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quixoticcurator:
“Otto Piene
Untitled, 1962
”

quixoticcurator:

Otto Piene
Untitled, 1962

(via notational)


abstrakshun:

Julie Mehretu (Ethiopian-American, b.1970)

(via notational)


astamarie:

photography without people (ish) ‘16 


ryantippery:
“Untitled, 2016
Ink and acrylic on paper
8 in x 10 in
”

ryantippery:

Untitled, 2016
Ink and acrylic on paper
8 in x 10 in

(Source: ryantippery)


new life goal: die wishing i had more time. 


Brooklyn’s too cold tonight
& all my friends are three years away.
My mother said I could be anything
I wanted—but I chose to live.

— Ocean Vuong, “Thanksgiving 2006,” from Night Sky With Exit Wounds (via bostonpoetryslam)

(via boglady)


I am not a woman, but the light that falls on this gate, on this ground. I am the seasons, I think sometimes, January, May, November; the mud, the mist, the dawn. I cannot be tossed about, or float gently, or mix with other people.

— Virginia Woolf, The Waves (via theclassicsreader)

(via boglady)


astamarie:

I keep forgetting to write down my thoughts and feelings. Modes of expression, microaggressions and soft sighs of pseudo-juvenile infatuation, or even deep pangs of sorrow and stormful bursts of elated ecstasy. I get lost before the words reach the page; in my mind, in my books, in my facebook stream, in dreams already forgotten by the morning hours. Staring at the app that tracks my sleeping pattern, always expanding the data. Attempting with every addition to measure how good I am at living my life. The results tend to vary, but the answer always seems to be “not very”.  I am opening up by the seams, tearing away into infinitely scattered patches. Staying whole as I break apart, Schröddinger’s piece of art, attempting to solve the puzzle (the puzzle of who I am, who I will one day be) lying completed in front of me. And even if I can’t see the pieces that line the border, offering a frame of reference for getting my shit in order, I see it as a challenge to all of my crumbling self. May I stumble into the written word, as I stumble through my health.  

(via astamarie)


institute-for-thermal-research:

Found craigslist image
John Baldessari’s painting - EVERYTHING IS PURGED FROM THIS PAINTING BUT ART, NO IDEAS HAVE ENTERED THIS WORK (1966)

(via boglady)