Vintage Lesbian Couples
styofa doing anything

tannertan36
d e v o n

if i look back, i am lost
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Monterey Bay Aquarium
almost home

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
One Nice Bug Per Day
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
wallacepolsom
Today's Document
occasionally subtle
Keni
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
NASA
Cosimo Galluzzi
trying on a metaphor

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@hagris222
Vintage Lesbian Couples

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El Amor no es una ecuación mental, el Odio sí que raspa las rodillas enmudece labios / encanece niños; por lo pronto ningún dibujito fálico en la pizarra de una escuela es la vida/ porque mientras la muerte camina ya sobre nosotros: la Vida no puede seguir siendo un mero manchón de comida sobre la ropa limpia.
Mario Santiago Papasquiaro (via david-gomez-debussy)
THE HOLY TRINITY
Keith Haring painting a mural at Cranbrook Academy of Art Museum in Bloomfield Hills, Michigan. 1987.
Photos by Tseng Kwong Chi

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Art Legend Jean-Michel Basquiat
Mark Rothko, Untitled, 1948
Self-Portrait In Drag 1982
Andy Warhol
Jean-Michel Basquiat - Andy Warhol as a Banana
Jean-Michel Basquiat and Madonna photographed by Stephen Torton, 1982.
Madonna and Basquiat dated for a while, but his heroin addiction ended up pulling them apart. “He was an amazing man and deeply talented. I loved him,” she said. “When I broke up with him, he made me give all [his paintings] back to him. And then he painted over them black.” She regrets giving the art back, but felt pressured to do so since it was something he had created. (The Howard Stern Show, March 2015)
Madonna: “Basquiat was my boyfriend for a while, and I remember getting up in the middle of the night and he wouldn’t be in bed lying next to me; he’d be standing, painting, at four in the morning, this close to the canvas, in a trance. I was blown away by that, that he worked when he felt moved. And they gave jobs to everyone. Keith would meet kids on the street and ask them to come stretch his canvases for him. Basquiat had every B-boy and every graffiti artist in his loft. He was constantly giving everything away. I think they felt guilty that they became successful and were surrounded by people who were penniless, so they shared what they had. They were incredibly generous people, and that rubbed off on me. You stay inspired that way. I could never work in a recording studio where you have this lovely view and a beach and the waves are crashing. For me, it’s all about being in a tiny room with little windows. It’s almost like you have to be in a prison. And you can create beauty when you’re in that sort of deprived environment, which is a re-creation of your formative years.”
“I remember having conversations with Keith [Haring] and with Basquiat about the importance of your art being accessible to people,“ she recalled. “That was their big thing—it should be available to everyone. It was so important for Keith to be able to draw on subways and walls. And Basquiat used to say to me, ‘You’re so lucky that you make music, because music comes out of radios everywhere.’ He thought that what I did was more pop, more connected to pop culture than what he did. Little did he know that his art would become pop culture. But it’s not like we really had discussions about the meaning of art. I remember hearing them talk about those things.”
(Interview Magazine, December 2014)

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Voy a hacer un dibujo de tu rostro en cada muro, para asi en cualquier calle, tu vuelvas a recordarme
Se ríe tan bonito…
(via sweetskydark)
Su piel siempre le inspiraba las más grandes obras, los más bellos proyectos… se había convertido en su fuente de inspiración,… en su Musa…
micro(per)Versiones (via m-p-v)
Poema 20: Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Escribir, por ejemplo: ”La noche está estrellada, y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos". El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta. Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso. En las noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos. La besé tantas veces bajo el cielo infinito. Ella me quiso, a veces yo también la quería. Cómo no haber amado sus grandes ojos fijos. Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Pensar que no la tengo. Sentir que la he perdido. Oír la noche inmensa, más inmensa sin ella. Y el verso cae al alma como pasto el rocío. Qué importa que mi amor no pudiera guardarla. La noche está estrellada y ella no está conmigo. Eso es todo. A lo lejos alguien canta. A lo lejos. Mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. Como para acercarla mi mirada la busca. Mi corazón la busca, y ella no está conmigo. La misma noche que hace blanquear los mismos árboles. Nosotros, los de entonces, ya no somos los mismos. Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero cuánto la quise. Mi voz buscaba el viento para tocar su oído. De otro. Será de otro. Como antes de mis besos. Su voz, su cuerpo claro. Sus ojos infinitos. Ya no la quiero, es cierto, pero tal vez la quiero. Es tan corto el amor, y es tan largo el olvido. Porque en noches como ésta la tuve entre mis brazos, mi alma no se contenta con haberla perdido. Aunque éste sea el último dolor que ella me causa, y éstos sean los últimos versos que yo le escribo.
Veinte poemas de amor y una canción desesperada - Pablo Neruda (via criaturita-hutcher)

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Art Legend Keith Haring
Pop Art Legend Jean-Michel Basquiat