fette:

Top, Bernard Tschumi, Advertisements for Architecture, 1976-1977. Via. More. Bottom, photogram by Floris Neusüss, Untitled, (Körperfotogramm), Kassel, 1967. Via.
—
So I ask, in my writing, What is real? Because  unceasingly we are bombarded with pseudo-realities manufactured by very  sophisticated people using very sophisticated electronic mechanisms. I  do not distrust their motives; I distrust their power. They have a lot  of it. And it is an astonishing power: that of creating whole universes,  universes of the mind. I ought to know. I do the same thing.
Philip K. Dick. Via. (If anyone has a date for this quote, I’d love to add it. Thanks.) Edit: How to Build a Universe That Doesn’t Fall Apart Two Days Later, 1978. Thanks! Read the essay in its entirety.

oh wow. that quote and first image brings back memories from years ago. one day i will get over my intense fear of having others listen to the music i write and sing you the song about the time i was in love with an architect.

fette:

Top, Bernard Tschumi, Advertisements for Architecture, 1976-1977. Via. More. Bottom, photogram by Floris Neusüss, Untitled, (Körperfotogramm), Kassel, 1967. Via.

So I ask, in my writing, What is real? Because unceasingly we are bombarded with pseudo-realities manufactured by very sophisticated people using very sophisticated electronic mechanisms. I do not distrust their motives; I distrust their power. They have a lot of it. And it is an astonishing power: that of creating whole universes, universes of the mind. I ought to know. I do the same thing.

Philip K. Dick. Via. (If anyone has a date for this quote, I’d love to add it. Thanks.) Edit: How to Build a Universe That Doesn’t Fall Apart Two Days Later, 1978. Thanks! Read the essay in its entirety.

oh wow. that quote and first image brings back memories from years ago. one day i will get over my intense fear of having others listen to the music i write and sing you the song about the time i was in love with an architect.

(via moonbrains, smut-to-go)
when i was eighteen i took this photo into a hairdressing place to get my hair cut like that and she laughed at me. she ended up buzzing my neck with a razor when i asked her explicitly not to but in the end i kind of loved the feeling.
i also used to think this girl was simply covered in dirt, not in tattoos, because the photo i had seen was so low-res.

(via moonbrains, smut-to-go)

when i was eighteen i took this photo into a hairdressing place to get my hair cut like that and she laughed at me. she ended up buzzing my neck with a razor when i asked her explicitly not to but in the end i kind of loved the feeling.

i also used to think this girl was simply covered in dirt, not in tattoos, because the photo i had seen was so low-res.

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Madane Yevonde

i was in love with nefertiti and egyptian culture when i was a child. it didn’t help that my father went to egypt for six months and would bring me back the most wonderful presents, like a hieroglyphics set, and a necklace with my name written in hieroglyphics.

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Madane Yevonde

i was in love with nefertiti and egyptian culture when i was a child. it didn’t help that my father went to egypt for six months and would bring me back the most wonderful presents, like a hieroglyphics set, and a necklace with my name written in hieroglyphics.

oldhollywood:

via Band of Outsiders (1964, dir. Jean-Luc Godard, scene online here)
Arthur watches his feet, but thinks of Odile’s mouth and her  romantic kisses.

ah, the madison. now this scene reminds me only of loves lost.

oldhollywood:

via Band of Outsiders (1964, dir. Jean-Luc Godard, scene online here)

Arthur watches his feet, but thinks of Odile’s mouth and her romantic kisses.

ah, the madison. now this scene reminds me only of loves lost.

becauseyoulisten:

bonjoursophie:

Leslie Caron, 1948


one of my professors would always accidentally call me leslie, and i wondered why until one day she apologized in front of the other students and said it was because of leslie caron and that i reminded her of her, and my last name didn’t help. i was flattered and even said i didn’t mind. no one else in my class knew who leslie caron was! 

becauseyoulisten:

bonjoursophie:

Leslie Caron, 1948

one of my professors would always accidentally call me leslie, and i wondered why until one day she apologized in front of the other students and said it was because of leslie caron and that i reminded her of her, and my last name didn’t help. i was flattered and even said i didn’t mind. no one else in my class knew who leslie caron was! 

moonbrains:

i am more than in love with beck. fucking soul-sisters. mmmmmmmhm o lawd gimme more

i have such foggy memories of this video, staying up “late” (i.e. eleven on a friday) to watch absurd music videos by bands whose names i could never remember. they almost always played beck and every time it made me happy. i will never forget the first time i saw devil’s haircut. thanks for blowing my mind for over a decade, beck.

anosognosia:

i-groped-the-bride:

The term Jägermeister was introduced in Germany in 1934 in the new Reichsjagdgesetz (Reich hunting law). The term was applied to senior foresters and gamekeepers in the German civil service. Thus, when the liquor was introduced in 1935, the name was already familiar to Germans. Curt Mast, the inventor of Jägermeister, was an enthusiastic hunter.


