i just finished the goldfinch by donna tartt and enjoyed it very much. this is one of my favorite passages.
by Dukno Yoon
Yesterday I got a call from my sister Cheeraz Gormon in St. Louis who was standing with poet Elizabeth Vega. They wanted me to know that a few women had created, on lawns, in the streets, healing stations, a place where the youth could come and scream and cry and be held and heard in love. Mighty work. — Dream Hampton
this made me cry.
“All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.”
– Susan Sontag (via blue-voids)
Behind the nation’s closed doors, with YouTube.
“The curtains are drawn. Some light comes through, casting a small glow on the top left of the air conditioner. It’s daytime. The wall is an undecorated slab of beige. That is the American room.”
this. rooms, rooms, rooms, standards, and the big beigeness of suburbia.
"The art project that captures webcam rooms in the moment before the naked woman returns, and the empty rooms of Pinterest are both speaking the same weird language. Imagine who lives here. Could I live there? The Pinterest Home Decor section shows us the Cape Cod that lives in all of our hearts: A weathered rocker on a frayed rug on a varnished floor. Curtains swaying gently; a front door of heavy oak that is accessed via a tesselated brick path. Attic rooms with four-pane windows and ceilings the color of key lime pie. Every photo looks as if you could throw back the curtains and look over the low dunes. Urban design fetishism goes for the the hypermodern home, spaces that look like a cross between a Braun record player and a sushi bar. Long open spaces. This is very different: Weathered and bright, clean as a cotton dress pulled from the clothesline. Boats on the horizon.”
After you’ve been to bed together for the first time,
without the advantage or disadvantage of any prior acquaintance,
the other party very often says to you,
Tell me about yourself, I want to know all about you,
what’s your story? And you think maybe they really and truly do
sincerely want to know your life story, and so you light up
a cigarette and begin to tell it to them, the two of you
lying together in completely relaxed positions
like a pair of rag dolls a bored child dropped on a bed.
You tell them your story, or as much of your story
as time or a fair degree of prudence allows, and they say,
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,
each time a little more faintly, until the oh
is just an audible breath, and then of course
there’s some interruption. Slow room service comes up
with a bowl of melting ice cubes, or one of you rises to pee
and gaze at himself with mild astonishment in the bathroom mirror.
And then, the first thing you know, before you’ve had time
to pick up where you left off with your enthralling life story,
they’re telling you their life story, exactly as they’d intended to all
and you’re saying, Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh,
each time a little more faintly, the vowel at last becoming
no more than an audible sigh,
as the elevator, halfway down the corridor and a turn to the left,
draws one last, long, deep breath of exhaustion
and stops breathing forever. Then?
Well, one of you falls asleep”
and the other one does likewise with a lighted cigarette in his mouth,
and that’s how people burn to death in hotel rooms.
for the video to “three minutes for a detuned diorama”, i asked people to create a portrait of a person who passed away, a person they knew, someone who was dear to their heart.
the process of receiving material mostly from strangers via email as well as my own process of filming people (mostly friends, but some of my participants i had just met) was at times almost overwhelming, in every case very touching, and resulted in wonderful hours of exchanging of stories, cups of coffee, bottles of wine, and moments of drifting off into the very dark places of the souls of humans who have lost someone.
i am very grateful that i had the opportunity to work with all of my participants, who came from all over the world (ana, angel, alex, denise, elvira, evelyna, franziska, jasmina, jean, julia, simone, sophia, tamara, and veronika.). thank you. it has been wonderful.
to pencils and paper, to clay and all our hands.
i rarely reblog my own things, but i am happy with this video and grateful for how wonderful the process of making it was. thank you again to all my participants.
Epictetus, his morals, with Simplicius, his comment, 1704.
Houghton Library, Harvard University
A double fore-edge painting, with the scene of Heliopolis visible when the book is fanned open in one direction, and the Bridge of the Euripus in the other.
one of the first photographs taken of the moon, by John Dillwyn Llewelyn, 1854
Valencian Fisherwomen - Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida
saw a lot of paintings of the sea by Sorolla today.