#Art framing Houston

[pictureworthcustomframing]

Creative Framing for Textiles: Showcase Your Fabric Art and Keepsakes

Textile art brings warmth, color, and history into any space, from family quilts to sports jerseys. Framing these pieces doesn’t just protect them—it also enhances your decor. Here’s how to frame your fabric art thoughtfully and creatively. Choose a Shadow Box: Textiles have texture and dimension. A shadow box offers the depth needed to display them naturally. Use UV-Protective Glass: Fabrics…

[clairity-org]

Jean Tinguely, Relief méta-mécanique, Metamechanical relief, 1954, Steel tube frame, steel wire, painted cardboard, and electric motor, 3/11/23 #mfah #artmuseum #sculpture by Sharon Mollerus

[sweettea-and-honeybutter]

Take You There

A/N: I’ve been hearing in the streets that some of yall are tired of smut 👀 (my specialty 🥲) so I present you with a slow burn. I’m not sure just yet how many chapters there will be, and I don’t know how or why this idea came to me but I’ve fallen in love with the story. I also desperately need practice writing stuff other than porn because I have dreams of being a published author some day soooo all feedback is highly appreciated 💕 

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Reign Adisa (black female OC)

Summary: Terry gets inspired in so many ways by a tattoo artist. 

Warning: fluffy and angsty, no smut here so rated E

Length: This mf is 4.1k words long 😮‍��🥴 my fault

Chapter 1

Wednesdays felt like her secret sanctuary, a rare calm in the whirlwind of her week. Most days, Reign’s life as a young Black woman running a buzzing tattoo studio in the heart of downtown Houston was anything but quiet—ink-stained hands, constant chatter, the hum of machines. Yet, in this moment, she savored the peaceful lull. 

The community had embraced her with open arms, offering support, admiration, and more appointments than she ever imagined this early on. Clients lined up months in advance, eager to wear her art, while others knocked at her door with résumés in hand. Reign was already on the hunt for three more artists to keep up with the demand. It’s been a blessing, but it’s also been overwhelming. 

So Wednesdays, Reign doesn’t take any appointments or walk-ins, she just comes to her studio to create, conjuring up beautifully original pieces to present to the world. Wednesdays helped her stay grounded so she didn’t lose herself in the fast pace of her career. They helped her hold on to her love and passion for her craft, it’s a necessity for her success as an artist. 

Her studio was a reflection of her soul—beautiful, grounded, and something she took immense pride in. She had stumbled upon the space by chance, walking through the warehouse district one sunny afternoon. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed by smooth cement walls flooded the open floor plan with light, offering her the creative freedom to shape the space however she desired. Now, a vibrant neon orange sign reading "Lotus Tattoo" glowed outside, inviting passersby. Inside, the walls were adorned with art from local artists, while plush oriental rugs softened the industrial feel. Scattered lamps cast a warm glow in the evening, and cozy seating areas and lush plants created a relaxed vibe. Bamboo room dividers separated the space for other artists yet to join her.

Today she walked in and began her routine that now felt more like a spiritual ritual which transported her to another world. Opening the velvet mauve curtains to let the morning light in, lighting incense throughout the space to cleanse the energy, turn on her brown sugar playlist so soft r&b can set the vibe, and opening the wide glass garage door at the back of the studio to let the cool autumn breeze in.

She took off her crochet cardigan which matched her shorts, rolled up the sleeves to her cropped Anderson Paak shirt, and swirled her copper highlighted braids into a messy bun. Pushing her glasses further up her nose, she sat at her desk and hunched over her iPad, biting her pen as she imaged how to bring more texture to the hair of the Caribbean mermaid she was working on. 

~~~~~~~~

Terry’s legs couldn’t stay still, pacing the length of his apartment like a caged animal. The space felt suffocatingly small, no matter how impressive the view of the city spread out below him. The constant barrage of honking horns and blaring sirens seeped in through the open window, filling his head with a cacophony that grated against his nerves. Overstimulated didn’t even begin to cover it. He let out a sharp breath, the simmering rage beneath his skin threatening to boil over. He hadn’t always been this tightly wound—once upon a time, people called him easygoing. But things had changed. He had changed.

He shoved his AirPods in, cranking the volume of "Killing in the Name Of” until the defiant shouts and pounding drums drowned out the noise in his head. As the music pulsed through him, he stormed out of his place, locking the door behind him with a sharp click. Instead of heading toward the elevator, he veered toward the stairwell, taking the five flights down two steps at a time, as if the rapid movement could outrun the memories chasing him.

Sure, everything had worked out on paper—the Shelby Springs police department was under investigation, the chief and a dozen corrupt cops were behind bars. Cases were being reopened, and lawyers from across the country were flocking to defend the victims of that backwoods nightmare. Hell, Terry had even won half a million in his lawsuit against the city. But what did it all matter? Mike was still gone. After pouring everything he had into saving his cousin, Terry was left with nothing but an empty victory and a gnawing sense of purposelessness. Lost, adrift, and suffocating beneath the weight of survivor’s guilt, he couldn’t shake the question that haunted him: At what cost?

As he exited his building, the midday sun greeted him with a mocking cheerfulness, bright and all consuming. Terry scowled, keeping his squinting eyes glued to the uneven ground beneath his feet as he mindlessly walked the downtown streets. He was so wrapped up in his disdain for life that he missed how people moved out of the way of his hulking form, how cops perusing the streets eyed him suspiciously, how birds scurried away from the sound of his thundering footsteps. 

He walked for 20 minutes in a straight line before his mind finally went numb enough for him to take in his surroundings. He wasn’t far at all from his home, but this side of the downtown had a different feel to it. The buildings were shorter and wider, the foot traffic was less obnoxious, and beautiful graffiti covered almost every wall. He spotted a building that stood out amongst the others with its pristine alabaster paint over the cement and its glowing neon sign. “Lotus Tattoo”.

It had been months since Mike passed, but the thought of getting something permanent to honor him had crossed Terry’s mind more than once—though he didn’t need ink to remind him of Mike’s infectious laugh or goofy grin. As he approached the tattoo shop, he slowed, his fingers brushing the door handle. He gave it a tug but stopped when he felt resistance—it was locked. For a moment, he considered walking away, but movement deeper inside the studio caught his eye. He lingered, torn between retreating and pressing on, before finally deciding to make his way around the back, curiosity quietly pulling him forward.

