably with you (which at times it still does with me!), then perhaps you too need to step into the process and away from the need to acknowledge your creative worth only after reaching the product. . . @whitecube @traceyeminstudio #teardrophouse #traceyemin #afortniteoftears #process #product #honouryourprocess #journey #selflove #selfcare #blog #london #thoughts #art https://www.instagram.com/p/CAiQk76HBlB/?igshid=1kxwvo2vr6cn9
process over product
In quite possibly my favourite art exhibition to date, one that moved me in ways my femininity did not previously acknowledge, stood Tracey Eminâs âA Fortnite of Tearsâ. There is a process that follows this work, a movement from the visceral raw tones of pink and red, to the process of understanding ones sexual identity, to love and loss. The whole exhibition was a process, a journey, a story. It didnât happen with a neat beginning, middle and end; but there it stood as a moment in time harbouring the tumultuous feelings Emin processed during this vulnerable fortnite. I wonder if Emin was not a well known artist, this process would be as well received. Social conditioning has taught us in this commercial world we live in, that the end product, commodity and result, is more important than the process of getting there. My younger years were spent striving for some moment in the future, some end package neatly wrapped up, and with that losing all sense of the moment I was currently in. It has taken me a long time to truly understand that now is all that will ever exist. The beauty of focussing in the present is that our journey becomes a process. Our creative endeavours do not need to tidily become a product for others to admire. Stripping away this incessant need to have something to show for my creativity, I chose instead to live in my creative moments. To see each day as a process, to know that a product is always unfinished and that is OK. I will always have a lust to learn more about myself so my products will always remain unfinished. If this thought sits uncomfortably with you (which at times it still does with me!), then perhaps you too need to step into the process and away from the need to acknowledge your creative worth only after reaching the product.
Todayâs nudge from the bad ass poet of her day - Emily Dickinson, whoâs small smile created an entire movement of poetry đđž . . . #emilydickinson #poem #teardrophouse #motivation #youareunique #creativejourney https://www.instagram.com/p/CAfY2HOlo1z/?igshid=ogwrlkntfyc4
not now, not always
Recently my partner said this to me. It doesnât matter quite what it was in reference to, as the words alone felt transient across any subject. They gave me a sense of ease, of reassurance that even though something may not exist now, it may well exist in the future - but it may not always be there in the way we had imagined. Itâs an odd one, I must admit. It almost has the smooth wiring of your brain bending ever so slightly to accommodate such a thought. I find the delicate artistry of Devonâs work perfectly illustrates this notion. For the fruit is made of glass, so it is not quite fruit. Yet who is to say that at some point we may indeed perceive it as fruit. Yet by the fragile nature of the glass it is made of, it may break and not always be the way we perceive it to be. Not now, not always.
insta poets saved me
I was once in a place where I constantly questioned what happiness meant. Was I happy? What was it to be happy? What secret did those possess to happiness, that I had not yet uncovered? Iâve learnt that my foraging for happiness, was the biggest clue that I was not happy. Instagram is flooded with perfect snapshots of the ideal moments into someone else life. Glorious relationships, burgeoning careers, love, happiness. Yet when you hold your nose and dive a little deeper, you unearth the calming and comforting world of the insta poet. Rupi Kaur, Yung Pueblo, R.H Sin to name a few, are some of those insta poets whose words felt like a spoonful of honey each day soothing my parched throat, trickling down to my heart and healing me slowly. I was not yet brave enough to change my life. I was not yet brave enough to admit to those I loved I wasnât happy. I was not yet brave enough to admit to myself that happiness was something I so desperately craved. Each night I would read the words of these poets, short rhythms and slow cascades of words helping me to recognise myself in a world which was so eager to make me hide beneath itâs expectations. Insta poets saved me.
⢠To be, or not to be? ⢠During these uncertain times in lockdown, I find myself coming back to the same question âto be, or not to be?â. There is an uncomfortable need to be doing, achieving and succeeding more than I am. Yet the situation inextricably calls for me to sit still, to be quiet, to be with myself. Why is the thought of sitting with my self so alien. Seeing my bare face in the mirror each morning, thinking that better days will come. So many unkind thoughts about the natural pigmentation of my skin, sees me seeking for better skincare. The dark spaces under my eyes, lead me to google all the ways I can cover, penetrate and bring myself more to life, than just to be. To just allow sleep deprived nights of uncertainty to naturally take their toll on my dark circles, to appreciate the uneven tones of my skin showing more character to me than any concealer ever did. What is this urge to not be with oneself. I canât help but wonder how deeply rooted the ideals of beauty through advertising, mainstream media and culture have caused me to look in the mirror and apologise to myself each morning for simply seeing my bare face as it is. I have decided that I have a choice, I can either be or not be with myself. I choose to be. I choose to look at myself and tell myself I am loved, kind and beautiful. I choose to be kind to myself each day after a sleep deprived night, by taking things slow, allowing myself moments to fail and appreciating more moments of joy. . . . Image ink on silk- @lourdessanchez711 #lockdown #thoughts #teardrophouse #selflove #tobeornottobe #selfcare https://www.instagram.com/p/CAQmjfXFYfv/?igshid=1ivdfoag2uxp8
To be, or not to be?
During these uncertain times in lockdown, I find myself coming back to the same question âto be, or not to be?â. There is an uncomfortable need to be doing, achieving and succeeding more than I am. Yet the situation inextricably calls for me to sit still, to be quiet, to be with myself. Why is the thought of sitting with my self so alien. Seeing my bare face in the mirror each morning, thinking that better days will come. So many unkind thoughts about the natural pigmentation of my skin, sees me seeking for better skincare. The dark spaces under my eyes, lead me to google all the ways I can cover, penetrate and bring myself more to life, than just to be. To just allow sleep deprived nights of uncertainty to naturally take their toll on my dark circles, to appreciate the uneven tones of my skin showing more character to me than any concealer ever did. What is this urge to not be with oneself. I canât help but wonder how deeply rooted the ideals of beauty through advertising, mainstream media and culture have caused me to look in the mirror and apologise to myself each morning for simply seeing my bare face as it is. I have decided that I have a choice, I can either be or not be with myself. I choose to be. I choose to look at myself and tell myself I am loved, kind and beautiful. I choose to be kind to myself each day after a sleep deprived night, by taking things slow, allowing myself moments to fail and appreciating more moments of joy.