through the door by dylan vandenhoeck, 2022, oil on colored linen, 66 × 41 inches

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taylor price
Claire Keane
Peter Solarz
trying on a metaphor
will byers stan first human second


blake kathryn
ojovivo

oozey mess
One Nice Bug Per Day
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
🪼

Kaledo Art
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

@theartofmadeline
wallacepolsom
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@boysscouts
through the door by dylan vandenhoeck, 2022, oil on colored linen, 66 × 41 inches

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Joé Descomps-Cormier Brooch depicting St. Joan of Arc
Enamel and gold, ca. 1900
my mom just had a 7cm brain tumor removed and since she's woken up she's been talking nonstop about this dream she had about going to an art gallery full of colourful paintings by a 'homosexual artist' named klimsdorf who was ethereal and wise, both young and old... at first she was convinced he was a real person but after failing to find him online she's accepted he was a figment of her subconscious mind and is now determined to bring him to life via painting his portrait herself. she's 67 and has never drawn in her life. and now this. blorbo from her tumor
oh i love charleston so much

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yeah you wouldnt know her i knew her in a past life and we're doomed to always kill each other lol its a whole thing
saito kazu, swaying in the wind (2023)
Have fun looking for me in others
henry miller

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𓇢𓆸
Make a wish!
YOU HAVE TO WALK THROUGH THE DOORS YOU BEG TO HAVE OPEN!!!!! THE CHANGE CANNOT HAPPEN SIMPLY BY THE OPPORTUNITY PRESENTING ITSELF!!!! YOU NEED TO BE OPEN TO SEE IT, CHOOSE IT, AND ACTUALLY MOVE!!!!!
a girl in an impossible situation can build herself a mask to get out of directly participating in it. the mask can consume the girl. this is the nature of a borrowed face. in certain situations, the minotaur at the heart of the labyrinth can be convinced the girl is not a girl but a part of the labyrinth itself. a girl can move further and further away from the heart of the labyrinth by waiting for the minotaur to sneeze before she takes another step and then returning to being a motionless and compliant flagstone. a girl can breathe silently for the rest of her life and never regain a startle response. a girl can walk around the perimeter of the labyrinth in circles after getting out of it because the face that survives the labyrinth cannot fathom that the wall it follows might come to an end. these things may occur in the context of situations and events unknown to bystanders outside the labyrinth. circumstances transpire. a girl may transpire against them.
What the fuck is wrong with women just be normal christ almighty its not that complicated
a man sees women mentioned and immediately becomes a reply guy. a man's brain bounces into the concept of woman and his mouth opens and his own testicles fall like eggs from his toothless barking maw. a man invents ideology to justify his need to speak, convinces himself that his semen is magical, persuades himself that his animal excrecence is a gift. a man paints his face like a harlequin and rolls in the gutters, aping real joy and begging for a woman's attention. a man dislikes art that suggests women have souls. a man is incapable of making his own post.
It's snowing and it's January and I love you still,
but you are not a good person, I am learning.
Can I take my hand off the stove before I get burned again?
I only ever knew the cold until I met you, and some animal inside of me is frantic to be set ablaze if it means she will never be sent back to that frozen, lonely place.
how many times will I need to learn this lesson?
it's funny, the things that come back to me as I write this now. I remember you ran so hot your skin burnt me while you slept,
I spent most of those nights awake, sick with something I couldn't name
when I did fall into fitful sleep, I dreamed of a blinding light,
and of searing, precise heat.
unable to move, terrified, I could feel myself disintegrate
until not a single part of me remained
I'd wake, covers kicked off and coated in sweat, twisted up with you so tightly it was suffocating,
unwilling to pull away out for fear it would be the last time we ever touched.
is that how you feel with her now?
is that why you leaned into me after the party the other night, and in secret
held my hand,
which, as always,
was freezing cold.

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the ultimate butch boss
Fred Uhlman (1901 - 1985) - Welsh Farm. Oil on canvas.
Click to enlarge.