Hands and Masks
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ellievsbear
Monterey Bay Aquarium
occasionally subtle
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
I'd rather be in outer space đ¸
One Nice Bug Per Day
cherry valley forever
Keni

JBB: An Artblog!
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Janaina Medeiros
hello vonnie
Misplaced Lens Cap
Game of Thrones Daily

Kaledo Art

romaâ
YOU ARE THE REASON

#extradirty
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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@thymogenic
Hands and Masks
Prints Available (too-cool-blue/redbubble)
anakin skywalker + @screenshotsofdespair (1/?)
touchstarved
blood really does look black in the moonlight
untitled
2006
Zhou Wendou
What I love about people who claim that âFountainâ isnât art is that theyâre never the kind of people who are actually into art so theyâll just start whining about a urinal and you can come back with, like, 30 pieces that have been made as a reaction to âFountain,â everything from Brian Eno recontextualizing it by pissing in it to Zhou Wendou conceptually unmaking it and remaking it as something that is more unquestionably art and these âBUT MODERN ART DOESNâT MEAN ANYTHINGâ jerk are just over there feeling wanky donât have any idea about any of it. Theyâre trying to yell about a hundred-year-old statement, the opening thesis of a discussion about art, and they havenât bothered to look at the last hundred years of art nerds arguing and debating and doing fucking art about it.
âFountainâ is genuinely one of my favorite pieces of art because of how much more art it has provoked and how compelling the conversations about its status as art can be (if Duchampâs goal was to make people question what art is does that mean that all the reactions and remixes and arguments about the original piece are actually an extension of Duchampâs work? Is this a communal art project weâve all been participating in for a hundred years and can you be a part of it too? I would say extremely fuck yes.)
@spycrabsunited said:
Yâall really gonna just be vague about modern art and how âfantasticâ it is or are any of you going to explain how pissing into the glued together pieces of restroom equipment is art?Â
Brian Eno didnât piss into Zhou Wendouâs 2006 Untitled piece (which is the glued-together broken urinal); he emptied a vial of urine into a replica of Duchampâs 1917 piece âFountain,â which was a mass-produced urinal laid on its side and signed âR. Mutt.â
Duchamp had a series of what he called âreadymadesâ - mass-produced objects that he presented as art - and âFountainâ is the most famous of these readymade sculptures.
Plenty of people will look at a urinal in an art show and go âthis isnât art!â but in the early Dada movement nobody had thought to question whether a mass-manufactured urinal might be art. Itâs a man-made object. What separates industrial craft from individual art? Is it the presentation? The context? The original intended purpose? Again, in 1917 this was a question that not a lot of people had asked before so in very general terms Duchamp put a pissoir on a pedestal and said âThis is Art; Prove me Wrong.â
And then 102 years of arguing about art happened.
In 1993 Brian Eno (ambient musician and all-around weird guy) went to an exhibit that included âFountainâ and poured some urine into it. Several other people had done the same thing over the years, which is why Eno couldnât piss directly in it and had to carry around a jar of his own waste in order to make a point.
So Enoâs point was âyouâre glorifying this one particular bit of ceramic and itâs against the spirit of the original piece, this needs to be a pisspot againâ and other people have peed in it to make the point that it has a broad context - it is both high art and a low urinal.
These are people who were publicly performing an action in order to make a statement about art - these were people doing performance art.
SO.
Back to 2006.
The Zhou Wendou piece takes a readymade urinal, breaks it down to ceramic, and then remakes it into a vase. Itâs being very playful - conceptually remaking Duchampâs piece into a piece of intentional art again instead of found art is clever and funny, especially when the intentional art it makes mimics something else that could easily be mass produced - it reminds me of Ai Weiweiâs 1995 work âBreaking a Han Dynasty Urn,â which also references Duchamp (it was part of Weiweiâs series about repurposing âcultural readymadesâ) and thatâs likely intentional; Iâd be surprised if Wendou wasnât commenting on this:
âItâs powerful only because someone thinks itâs powerful and invests value in the object.â - Ai Weiwei
So that loops back around to the original piece in 1917.
Is putting a signature on a urinal art?
Is pissing in a piece of conceptual art performance art?
Is breaking an old piece of art art?
Is breaking a urinal and shaping it into a vase art?
And the reason I think all of these questions are so cool is because they boil down to this:
Is making people question the definition of art in itself art?
And I say yes.
obsessed w this scene where theyâre like âwhat could it mean what could it all meanâ cutting to hannibal in his little apron making his funny little cannibal meal
HANNIBAL + art
Hieronymus Bosch, Ascent of the Blessed (1505-15) | Henry Fuseli, The Nightmare (1781) | William Blake, Spectre over Los (Plate 6 of Jerusalem: The Emanation of the Giant Albion) (1804-20) | Jacopo Vignali, Cyparissus (c. 1625)
Hannibal âQuantifiably Bitchyâ Lecter
I had this inktober idea of doing kind of a styles challenge, trying to replicate the styles of artists that I like (not necessarily with Hannibal, but that happened too). Which artists did I imitate here?
âŚtheyâre Nakamura Asumiko and Junji Ito, of course.
au where anakin has been the Kenobisâ pool boy every summer since he was in high school and the summer before his final year of college, he starts work as normal but the Kenobis have a very messy divorce in July which means he hears a lot of it while heâs working on the pool. It also means he knows when Satine leaves and he knows when itâs for good. He comes into the house to tell Obi-Wan that heâs leaving for the night if he doesnât need anything else from him (he has to say something) and obi-wan is drinking tersely but the unlit fireplace, and heâs says something like âwhat do I do with all the angry words I never told her?â