~~~~~~~~

She doesn’t hear him walk in through the open garage door, so immersed in perfecting the fine details before her, and Terry doesn’t wish to bring attention to himself just yet. He takes soundless steps into her studio, as if the building itself was emitting a peace so relieving that he could feel the pressure of anxiety roll right off his shoulders. He took a deep breath in, nose filling with the earthy scent of warm patchouli and sweet jasmine. Walking further into her domain, his eyes bright with curiosity take in his surroundings-a chipped and loved on mug, the soft rug blanketing his steps, the petal shaped ceiling fans whirling quietly, and he chuckled silently at her grumbles to herself.

He instinctively removed his AirPods and put them in their case, snapping the lid shut and startling the both of them. Reign straightened her back with a gasp, turning so sharply on her stool that her glasses flew off her face and she toppled over, just barely catching herself in a clumsy fighting stance, knees knocked and hands in awkwardly placed fists. Terry, for what its worth, looked like a deer caught munching in the farmers garden, pupils blown almost wide enough to cover the steel gray, mouth open in a shocked ‘o’, eyebrow twitching from trying not to laugh at her horrible stance and the fact that her glasses slid right to his feet.

“Um…” Terry didn’t know what to say as he raised his palms to her, trying to appear harmless, “I was wondering…do you take walk-ins?” Reign let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and placed a hand over her thudding heart, standing more relaxed but still on guard.

“You almost scared me to death! Yes um-“ she squinted at the ground next to her, trying to find her glasses, “-um yes, normally I do, just not Wednesdays-“ she was caught off guard again feeling a warm hand on her shoulder. When had he even moved? 

Terry stood so close that her nose brushed his shirt as she tilted her head to look up at him. He gave her a ghost of a smile and brought her glasses to rest on her nose, pushing her loose braids back behind her ears and studying her. “There.” His voice was so deep that she couldn’t tell if the goosebumps erupting on her skin was from the sound of it, or from being so close to him. 

They stared at each other a moment longer, him admiring her gold septum nose ring against her beautiful mahogany skin, and her eyes darting between his plump lips and striking eyes. Terry finally cleared his throat and took a large step back, raising a brow at her. Reign blinked away the haze he’d created, her voice coming out high and breathless.

“I do take walk-ins! Not normally on Wednesdays, but what were you wanting to get?” Terry looked away thinking, and Reign used that as an excuse to look him over once more, eyes roaming his heavily toned muscles. He was undeniably handsome, like fine as hell handsome.

He looked back at her and she tried not to squirm under his gaze. “I want to get something for my cousin, today was his birthday.” she watched his eyes darken to a murky green as his expression turned somber, “I’m thinking like 2 fists bumping together, can you do that?”

Reign bit her lip in contemplation and Terry’s eyes darkened even further following that movement. “I can, let me just draw up something for you. It shouldn’t take too long, how much time have you got today?” He gave her another ghost of a smile. 

“I’m all yours. I’m Terry by the way, you own this place?” She shook his extended hand and quickly pulled hers back, feeling heat rise to her ears and cheeks.

“Reign, nice to meet you Terry. And yup, only been in this studio a few months. I was working out of my home before.” His eyes were piercing, she felt see through, and turned back to her desk to start drawing something for him. “Gimme like 15, feel free to look around!” She called over her shoulder, and it took Terry a moment to move, far too interested in watching her. 

He walked around her space with purposefully loud steps, mindful of not startling her again and glancing at her every once in a while. He picked up a binder from a floating shelf in front of him, flipping through the pages to see her drawings and creative polaroids of her work. He found himself drawn to her black and white pieces, struck by how realistic her portraits are. He flipped through more and more pages hoping to understand how her mind works, how she was able to capture a moment in time so realistically.

