#Picasso stone

[letmeinimafairy]

A lonely pine tree on a cliff by the sea, painted on a beautiful picasso jasper. Didn't want to paint it over too much, it already has landscape outlines.

[labradorite4ravenclaw]

Second pendent group of mine

Do not claim as your own. These took a lot of work. Don't be that person -_-

Posting some of the wire wrapped pendents I've made cuz they're pretty and I'm proud of them♡

Do not claim as your own. I worked hard on these suckers.

[srlgemstone]

This large piece of agate with clear patterns in various shades of brown color impressed me as soon as I saw it.

An agate version of Guernica.

[cuteteacakes]

He's never before seen so many beautiful people in one place! If this weren't a game where everyone's identity was a secret, Picasso Stone would very well assume that they were all royalty and he was the odd one out! "They don't know who you are... you're fine here..." he said to himself under his breath. That still didn't stop the butterflies or him not looking where he was going!

"Oh, p-pardon me!"

[thecoolestthingyouveneverheardof]

Le Palais Idéal

In 1863 a man named Ferdinand Cheval was born in a small village in Southern France to a poor farming family. Cheval left school at only thirteen to apprentice under a baker but instead Cheval ended up working for the French Postal service. It was during this work, doing his rounds, that he would one day trip over a stone that would lead to an extraordinary and unexpected example of naïve art in architecture that would continue to inspire artists of all kinds for years to come: Le Palais Idéal.

In English, this Ideal Palace consists of stones, pebbles, and fossils of various shapes and sizes that Cheval carried home over the next 33 years from his postal route, at first in his pockets, and then later with a wheelbarrow. Much of the construction was done at night by the light of oil lamps. Looking at the fantastical looking stone palace, you might think it to be small in nature, but don’t let your eyes deceive you. The southern facade of the palace is 85 feet long and 33 feet high. The northern facade consists of a long path that leads into the palace itself. Many animals are carved into the northern walls, including ostriches, lions, octopi, polar bears, and even dragons.

The Eastern facade took the longest to build, taking almost twenty years. It includes several temples, as well as two waterfalls that Cheval called, the “Source of Life” and the “Source of Wisdom”.

The intricate carvings on the exterior aren’t the only decorative elements of the palace either. Through the entire structure Checal hand carved many quotes and short poems into the stone, the most iconic of which states:

“1879-1912; 10,000 days, 93,000 hours, 33 years of struggle. Let those who think they can do better try.”

Understandably after the work that went into Cheval’s palace he wanted to be entombed within its walls upon his death, but due to the laws in France he was unable to do so. Instead, he spent eight years building a mausoleum for himself within the Hauterives Cemetery. Only around a year after its completion, Cheval died, and remains within its hand crafted walls to this day.

After his death many artists took inspiration from his work. In 1932 German artist Max Ernst (known primarily for his surrealist/dada work) created a collage titled “The Postman Cheval”. Pablo Picasso, another surrealist artist, created a series of drawings 1937. Picasso depicted Cheval as a hybrid-creature, with the head of a bird (a reference to Cheval’s career, birds being messengers, and Cheval being a postman), and the body of a horse (Cheval, meaning horse, in French). The “PTT” on the horse's body stands represents the initials of the French Postal Service.

Have you ever heard of Le Palais Idéal?

Sources:

[coeurdeverre82]

pablo picasso at the sword in the stone boston 1972

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

I took my calligraphy stone out of step 3

Other than the little pits that opened up on it its very smooth. Hopefully being in the polish stage for 2 days will also be enough to make it shiny. But idk I might just keep it like this tbh

Might toss it in at the polishing stage when I do a batch of softer rocks so it won't get ground down anymore

[adsilverfashion]

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[shyambaba7773]

Healing with Red Picasso

♥ Relaxation ♥ Contentment ♥ Compassion ♥ Nurturing ♥ Consolation ♥ Tranquility ♥ Healing ♥ Completion

Jasper is known as the “supreme nurturer”.  It sustains and supports through times of stress, and brings tranquility and wholeness.  Jasper provides protection and absorbs negative energy.  It balances yin and yang.  Jasper clears electromagnetic and environmental pollution, including radiation.  It encourages honesty with one's self.  Provides courage to assertively tackle problems.  Aids quick-thinking and promotes organisational abilities.  Jasper stimulates the imagination and transforms ideas into action.  Prolongs sexual pleasure.  It supports during prolonged illness and re-energises the body.Picasso Jasper often resembles a beautiful painting.  It is a stone that reminds us to celebrate and enjoy life.  Picasso Jasper assists in the transformation of relationships.  It attracts like minded people who become loyal and trusted friends, as well as helping to renew old friendships that had been lost.  It has strong grounding and calming qualities and helps to engender strength and self-discipline.  Picasso Jasper is useful for eye problems and can promote weight-loss.

