Leonor Fini , surrealist painter , Paris 1937

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Leonor Fini , surrealist painter , Paris 1937

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Yasuiro Ishimoto Study 1948 - 1950
The Camp on Blood Island - Val Guest - 1958 - UK
Young Törless - Volker Schlöndorff - 1966 - Germany
Orson Welles in F for Fake (dir. Welles, 1974) explaining why we create.

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Yellow Magic Orchestra - CUE
The Devil and Medusa dancing the Cachuca, from A Fortnight in Ireland by Francis Bond Head, 1852.
My Strange & Unusual Site | Books | Videos | Music | Etsy
Here’s a collection of vintage Medusas.
Hand-to-Hand Combat, Prepared by the Training Division Bureau of Aeronautics U.S. Navy, 1943
LIBRETTO par ROVERSI………No.7

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L’oeil d’Aramon designed by garden designer Pascal Cribier (1953-2015)
via: something curated
Self portrait by Marie Høeg: professional photographer, suffragette and lesbian
Norway, 1900s
Matter - 9
william klein
Takuma Nakahira

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.
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BATMAN / BLACKMAN - DUALITY OF EXISTENCE by Buki Koshoni, 2019
Photography Model: Junior Delius Make-up artist: Paul Rodgers
To identify as a black male, within a diasporan construct, is to live a life of duality. It’s impossible, as a person of colour, to completely avoid the daily shelling of preconceived perceptions, many of us still carry the shrapnel of these encounters lodged within us. A constant balancing act of cultures and assumptions, wrestling against your true and innate nature. When I was younger, there were times I wore a mask to conceal certain aspects of self, at times this mask would slip, causing chaos amongst friends and colleagues. There is a certain relief you feel, walking into a room in which the majority of people look like you, a long exhale after an extended period of holding your breath. As I grew older and more emboldened, Oscar Wilde’s advice to “be oneself,” became a rally cry, knees scuffed, hands clasped, a daily act of worship at the altar of authenticity. Many times I’ve found myself experiencing periods of unfettered elation, as my nature and actions coalesced, a spiritual simpatico. These moments are always fleeting, butterflies and nets. I’m on a constant journey of self, a daily battle of confidence to “be myself” while simultaneously trying to “find myself.” I have met him many times, myself that is, and I like him. He’s self deprecating with a sharp sense of humour, an insecure boy in a man’s body. These encounters are fleeting, we never seem to have enough time to really get to know each other. I arrive at his last known location, seconds too late. “He was just here” they say, “you just missed him.” Reality and perception, authenticity and bad faith, it’s where these rivers meet, that fascinates me the most.
yamaguchi sayoko