Pat Perry
(Source: imalwaysnaked)
Words!
Mere words! How terrible they were! How clear, and vivid, and cruel! One could not
escape from them. And yet what a subtle magic there was in them!
—Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray (via extraintroverted)
My first sensual experience with the New Yorker
Victo Ngai
How often do one get to draw a full page sensual piece for the New Yorker magazine?I feel super luck-out being ask to illustrate this piece for the fiction “Sweet Dreams” by Peter Stamm. The story is about a young couple living together in Switzerland. This is the scene I was given to work on:
She went to the bathroom, filled the tub, and got undressed. The mirror misted over with condensation, and the smell of pine needles filled the air. She turned off the water, and the apartment suddenly seemed very quiet. Then she heard footsteps, and Simon’s voice through the half-open door. He said, I’ll just go downstairs for the bottle of wine. I thought you’d gone already, said Lara, and she poked her head through the crack, and he kissed her on the lips and tried to barge the door open, but she held it shut. They kissed again. See you soon, said Lara. It was odd, she still felt a little ashamed in front of him.
I had so much fun and I think this is one of my recent favorite works. Big big thanks to AD Jordan Awan and Chris Curry!!
(via cabeinspirations)
what is
this quintessence of dust?
—W. Shakespeare
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Sons of an Illustrious Father
—Moonshiner
(Source: the-attic-to-the-left)
(via -moretreeslessassholes)
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]
Emily and the Woods
—More Like Me
(Source: foodfortardisandimpala)
Do not force your children to behave like you, for surely they have been created for a time which is different to your time.
—Imam Ali (AS)
(Source: findingpeacewithin, via m0roccan)
(Source: dancergypsy, via papatuanuku)
Despite the difficulties of my story, despite discomforts, doubts, despairs, despite impulses to be done with it, I unceasingly affirm love, within myself, as a value. Though I listen to all the arguments which the most divergent systems employ to demystify, to limit, to erase, in short to depreciate love, I persist: “I know, I know, but all the same…” I refer the devaluations of a lover to a kind of obscurantist ethic, to a let’s-pretend realism, against which I erect the realism of value: I counter whatever “doesn’t work” in love with the affirmation of what is worthwhile.
—Roland Barthes, A Lover’s Discourse (via philphys)
(via papatuanuku)
E tipu e rea, mo nga ra o te ao,
Grow up O tender child in the days of your world,
Ko to ringa ki nga rākau a te Pākehā,
In your hands the tools of the Pākehā,
Hei oranga mo to tinana.
As means to support and sustain you.
Ko to ngakau ki nga taonga a o tipuna,
In your heart the treasures of your ancestors,
Hei tikitiki mo to mahunga.
As a plume for your head.
Ko to wairua ki te Atua,
Your spirit given to God,
Nana nei nga mea katoa.
The source of all things.
-Sir Apirana Ngata
I tetahi moteatea o Te Kawerau a Maki
Aue, aue
Kei nga wai karekare
Taku huia kua riro e
Haere ra a Mana, koutou ko o tupuna.
Waiho ake au ki te tihi o Hinerangi,
Kia kite au i nga tai whakatu a Kupe.
Kei Te Kaiwhakaara te ipu a Pare, te toki a Nuku.
Ake kuru pounamu, taku ipo kahurangi,
Kua ngaro ki te po e, i.
Alas, alas, my beloved chieftain has gone on beyond
the waters of Waikarekare.
Go on Mana, along with your ancestors.
Leave me here, I will remain on the summit of Hinerangi
So that I may look out to the upraised seas of Kupe.
There at Kaiwhakaara rests the sacred calabash of Pare, and the axe of Nuku.
My treasured greenstone pendants, my beloved jewels
Have been lost to the night.
(Source: colourfulmotion)
