man walking on road surrounded by trees covered by snow
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1551508766-b2655a809188?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max
Nobody knows the pain
you feel...
Nobody knows the way
it hurts...
It leaves no scar
they can see...
Nobody knows how much
you wish it away...
And nobody know how
it just grows and grows...
And nobody knows what it is
that you know...
Cause nobody knows the pain
Inside.
, genre: landscape, style: Expressionism, Surrealism.
https://uploads2.wikiart.org/00269/images/paul-nash/the-archer.jpgRecuperation: the process by which subcultural ideas and images become commodified and reincorporated into mainstream society
Today, recuperation is achieved through micro-aesthetics, memes, and online communities they stem from
Unlike the radical subcultures of yore, which had their own visual schema, language, and aesthetics, these digital scenes aren’t exactly subcultural.
They often promote a sort of political weakening.
brown wooden house near body of water
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1606075277031-918565c305b8?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max
Some people go to bed at night thinking, ‘That was a good day.’ I am one of those who worries and asks, ‘How did I screw up today?’
we stay within the confines
of our bodies and the concrete;
we communicate
with simple greetings
while we hurry on
to more important things
...classes, appointments, critical meetings...
Hello there.
(do you see my face?)
(don’t be alarmed
dear, it isn’t really mine,
this is only stage make-up...
and I put it on sometimes,
when I want to hide
or pretend to be
anyone but me...
You understand, don’t you?)
Hello there.
(do you hear my words?)
(I fancy them passionate purple and red,
but you disagree
claiming they’re deceitful green.
and when they float
from my mouth
dear, you’ll find they buzz
around your ear,
until they decide
it is safe to crawl in.
next, the decision is your's alone
will you chew on them for the time being
savoring what they have to offer,
will you find them true
and better than all that saccharin shit
you’ve been eating up till now?
will you be finicky, as you usually are,
will you go in unwillingly,
and find they are rotten
will you spit them on the sidewalk
and run quickly away?
will you mold my words...
like jell-o...or play-doh
...or kids with mashed potatoes...
and then, when your new sculpture is complete
...a masterpiece in its own right...
will you hand it back to me
...well, by then, it's not the same
...words switched, meaning’s changed)
Hello there.
(do you see me stroll away?
...and I seem confident inside these confines...
it’s as though self and sidewalk have no effect on me)
Glistening streams silently fall,
Upon broken shards of suffering.
The glass shards pierce my fragile mind,
And blood drips down my quavering hands.
My cries are so silent but shrill,
Yet no one detects my misery.
I beg and plead for someone’s help,
But they all ignore my eerie sobs.
Nothing but the rain touches me;
It can only wash the blood away;
I will always feel this damned pain.
But I will mask it with some façade.
Don’t worry about me right now,
These tears will dry and I’ll be okay.
It’s just another mental fight,
And it will all end soon enough.
a person riding a motorcycle on a race track
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1635933310093-3e80d051f5d0?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max
This year, 8️⃣ galleries will host joint presentations. Four of them discuss the benefits of these temporary alliances. Learn more: https://t.co/vdGSpf9xDq https://t.co/EhCso2aNpu
woman in red and black floral dress standing on concrete pathway between green grass field during
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1627819474735-b01918cdb68e?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max