bidonica

rockedinashell:

pinmeupagainstthesky:

These, for me, are the two most depressing paintings in western history. They were painted by post-impressionist Henry de Toulouse-Lautrec, a man who, due to inbreeding, was born with a genetic disorder that prevented his legs from growing after they were broken. After being so thoroughly mocked for is appearance, he became an alcoholic, which is what eventually caused his institutionalization and death. His only known romantic relations were with prostitutes.

And then he paints something like this which is so beautiful and tender and sentimental. It seems like the couple in bed really loves each other—cares about each other. Wakes up happy to look at each other. And I see that love and passion and I wonder how lonely he must have been. I wonder how he could paint something like this without it breaking his heart. 

Maybe they say artists should create what they know, not because its unbelievable when they extend themselves beyond their experiences, but because when they pull it off with such elegance, it’s so damn unbearable to look at. I hate thinking of Lautrec, wondering about the lovers he created and knowing it was beyond his experience. Creating something that he knows is beautiful and knows he’ll never really understand. 

I have visited an exhibition on Lautrec and his life and I was moved by how close he was to people neglected by society, prostitutes, lesbians, etc. He must have been very advanced because even bohemian artists had mixed feelings towards lesbians, as they challenged the concept of female sexuality being subdued by men. Maybe Lautrec understood that these women he painted knew true love beyond social rules, he saw them as a special symbol of true love. He also depicted prostitutes’ daily lives, as they lay in bed, combed their hair etc. They led a segregated life in the brothels as they were forbidden to get out, so he came to them and lived with them and showed them to the world.

bidonica
gallifreyan-gallimaufry:

leda74:

therothwoman:

beowulfstits-archive:

I want to go to this exact point and run around it saying “I’m in Sweden!” I’m in Finland!” “I’m in Norway!” until I get tired
i aspire to great things in life

According to Google Maps, that point is in the middle of a small lake.

So we’ll do it in January when it’s frozen.

actually that’s why they’ve helpfully dropped a big-ass cement block with a bridge surrounding it in the middle of the lake: for the express purpose of doing what OP aspires to do

gallifreyan-gallimaufry:

leda74:

therothwoman:

beowulfstits-archive:

I want to go to this exact point and run around it saying “I’m in Sweden!” I’m in Finland!” “I’m in Norway!” until I get tired

i aspire to great things in life

According to Google Maps, that point is in the middle of a small lake.

So we’ll do it in January when it’s frozen.

actually that’s why they’ve helpfully dropped a big-ass cement block with a bridge surrounding it in the middle of the lake: for the express purpose of doing what OP aspires to do

ilterzouomo
amzuk:

Casually going through old prints, reminder that I have a silver gelatin print of a 4x5 negative that I shot of Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer almost 2 years ago. I keep meaning to send them a copy of the print because when I tried to email him a file it got lost in depths of hell. It’s one of my favorite portraits to have taken though, especially since I have a traumatizing hilarious awful memory that happened in front of them directly after taking the shot.

amzuk:

Casually going through old prints, reminder that I have a silver gelatin print of a 4x5 negative that I shot of Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer almost 2 years ago. I keep meaning to send them a copy of the print because when I tried to email him a file it got lost in depths of hell.
It’s one of my favorite portraits to have taken though, especially since I have a traumatizing hilarious awful memory that happened in front of them directly after taking the shot.