and anakin, who has had a summer crush on his hot rich older boss for years now is like âwell if she left any old clothes, we can dress me up, you can pretend Iâm her and tell me them!â
(a normal thing to suggest)
and obi-wan, who has always let his eyes linger on Anakinâs form longer than he probably should considering his marriage, is like âdonât be ridiculous. If you want pretty things, Iâll get you your own.â
(a normal thing to respond with)
Lepidoptera
an little PWP where will and hannibal are lesbians and fuck at a party â
also hello iâm posting a fic after an accidental >2 year hiatus howâs everyone doing
read below or on ao3!
âThanks for letting me get changed here,â Wil said, clutching at the strap of her bag. âIâll try to stay out of the way.â The party wasnât due to start for a few more hours, but preparations were already in full swing downstairs and the foyer was buzzing with the activity of the hired staff. As she jerked quickly out of the way of a trolley full of strange-looking hors d'oeuvres, Wil again regretted her choice to come straight over from work.
âI promise you wonât be in the way, Wil. The guest room is yours for the night. Let me take your things,â Annabel said, holding out an expectant hand.
âOh. Iâ I donât need to stay after. Iâve got my car. I can drive.â
âLate at night, on these icy roads, after a party? I donât think so.â Wil wouldâve bristled at Annabelâs tone of voice, were it coming from anyone else. Imperious and presumptuous. âYou already mentioned your neighbour is looking in on the dogs this evening. Theyâll manage without you until tomorrow.â
âWell. I donât have any overnight stuff with me.â
Annabel sighed, gently enough so as not to be impolite, but loud enough to make sure Wil knew that self-denial was not permitted in this house. âI have spares of anything you might need. Please, Wil. If youâre looking for permission to have fun, consider it granted.â Annabel wiggled her still-outstretched fingers, and Wil finally handed over the beat-up rucksack. Annabel smiled, quietly triumphant, and turned toward the stairs. âJust up here. Follow me.â
Wil fell into step behind Annabel, trailing her up the stairs as the busy sounds of the house faded into nothing.
Keep reading
real event that occured that i cant stop thinking about
a flustered will attempts to read while hannibal rubs his feet. (does the book kinda look upside down to yâall? haha.)
Gandalf throwing his staff at gollum is what really makes this
Thank you for commenting because I was going to scroll past this.Â
âIn college I had a physics professor who wrote the date and time in red marker on a sheet of white paper and then lit the paper on fire and placed it on a metallic mesh basket on the lab table where it burned to ashes. He asked us whether or not the information on the paper was destroyed and not recoverable, and of course we were wrong, because physics tells us that information is never lost, not even in a black hole, and that what is seemingly destroyed is, in fact, retrievable. In that burning paper the markings of ink on the page are preserved in the way the flame flickers and the smoke curls. Wildly distorted to the point of chaos, the information is nonetheless not dead. Nothing, really, dies. Nothing dies. Nothing dies.â
â Nicholas Rombes, The Absolution of Roberto Acestes Laing (via bobschofield)
You want a physicist to speak at your funeral. You want the physicist to talk to your grieving family about the conservation of energy, so they will understand that your energy has not died. You want the physicist to remind your sobbing mother about the first law of thermodynamics; that no energy gets created in the universe, and none is destroyed. You want your mother to know that all your energy, every vibration, every Btu of heat, every wave of every particle that was her beloved child remains with her in this world. You want the physicist to tell your weeping father that amid energies of the cosmos, you gave as good as you got.
And at one point youâd hope that the physicist would step down from the pulpit and walk to your brokenhearted spouse there in the pew and tell him that all the photons that ever bounced off your face, all the particles whose paths were interrupted by your smile, by the touch of your hair, hundreds of trillions of particles, have raced off like children, their ways forever changed by you. And as your widow rocks in the arms of a loving family, may the physicist let her know that all the photons that bounced from you were gathered in the particle detectors that are her eyes, that those photons created within her constellations of electromagnetically charged neurons whose energy will go on forever.
And the physicist will remind the congregation of how much of all our energy is given off as heat. There may be a few fanning themselves with their programs as he says it. And he will tell them that the warmth that flowed through you in life is still here, still part of all that we are, even as we who mourn continue the heat of our own lives.
And youâll want the physicist to explain to those who loved you that they need not have faith; indeed, they should not have faith. Let them know that they can measure, that scientists have measured precisely the conservation of energy and found it accurate, verifiable and consistent across space and time. You can hope your family will examine the evidence and satisfy themselves that the science is sound and that theyâll be comforted to know your energyâs still around. According to the law of the conservation of energy, not a bit of you is gone; youâre just less orderly. Amen.
(Aaron Freeman, âPlanning Ahead Can Make A Difference In The Endâ)
Mads Mikkelsen as NigelÂ
CHARLIE COUNTRYMAN (2013) dir. Fredrik Bond
Iâm just amazed that they managed to find someone who knew none of this
This is the only person who is experiencing Star Wars correctly