[ueblog]

Milwaukee Basement Walk Out Inspiration for a mid-sized coastal walk-out vinyl floor and brown floor basement remodel with beige walls, a standard fireplace and a stone fireplace

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Sometimes you have to wonder how they came to make certain architectural design choices and where in the world you even buy such things. This 2019 home in Scottsdale, AZ has a pending sale, but the owner is taking backups. 5bds, 7ba, 7,718 sq ft, $9.5m. + $417mo. HOA fee.

They made girders out of wood, but what are those big black things on the sides of the fireplace? Speakers, maybe?

The kitchen ceiling is like a big brick umbrella.

Interesting choice of granite counters and backsplash. Looks like the cabinet wood is deep-stained knotty pine.

In the open concept family room, they carried thru the brick ceiling theme via squares.

The dining room has an asymmetrically shaped entrance with fancy ironwork, and the ceiling is curved brick.

The primary has a stone feature wall to match the fireplace. Very cold, dull room. Needs some color.

In the ensuite each person gets their own huge vanity and sink. This home is nothing but gray and brown. It looks like it's raining all the time.

It also has a sauna.

Home office with fancy doors to the terrace.

Secondary bedroom. This color palette is so depressingly dull.

The rec room has a brick bar in front of a city mural. Finally, some color. Even the bottles help to brighten it up.

This is kind of cute- an industrial look and some orange.

The home theater is nice, it has some color and pattern.

From this room you can see that there's a golfing green outside.

Look at those mirrors. Put your makeup on in here and you'll look like a Picasso painting.

How is that hot tub filled right up to the brim like that?

The pool is long and snakes around the patio. Looks like it actually goes down, here.

The patio and pool are on different levels. I guess you sit in that walled area around the pool.

12.22 acre lot. That's quite a long driveway.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/9204-E-Grapevine-Pass-Scottsdale-AZ-85262/95169122_zpid/

[letmeinimafairy]

Waterfalls on a beautiful picasso jasper, a landscape in the pattern

[keatsonthebeach]

Vive la Différence

what if we

cast no stones

judged not

took a cup o’ kindness

gave

peace

a chance

jk

artist -Pablo Picasso

[portraitsofguilt]

✮ ┆ THE IDEAL ART INSIDE YOU. ellie w. (the last of us)

— “at one point, everyone hated themselves.”

description.             everyone experiences art block once in a while, ellie just deals with it differently

content warnings.               MDNI, nsfw content, female bodied reader, art student! ellie, light bondage, ellie is a little rough, light bondage, she also fucks reader with a sharpie, oh and she draws with said sharpie on reader, so basically marking?, possessive & control freak! ellie, wc 1,67k author’s notes.                     you read the warnings? still here? hope you enjoy, you freak >:) pls reblogs are very very much appriciated

ellie who’s fountain of inspiration seemed to never dry up whenever she looked at you, or just thought about a glimpse of you. but as every artist, ellie too hits a rock bottom every once in a while and she just suffers from her art because she hasn’t yet figured out a way to suffer through it.

“my favorite piece of art that I don’t keep fucking up.“ she groans as her left hand comes to catch your throat, fingers clasping around your neck not at all lovingly but ferociously, her other hand palming your forehead while also managing to force your eyes open with her thumb and index finger. even if you wanted to fight back, there was no use for it. one of her wet cloths, the one that is covered in paint because she wipes her face and hands with it after a session in front of her paper is now wrapped around your wrist, tying them behind your back as she forces your legs apart with her knees, spreading them apart to reveal all of that is you, eyes spitefully wandering your nude body.

oh, how she hated you in these moments, when her art seemed to be nothing just a piece of painting that a child did with its fingers, spreading condiments around its plate and you were the mom who couldn’t help but praise her child, clip that god awful ‘painting’ on the fridge and call it a ��future picasso’. it’s a disgrace to all the incredible painters before her, the ones who have sweat blood for their art not to be called a silly thing, be frowned upon, and to be taken seriously because sometimes words just weren’t enough. you seemed so perfect, your eyes, your lips, your face, your chest, your stomach, your legs, your everything- how could she ever create art as beautiful and magnificent as you?

she couldn’t let that situation to eat her alive, to consume her from the inside out, for it to own her because in the end it was her who owned it, owned you. the aspect, all the things she had admired, and she called you her muse- she made you who you are today just like god made angels to be so perfect, she is the god who birthed you, casted you in stone and made the land worship you as it’s protector.

