Kiev based artist Alexey Kondakov had a great idea: why not photoshop characters from classical paintings in photos of everyday day situations? The serie is called The Daily Life Of Gods. I really like how these figures fit into their new environment. There something poetic, even fragile, about their presence in these ordinary settings and not just because they have no clothes on.
It is so silent my ears are ringing. Waking up in the the dead of night, blind and disoriented. Again the overwhelming silence, as if something is missing. Through the open doors the distant sound of a bird and its monotonous call; pecking away, exposing.
Song for today: dEUS – Nothing Really Ends
Bertha Boynton Lum (1869 – 1954) was an American artist and printmaker. In the early 20th century she travelled to Japan to learn the art of wood block printing. She would return often to the land of the rising sun and often used Japanese folklore as the subject of her prints. She also lived in China in the 1920’s and helped to introduce wood block techniques in the west.
Song for today: Daughter – The Woods
More than a hundred years ago photographer Mervyn O’Gorman took pictures of his daughter Christina using the autochrome process which enabled him to capture her in vibrant colors. When I think of the past, I think of it being in black and white, even if I rationally know this to be untrue. These stunning photos prove me wrong.
* If you’re in the neighbourhood, you can see these images with your own eyes at The National Media Museum in Bradford, UK.
Song for today: Pricilla Ahn – Red Cape
The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.
– Émile Zola (1840-1902), French writer
Song for today: Nouvelle Vague – In a Manner of Speaking (Tuxedomoon)
It rained all morning, as it had done the entire night and yesterday too. Ada looked out the window and saw the dark grey clouds form an impenetrable wall, at its heart a deep purple almost electric. The cloud formations seemed to broadcast a simple message: Sally’s birthday party will be a disaster. An awesome fluorescent line of light tore the sky, followed by an enormous thunder clap. It felt like an exclamation mark emphasizing her failure as a mother to provide her ten year old daughter with what she needed; an opportunity to make new friends at a new school in an unfamiliar town miles away from her old life, only because her mother felt the need to move in with her boyfriend. Ada felt torn between guilt en exhilaration. She loved her new life with Mark, his house, the view from the kitchen window, his quaint collection of taxidermied birds, the way his hair smelled in the morning. She could go on for much longer, but she could not deny the fact that Sally absolutely hated everything about Mark and their new life. It was as if the move had catapulted her into an early onset of puberty. No matter what Ada said or did, all her efforts were greeted with Sally’s brooding eyes under her dark brow and a snarling curl of her upper lip. What had happened to the sweet happy child that skipped all the way to school and held funeral services for dead ladybugs? Had she departed for good, or would she resurface on the other side of that dark tunnel of adolescence?