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Ruff sketch

Ruff sketch

Sketchbook shenanigans 👋🎪

Sketchbook shenanigans 👋🎪

Saying bye to grandma

danism1:

capsule for smokers, Japan

danism1:

capsule for smokers, Japan

(via poprah-winfrey)

Sketchbook shenanigans 👋🎪

Sketchbook shenanigans 👋🎪

heathwest:

Ryan Estep 
Hot Wuss; Repeated, 2014

Grieving is not a competition to see who can wear it better.

kylejorgensen:

Tomokazu Matsuyama

nevver:

No problems
Take them to the trolley park and let them run wild.
BEATIFIC HEAVENLY VISIONS AND GRUESOME SCENES IN HELL TO BE LUNA PARK’S LATEST NOVELTY
In 1907 Luna Park New York debuted a new thematic attraction where one was entertained by experiencing there live burial followed by an adventure in the after life of heaven and hell. 

"The real big feature of the revised Luna Park," Mr. Thompson explained, "is going to be what I have named Night and Morning: or, A Journey Through Heaven and Hell." The idea in itself if, of course, not new, but the manner in which it has been worked up in entirely original and is expected to make it a ‘thriller.’ It shows you the complete journey to Hades and Paradise, and is full of surprises….

"The first room into which the people enter is like a big coffin with a glass top and the lid off. You look up through the roof and see the graveyard flowers and the weeping willows and other such atmospheric things. When everything is ready the coffin is lowered into the ground. It shivers and shakes, and when it tips up on end you hear a voice above give a warning to be careful. Then the lid is closed and you hear the thud of the dirt.

"The man who is conducting the party now announces that they must have a spirit to guide them. A subject is put into a small coffin and in an instant he is transformed into a skeleton. Then a real skeleton appears and delivers a solemn lecture in which he tells the people that they must ‘leave all hope on the outside’—a gentle perversion of the old ‘abandon hope all ye who enter here.’ …

Now there is a great clanking of chains and the side of the coffin comes out and visitors pass down into the mysterious caverns. First they see a twentieth century idea of Hell, with monopolists frying in pans and janitors fastened to hot radiators…. After the modern Hell the people come to the Chamber of Skeletons. Though these skeletons haven’t a stitch of clothes on them, they smoke cigarettes most unconcernedly all the time just like live men…. Next you come to the panorama of Hell, where you see a vision of all the condemned spirits being washed down by the River of Death. Now comes the big change and you find yourself in a large ordinary room, with cathedral-like windows through which you can look outside and see the graveyard which looms up with a weird effect. Like great mist you can see the spirits rising from the graves and ascending to Heaven…

The great transformation now takes place. The whole grave yard floats off into space with the single exception of an immense cross, where the form of a young girl is seen clinging to the Rock of Ages. Fountains foam with all their prismatic colors, and the air is filled with troops of circling angels. The room itself vanishes and you find yourself in a bower of flowers under a blue sky. At the climax and angel comes down with a halo which she places on the head of the girl who is still clinging to the cross Then all that vanishes and you are within four blank walls once more.”

- Excerpted from The New York Times, April 21, 1907 

#FOMO review by Andrew Frost @ the art life

#FOMO review by Andrew Frost @ the art life

Work in progress of collaborating with Ace Wagstaff.

Work in progress of collaborating with Ace Wagstaff.

#FOMO review by Kate Britton @ RAVEN

#FOMO review by Kate Britton @ RAVEN

THE AUTOPSY ROOM

Then I was young and had the strength of ten.
For anything, I thought. Though part of my job
at night was to clean the autopsy room
once the coroner’s work was done.
But now and then they knocked off early, or too late.
For, so help me, they left things out
on their specially built table. A little baby,
still as a stone and snow cold. Another time,
a huge black man with white hair whose chest
had been laid open. All his vital organs
lay in a pan beside his head. The hose
was running, the overhead lights blazed.
And one time there was a leg, a woman’s leg,
on the table. A pale and shapely leg.
I knew it for what it was. I’d seen them before.
Still, it took my breath away.

When I went home at night my wife would say,
"Sugar, it’s going to be all right. We’ll trade
this life in for another.” But it wasn’t
that easy. She’d take my hand between her hands
and hold it tight, while I leaned back on the sofa
and closed my eyes. Thinking of … something.
I don’t know what. But I’d let her bring
my hand to her breast. At which point
I’d open my eyes and stare at the ceiling, or else
the floor. Then my fingers strayed to her leg.
Which was warm and shapely, ready to tremble
and raise slightly, at the slightest touch.
But my mind was unclear and shaky. Nothing
was happening. Everything was happening. Life
was a stone, grinding and sharpening.

Raymond Carver
THEME BY PARTI