642Primiti Too Taa - by Colin Morton and Ed Ackerman (1988).
(Source: calloohcallaycahill, via poetsorg)
One is cautioned against trying to comfort the comfortless in the midst of their bereavement.
Leonard Cohen (via nevver)
(via nevver)
Abelardo Morell’s photo series Alice in Wonderland
Morell’s images locate the viewer to a fantastic, spaceless world guided by fictive, paper cut-out figures. While the series is not presented in a linear narrative, the photographs allude to recognizable moments in Lewis Carroll’s story, Alice in Wonderland. The photographs evoke the viewer’s visual memory in relationship to childhood and storytelling using characters well known to many- read Western- audiences.
Morell creates imagined scenes using thin, paper cut-outs and three-dimensional objects, mainly books and household item like teapots and, what appear to be, the fabric of chairs or curtains. Using strategic lighting to illuminate the enclosed spaces, the photographer highlights the differences between the objects’ dimensionality- celebrating the juxtaposition instead of hiding it. The resulting scene hovers between the surreal and the real by giving the audience a clear narrative, yet takes away the physical and psychological depth of Carroll’s characters. Moreover, the relatively shallow depth of field and intimate space created by the images draws the viewer into the created world in a comforting, yet unparalleled way.
Each photograph gives the viewer a magical world to gaze upon. While the flat figures are not literally photographed in action, the associated story activates a meaning each photograph takes on. Morell’s use of books, a subject matter used often by the artist, strengthens the metaphor between the photograph and the book: like a story in a book, the photograph draws its audience into a world unique to itself allowing the viewer to be transported to another place.
(via noahsteinmanvispro)
Abelardo Morell’s photo series Alice in Wonderland
Morell’s images locate the viewer to a fantastic, spaceless world guided by fictive, paper cut-out figures. While the series is not presented in a linear narrative, the photographs allude to recognizable moments in Lewis Carroll’s story, Alice in Wonderland. The photographs evoke the viewer’s visual memory in relationship to childhood and storytelling using characters well known to many- read Western- audiences.
Morell creates imagined scenes using thin, paper cut-outs and three-dimensional objects, mainly books and household item like teapots and, what appear to be, the fabric of chairs or curtains. Using strategic lighting to illuminate the enclosed spaces, the photographer highlights the differences between the objects’ dimensionality- celebrating the juxtaposition instead of hiding it. The resulting scene hovers between the surreal and the real by giving the audience a clear narrative, yet takes away the physical and psychological depth of Carroll’s characters. Moreover, the relatively shallow depth of field and intimate space created by the images draws the viewer into the created world in a comforting, yet unparalleled way.
Each photograph gives the viewer a magical world to gaze upon. While the flat figures are not literally photographed in action, the associated story activates a meaning each photograph takes on. Morell’s use of books, a subject matter used often by the artist, strengthens the metaphor between the photograph and the book: like a story in a book, the photograph draws its audience into a world unique to itself allowing the viewer to be transported to another place.
Hurling Crowbars at Mockingbirds, Buddy Wakefield
If we were created in God’s image
then when God was a child
he smushed fire ants with his fingertips
and avoided tough questions.
There are ways around being the go-to person
even for ourselves
even when the answer is clear
clear like the holy water Gentiles would drink
before they realized
forgiveness is the release of all hope for a better past.
I thought those were chime shells in your pocket
so I chucked a quarter at it
hoping to hear some part of you respond on a high note.
You acted like I was hurling crowbirds at mockingbars
and abandoned me for not making sense.
Evidently, I don’t experience things as rationally as you do.
For example, I know mercy
when I have enough money for the jukebox.
You know mercy whenever someone shoves a stick of morphine
straight up into your heart.
It felt amazing
the days you were happy to see me
so I smashed a beehive against the ocean
to try and make our splash last longer.
Remember all the honey
had me lookin’ like a jellyfish ape
but you walked off the water in a porcupine of light
strands of gold
drizzled out to the tips of your wasps.
This is an apology letter to the both of us
for how long it took me to let things go.
It was not my intention to make such a
production of the emptiness between us
playing tuba on the tombstone of a soprano
to try and keep some dead singer’s perspective alive.
It’s just that I coulda swore you had sung me a love song back there
and that you meant it
but I guess sometimes people just chew with their mouth open
so I ate ear plugs alive with my throat
hoping they’d get lodged deep enough inside the empty spots
that I wouldn’t have to hear you leaving
so I wouldn’t have to listen to my heart keep saying
all my eggs were in a basket of red flags
all my eyes to a bucket of blindfolds
in the cupboard with the muzzles and the gauze
ya know I didn’t mean to speed so far out and off
trying to drive your nickels to the well
when you were happy to let them wishes drop
but I still show up for gentleman practice
in the company of lead dancers
hoping their grace will get stuck in my shoes.
Is that a handsome shadow on my breath, sweet woman
or is it a cattle call in a school of fish?
Still dance with me
less like a waltz for panic
more for the way we’d hoped to swing
the night we took off everything
and we were swingin for the fences
don’t hold it against
my love
you know I wanna breath deeper than this
I didn’t mean to look so serious
didn’t mean to act like a filthy floor
didn’t mean to turn us both into a cutting board
but there were knives stuck
in the words where I came from
too much time in the back of my words.
I pulled knives from my back and my words.
I cut trombones from the moment you slipped away
and I know it left me lookin’ like a knife fight, lady
boy I know it left me feelin’ like a shotgun shell
you know I know I mighta gone and lost my breath
but I wanna show ya how I found my breath
to death
it was buried under all the wind instruments
hidden in your castanets
goddamn –
if you ever wanna know how it felt when ya left –
if ya ever wanna come inside –
just knock on the spot
where I finally pressed stop
playing musical chairs with your exit signs.
I’m gonna cause you a miracle
when you see the way I kept God’s image alive.
Forgiveness
is for anyone who needs safe passage through my mind.
If I really was created in God’s image
then when God was a boy
he wanted to grow up to be a man
a good man
and when God was a man
a good man
He started telling the truth in order to get honest responses.
He’d say,
“I know.
I really shoulda wore my cross
again
but I don’t wanna scare the gentiles off.
Found;
Very interesting Basalt geode with blue Chalcedony, Calcite and Mordenite bubbles from India
(via iamthetigress)
One way or another, we’re all running away from Foucault. In this distressing online game, you can actually run away from Foucault with your fingertips, rather than by merely existing in society. It’s scary, all but impossible, and totally futile. Well, of course; that’s the whole point. But who, apart from some people I know back at my upstate New York small, progressive, liberal-arts college, would actually play it? Real life is punishment enough.
Found;
hilarious
