#Émile Vernon

[obsession-of-aesthetic]

"Season's Greetings" by Émile Vernon (1872–1920)

[suenosyfantasmas]

"La primavera le añade nueva vida y belleza a todo lo que ya existe".

Jessica Harrelson.

Arte: Émile Vernon. Francia, (1872 - 1920). Pintor muy conocido por sus escenas de bellas mujeres con flores. Estilo clásico: retratos de niños y mujeres, paisajes y bodegones florales.

Fuente: Google.com

Sueños y fantasmas. El arte de soñar.

[beatricecenci]

Émile Vernon (French, 1872-1920)

Une rose d’été

[illustratus]

Girl with a Poppy by Émile Vernon

[misscromwellsmonocle]

Starlight by Émile Vernon (1872–1920)

[mysticalblizzardcolor]

King Crimson - Cadence And Cascade (Greg Lake Guide Vocal) [Bonus Track]

[cruel-hiraeth]

@strawberrystepmom

Émile Vernon

French, 1872-1919

Sweet as Roses (detail)

[honey-hymn]

Starlight

Émile Vernon

[fayriequeene]

Émile Vernon

[nostalgicacademia]

Hands in art

Psyche in the Temple of Love, by Edward John Poynter,

The Anger of Achilles, by Jacques-Louis David.

Young woman with daisies by Émile Vernon.

[obsession-of-aesthetic]

"Fille Aux Roses" by Émile Vernon (1919)

[simena]

ÉMILE-PAUL VERNON (detail)

[classicalcanvas]

Paintings made by Émile Vernon (1872–1920)

[daensaism]

A Game of Thrones - Arya II / “In the Garden” by Émile Vernon / “Clematis” by Hubert von Herkomer

[sinligh]

High fences of realization built on the liquid like foundation of my murky soul.

My desire for love when kept untouched grew into resentment towards myself.

Soothed only by the hands of death on the base of my spine stitching me back together I, her only leftover with words of comfort.

"Life goes on". Is its construction mantra.

Out of deaths lips its arbitrary, a stolen promise; like all the souls that it deemed unfit to be renovated.

The hand of death on the base of my spine, on the back of my neck

it grounds me; I find comfort in it.

the way it caress me so lovingly, a threat of a postpartum psychotic mother to an oblivious child.

Death was never particularly appealing to me, it’s the thought of not existing

not now, not in the past, nor the future. to never be, with no trace whatsoever.

To cease to exist all together With no leftovers, nor broken lovers.

It’s not a constant desire, more of a lure, a forbidden love. A slow burn romance with a happy ending

One that I’ll never reach out to willingly but if it ever reached out to me then I know for sure that I’m not strong enough to reject it.

Because life loses its colors from time to time…

And that leaves me, like a person suffering from aphasia. I lose the ability to understand the point of it all…

I try hard to redefine everything, yet, I can’t express it not even when I reach for a semi-stable ground with all my words.

sensitive, i let life play me like an instrument, so responsive.

i increase the tone of whatever melody goes through me..

do it so i hurt anyone who loves me enough to listen. And because I can’t just fade…. And because I don’t have the upper hand…. I make sure to leave my mark, I make sure I have a way to I leave.

And then I choose not to.

•••

•Quotes: Christa Wolf / Joyce Carol Oates/ Sylvia Plath/Susan Sontag/ Virginia Woolf / Ocean Vuong / Molly Brodak/ Halsey

•Original context: Sinligh

•art reference:

1. Painting by John Bagnold Burgess (detail)

Painting by Roberto Ferri ( detail)

2. Painting by Émile Vernon (detail)

3. The Grasshopper by Jules Joseph Lefebvre. (detail)

4. Painting by Valeria Duca.

5. red" by Hei Shan.

6. Sleeping Beauty by William Oxer.

7. Halsey from her Ig post: iamhalsey (detail)

[monstersugarfre]

Starlight by Émile Vernon