“you’re mine, you hear me?” she yells, her spit spurting on your face and she pushes your head further into the mattress, her fingers pushing so hard on your skull she might just claw your eyes out. “I created all that you’re, sculpted you to be so ideal.” she rambles, shifting further between your legs, prying them open with so much force your hip start to burn and little sobs ball up in your throat from the discomfort.

ellie gives you a repulsed look as your lips agape, choking on your words, writhing from the same anguishing feeling of not knowing what to do. it truly turns her stomach, your uncertainty as you lie there, your eyes bulging from fear of what is gonna happen next. but your pupils tell a different story to her, that the way parts of your body is reacting goes against each other, and where your legs meet with your hips- it’s almost impossible to overlook the heat that is radiating.

“i own all the rights to you, everything that they see is my talent sacrificed.” she follows up, letting go of your head and reaching into the back pocket of her khaki shorts, and pulls a sharpie out. there isn’t a second that passed between her pulling it out and biting the cap off before she starts scribbling away on the skin that covers the middle of your chest.

the brush of the pen tickles your nerves, jolts running up and down your spine like a horde of wildlife fleeing after a gun shot, your back arching with each stroke she makes. your skin like paper trembling under her touch, but she is too busy to notice. your eyes roll to the back of your head, closing as you relish in the sensation. the ink staining your skin, her touch softening around your neck, the pads of her fingers ghosting over it, a small smile gracing her lips as she moves from your sternum to the top of your breast.

your mouth falls open at her touch, your hips swaying slightly against her knees as she continues to work. her voice hoarse as she speaks, “this will be mine, my masterpiece,” she says, swallowing hard. “mine…” she mumbles, her voice trailing off. she works in silence for what seems like hours, the only noise being your labored breathing and a soft scratching sound from her pen. your eyelids flutter slowly, the darkness encroaching on your until all you can see are stars floating through the room. you are falling into nothing, nothingness.

she switched sides sometimes ago, but you hardly noticed until she pulls away from both your chest and neck, your eyes snapping open as her hand comes to rest on your waist. her tongue darts out to wet her lips, her body tensing slightly. “yes…” she whispers, before biting her lips, pushing her tongue against the teeth that is peaking above. your gaze follows hers until you find yourself staring right into her eyes, their irises so dark they look black.

“mine… I own this body, I own this life… this was always supposed to happen.” she laughs then, dark, and wicked, her words dripping with confidence as she runs her finger along whatever she wrote or drawn on you. “you should see… you should see but where should i-“ she cuts herself off, a puzzled look washing across her features as she tries to find the handheld mirror, simultaneously searching for a place to put the sharpie because she is gonna need it again, she just needs you to see her signature first.

she laughs as she thinks of it, deep and rumbling before she teases your folds with the handle part of the sharpie, collecting all that have been dripping from you the minute your bare skin was exposed to the cool room’s air. you let out a gasp as it slides inside you, a gasp that becomes a whine as she keeps going. you feel tears gather in your eyes as she just leaves it there, unattended and stuck in one place.

“here! see for yourself, see it! tell me what do you think?” manic, that’s how she sounds now, absolutely out of her mind as the sweat starts to glow on her face. she grips the handheld mirror, her hard grip visible as she holds it up above you, giving you the perfect look at yourself.

her signature, all over your chest. ellie williams. ellie williams. ellie williams. ellie williams.

ellie’s face contorts with frustration at your silence, “do i need to coax an answer out of you? come on, give me an answer!” she grits her teeth, her other hand coming to take a hold of the sharpie in you. she moves it back and forth, painfully slow until you manage an answer out, your voice sounding so small you almost believe you imagined it.

