Window Shopping, 1905, Private Collection
Untitled (Window Pane with View of City Yard)
Artist: Consuelo Kanaga, American, 1894-1978
Medium: Gelatin silver photograph
Dates: 1930s or 1940s
Accession Number: 82.65.239
Credit Line: Gift of Wallace B. Putnam from the estate of Consuelo Kanaga, Brooklyn Museum
Nature - B&W
Nara Simhan HERE
View in photobox for descriptions. Queue
ずるい zurui sly, sneaky, cunning
猫ガンダム neko gandamu Neko Gundam
肉球nikukyuu paw pads
ぴょんぴょん pyon pyon hop, skip (onomatopoeia)
不自然 fushizen unnatural
撫でる naderu to pat
戦かう tatakau wage a war; to fight or battle
Artemis: >^..^< LOL
Arthur Rimbaud Documentary (via: youtube | MU51CB0X)
Slide show of images from the life and travels of poet Arthur Rimbaud. Images of 19th century Charleville, Paris, the Commune, France, London, Belgium and many photographs of Aden and Harar taken by Rimbaud himself. Infamous manuscripts in Rimbaud’s handwriting; biographical drawings by Delahaye and friends. Poetry read by Joan Baez has been grafted onto music to help create an impression of the places, faces and scenes which Rimbaud knew and would recognize.
A while back, if I remember right, my life was one long party where all hearts were open wide, where all wines kept flowing.
One night, I sat Beauty down on my lap.—And I found her galling.—And I roughed her up.
I armed myself against justice.
I ran away. O witches, O misery, O hatred, my treasure’s been turned over to you!
I managed to make every trace of human hope vanish from my mind. I pounced on every joy like a ferocious animal eager to strangle it.
I called for executioners so that, while dying, I could bite the butts of their rifles. I called for plagues to choke me with sand, with blood. Bad luck was my god. I stretched out in the muck. I dried myself in the air of crime. And I played tricks on insanity.
And Spring brought me the frightening laugh of the idiot.
So, just recently, when I found myself on the brink of the finalsquawk! it dawned on me to look again for the key to that ancient party where I might find my appetite once more.
Charity is that key.—This inspiration proves I was dreaming!
“You’ll always be a hyena etc… ,” yells the devil, who’d crowned me with such pretty poppies. “Deserve death with all your appetites, your selfishness, and all the capital sins!”
Ah! I’ve been through too much:-But, sweet Satan, I beg of you, a less blazing eye! and while waiting for the new little cowardly gestures yet to come, since you like an absence of descriptive or didactic skills in a writer, let me rip out these few ghastly pages from my notebook of the damned.
Arthur Rimbaud, Prologue: A Season in Hell
Translated by Bertrand Mathieu
Image: Auguste Rodin, The Gates of Hell, via: jovdhengel on pinterest
All before he was 19.
Interior with Potted Plant on Card Table, 1910-11, Malmö Konstmuseum
See archive for more Vilhelm Hammershøi HERE