mirror

I Scanned A Mirror


'The light from a scanner hits images at a 45 degree angle -- which is why you see the scratches, and not white light.
Think about it: scan a glossy book. If the light was shining directly up, it wouldn't be able to scan anything. the light from the shiny glossy surface would reflect back into the detector.
Also: there's a piece of glass in front of the scanning mechanism itself. If the light were projected directly upwards and directly back into the detector, the reflection would ruin the image.
The detector and the light source are not in line with each other. it is no surprise that a scan of a mirror yields dark results. You're seeing a reflection of the inside of the scanner, which is quite dark (as expected).'


- Comment by Ophello

one hundred years

100 Years


'An innocuous golden sphere, supposedly containing an explosive programmed to detonate one year after its creation.

This piece raises a lot of questions, not the least of which is whether it will actually explode or whether it is just a gimmick. Ultimately, this is the same kind of question which was raised with Piero Manzoni’s “Merde D’Artista (Artist’s Shit)"; do the facts really matter with a work of art? Both are sealed containers with objectionable contents, and both may not actually exist as stated. Is the point of art always to be truthful?

This piece also makes one imagine the distant future, in which the threat of this exploding is much more imminent. Will this piece still be relevant enough to keep around? Will they need to encase it in a bomb-proof case as a precaution? What happens if no one wants it? What if it goes off prematurely?

What if Martin were anything but a white male? '


- Interesting analysis by Andrew Fishman

vasilis


please chase me


ugly fruit

Ugly Fruit


'The idea came from the fact that US markets toss out 15 billion dollars worth of fruits and vegetables each year
just because they are bruised or discolored. But they are still fresh and edible. I felt there was an opportunity to stop
the waste, so Ugly Fruit was born. Ugly Fruit is a stand that makes juice, jams, and dried fruits out of unattractive
produce donated from our neighborhood grocery stores. Ugly fruit, pretty yummy!'



I love this idea.

enid

Highly sought after.
Almost impossible to find.
...
I've got some ebay stalking to do.

twoey

Well, this is what happened when i got up this morning.
You can't beat it.
Or now remove the songs from my head for at least a week.

I wonder how bad the remake'll be.

fade into black

drift

Listen to the rest of this mini album.
So very good.

sophia in gold

She's my hero.

stokely

Ah, the late 90s.
When there was still a discernible width between Elijah Wood's head and neck.
When Jon Stewart was still trying to act, bless him.
And most shocking of all, when Josh Hartnett had sex appeal.
And of course, this song:

pencil face

Terrifying.

weird positions

Say hello to my favourite tumblr post of the day.

boo



Watching: Limitless

the anthem

don emmanuel


'The Indians of the Andes believe in the existence of angels of death who have white skin and who cut people into little pieces. Nobody knows precisely why they believe in these 'pistacos', but it is commonly assumed that it is a legacy of the civilising influence of the Spanish conquistadores and the enlightened activities of the Inquisition. It is still dangerous for the white man to go into some parts of the Cordillera, not just because of the padrones, the robbers, but because of cases of mistaken identity where public-spirited cholos think that they are bravely destroying pistacos to the greater benefit of mankind.
  Remedios, when she was a little child with a round belly - earning her the nickname 'Barrigona' - and two little black plaits and big round eyes, was already a materialist. She did not believe in God, or spirits, or pistacos. When she grew older she still did not believe in God, or spirits, but she knew for certain that the pistacos were real, and that their existence was not a superstition, for she had seen them with her own eyes.
  She did not believe in the spirits of the earth, the rocks, the waters, the forests and the valleys, to whom one offered a little piece of whatever one was eating, saying, "Take, eat, so that you do not eat me." She did not believe that if you fell over running you had to wrap yourself hastily in your skirt so that you did not fall pregnant to the earth spirit. Nor when she fell over did she believe that you had to place a little earth in your mouth so that you ate the spirit before it could eat you. Nor did she believe that the spirits could melt you down to use for tallow. But she did come to believe in pistacos.'


The War of Don Emmanuels Nether Parts
Page 32-33



*Pistacos: A mythological boogeyman figure in the Andes region of South America.
 Barrigona: Pot-bellied.
 CholoA Latin American with Indian blood; a mestizo. A lower-class Mexican, esp. in an urban area.

onra

There was something deeply satisfying about organising my Etsy favourites.
Secret neat freak?


Listening to: Onra 'Open The Door'

potion

What is this and why am i obsessed with watching it over and over and over?

khyber pass

van she

northern lights

chum

I think i've posted this before but meh.
...
Articulate, as always.

turtle neck

of verona

the epic stars

Untitled


'The heroic stars spending themselves,
Coining their very flesh into bullets for the lost battle,
They must burn out at length like used candles;
And Mother Night will weep in her triumph, taking home her heroes.
There is the stuff for an epic poem--
This magnificent raid at the heart of darkness, this lost battle--
We don't know enough, we'll never know.
Oh happy Homer, taking the stars and the Gods for granted.'


The Epic Stars


Watching: The Sopranos, Season 1

criscolo


limbo

Frozen


'Fishermen at Ballyshannon
Netted an infant last night
Along with the salmon.
An illegitimate spawning,

To the waters. But I'm sure
As she stood in the shallows
Ducking him tenderly

Till the frozen knobs of her wrists
Were dead as the gravel,
He was a minnow with hooks
Tearing her open.

She waded in under
The sign of the cross.
He was hauled in with the fish.
Now limbo will be

A cold glitter of souls
Through some far briny zone.
Even Christ's palms, unhealed,
Smart and cannot fish there.'


Limbo

daniel


There's something wonderfully surreal about these painted still lives.