“Terry!” Her voice calling out to him had him coming to her immediately, surprisingly eager to be used as her next canvas. “What do you think?” She put her iPad in his hands and he listened as she explained what she wanted to do with the shadows and fading around the edges, but his mind was going back to the last time he fist bumped Mike, the last time he saw him alive.

“It’s perfect.” His voice was tight with emotions and Reign watched his jaw tick at holding back all the things he wanted to say. She wondered earlier if she’d regret taking work on her off day, but sensing the grief coming from this man, it must’ve been divine timing that sent him to her today.

“I’m glad you like it. Why don’t you show me what size you want and where you’d like it?” Terry nodded and started taking off his shirt, and Reign took a surprised step back watching his body flex. He somehow looked even bigger now. She schooled her expression to be professionally indifferent as Terry pointed to his right pec, opposite his heart. 

“Here, and this big” he measured it out with his hands and Reign gave an awkward thumbs up, not trusting her voice just yet. She turned to print the stencil out for him and cleared her throat.

“Okay, we can do that. For that size my rate is-“

“I’ll pay whatever you want. I’m grateful you took me in on your day off.” Reign shyly glanced back at him over her shoulder and locked eyes with his very earnest ones. She gave him a small smile and continued on to prepare everything she’d need. 

Terry watched her steady gloved hands come up to gently press the wet stencil onto his skin, he bent his legs slightly to make it easier for her, and she whispered out a thanks. He didn’t say anything, transfixed by her presence, her gentleness, the sweet jasmine scent he realized was coming from her. He unintentionally flexed his muscles under her touch and watched her swallow tensely. He wasn’t unaware of his effect on women, but he liked that she was actively trying to remain professional. It was cute. 

“You wanna take a look before we start?” Terry nodded and she showed him to a mirror, standing behind him and off to the side, watching his face for any signs of dissatisfaction. She finally got a genuine smile from him, tiny but meaningful, as his eyes gleamed at the outline of the fists on his chest.

