2 months ago
"Maison Ancart," an exhibition of new paintings by Harold Ancart, is on view at Gagosian, rue de Ponthieu, Paris, through December 20: https://t.co/CfLPe0vE2P https://t.co/KQoZ3uW6Ic
2 months ago
man in black jacket and black pants standing beside pink and yellow painted wall during daytime
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1586795200627-af4383f59d54?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max
2 months ago
The Purpose of Writing and Articulation
Being pedantic in nature, I vividly remember those rare, unprecedented instances when this attribute empowered me to discern a meaningful pattern in plain sight, which others might glean over as being banal. All of this, fueled by keen observations, made chillingly close to the bones.
2 months ago
11. Read more about writing
No matter your level of competency, there’s always room for improvement.
For daily tips and writing-related articles, you can follow several channels, blogs or newsletters.
2 months ago
red and white boat on river near green trees during daytime
https://images.unsplash.com/photo-1596329543776-b725a410dc38?fm=jpg&fit=crop&w=600&q=80&fit=max
2 months ago
Weakening Strength
I’m weak and tired,
shaky and damaged.
Why does strength make me
weak?
Why every time I stand strong
do I shake and inside,
turn meek?
Strength rips off my flesh
and tears my insides
so the timid, helpless child
can no longer hide—
No longer hide
the tears, the screams
the slashing, the gashing,
the moaning the pain,
the ashes, the crashes,
the rain, no gain.
Strength grabs me, it stabs me
and sets me afire;
it slaps me, it snaps me,
running me down
to the mud and the mire.
I walk proudly
as strength kills me from the
inside out.
I scream and shout
but my pain reaches not one ear
while I fall and shake,
cry and break;
yelling for something to save
me,
for strength to stop raping me
and killing me
with every breath I take.
I’m weak and tired,
shaky and damaged.
Why does strength make me
weak?
Why every time I stand strong
do I shake and inside,
turn meek?
Strength rips off my flesh
and tears my insides
so the timid, helpless child
can no longer hide—
No longer hide
the tears, the screams
the slashing, the gashing,
the moaning the pain,
the ashes, the crashes,
the rain, no gain.
Strength grabs me, it stabs me
and sets me afire;
it slaps me, it snaps me,
running me down
to the mud and the mire.
I walk proudly
as strength kills me from the
inside out.
I scream and shout
but my pain reaches not one ear
while I fall and shake,
cry and break;
yelling for something to save
me,
for strength to stop raping me
and killing me
with every breath I take.
2 months ago
The retrospective of almost 30 works by Cecily Brown, spanning three decades, will move to Philadelphia after its residency in Dallas. https://t.co/cswFCZagMi
Cecily Brown's Career-Spanning Show in Dallas | Artnet News
The retrospective of almost 30 works by Cecily Brown, spanning three decades, will move to Philadelphia after its residency in Dallas.
https://t.co/cswFCZagMi
2 months ago
London’s Groucho Club shut as police probe ‘serious crime’ at the venue
https://t.co/8Pta0S0NhE https://t.co/TlXkLfaIqJ
https://t.co/8Pta0S0NhE https://t.co/TlXkLfaIqJ
2 months ago
Cold Moon
blue seclusion
illuminating the midnight forest
every breath sending a cloud of cold crystals
it is all the best
looking at the cold blue moon
wondering.....
Will I die soon?
Is this the last thing of beauty I see?
And something tells me no
To keep living my life
Because....
There is another full moon
Around the corner
blue seclusion
illuminating the midnight forest
every breath sending a cloud of cold crystals
it is all the best
looking at the cold blue moon
wondering.....
Will I die soon?
Is this the last thing of beauty I see?
And something tells me no
To keep living my life
Because....
There is another full moon
Around the corner
2 months ago
Women Photograph by Burak Bulut Yıldırım, Photo on Paper, 19.7 x 27.6 in - Figurative Original Artwork For Sale on Saatchi Art. photo%20artistic