Did someone say revolution

Alphonse Mucha

I just finished up a mock poster for Hamilton the Musical. So Hamilton has been my go to jam for the last few months so I wanted to do at least one cool piece. And by saying that there will be more on way. I’m not sure what else to say. But I am happy with it. Ahaha

Anthony van Dyck. Detail from St. Paul, 17th Century.

leslie odom jr. [x]

Above all, he was good; and, a very simple thing to those who know how nearly goodness borders on grandeur, in the matter of poetry, he preferred the immense. He knew Italian, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew; and these served him only for the perusal of four poets: Dante, Juvenal, Aeschylus, and Isaiah. In French, he preferred Corneille to Racine, and Agrippa d'Aubigne to Corneille. He loved to saunter through fields of wild oats and corn-flowers, and busied himself with clouds nearly as much as with events.

Lin-Manuel Miranda on collaborating w/ Public Theater’s artistic dir. Oskar Eustis on Hamilton | TimesTalks

so pretty you might cry (by Anette Helene)

it begins to dawn on you that everything you just did may have been a colossal mistake.

jefferson get dow from there

You // Keaton Henson

Just finished up a quick graphic illustration for the word Pogonotomy, which is a fancy word for ‘the cutting of the beard’.

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Edwardian

❝ And I feel I have something very serious and urgent to say to you, my non-existent reader, and I feel I should say it as urgently as if I were standing in the room with you. That life — whatever else it is — is short. That fate is cruel but maybe not random. That Nature (meaning Death) always wins but that doesn’t mean we have to bow and grovel to it. That maybe even if we’re not always so glad to be here, it’s our task to immerse ourselves anyway: wade straight through it, right through the cesspool, while keeping eyes and hearts open. And in the midst of our dying, as we rise from the organic and sink back ignominiously into the organic, it is a glory and a privilege to love what Death doesn’t touch. For if disaster and oblivion have followed this painting down through time — so too has love. Insofar as it is immortal (and it is) I have a small, bright, immutable part in that immortality. It exists; and it keeps on existing. And I add my own love to the history of people who have loved beautiful things, and looked out for them, and pulled them from the fire, and sought them when they were lost, and tried to preserve them and save them while passing them along literally from hand to hand, singing out brilliantly from the wreck of time to the next generation of lovers, and the next. ❞