“I love it” he turned to her and she could see the smile had actually reached his eyes, and she returned it right back to him “I’m ready.”

~~~~~~~~

Terry, reclined in the comfortable leather seat, swept his eyes over Reign’s decorated skin while she worked on him, taking in the mismatched beauty and history of her story. “Did you do any of these yourself?” He asked quietly, referring to the artwork scattered on her body.

She pulled back from his arm to get more ink and glanced up at his face giving him a secretive grin. She was becoming addicted to his voice. It’s so deep, and quiet. There’s a heavy bass to it that could’ve been intimidating and over powering, but she could tell he’s choosing to be gentle and laid back. It was creating a growing intimacy between them that she hoped he felt too. 

“Mhm I did a few of these” she replied distractedly, now focused on putting more ink on her needle. 

“Which ones?” She liked his curiosity, and liked that he wanted to talk.

“Hmm I did this one on my thigh” she said offhandedly, now getting back to work, the hypnotic buzzing filling the space again.

He studied the imposing and fierce Medusa taking up most of her thigh, some of the snakes cut off by her shorts. The details were amazing, it almost looked like a Greek statue. Terry was impressed she did it upside down and it still looked stunning. 

He hesitated a moment, not wanting to upset the tranquil environment she’d created, but he wanted to know more of her story, now privy to the fact that the both of them have a painful past. He wants to know how she got to this point of inner peace, he wants to get there too. 

“Is it true?…what they say about Medusa tattoos?” She blinked at his question and her hands stilled, caught off guard, having gotten lost in the music still playing and the buzzing of her gun and the black ink on his smooth skin. 

Reign’s teeth worried her lip, biting and pulling as she debated whether to answer that or not. She chanced a look at his face and his piercing eyes locked with hers. She felt like a butterfly in an empty jar. Delicate, exposed, with nowhere to hide. Not everyone gets a Medusa tattoo for the same reason, but she knew exactly what he meant. She simply nodded and refocused her attention to the veins of the fist she’s crafting.

She continued working and missed the dark shadow that fell over his face. He was trying not to imagine what the sorry excuse for a human did to her, he was trying to ignore the urge to bring the matters of justice into his own hands. He was well equipped with delivering justice, and something about her let him know that she deserved her vengeance. She saw his fist clench from the corner of her eye, and she told herself he was reacting to the carve of the needle in his skin, not the weight of her truth. 

“I’m sorry that’s part of your story.” She gave him a surprised little grin, taking note of the gruffness in his voice she’d heard before.

“It’s not your fault. Besides, every protagonist experiences canon events. If this hadn’t been part of my story, I might not have this passion for creating safe spaces for people.” He stared at her face, her brows slightly furrowed and tongue just barely peeking out of the corner of her mouth. Most of her attention was on marking him with pristine lines, so her honesty flowed from her unfiltered. 

He took in the entirety of her studio again with a new perspective. The healing warmth of the sun seeping in, the calming music lulling him into a state of serenity, the sectioned off booths that created some privacy for her clients but not so much that they feel caged in, the art on the walls depicting black love and black excellence. Damn. She did a hell of a good job creating lightness when the world can be so dark. He found that inspiring.

He wanted to ask her more but “Take You There” began to play from her speakers, and her voice softly hummed along, she was lost in her own world and he was happy to let her be. It was interesting watching her work. She seemed reserved and shy speaking with him before, but now her hands moved confidently, her expressions changed as she concentrated, her scent was positively intoxicating and her braids tickled his skin every time she moved her face closer to his body. 

The pain grew more intense as she shaded a particularly sensitive spot above his nipple, and Terry groaned quietly, tightly closing his eyes and leaning his head back to rest on the seat. 

“I know I know, I’m sorry” Reigned murmured barely being heard above the sound of the tattoo gun, “You’re doing so well though Terry.” 

He tried not to react to that, but the mix of the pain keeping him grounded to her, and her sweet voice, it was getting to him. He hoped she didn’t look down any time soon. She had to roughly wipe the excess ink away from his skin before continuing, and he instinctively hissed at her through his teeth.

“I know soldier, we’ll be done soon” his eyes flew open at that and she paused to get more ink, looking him over. “I noticed the work on your arms. I’ve given my fair share of military tats” He nodded, forehead slightly damp from this whole ordeal.

“Do you wanna tell me about this one we’re doing today? Just if you’d like to share, I’ll be done in about an hour.” He didn’t say anything at first, just taking a quiet moment to feel the influx of emotions that bombarded him today, and she didn’t push him. Then he began to speak, gingerly revealing what happened in Shelby Springs, compelled by her peace to find healing in this moment. His eyes were clouded over, lost in the turmoil of his past, that he missed her frown of recognition. She’d heard about the horrors going on there in the news. Her heart ached for him.

She let him talk, and she listened intently as she worked, nodding and humming every now and then. He grew quiet and his whole face softened with his eyes closed as Reign drowned his freshly completed tattoo in the cold saline solution, gently wiping and repeating the process a few times.

