“I want a woman who can sit me down, shut me up, tell me ten things I don’t already know, and make me laugh. I don’t care what you look like, just turn me on. And if you can do that, I will follow you on bloody stumps through the snow. I will nibble your mukluks with my own teeth. I will do your windows. I will care about your feelings. Just have something in there.” - Henry Rollins
(Source: fffightoffyourdemons, via vintagevandalizm)
Gran problema de los derechos humanos en Chile, no puedo creer que aparezca una machi en mi dash. Extraño a Chile y a la gente Mapuche. Uy, pero cierto que es una hipocresía.
(Source: chicuco, via bateleur01)
"With standup, it’s more interesting to hear about people’s failures than their successes. You don’t want to hear a story, like, ‘I went up to this hot girl and everything worked out fantastic. We’re dating. Everything worked out great. Good night!’ … People would be like, ‘I hate that guy.’ It’s much more endearing to hear someone going through the same struggles we’ve all gone through."
Aziz Ansari on his self-deprecating humor. (via nprfreshair)
(via nprfreshair)
“You guys know about vampires? … You know, vampires have no reflections in a mirror? There’s this idea that monsters don’t have reflections in a mirror. And what I’ve always thought isn’t that monsters don’t have reflections in a mirror. It’s that if you want to make a human being into a monster, deny them, at the cultural level, any reflection of themselves. And growing up, I felt like a monster in some ways. I didn’t see myself reflected at all. I was like, “Yo, is something wrong with me? That the whole society seems to think that people like me don’t exist? And part of what inspired me, was this deep desire that before I died, I would make a couple of mirrors. That I would make some mirrors so that kids like me might see themselves reflected back and might not feel so monstrous for it.” —Junot Díaz
Amy Shackleton’s brushless technique. She squeezed paint onto canvas and allows them to drip naturally, while rotating the canvas to create her pieces.
(via bookspaperscissors)
“Every man who knows how to read has it in his power to magnify himself, to multiply the ways in which he exists, to make his life full, significant and interesting”
—Aldous Huxley
Robert Rauschenberg’s Erased De Kooning (art via Google/I don’t really give a damn)
I wish I had the balls to do what he did. A brief summary:
The genesis of the project is well-documented: Rauschenberg went over to the master’s studio and said he’d like to erase one of his drawings as an act of art. De Kooning, apparently intrigued, had three groups of drawings. The first comprised those with which he was not satisfied - that wouldn’t work. The next was of drawings he liked, but which were all in pencil - too easy to erase. If de Kooning was going to participate in this neo-Dada performance, he would play his part. He looked in his third group and found a multi-media work on paper that would be quite difficult to eradicate (the media of Erased de Kooning Drawing are “traces of ink and crayon on paper”). It apparently took Rauschenberg one month to get the sheet relatively clear of marks. No photograph exists of the work he erased; we do have a photograph of the relatively simple sketch on the reverse, published here for the first time.
On technology, language, and creativity
It’s an old story. In 1726, Jonathan Swift imagined a writing machine whereby “the most ignorant person, at a reasonable charge, and with a little bodily labour, might write books in philosophy, poetry, politics, laws, mathematics, and theology, without the least assistance from genius or study.” He described a primitive grid-based machine with every word in the English language inscribed upon it. By cranking a few handles, the grid would shift slightly and random groups of half-sensible words would fall into place. Crank it again and the device would spit out another set of non sequiturs. These resulting broken sentences were jotted down by scribes into folios that, like pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle, were intended to be fit together in an effort to rebuild the English language from scratch, albeit written by machine. The Swiftian punch line, of course, is that the English language was fine as it was and the novelty of reconstructing it by machine wasn’t going to make it any better. It’s a great warning for us today and a pointed satire of our blinding belief in the transformative potential of technology, even if in most cases it’s sheer folly.
via: http://www.believermag.com/issues/201110/?read=interview_goldsmith
One of the best things to happen to me in the past year
Is cooking at home most every night and falling in love with it.
x2