this was our drink of choice amongst my undergrad compatriots, and we always talked about how beautiful and fucked up the logo was. tattoo worthy, even. and here it is, improved upon.

anosognosia:

i-groped-the-bride:

The term Jägermeister was introduced in Germany in 1934 in the new Reichsjagdgesetz (Reich hunting law). The term was applied to senior foresters and gamekeepers in the German civil service. Thus, when the liquor was introduced in 1935, the name was already familiar to Germans. Curt Mast, the inventor of Jägermeister, was an enthusiastic hunter.

this was our drink of choice amongst my undergrad compatriots, and we always talked about how beautiful and fucked up the logo was. tattoo worthy, even. and here it is, improved upon.

That I have read no Derrida during my MA makes me feel really shitty about Grad School

bookselves:

mkarmstr:

“This is an experiment of acting as if you were dead
But what does it mean to be dead, when you are not totally dead? It means that you look at things the way they are as such, you look at the object as such. To perceive the object as such implies that you perceive the object as it is or as it is supposed to be when you are not there. To see the bottle as such means to see the bottle as it would be without me. If I were dead the bottle would remain the same as it is, the colour, the same consistency, and so on.

So, to relate to an object as such means to relate to it as if you were dead. That’s the condition of truth, the condition of perception, the condition of objectivity, at least in their most conventional sense.”
— Jacques Derrida, As If I Were Dead.

aw iris! it doesn’t make you a better or shittier MA student if you have read derrida… i read derrida and watched a documentary about him in second year at this philosophy conference i went to with will and understood NOTHING, and it sure as hell did not make me a better undergrad student. will’s brain was having a party while i was looking around, jaw agape, at how over my head all of it was. at the end that crazy trent philosophy prof… no wait she was a cultural studies prof, that’s what made it even better! zsuzsa barross! she totally tore apart the man who was lecturing about derrida and after what felt like an hour long debate he admitted his entire lecture was wrong and she was right and it looked like he would cry. i hadn’t understood a thing the entire time but at least that part was somewhat entertaining/heartbreaking.

it was only in my last (fifth) year that molly blyth talked about derrida in post colonial theory (which, might i add, is listed as a second year undergrad course) that i vaguely began to comprehend and enjoy him. when i tell her this over wine at her place at the end of the session, that she is the first professor to really put derrida in a context in which i concretely understood, she casually says in her lovely way that it must be because she was the only one of my profs who had met the man and made him laugh with her criticisms

as if molly blyth could be any more awesome.

(via beansoup)

awwww canadian childhood memories. teresa used to sing this in an amazing falsetto when we lived at 298 king. good times, we were so young.

anosognosia:

art-it:art-and-bob:Dan Flavin_Untitled (To Jorg Schellmann)

years ago, feels like a lifetime ago, i was in the museum of contemporary art in chicago when a woman asked to take my photo. it is very, very rare that someone asks me if they can photograph me. i enjoy being photographed, and there are many photos of me, but for the most part i take pictures of myself/self-portraits. i really enjoy seeing how others see me, especially strangers. so of course i said yes, and after adjusting her camera for a few moments i heard the shutter noise i love so much. i remember her dark curls, and her shy smile. she asked if i would like to see the photo, and i said yes, so i gave her my email address. of course, she never emailed me, but i remember that moment so well. what i was wearing, what piece i was standing in front of. it was a yellow light in a narrow corridor, and i was wearing a bright green dress i had just bought minutes before getting on the 16 hour bus to chicago. i really wish i could see the photo she took.
i don’t recognize myself in that memory, triggered by a piece by dan flavin, whose name or art i hadn’t thought of in years. i still wear the same dress, i still occupy the same body, but so much has changed since then. sometimes i hate having such a vivid/good memory.

anosognosia:

art-it:art-and-bob:Dan Flavin_Untitled (To Jorg Schellmann)

years ago, feels like a lifetime ago, i was in the museum of contemporary art in chicago when a woman asked to take my photo. it is very, very rare that someone asks me if they can photograph me. i enjoy being photographed, and there are many photos of me, but for the most part i take pictures of myself/self-portraits. i really enjoy seeing how others see me, especially strangers. so of course i said yes, and after adjusting her camera for a few moments i heard the shutter noise i love so much. i remember her dark curls, and her shy smile. she asked if i would like to see the photo, and i said yes, so i gave her my email address. of course, she never emailed me, but i remember that moment so well. what i was wearing, what piece i was standing in front of. it was a yellow light in a narrow corridor, and i was wearing a bright green dress i had just bought minutes before getting on the 16 hour bus to chicago. i really wish i could see the photo she took.

i don’t recognize myself in that memory, triggered by a piece by dan flavin, whose name or art i hadn’t thought of in years. i still wear the same dress, i still occupy the same body, but so much has changed since then. sometimes i hate having such a vivid/good memory.