I still have all the afternoons in the world

David Maisel’s work in The Fall is his response to the areas between the city of Toledo, which was once the cultural epicenter of Europe, and the much larger capital city of Madrid. In The Fall, one feels that the worlds of painting and photography have merged together.

More here.

Marfa, Texas; August 2012.

Marfa, Texas; August 2012.

This is riveting: Mick Jagger & David Bowie dance in the streets, sans “Dancing in the Streets.”

(Source: realavocadofact)

Life in publishing.

Life in publishing.

(Source: adventicemagazine)

EDMUND: You’ve just told me some high spots in your memories. Want to hear mine? They’re all connected with the sea. Here’s one. When I was on the Squarehead square-rigger, bound for Buenos Aires. Full moon in the trades. The old hooker driving fourteen knots. I lay on the bowsprit, facing astern, with the water foaming into spume under me, the masts with every sail white in the moonlight, towering high above me. I became drunk with the beauty and singing rhythm of it, and for a moment I lost myself—actually lost my life. I was set free! I dissolved in the sea, became white sails and flying spray, became beauty and rhythm, became moonlight and the ship and the high dim-starred sky! I belonged, without past or future, within peace and unity and a wild joy, within something greater than my own life, or the life of man, to life itself! To God, if you want to put it that way. Then another time, on the American Line, when I was lookout on the crow’s nest in the dawn watch. A calm sea, that time. Only a lazy groundswell and a slow, drowsy roll of the ship. The passengers asleep and none of the crew in sight. No sound of man. Black smoke pouring from the funnels behind and beneath me. Dreaming, not keeping lookout, feeling alone, and above, and apart, watching the dawn creep like a painted dream over the sky and sea which slept together. Then the moment of ecstatic freedom came. The peace, the end of the quest, the last harbor, the joy of belonging to a fulfillment beyond men’s lousy, pitiful, greedy fears and hopes and dreams! And several other times in my life, when I was swimming far out, or lying alone on a beach, I have had the same experience. Became the sun, the hot sand, green seaweed anchored to a rock, swaying in the tide. Like a saint’s vision of beatitude. Like the veil of things as they seem drawn back by an unseen hand. For a second you see—and seeing the secret, are the secret. For a second there is meaning! Then the hand lets the veil fall and you are alone, lost in the fog again.

From A Long Day’s Journey Into Night, by Eugene O’Neill
[via]

TGIF
thejogging:

A Guide to Ethereal Living, 2013
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TGIF

thejogging:

A Guide to Ethereal Living, 2013

profile picture

(via loosetiger)

Seems timely.
Radamés “Juni” Figueroa, Tropical Readymade (Basketball, Soccer Ball), SculptureCenter, 2014. Basketball, Soccer ball, soil, rocks, plants. Dimensions variable. Courtesy the artist and SculptureCenter.

Seems timely.

Radamés “Juni” Figueroa, Tropical Readymade (Basketball, Soccer Ball), SculptureCenter, 2014. Basketball, Soccer ball, soil, rocks, plants. Dimensions variable. Courtesy the artist and SculptureCenter.

(Source: sculpture-center)

Monica Bonvicini, Not For You, 2006.

Monica Bonvicini, Not For You, 2006.

Sitting in the waiting room (Wednesday afternoon)

Sitting in the waiting room (Wednesday afternoon)

Have a Nice Weekend.

Sincerely,

Luisa Lambri

aqqindex:

Perry King and Santiago Miranda, Disco Interior

aqqindex:

Perry King and Santiago Miranda, Disco Interior

(via theaudacityofswope)

Why, if this isn’t the sweetest little birthday gif I’ve ever received.

Why, if this isn’t the sweetest little birthday gif I’ve ever received.

(Source: killphollins)