End of March

Henri Matisse dans son appartement de Nice, fin des années 1910

(Source: fantomas-en-cavale)

1 year ago ⋅ 5,669 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

suecide:

J. W. Waterhouse - Flora and the Zephyrs

1 year ago ⋅ 209 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

Don’t talk to me of love. I’ve had an earful
And I get tearful when I’ve downed a drink or two.
I’m one of your talking wounded.
I’m a hostage. I’m maroonded.
But I’m in Paris with you.

Yes I’m angry at the way I’ve been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I’ve been through.
I admit I’m on the rebound
And I don’t care where are we bound.
I’m in Paris with you.

Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy

Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.

Don’t talk to me of love. Let’s talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There’s that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I’m in Paris with you.

Don’t talk to me of love. Let’s talk of Paris.
I’m in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I’m in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I’m in Paris with… all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I’m in Paris with you.

― James Fenton (via fallingfromthetree)

1 year ago ⋅ 164 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

idhangthatonmywall:

John William Waterhouse (1849-1917), Psyche Opening the Golden Box, 1903.

1 year ago ⋅ 169 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

seabois:

Pompeo Batoni. Detail from Diana and Cupid, 1761.

(Source: jaded-mandarin)

1 year ago ⋅ 446 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

I Love Art → Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec (1864-1901)

(Source: allinye)

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egressions:

Rocio Rodriguez

1 year ago ⋅ 1,087 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

(Source: selfishly-exposed)

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bosconos:

“Joan Miró” in Vogue Germany by Axel Hoedt

1 year ago ⋅ 983 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

→ little sister can't find a better way: One.You know how this ends. There’s nothing you can do to change it,...

theteratophile:

One.
You know how this ends. There’s nothing you can do to change it, so make peace with it now. Ready your hands for the callus, shred the cloth for bandages, prepare the rosaries.

Two.
When you meet him, outside the grocery, along the boardwalk, beneath the overpass, you will not know what he is. He will be neither be too charming nor too handsome, not thunder, not polish

Three.
The day you fall in love, his mouth will spill your name. He will repeat and repeat. He will not touch you. He will watch your hips, study whatever ample you have, will ask to watch you dance. When you turn to leave, he will use your name like a choke chain.

Four.
He will call you miracle. Your face will unravel. This is his magic. When he begs you promise, say yes.

Five.
When he offers his lips, take them. Take his arms, his throat, take his toes when he offers. Gorge. Swallow everything whole. Gag. Vomit. Swallow more. Do not hesitate. No time for polite, or coy. Take.

Six.
When the minions call you whore, nod.

Seven.
He will tell you of the others. How they went crazy in their sleep awaiting his return. Do not flinch. Do not doubt your thickened fingertips. Stand upright. You promised.

Eight.
When you find him in his room, thrashing the sheets, pressing his palms into the walls, howling, his face a river… close the door. This is how he makes wine. Leave him in his sorcery.

Nine.
When he explains that he cannot love. That he will never be yours alone. When he tells how the meek, the gluttons, the tempted, the proud are his angels, do not mourn. Smile, feed him, wash his hair.

Ten.
He is a king among thieves. The leeches will hollow his skin, the crows reduce him to bones. His own heart will empty him. Allow for the bleed. Be ready with tourniquet and prayer.

Eleven.
In the dry burn of dawn, after the last of the lashes, the thorns and the spittle, when his limp body is laid at your feet, remember the night you loved him, the ember of his eyes and the way the words came like honey.

Twelve.
You were made for this.

Lessons on Loving a Prophet - Jeanann Verlee

1 year ago ⋅ 4,467 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

(Source: simplypi)

1 year ago ⋅ 2,120 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

mirroir:

John Knowles, A Separate Peace

(Source: aseaofquotes)

1 year ago ⋅ 12,112 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

razorshapes:

Vincent van Gogh

Landscapes from Saint Rémy (1889)

As a Dutch post-Impressionist painter, Vincent Van Gogh influenced the 20th century art with his landscape paintings where he used vivid colors that made an emotional impact. The early works of Van Gogh were painted with a palette of somber earth tones and no signs of the vivid coloration that distinguished his later works. When he moved to Paris in 1886, he was inspired by the French Impressionists and was fascinated by the strong sunlight on the south of France. Since then, he used brighter colors in his paintings that helped him develop a unique style of his own which became known considerably in the later years of his life while staying in Arles in 1888. Van Gogh’s incredible Sunflowers series of still life paintings were loved by him and he felt that there could not be anything better to convey a sense of welcome, belongingness and happiness.

On 8 May 1889, accompanied by his carer, van Gogh committed himself to the hospital at Saint Rémy. 

During his stay in Saint-Rémy, Van Gogh produced 150 paintings after he converted an adjacent cell into a studio. While he was confined to the direct asylum grounds, he painted the world he could see from his room, and ignored the bars that obscured his view. His paintings in the garden of the asylum included irises, lilacs, and ivy-covered trees. His paintings further ventured into the fields, of which he painted the wheatfields, olive groves, and cypress trees from the surrounding countryside view. This imposed regimen of his asylum life gave him contentment and helped him to think positively about his life and future.

Click images for details

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artmonia:

Simon Prades.

1 year ago ⋅ 1,890 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE

1 year ago ⋅ 12,860 notes ⋅ VIA ⋅ SOURCE