June 10th, 2014

My mind then wandered. I thought of this: I thought of how every day each of us experiences a few little moments that have just a bit more resonance than other moments—we hear a word that sticks in our mind—or maybe we have a small experience that pulls us out of ourselves, if only briefly—we share a hotel elevator with a bride in her veils, say, or a stranger gives us a piece of bread to feed to the mallard ducks in the lagoon; a small child starts a conversation with us in a Dairy Queen—or we have an episode like the one I had with the M&M cars back at the Husky station.

And if we were to collect these small moments in a notebook and save them over a period of months we would see certain trends emerge from our collection—certain voices would emerge that have been trying to speak through us. We would realize that we have been having another life altogether; one we didn’t even know was going on inside us. And maybe this other life is more important than the one we think of as being real—this clunky day-to-day world of furniture and noise and metal. So just maybe it is these small silent moments which are the true story-making events of our lives.

Douglas Coupland, Life After God (via observando)

Montreal-based photographer Benjamin Von Wong recently made headlines for his elaborate underwater photoshoot done on the site of a 50-year old shipwreck. 

 

(Source: photojojo)

Do you ever wonder whether people would like you more or less if they could see inside you? But I always wonder about that. If people could see me the way I see myself—if they could live in my memories—would anyone, anyone, love me?
John Green, An Abundance of Katherines (via observando)
These close-up photographs of airline passengers awaiting takeoff are made from across the tarmac using a telephoto lens. The anonymous sitters are each tightly pinned in their oval porthole windows like the subjects of nineteenth century daguerreotypes-mementos of the departed before they disappear. Similarly, the uneasy conflation of proximity and distance recalls and expands upon the latent psychological tension in Walker Evans’ subway portraits, which were made with a camera hidden in the artist’s overcoat. Both haunting and melancholic, Schabel’s series is best understood as a poetic attempt to retrieve and rescue the world as it slips away-an apt metaphor for the photographic enterprise itself.

These close-up photographs of airline passengers awaiting takeoff are made from across the tarmac using a telephoto lens. The anonymous sitters are each tightly pinned in their oval porthole windows like the subjects of nineteenth century daguerreotypes-mementos of the departed before they disappear. Similarly, the uneasy conflation of proximity and distance recalls and expands upon the latent psychological tension in Walker Evans’ subway portraits, which were made with a camera hidden in the artist’s overcoat. Both haunting and melancholic, Schabel’s series is best understood as a poetic attempt to retrieve and rescue the world as it slips away-an apt metaphor for the photographic enterprise itself.

(Source: accidentalism, via aurelle)

I am afraid of getting older. I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free… I want, I want to think, to be omniscient.
Sylvia Plath written in 1949 at age 17  (via cold-winter-days)

(Source: learningfromthehands, via juliatrotti)

Paper Art by Maud Vantours

(Source: from89)

I walked down the hall and saw that [she] was sitting on the floor next to a chair. This is always a bad sign. It’s a slippery slope, and it’s best just to sit in chairs, to eat when hungry, to sleep and rise and work. But we have all been there. Chairs are for people, and you’re not sure if you are one.
Miranda July, No One Belongs Here More Than You (via observando)

Double exposure, Antonio Mora

(Source: mylovt.com, via wheredoesthegoodgo)

I don’t exactly know what I mean by that, but I mean it.
J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye (via larmoyante)
May 1st, 2014
But why do I notice everything? She thought. Why must I think? She did not want to think. She would rather force her mind to become a blank and lie back, and accept quietly, tolerantly, whatever came.
Virginia Woolf, from The Years (via ohfairies)

(Source: violentwavesofemotion, via bluestown)

Closing your eyes isn’t going to change anything. Nothing’s going to disappear just because you can’t see what’s going on. In fact, things will even be worse the next time you open your eyes. That’s the kind of world we live in. Keep your eyes wide open. Only a coward closes his eyes. Closing your eyes and plugging up your ears won’t make time stand still.
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore (via larmoyante)

Hiromi Tango exhibits sculptural and neon works for promised.

(Source: from89)

April 22nd, 2014
This week I’ve been reading a lot and doing little work. That’s the way things ought to be. That’s surely the road to success.
Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl (via larmoyante)