woven thought

logbook for threads and loose ends, à défaut d'un fil d'ariane. montréal

[1five1two]

'Fireflies'. Kōgyo Tsukioka. 1910. Woodcut.

[4x01]

saw a tiktok of a mother taking her very tiny daughter to an art museum and she’s just walking around going “whoooa” “woooaah” to everything but then they got to a marble statue of a nude woman lying on her back and the girl points and goes “mommy🫵” and i just immediately welled up with tears and all the comments are just laughing about it and of course it’s funny but how are you not insanely moved by the way art connects everyone on earth from a centuries-old sculptor to a toddler in 2023

[petrichara]

Mother and baby viewing Van Gogh's Madame Roulin and Her Baby at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, US. By the Boston Herald

I’m not sure how to look at art by Lynda Barry

[ink-the-artist]

Why I Captured This MRI of a Mother and Child

A venerable symbol of human love, as you've never seen it before

[psikonauti]

Konstantin Somov (Russian,1869-1939)

View through a window, 1934

oil on paper laid on canvas

[nobrashfestivity]

Chris Steele-Perkins Shadow of Mt. Fuji on the landscape. 2000.

[the-moon-loves-the-sea]

[steveyockey]

What a journey this life is! dependent, entirely, on things unseen. If your lover lives in Hong Kong and cannot get to Chicago, it will be necessary for you to go to Hong Kong. Perhaps you will spend your life there, and never see Chicago again. And you will, I assure you, as long as space and time divide you from anyone you love, discover a great deal about shipping routes, airlines, earthquake, famine, disease, and war. And you will always know what time it is in Hong Kong, for you love someone who lives there. And love will simply have no choice but to go into battle with space and time and, furthermore, to win.

I know we often lose, and that the death or destruction of another is infinitely more real and unbearable than one's own. I think I know how many times one has to start again, and how often one feels that one cannot start again. And yet, on pain of death, one can never remain where one is. The light. The light. One will perish without the light.

James Baldwin, “Nothing Personal.” 1964.

[pinkstarlightcomputer]

Sarah Siltala "Evening Splendor"

[jareckiworld]

Jiří Kolář (1914-2002) — Space Egg   (collage object, 1974)

[soracities]

Susan Sontag, "In Plato's Cave", On Photography [transcript in ALT]

[garadinervi]

Jennifer Bartlett, Day and Night, [from an untitled series], (drypoint), Published by Multiples, Inc., Printed by Aeropress, New York, NY, 1978, Edition of 35 [MoMA, New York, NY. © Jennifer Bartlett]

[nobrashfestivity]

Josef Albers

[365filmsbyauroranocte]

Ikebana (Hiroshi Teshigahara, 1957)

[garadinervi]

Mel Bochner, Meditation on the Theorem of Pythagoras, (hazelnuts and chalk on floor), 1972 [© Mel Bochner]

[malojasnake]

— Entering the Kingdom, by Mary Oliver

[almaraye]

Anna Landowska   

[gardenofthefareast]

“Tired of hearing Worldly things: Winter confinement”  Kyoshi Takahama (image: Shufu Miyamoto)

Kazuko M.@EstherHawdon

[girlwithouthands-deactivated201]

Tolkien drew this design, incorporating Elvish lettering, on the back of an agenda for a meeting at Merton College, Oxford in 1957. It will be on display at the Bodleian’s Tolkien exhibition this summer. (source)