She gave him a sad smile, so many thoughts swimming behind her eyes as she cleared the emotion from her throat before speaking. “All done” she tossed her gloves in the trash can, “lets go take a look.” She stood first, bending and stretching, her back popping from where it was curled over his body. Terry followed suit slowly, standing to his full height and stretching his arms over his head. 

Reign looked away quickly, walking over to the mirror to wait for him, begging her hormones to relax. This was not the time nor the place for this, he’s a new client for fucks sake. She shook her braids out of their messy bun to relieve the tension in her neck as she watched him approach from his reflection in the mirror. He eyed her form appreciatively, not at all subtle about it either, and she played with her hands, trying not to feel so small next to him. 

His eyes finally landed on his tattoo and immediately tears filled them. He hung his head silently as the tears fell down his cheeks and Reign panicked, not knowing what to do or say to help. She stepped closer, letting instinct guide her hand to gently rub his upper back. She peered around his body, trying to get a glimpse of his face in the mirror, and she watched his chest heave one deep shuddering breath. He brought big palms up to wipe his face before he looked up again, keeping her rooted to the spot with his sincere gaze. 

“Thank you.” his voice was so deep and swimming with emotions, and she felt a lump swelling in her own throat. He wanted to say so much more, but he couldn’t at this moment, feeling a dam break within him. He just stared at her, imploring her with his eyes to understand the impact of what she’d gifted him. 

She nodded, rubbing his back one last time before stepping away from him. “You’re most welcome Terry, thank you for trusting me with your story.” It was his turn to nod, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.  She turned away from him and went to find the wrap she would use to cover the tattoo, giving him some privacy with this new piece of his cousin he’d carry around with him forever. 

He made his way back to her when he was ready, and she began the quick process of covering his tattoo in protective wrap, explaining how to take care of it and telling him all the things he shouldn’t do in the next few days. Terry shrugged his shirt back on as she cleaned up the area they occupied, and he could fill a pit form in his stomach. He was hooked on her already, and the thought of leaving her so soon was bringing back the empty feeling he thought he’d left on the outside of her haven.

He sent her his payment from his phone, including an incredibly generous tip, and cut her off as she began to protest being paid double what she’d expected.

“I’d like to take you to dinner, Reign.” She froze, rich brown eyes wide behind her lenses. He kept going at her hesitation, “I’m pretty new to the city, and I haven’t met anyone worth knowing here until you.” He stepped closer, invading her senses with his provocative woody scent. “I’d love for you to show me all the places that make you happy, and I heard the quickest way to anyone's heart is through the stomach.” 

Reign smiled at that, it somehow wasn’t corny coming from such a fine ass man. “You got me there soldier” Terry smiled back to her and took her phone from her grasp, placing his number in it and shooting himself a text. He looked at her from underneath his lashes giving the phone back, and she swore she felt her knees buckle at the devilishly playful glint in his eyes.

“Is tomorrow night too soon?” She couldn’t resist his deep voice and overwhelming presence even if she wanted to, and her body had been growing warmer and warmer the longer he stayed in her space.

“I-I can make time for you” she stuttered embarrassingly at feeling the rough pad of his finger brushing her ear as he moved a braid out of her face.

“Good.” He walked backwards from her, hands in his pockets which seemed to make his biceps bulge, and he smiled softly at her “I’ll see you tomorrow pretty Reign.” he turned and she watched him saunter out the back of her studio, her breath returning to her when he was no longer in sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuuuuck I didn't realize writing something without sex in it was so hard 😅 idk if I have the stamina for a slow burn but I will certainly try, just know that the smut will come with a damn vengeance! Please let me know what you think! this is my first time doing an original character 🥲💕

Taglist: @teddybeerz @liatreads @eviescloset @sageispunk @planetblaque @soft-persephone @violetmuses @miyuhpapayuh @iterum-incipi @slutsareteacherstoo @blackgurlnhermoods @helloncrocs @megamindsecretlair

Part 2

[mlleclaudine]

Visit Tamara de Lempicka’s First U.S. Retrospective in San Francisco This October

by Kate Mothes - Colossal, August 13, 2024

“Young Girl in Green (Young Girl with Gloves)” (c. 1931), oil on board, 24 1/4 x 17 7/8 inches. Digital image © CNAC/MNAM, Dist. RMN-Grand Palais / Art Resource, New York, courtesy of Centre Pompidou, Paris.

Nearly one hundred years after Tamara de Lempicka (1894-1980) first exhibited her work in San Francisco, a sweeping survey of the storied and glamorous artist opens again in the city. This October, at the de Young—part of the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco—the show marks the artist’s first U.S. retrospective and illuminates new details about her life.

de Lempicka’s bold, stylized figures have become synonymous with the 1920s, an era characterized by opulence, sophistication, and youthful optimism. She incorporates Art Deco design elements, like geometric facets, tonal contrasts, and city architecture framing idealized faces and flowing, fashionable garments. She sought to create recognizable paintings with a freshness and clarity that set them apart from what she called the “banality” of art she saw around her. And among other Art Deco-era painters like Diego Rivera or Rockwell Kent, who often painted large murals featuring crowds of people, de Lempicka distinguished herself by focusing predominantly on portraits.