“I love it, I love it, I love it!” you laugh weakly when you feel her speed up at your words, her face getting redder and redder. she chuckles softly before she brings the mirror closer to you, angling it so you get a better view of your nakedness and the way your cunt practically sucks the sharpie in.

she looks at you as if you are a prize, as if the mirror has finally captured the image that she desired for so long. ‘I won’, her expression proclaims proudly, her grin wide as the room fills with the sounds of the drenched pen fucking your walls. you wince at some spots, a little more sensitive, but her gaze remains steady on yours, never breaking contact. you try to speak, to say something ,anything, but your throat feels tight, your breath short as she discards the mirror, the soft pad of her thumb rubbing circles on the fleshy parts between your thighs.

you whimper quietly, a moan building up in your throat. you could cry if you wanted to, a hot flood threatening to erupt from your body, begging to be released. you bite your lips, your legs tremble, your nails digging into the bedsheets under you as your vision goes blurry. you blink furiously, trying to refocus. she moves to your clit, circling it with her thumb as your entire body tenses. the slick wetness coats her fingertips as she gives you the few last pushes you need to end up on the other side, for the bliss of your climax whiten your vision and everything that she is.

ellie watches you, excitedly, with a fire burning in her eyes that has never burned before. she looks sick, she feels sick, but in the best way possible as you writhe against her hand, trying to get away from the sharpie that is still residing between your clamping walls. she can see the bigger picture now, the light burning on your skin and the dark in that covers your torso, the overwhelming feeling of coming undone, and her ownership over everything that had occurred. she smiles to herself, proud of her accomplishment, but also anxious to finally begin her next piece.

“just one final detail…” it came quietly, murmured from between her lips as she pulls the sharpie from your, flipping in while her free hand comes to push down on your hip bone. you don’t need to guess, you already know what she’s gonna write, it’s predictable from the expression of her face. twisted grin, with flushed cheeks that are not at all red from embarrassment but rather overcome with pure pride, joy, and glee.

ellie williams was in here.

[rachaelmayo]

This is "Dragons of Every Dawn: Serpent". Just completed this assemblage yesterday!

Some years ago, I made two large dragon artworks for my mom. They contained dragons based on the twelve animals of the Chinese Zodiac, and each was a different color of the color wheel - primaries, secondaries, and tertiaries. I always had a plan in mind to make an individual project for each of the dragons, because they were all kind of crammed in together and you can't see the details all that well. So here we are with the first finished project. This fellow is the yellow-green serpent-dragon.

I made the dragon with Prismacolor pencils and gold paint pen over an ink drawing and watercolor underpainting. I like to preserve part of the underpainting when I cut out the dragon, and it helps to keep the composition bright.

The background is comprised of scrapbooking paper, stickers, stones, and gel pen detailing.

The stones:

Along the top edge is a sequence of kambaba jasper (dark green), black-dyed agate, and desert jasper (brownish). The large round stone in the upper right is a kambaba jasper.

Along the left edge is black-dyed agate.

Along the bottom edge is "Picasso" jasper (the long pieces) and "Australian opal" (a trade name for some kind of jasper).

Along the right edge is a sequence of nephritic jade (alternating light and dark green) and desert jasper.

Near the dragon's nose is a chrysocolla stone.

[marcus-x-shaw]

John William Godward was a man out of time. Born in 1861, he devoted his life to painting idealized visions of classical antiquity—elegant women in flowing tunics, lounging against marble ledges with wistful expressions. His work was meticulous, capturing not just the delicate features of his subjects but the texture of every fold of fabric, the gleam of polished stone, the soft glow of Mediterranean light. He was, in many ways, the last of the great Neoclassicists, clinging to an artistic tradition that had already begun to fade as the 20th century roared in with modernism.

But while the world chased abstraction and experimentation, Godward remained steadfast. The Signal is one of his exquisite portraits of a Roman-era woman lost in thought, a delicate balance of realism and romance. The title suggests an unseen narrative—perhaps she is waiting for a secret message, a lover’s call, or a sign from the gods. The beauty of Godward’s work is that it invites speculation, pulling the viewer into a world where marble is cool under the skin, and the air is thick with the scent of olive groves.

Yet, despite his undeniable talent, Godward’s art was dismissed in his own time. Critics saw him as a relic, too bound to tradition, too unwilling to “progress.” His rejection of modern styles made him an outsider, and his life ended in tragic obscurity. It’s said that he took his own life in 1922, leaving behind the haunting words, “The world is not big enough for myself and Picasso.”

And yet, here we are, a century later, still captivated by the ethereal beauty of The Signal and his many other works. His paintings have outlived the critics, and his name is still spoken with admiration. Art is funny that way—what is dismissed in one era can become treasured in another.

If you love discovering forgotten masterpieces and want to see more art that deserves to be remembered, make sure to follow this page. You never know what masterpiece might show up next!