Latest Posts by dreimehrparsec - Page 6
The Angel, Standing in the Sun
Joseph Mallord William Turner
oil on canvas, 1846
Paul Evans (British, 1954) - Incredible Winter Light, Near Lavenham (2024)
“Silent Guardians” by Andrey Surnov
RIP David Lynch
“A Future City From The Past” by Clemens Gritl: Echoes of Brutalism in a Silent Metropolis.
david lynch understood on a fundamental level how abusive and exploitative the world is to those with the least power, particularly women and children. he created an entire lifetime's worth of cinematically and narratively groundbreaking work trying to grapple with that hostility and abuse, trying to reconcile the evil that exists in the hearts of everyday men with the goodness he saw there as well. he made survivors of unspeakable trauma feel seen and known in a way that few artists ever have and ever will, and never once shied away from the truth he knew and believed: that we are all innocent, that what has been done to you is not who you are, and even in times of abject despair, there are people who love you, who will not forget you or stop trying to save or defend or avenge you. i don't want that to go without notice. many people are mourning him for different reasons, and i agree, he was one of the greatest and most imaginative artists to ever be given free reign to paint on a cinematic canvas. but first and foremost, david lynch was an artist of enormous empathy, and i think those of us who saw ourselves in his work because of the empathy it afforded us are grieving particularly hard today.
his memory will always be a blessing.
A Robert Smith piece I made to be printed on a t-shirt. A birthday gift for a friend.
Joan Jett at the Aragon Ballroom, Chicago, Illinois, United States, 25th March 1977
📷 Michael Ochs Archives/Getty Images
“Pavillon Wehrhafte Schweiz” (1964, Switzerland) ⬣ Raw concrete forms a crystalline shield
they got trans bitches on here named shit like Die
Found in an old polish apartament building. Most probably it is the main switch for the building.
Happiest 66th birthday to the one and only Blixa Bargeld, a brilliant artist and a beautiful human being, frontperson of the band Einstürzende Neubauten 🖤💛
Photo by Thomas Rabsch
The last one
Playing The Downward Spiral cd on my Hello Kitty boombox is the only thing keeping me from ending it all
So I've just started reading the third part of Neal Shusterman's series Arc of a Scythe – The Toll, and I believe this is the first time I came across a non-binary/genderfluid character in a book, additionally that beautifully portrayed.
The character's name is Jerico. Jerico is a captain of a great ship. Through the first few paragraphs of that chapter there are no gendered expressions used to describe Jerico (and note that I'm not reading it in English, but in my native, heavily-gendered language), until that moment when one sailor refers to Jerico as "sir", and then quickly corrects himself to "madam", adding, "it was cloudy a moment ago".
I won't explain here the whole setting of that story, but for what you need to know, it is happening in the future when there are some places in the world that function differently from the rest. It is explained that in Madagascar, where Jerico comes from, the concept of gender is not imposed on children. Once they are grown up, they are free to choose whether they feel like men or women, or not to choose at all. Jerico chose the fluidity.
And here's my favourite part. Jerico's gender depends on the weather. When there is sun or stars in the sky, she is a woman. When there are clouds, he is a man. For someone whose everyday life depends so strongly on atmospheric conditions as for a sailor, a captain, I think it's beautiful. I don't know yet what happens to Jerico later in that book, but anyways. Huge respect to the author.
“AM could not wander, AM could not wonder, AM could not belong. He could merely be. And so, with the innate loathing that all machines had always held for the weak, soft creatures who had built them, he had sought revenge.”
Harlan Ellison, I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream
There are moments in life that feel so structured and poetic that they feel less like reality and more like scripted fiction and I think that those are some of the most important ones to hold onto
truly some people have no genre savviness whatsoever. A girl came back from the dead the other day and fresh out of the grave she laughed and laughed and lay down on the grass nearby to watch the sky, dirt still under her nails. I asked her if she’s sad about anything and she asked me why she should be. I asked her if she’s perhaps worried she’s a shadow of who she used to be and she said that if she is a shadow she is a joyous one, and anyway whoever she was she is her, now, and that’s enough. I inquired about revenge, about unfinished business, about what had filled her with the incessant need to claw her way out from beneath but she just said she’s here to live. I told her about ghosts, about zombies, tried to explain to her how her options lie between horror and tragedy but she just said if those are the stories meant for her then she’ll make another one. I said “isn’t it terribly lonely how in your triumph over death nobody was here to greet you?” and she just looked at me funny and said “what do you mean? The whole world was here, waiting”. Some people, I tell you.
Nikolay Punin, from a diary entry featured in The Diaries of Nikolay Punin: 1904 - 1953
- Fernando Pessoa - The Book of Disquiet