The artist’s early life has long been a source of fascination. For years, she was thought to have been born Tamara Rozalia Gurwik-Górska in 1894—although she claimed variously that she was born in 1898, 1900, and 1902—but recent research reveals her birth name was Tamara Rosa Hurwitz. She moved to Saint Petersburg, where she married a prominent Polish lawyer named Tadeusz Łempicki, and then traveled to Paris, where she studied painting. “At the beginning of her career, de Lempicka chose to sign her works using the male declination of her surname, ‘Lempitzky,’ effectively disguising her gender and adding to the confusion surrounding her origin story,” says an exhibition statement.

By 1928, de Lempicka had become the mistress of Baron Raoul Kuffner de Dioszegh, a wealthy art collector, and she divorced from Łempicki in 1931. When Kuffner’s wife died, the artist married Kuffner, and she became known in the press as “The Baroness with a Brush.” The couple moved to the U.S. in 1939, and although her work fell out of fashion during World War II, a 1960s revival of Art Deco style ushered in a comeback. She eventually moved to Mexico in 1974, where she died in 1980.

More than 120 of de Lempicka’s works will go on view in San Francisco, including her most celebrated portraits, early experimental still lifes, rarely seen drawings, and a selection of Art Deco objects from the Fine Arts Museums’ collection. Tamara de Lempicka runs October 12, 2024, to February 9, 2025, after which it will travel to the Museum of Fine Arts, Houston, from March 9 to May 25. Find more on the de Young’s website.

“Brilliance (Bacchante)” (c. 1932), oil on panel, 14 1/4 x 10 5/8 inches.

“Portrait of a Man (Thadeusz Łempicki) or Unfinished Portrait of a Man,” (1928), oil on canvas, 51 x 31 7/8 inches.

“Arums” (1935), oil on canvas, 25 7/8 x 19 3/8 inches.

“Irene and Her Sister” (1925), oil on canvas, 57 1/2 x 35 1/16 inches.

“Saint-Moritz” (1929), oil on panel, 13 3/4 x 10 5/8 inches.

“Portrait of Ira P.” (1930), oil on panel, 39 3/8 x 25 9/16 inches.

Thérèse Bonney, “Tamara de Lempicka working on ‘Portrait of Tadeusz de Łempicki'” (c. 1929), gelatin silver print, 9 3/8 x 7 inches.

[100-art]

2/3/2024 - Art Collage 1987, Whitney Houston “I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)” Hit No. 1 on the Billboard Hot 100. The song went on to earn Houston a Grammy Award for Best Pop Vocal Performance. Max print size: 60x40 inches. Worldwide shipping, 30-day money-back guarantee. #Canvas Print, #Framed Print, #Poster Print, #Metal Print, #Acrylic Print, #Wood Print

[olmo-gallery]

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo (1617-1682) - The Nativity (1665-1670). Oil on obsidian. Dimensions: Overall: 15 × 13 7/16 × 1 1/4 in. (38.1 × 34.1 cm) Frame (outer): 20 1/8 x 18 5/8 x 2 5/8 in. (51.1 x 47.3 x 6.7 cm). Museum of Fine Arts, Houston. Texas, USA

Bartolomé Esteban Murillo, one of the greatest 17th-century Spanish painters, executed The Nativity on obsidian, a lustrous volcanic black glass.

Scholarship suggests that the obsidian was originally created by an Aztec craftsman for use as a "smoking mirror," a ceremonial tool for spiritual communication and divination. Murillo used the Pre-Columbian object as a painting surface, cleverly taking advantage of the vertical inclusions in the glass to suggest heavenly rays shining down on the Holy Family.

[evesaintyves]

I love it when u post art!!

thank you!! do you want to see some art that's in my house?

this is jenna and shauna. i have no idea who the artists, B. Lyons and M.H. Len are - if you recognize them let me know!! my guess is that this is probably folk/naive art. jenna, on the left, is from a roadside stand outside ardmore, oklahoma and shauna, right, is from a vintage streetwear streetfair (lol) in houston, texas. jenna doesn't hang right because she's haunted (affectionate)

possibly nsfw below

artist unknown, she's from my flaming heart in houston. this sinister young lady, tish, lives in the hallway where we keep all our cursed stuff

this one doesn't have a home yet - lizbeth lorenzo of la familia lorenzo

also in the cursed hallway, i have no information on who made this or what's going on here, i bought it from from the texas art asylum, an art supply/found objects shop. i guess it's dicks and stuff though.

honestly one of my most prized possessions. no idea who made it. bonus content of the spoon collection we inherited from my wife's grandmother 💖

this is my fanciest piece of art, probably, it's by mike egan. i wish i knew who painted the rock, i think we got it at an antique store. also apparently i need to dust

another one we haven't hung up (we're moving soon) by painter and beader natalie archuleta. we bought it at her shop in taos pueblo, new mexico

by t. bouch, an artist out of oklahoma city who doesn't have much web presence. my wife has had this since before we met! her dad briefly owned an art gallery and t. bouch exhibited there. We have a few more of his paintings and drawings in storage right now, sonetime after we move i will photograph them because they're great

my mother in law painted and framed this and gave it to us as a wedding present. it's barnabus collins from dark shadows. she's cool as hell

anyway uhhhh. i hope somebody enjoyed that! we have a lot of art packed up right now but someday, maybe, i'll make a part 2 ?????

[needmoney4artsupplies]

need money 4 art supplies stickers! | Link in Bio. You can put stickers on almost anything — laptops, picture frames, mirrors, binders, notebooks, and more! #stickers #redbubble #sticker #stickermule #merch #merchandise #artsupply #artsupplies #nobodysupportart @stickermule #art #starvingartist #threadless #linkinbio (at Houston, Texas) https://www.instagram.com/p/CqZ3UvFutcv/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[ninaforplace]

I’m feeling the pinks! 💝🫀💅👛🐙🌸🍤🥊🎟🎀💘 pink is one of my favorite colors to work in—after art school at my first professional studio visit the gallery director told me she liked my work but there was “too much pink! Everything’s pink!”; needless to say I didn’t get into that gallery in 2004 and I didn’t stop using pink 😇💕 all of these paintings are small and framed, and are available in either Houston, TX or Jackson, WY, reach out if you want more info and #pink in your life 💓 #ninatichava #ninatichavasmallworks #pinkart #pinkartwork #pinkpainting #pinkobsession #pinkobsessed #pinkinspo (at Austin, Texas) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClbeGtkuSX_/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[abwwia]

