So my friends at Le Labo de Ficelles challenged me to make art only using vegetables and here is the result. I used mainly leek, beetroot and endive.
If you want to learn more about the process and see more pics, click here to check their blog!
Henry Jenkins (Director of media studies at MIT)
❝ Fan fiction is a way of the culture repairing the damage done in a system where contemporary myths are owned by corporations instead of by the folk. ❞
How to make friends
102% of successful friendships are built on
- mutual transitory dysphoria and confusion about other people
- access to one or more cool animals
- provision of free wifi/relative shelter from the elements.
So basically just find someone you like the look of, throw a cake at them. Yell a bit together and then tell them you have free wifi and a house with a dog.
I 102% agree with this.
Fuck turning 22. Fuck having to ever have a ‘career’. Fuck being asked ‘when are you getting married?’ or ‘thinking of children yet?’ like hello, are you serious, fuck off. Fuck having to finally get my Provisionals, fuck home loans, fuck bank accounts, fuck new cars and people who are acting as if your a fucking alien because to you these things shouldn’t be scheduled, or forced upon. To me, the idea that I need to grow up or that I need to ‘start planning ahead’ is fucking ludicrous. I will never feel fulfilled, successful or happy because of any of those things and I hate the idea that people think I am a right weirdo because I feel this way. This does not make me a lost cause, it also doesn’t mean that I don’t have any personal goals or aspirations of my own. I’m just happy to take each day as it comes, as cliche as that sounds, it is the truth.
I’ve written a new post on my blog about falling over, rubber ducks and magic cats. There are (exclusive? well in the sense that I won’t be posting them here) drawings. And if I could tape a bag of maltesers to it I would but you can’t do that. Read it or don’t
love from me xo
Wow, your writing is pretty good too! I really appreciated this article in particular. It was relevant to some of my interests. For instance:
- cats. I don’t have one but I would loooove to. Except that I want to ‘meet’ one, not only ‘get’ one. If that makes sense.
❝ A person is a fool to become a writer. His only compensation is absolute freedom. He has no master except his own soul, and that, I am sure, is why he does it. ❞
❝ But why do I notice everything? She thought. Why must I think? She did not want to think. She wanted to force her mind to become a blank and lie back, and accept quietly, tolerantly, whatever came. ❞
Samedi 18 octobre.
Je me suis remise au dessin à l’encre ce matin. J’adore cette sensation que procure la plume ; comme si je tatouais le papier.
// I went back to experimenting with india ink. I missed it so much!
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My desktop is as messy as my real desk tbh.
tovetar a parlé de vous dans un billet photo “Another day, another desktop. A.k.a. I already did this once, but hey,…”
…tag, you’re it admiral-lord-nelson, viresqueacquiriteundo , nwadadnama, frostynauticalgirl, fair-snowwhite
You Are My Duchess
Brooklyn-based artist Elana Adler uses the traditional craft of an embroidery sampler to outline the crude things said to her by street harassers. The series is titled You Are My Duchess, and features small, decorative pieces of needlework (which historically feature bible stories or other imagery) that say some negative, disgusting things. Adler stores each saying in an elaborate frame, and writes in her artist statement:
This series of thirty-two (plus) samplers is intended to be provocative and evoke emotion. It is a contemporary feminist interpretation of women’s work and an objectification of my personal experience. Each captures a moment, giving these words a visual presence, a power, and a state of concreteness. These words were hurled casually and heard quickly but required hours of time-consuming, careful stitching.
The physically delicate, traditionally feminine, form of the piece engages the viewer and confronts him/ her with a sweetness that may mask its crassness and vulgarity.
Oui, oui, oui. Voilà mon projet pour les vacances de la Toussaint.
HENRI MATISSE AT THE HÔTEL RÉGINA, NICE. 1952
I’m currently in Nice so I can’t not reblog this.