Cristina Rusu - Blue Portrait, 2019

★
ojovivo

blake kathryn
Monterey Bay Aquarium
dirt enthusiast

Andulka
occasionally subtle
Sade Olutola
One Nice Bug Per Day
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

@theartofmadeline
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
h

PR's Tumblrdome
will byers stan first human second
todays bird
Sweet Seals For You, Always

Origami Around
Show & Tell

JBB: An Artblog!

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Singapore

seen from France
seen from Mexico

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany
seen from United States
@idlrwheel
Cristina Rusu - Blue Portrait, 2019

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
not 2 sound whiny but i wish more attention was given to the importance of art and literature and philosophy and other humanities again so they'll return to being a really great part of what shapes a decade or an era instead of being seen as useless because they don't fit into the capitalist ideal of a productive society
Tiles of Lisbon
Doron Langberg, Lovers, 2019

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Paul Rink (Dutch, 1861-1903) - A field with flowers, canvas, 43,5 x 55,5 cm.
So awesome of Tchaikovsky to write ballets based off of a couple Barbie movies. Cool guy!
Well, here it is! My starter and current collection of stickers! :) I love my new hobby!
In the first poetry workshop I ever took my professor said we could write about anything we wanted except for two things: our grandparents and our dogs. She said she had never read a good poem about a dog. I could only remember ever reading one poem about a dog before that point—a poem by Pablo Neruda, from which I only remembered the lines “We walked together on the shores of the sea/ In the lonely winter of Isla Negra.” Four years later I wrote a poem about how when I was a little girl I secretly baptized my dog in the bathtub because I was afraid she wouldn’t get into heaven. “Is this a good poem?” I wondered. The second poetry workshop, our professor made us put a bird in each one of our poems. I thought this was unbelievably stupid. This professor also hated when we wrote about hearts, she said no poet had ever written a good poem in which they mentioned a heart. I started collecting poems about hearts, first to spite her, but then because it became a habit I couldn’t break. The workshop after that, our professor would tell us the same story over and over about how his son had died during a blizzard. He would cry in front of us. He never told us we couldn’t write about anything, but I wrote a lot of poems about snow. At the end of the year he called me into his office and said, “looking at you, one wouldn’t think you’d be a very good writer” and I could feel all the pity inside of me curdling like milk. The fourth poetry workshop I ever took my professor made it clear that poets should not try to engage with popular culture. I noticed that the only poets he assigned were men. I wrote a poem about that scene in Grease 2 where a boy takes his girlfriend to a fallout shelter and tries to get her to have sex with him by tricking her into believing that nuclear war had begun. It was the first poem I ever published. The fifth poetry workshop I ever took our professor railed against the word blood. She thought that no poem should ever have the word “blood” in it, they were bloody enough already. She returned a draft of my poem with the word blood crossed out so hard the paper had torn. When I started teaching poetry workshops I promised myself I would never give my students any rules about what could or couldn’t be in their poems. They all wrote about basketball. I used to tally these poems when I’d go through the stack I had collected at the end of each class. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 poems about basketball. This was Indiana. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I told the class, “for the next assignment no one can write about basketball, please for the love of god choose another topic. Challenge yourselves.” Next time I collected their poems there was one student who had turned in another poem about basketball. I don’t know if he had been absent on the day I told them to choose another topic or if he had just done it to spite me. It’s the only student poem I can still really remember. At the time I wrote down the last lines of that poem in a notebook. “He threw the basketball and it came towards me like the sun”

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
it’s so sad when cishet girls are like “I’m a feminist but I’m not a hairy lesbian” like don’t be so hard on yourself<3 I’m sure you have some good qualities too<3
name moodboard: elle
Kris Chau
*lays on my back dramatically in the pool like I’m Ophelia*
This Artist Is Painting Beautiful Flowers on All of Her Walls While Stuck in Quarantine.

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Vicente Romero Redondo (Spanish, b. 1956)
Zhong–Yang Huang (Chinese, b. 1949)
Ludovic Alleaume (French, 1859–1941)
Zhong–Yang Huang (Chinese, b. 1949)
Sanrio Dessert Cups