Meet Rebecca Morris, a 2024 Joan Mitchell Fellow.

Morris writes: “I am interested in how a large painting can create a physical experience of protection and containment. I thin my oil paint to the transparency of watercolor and apply it to canvases as they lay flat on the floor. This method allows me to control the paint’s liquidity, activating a quick and improvisational way of mark making.”

Rebecca Morris has dedicated her thirty-year career to the exploration of abstraction. Using the basic elements of stroke, surface, and frame to question the underlying pretenses of abstract painting, Morris exposes the tensions between the flat surface of the work and the painting as discrete object. Her solo exhibitions include: a recent traveling survey exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago and The Institute of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles, curated by Jamillah James; 356 S. Mission Road, Los Angeles; The Blaffer Museum, Houston, TX; LAXArt, Los Angeles; Kunsthalle Lingen, Germany; The Renaissance Society at The University of Chicago, IL. Significant group exhibitions include: Inherent Structures, Wexner Center for the Arts, Columbus, OH; Made in L.A., Hammer Museum, Los Angeles; the 2014 Whitney Biennial, Whitney Museum of American Art, NY. Morris is a recipient of the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation Fellowship, The Louis Comfort Tiffany Award, and The California Community Foundation Fellowship for Visual Arts, among other awards. She is represented by Regen Projects, Los Angeles; Bortolami, New York; Corbett vs. Dempsey, Chicago; and Trautwein Herleth, Berlin, Germany. She is a Professor of Painting and Drawing in the Department of Art at UCLA. Learn more about her work: @mrs.Kozaki.

Source: https://www.facebook.com/share/LNtgURiTV4q4cmEw/?mibextid=WC7FNe

[pictureworthcustomframing]

Preserving Military Memories: The Art of Custom Shadowboxes

Military memorabilia carries a deep emotional and historical significance, and at Picture Worth Custom Framing, we believe these items deserve a place of honor. Our custom shadowboxes are expertly designed to preserve and display medals, insignia, photos, and more, turning your service story into a cherished work of art. This featured shadowbox exemplifies the attention to detail and reverence we…

[dolliesrot]

Yeah, even at their best the public is exhausting. And honestly how often are they at their best? :/ You're in the service industry too, right? I don't know much about art but I figure if you keep looking at the world, trying things, and having fun with it that's what it's about.

You could tell I was hoping you'd ask what movies, right?

Sunday

Dracula (The Dirty Old Man) (1969, William Edwards) Pretty repugnant, but it was amusing how they saw their movie was shit and then MST3Ked themselves recording the voiceover narration.

Devil Story (1986, Bernard Launois) I was deliberately trying to pick "fever dream" stuff and this qualified. Devil horses are hard to shoot.

Monday

Calamity of Snakes (1982, Chi Chang) Kind of a dud. I watched the "cruelty free" version, which doesn't show snakes being killed on camera but supposes that they don't mind being sprayed with fire extinguishers. Captures Taiwan (?) at a truly unfortunate moment for fashion. Morbid curiosity was not rewarded.

Viy (1967, Konstantin Ershov & Georgiy Kropachyov) Banger! Magic and witches and state-of-the-art Soviet special effects courtesy of Aleksandr Ptushko.

A Virgin Among the Living Dead (1973, Jesus Franco) Rewatch, but I previously had only seen the Wizard VHS version with the alternate clothed takes and the added terrible slow motion zombie scenes. Much better in this version.

Conquest (1983, Lucio Fulci) Vivid in its gruesome derivative patchwork brutality, in spite of looking like it was shot through cheesecloth.

Tuesday

Kuroneko (1968, Kaneto Shindō) Awesome. Spooky and atmospheric and features a kitty.

The Empire Strikes Back Uncut (2012, Casey Pugh) Warm and cuddly fun starring multiple dogs as Chewbacca.

Wednesday

Blonde Ambition (1980, John and Lem Amero) Easily the most charming and effervescent porno I've ever seen. Also deserving of praise that isn't so faint as to be backhanded!

The Cassandra Cat (1963, Vojtěch Jasný) Pretty terrific and beautiful fable. The cat had little wee glasses!

Lord of Illusions (1995, Clive Barker) Enjoyed the LA scenery and stage magic milieu. Unexpectedly terrifying turn from George's boss Mr. Kruger from Seinfeld. (Daniel von Bargen RIP)

Torture Dungeon (1969, Andy Milligan) What can one say about an Andy Milligan movie?

Thursday

The Boogey Man (1980, Ulli Lommel) I was unprepared for how great this was. A slasher ghost story about how childhood trauma follows you through life. John Carradine, couples therapist. I wept. Watch this one, Anna!

Shogun Assassin (1980, Kenji Misumi and Robert Houston) Finally got to hear all the skits from Liquid Swordz in their proper context!

Friday

Hell Comes to Frogtown (1988, RJ Kizer & Donald G. Jackson) Total male fantasy about how hot it would be if Sandahl Bergman wore glasses and had a bomb she could use to blow up your cock whenever she so chose.

The Night of the Hunter (1955, Charles Laughton) Rewatch. Classic. Needs no introduction. It is so good!

The Night of the Hunted (1980, Jean Rollin) Eerily quiet time capsule of a particular era of Parisian architecture. Also weirdly prefigures Memento, but with more nudity.

Perversion Story (1969, Lucio Fulci) Total male fantasy about how hot it would be if Marisa Mell did anything, in this case send you to the gas chamber by framing you for her murder. Really amazing time capsule footage of San Francisco, too. And there's a photographer character, those are always fun.

Oh and I watched a bunch of old Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies in there, too.

