ephemerality and tenderness27yo | guy-flavored
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Sunset and Super Moon at Arcadia Lake. Jef Bourgeau
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“I thought you might still put in an appearance, Sabit, so I got drunker & waited for a glimpse of you in the crowd. & there was a man sitting next to me, Harvey somebody or another from Chicago, gray-haired with a mustache, & he talked & I listened, as best I could hear him over the music. I think the music was suffocating me. He said, That’s my granddaughter over there, what’s left of her, & he pointed thru the crush of bodies toward a stitchwork hanging from the warehouse ceiling, a dim chandelier of circuitry & bone & muscles flayed & rearranged. I’d looked at the piece on the way in—The Lighthouse of Francis Bacon, it was called. The old man told me he’d been following the show for months, but now he was almost broke & would have to head back to Chicago soon. He was only drinking ginger ale. I bought him a ginger ale & listened, leaning close so he didn’t have to shout to be heard. The chandelier had once been a student @ the Pritzker School of Medicine, but then, he said, “something happened.” I did not ask what. I decided if he wanted me to know, he would tell me. He didn’t. Didn’t tell me, I mean. He tried to buy me a drink, but I wouldn’t let him. The grandfather of The Lighthouse of Francis Bacon tried to buy me a drink, & I realized I was thinking like a journalist again, thinking you dumb fucks—here’s your goddamn story—not some bullshit hearsay about chicanery among the snips, no, this old man’s your goddamn story, this poor guy probably born way the fuck back before man even walked on the goddamn moon & now he’s sitting here at the end of the world, this anonymous old man rubbing his bony shoulders with the tourists and art critics & stitch fiends and freaks because his granddaughter decided she’d rather be a fucking light fixture than a gynecologist.”
Excerpt from "A Season of Broken Dolls" by Caitlín R. Kiernan, originally published in 2007 by Subterranean Online, since collected in several anthologies
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Adel Abdessemed (Algerian/French, b.1971), Forbidden Colors, 2018. Mixed media on canvas.
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Untitled ATM // Molly Mendoza
Sumi ink, gouache, gel pen on 7x10” Arches
For solo show at Nucleus House 1/10/25
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Kirsten Chursinoff
A selection of berry-themed textile art. Free-motion machine quilting and hand embroidery, using some quilting and applique techniques.
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Touched bottom again. Decided to liberate myself. We are never trapped unless we choose to be.
Anaïs Nin, from The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. IV: 1944-1947
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