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kara andree : cataloging inspiration
raveneuse:

Louise Bourgeois in her Chelsea home, 2007. Photographed by Duane Michaels.

raveneuse:

Louise Bourgeois in her Chelsea home, 2007. Photographed by Duane Michaels.

(via jntquigley)

northmagneticpole:

Proto Knot, 1971-Lynda Benglis

northmagneticpole:

Proto Knot, 1971-Lynda Benglis

(via like-ivy)

kristinasheufelt:

Richard Deacon | Empirical Jungle, 2003

kristinasheufelt:

Richard Deacon | Empirical Jungle, 2003

(via emilyauchincloss)

bombmagazine:

"Clay inhabits the space between sculpture and painting."
—Nicole Cherubini

bombmagazine:

"Clay inhabits the space between sculpture and painting."

Nicole Cherubini

awallison:

Good Knight: Rescue Me from My Fireproof Face, hydrocal, cast resin, acrylic paint, oil paint, twine and popsicle sticks, Andrew W Allison 2014

awallison:

Good Knight: Rescue Me from My Fireproof Face, hydrocal, cast resin, acrylic paint, oil paint, twine and popsicle sticks, Andrew W Allison 2014

gardenhoseenema:

Roxy Paine

gardenhoseenema:

Roxy Paine

(Source: fevra, via nopenope)

ermietumblr:

Takuro Kuwata.

ermietumblr:

Takuro Kuwata.

(via joannegreenbaum)

cacaotree:

Sarah Boyts Yoder

cacaotree:

Sarah Boyts Yoder

(Source: sarahboytsyoder.com)

Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity. Simone Weil (via dirkhanson)

(via jntquigley)

Franz Kafka, the story goes, encountered a little girl in the park where he went walking daily. She was crying. She had lost her doll and was desolate.

Kafka offered to help her look for the doll and arranged to meet her the next day at the same spot. Unable to find the doll he composed a letter from the doll and read it to her when they met.

'Please do not mourn me, I have gone on a trip to see the world. I will write you of my adventures.' This was the beginning of many letters. When he and the little girl met he read her from these carefully composed letters the imagined adventures of the beloved doll. The little girl was comforted.

When the meetings came to an end Kafka presented her with a doll. She obviously looked different from the original doll. An attached letter explained: ‘My travels have changed me…’

Many years later, the now grown girl found a letter stuffed into an unnoticed crevice in the cherished replacement doll. In summary it said: ‘Every thing that you love, you will eventually lose, but in the end, love will return in a different form.’

May Benatar, Kafka and the Doll: The Pervasiveness of Loss (via museumghost)

(Source: easyreadingisdamnhardwriting, via picassosghost)

Does my sassiness upset you? 
Why are you beset with gloom? 
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? 
Bowed head and lowered eyes? 
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you? 
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? 
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs? 

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Maya Angelou, Still I rise (via showslow)

(via judithbfarr)