Yay The Fly! I've never seen The Hunt. I'm going to go out on a limb and guess you watched the one Mads Mikkelsen is in. :D Am I right?

Hope you're feeling better soon! Enjoy that time away from work.

Oh wowowow you managed to get through a lot! I have a hard time multitasking, which makes it hard to watch movies and paint :,c wish it wasn't either or, but god scrambled me that way so whatyyagonnado. DUDE I watched Night of the Hunter for the first time like two months ago and am pretty pissed off that I haven't watched it sooner! I wish the song about the pretty fly and the spider was on spotify 🕸️Also!! Thank you! You totally gave me some bangers I need to put on my list! (Probably gonna try and get to Viy, A Virgin Among the Living Dead, and The Boogey Man first!).

Also,,,, I think i'd bang him </3 religious psychosis and murderous nature be damned mans got a way with werds.

[selfiemuseumcharlotte]

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[videoenvy]

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[dankusner]

Madonna powers through Celebration Tour in Houston despite voice issue

The celebration must go on — even when the queen of pop isn’t feeling well.

"My voice is not so great tonight," Madonna confessed to Thursday night’s crowd at Toyota Center.

It was the first of (hopefully) two shows.

She was more than halfway through a nearly two-and-a-half hour set.

But it was apparent earlier that she wasn’t feeling well.

Her voice got raspier as the night went on, and there was some hesitation in her steps. It was clear she wasn't lip-syncing.

Rest up. Madonna.

Even if that means rescheduling a few shows. (As of now, nothing has been canceled.)

Last year, Madonna postponed the original Celebration Tour dates because of a serious bacterial infection that resulted in her being placed in a medically induced coma for 48 hours.

Still, Madonna at 75-percent in Houston is better than most acts at full tilt.

Her catalog plays like a complete history of pop music, and she showcases it magnificently during The Celebration Tour.

Most of her previous outings have focused on new music.

This is the first tour that hasn’t followed a new studio album.

Many of the songs haven’t been performed live in several years — or ever.

Arranged together across one night, it's a towering achievement.

"Are you ready to take a ride with me?" Madonna asked.

The crowd had been for months, and they showed up in classic Madonna looks.

Lots of '80s tulle, cowboy hats, sequins and leather.

It’s exhilarating to finally hear her sing "Bedtime Story" and "Take a Bow."

We even get "Erotica" and "Justify My Love," overtly sexual songs that would probably be banned today from radio.

An army of dancers stomped the stage in recreations of Madonna’s most iconic looks, from "Frozen" goth to "Material Girl" Marilyn to "Music"-era cowgirl.

During "Open Your Heart," she recreated the music video's art deco peepshow.

There were sweet tributes to fallen pop idols Prince and Michael Jackson, who defined the '80s alongside Madonna.

Bob the Drag Queen, "RuPaul's Drag Race" Season 8 winner, served as the night's emcee and kicked things off at 10:05 p.m. for those keeping track.

(FYI, Madonna has always done that. She went on at 10 p.m. in 1987 for the Who's That Girl World Tour.)

Bob appeared from the back of the venue, dressed as Madonna-as-Marie-Antoinette from the 1990 MTV Video Music Awards.

"Drag Race" queens popped up throughout the night.

Gottmik, the first trans man to compete on "Drag Race," was the surprise guest during the ballroom judging sequence.

Detox, who competed on regular and "All Stars" seasons, was seated near the front of the stage.

Celebration also meant family.

Madonna's four adopted children showed up onstage in various capacities.

David Banda, handsome and confident, walked the runway during "Vogue," played guitar and joined Madonna on deep cut "Mother and Father" as images of his birth parents flashed onscreen.

Daughter Mercy James was poised on the piano during "Bad Girl," another song fans thought they'd never hear live.

Twins Stella and Estere DJ-ed and danced, holding their own against the older professionals.

"I'm so proud of them. And I'm harder on them than anyone else (on the tour)," Madonna said.

The main stage piece was reminiscent of the wedding cake set from Madonna's legendary 1984 performance on MTV.

She stood still as it rotated and rose during opener "Nothing Really Matters."

The show itself was framed as a journey through Madonna's musical life, from gritty New York clubs and red velvet beds to the balcony of the Casa Rosada and, finally, the top of the world.

Madonna frequently interacted with a masked dancer meant to be a reflection of herself.

The person, she said, who never let her down.

She introduced a fuzzy "Burning Up" as the first song she wrote on guitar, only to restart it because of sound problems.

"My guitar teacher is here tonight. Don’t embarrass me," she said, referring to Longview native Monte Pittman.

Later, Madonna dedicated a twangy, acoustic version of "Express Yourself" to Pittman and said she was "forever indebted to him."

The show's most powerful moments were those most personal to Madonna.

The scrappy '80s joy of "Holiday" was cut short by an onstage death meant to symbolize the AIDS epidemic.

It segued into "Live to Tell" as images of people who died of AIDS, including Freddie Mercury and Anthony Perkins, filled multiple screens across the venue.

"Like a Prayer," always a live highlight, was lifted by religious iconography and an interpolation of Sam Smith's "Unholy."

A carousel of dancers contorted their bodies amid crosses.

Madonna draped herself in the progressive Pride flag featuring trans colors during a snippet of "Evita" tune "Don't Cry for Me Argentina."

She soared above the crowd inside a giant frame, wearing pink hair and a silver bodysuit, during an electrifying "Ray of Light."

"Bitch, I'm Madonna," she asserted in song near the end of the set. Indeed she was, she is and always will be. Even with a sore throat.