I've become obsessed with Surrealist photographers.
Palpitations.
They all end up in Paris or Mexico City. Even if biographically they begin elsewhere, they're relationally there.
I have to force myself to ration.
That's why I had to leave Paris.
That and The Mannequin.
Maurice Tabard — Sans Titre (1930)
Oh, do you enjoy photography? You can take pictures with your phone too, no? I can't. The pictures I take just look accidental.
When I was in Occitania for my project (hah! as though it's an official thing—it isn't), I learned about Jean Dieuzaide. You may like his work.
I think about these umbrellas every day.
Jean Dieuzaide — "Mercado, Santiago de Compostela" (1961)
@arcadiokynikos Up in the skies I wish to soar high
In my imagination, without wings I fly
To walk on untrodden roads like a vagabond
And not to be a part of the bandwagon
— Medhavi Chourey
https://t.co/wG2Lr0S30k!!
🌕 Buck Moon
July's full moon — named for when buck deer grow their antlers
👉 Legend says if you make a wish tonight with a sincere heart, it comes true 🦌✨
Words used to describe Gabriele D'Annunzio:
Sex-crazed poet strongman
Womanizing, profligate Italian poet
Poet, seducer & preacher of war
Sex-obsessed poet who invented fascism
I wouldn't have guessed sex pest based on the poem I was posting.
Let's see if he tries to pinch us.
I`ve spent a ridiculous amount of time being intimidated by art.
Not art itself,mind you.
Paintings don`t intimidate me nearly as much as people talking about paintings. For years, I thought art belonged to people who understood things I didn`t.
The word itself comes from Latin " ars" which means skill or craft.
That`s all.
No angels from heaven , not secret organizations of geniuses. Just skill.
I hate it because I`ve always preferred the romantic version.
The Greek had " techne", from which " technique" and " technology".
Skill means you have to practice . That`s mostly awful.
Art is a verb.
You make soup beautifully. You write beautifully. You arrange flowers beautifully.
You learn to do something with enough love and attention that another person feels something because of it.
That`s art.
The Art of Painting, Johannes Vermeer,c. 1666–1668
Members of Congress should be required to take elocution lessons. They sound like air escaping a balloon.
Indecorous.
And they all look like Martians.
I resent that.
Galoppera · Italia · Milano | San Pellegrino Terme
ALDA MERINI
Pensiero, io non ho più
Pensiero, io non ho più parole.
Ma cosa sei tu in sostanza?
qualcosa che lacrima a volte,
e a volte dà luce.
Pensiero, dove hai le radici?
Nella mia anima folle
o nel mio grembo distrutto?
Sei cosi ardito vorace,
consumi ogni distanza;
dimmi che io mi ritorca
come ha già fatto Orfeo
guardando la sua Euridice,
e cosi possa perderti
nell’antro della follia.
Giovanni Pelliccioli — Le parole senza risposta (s.d.)