Nicola Grey

Ruins of the Borscht Belt Photographs by Marissa Scheinfeld

Thu, 09 May 2013 14:43:00 -0400

Ruins of the Borscht Belt
Photographs by Marissa Scheinfeld

American Drive-Ins photos by Carl Weese

Wed, 08 May 2013 15:33:40 -0400

American Drive-Ins
photos by Carl Weese

likeafieldmouse: Robert & Shana Parkeharrison 1. Summer...

Wed, 01 May 2013 18:09:48 -0400

likeafieldmouse:

Robert & Shana Parkeharrison

1. Summer Arm

2. Ascension

3. Winter Arm

4. Mourning Cloak

5. Gray Dawn

6. Overflow

Leviathian dir. Lucien Castaing-Taylor and Verena Paravel

Wed, 01 May 2013 18:00:14 -0400

Leviathian dir. Lucien Castaing-Taylor and Verena Paravel

Photo collages by Marian Peck

Fri, 26 Apr 2013 11:26:00 -0400

Photo collages by Marian Peck

The Capsule Hotel installation by Joe Joe Orangias at Dunes Edge...

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 15:30:00 -0400

The Capsule Hotel installation by Joe Joe Orangias at Dunes Edge Campground Provincetown MA (2012)

This reminds me of Whiting Tennis!

American girls with American girl dolls, photos by Ilona Szwarc

Fri, 29 Mar 2013 12:48:00 -0400

American girls with American girl dolls, photos by Ilona Szwarc

Brooklyn Bridge location shooting (rare) in Applause (1929) dir....

Fri, 29 Mar 2013 12:37:42 -0400

Brooklyn Bridge location shooting (rare) in Applause (1929) dir. Rouben Mammoulian

Faces from Applause(1929) dir. Rouben Mammoulian

Fri, 29 Mar 2013 12:37:00 -0400

Faces from Applause(1929) dir. Rouben Mammoulian

“When one has been unlucky enough to be born, one should...

Tue, 26 Feb 2013 01:48:59 -0500

“When one has been unlucky enough to be born, one should at least have the consolation of living well, of living comfortably. If one lives badly, one has been duped twice over. I am the victim of a bad joke: who played it? If one is so unfortunate as to be alive, if one is conscious of being alive, one ought at least not to be afraid of death. The most absurd thing is to be conscious of the fact that human existence is unbearable, that the human condition is intolerable, and nonetheless cling desperately to it, knowing and complaining that one is going to lose what is unbearable. Like someone who is being hanged, who wants the rope to be cut and does not want it to be cut, because underneath there is a stake.” -Eugene Ionesco

Mala Noche (1986) dir. Gus Van Sant Low-budget,...

Mon, 04 Feb 2013 14:24:00 -0500

Mala Noche (1986) dir. Gus Van Sant

Low-budget, film-school-style film about a triangle of boys in Portland, OR. Cinematography reminiscent of Christopher Nolan’s The Following. Would recommend if you like high-contrast, smeary black & white imagery, sloppy (in a good way) montage; or are interested in grungy street culture of the 1980’s; stories about unrequited, extremely focused love; and non-politicized homosexuality.

likeafieldmouse: I’m Too Sad to Tell You (1971) A film of...

Wed, 23 Jan 2013 15:34:00 -0500

likeafieldmouse:

I’m Too Sad to Tell You (1971) A film of the artist drinking from a cup of tea, then collapsing into tears of grief, subsequent to which he sent postcards of still frames from the film with the inscription “I’m Too Sad To Tell You” and mailed them out to his friends.

Photo

Wed, 23 Jan 2013 15:24:25 -0500

Lucas and I witnessing Hurricane Sandy on Newcomb Hollow beach...

Mon, 26 Nov 2012 10:34:00 -0500

Lucas and I witnessing Hurricane Sandy on Newcomb Hollow beach in Wellfleet, MA

Idris Khan Photographic Prints 1. Every…Bernd And Hilla...

Fri, 23 Nov 2012 14:37:00 -0500

Idris Khan Photographic Prints

1. Every…Bernd And Hilla Becher Gable Sided Houses, 2004
2. Every…Bernd And Hilla Becher Spherical Type Gasholders, 2004
3. St Pauls, London, 2012
4. Every…Bernd And Hilla Becher Prison Type Gasholders, 2004

Gabriel Orozco, Asterisms, arranged ocean trash

Thu, 15 Nov 2012 13:05:00 -0500

Gabriel Orozco, Asterisms, arranged ocean trash

Jerry Uelsmann

Tue, 06 Nov 2012 14:45:00 -0500

Jerry Uelsmann

Stanley Kowalski played by Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named...

Sun, 04 Nov 2012 11:09:00 -0500

Stanley Kowalski played by Marlon Brando in A Streetcar Named Desire
(the only handsome Polish male lead I ever saw)

Aimless Love by Billy Collins

Mon, 22 Oct 2012 23:33:28 -0400

This morning as I walked along the lake shore
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.

In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.

This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.

The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.

No lust, no slam of the door—
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.

No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor—
just a twinge every now and then

for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.

But my heart is always standing on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.

After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,
so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.

the history of my life

Sun, 14 Oct 2012 14:39:06 -0400

thewavesthewaves:

Once upon a time there were two brothers.
Then there was only one: myself.

I grew up fast, before learning to drive,
even, there was I: a stinking adult

I thought of developing interests
someone might take an interest in. No soap.

I became very weepy for what had seemed
like the pleasant early years. As I aged

increasingly, I also grew more charitable
with regard to my thoughts and ideas,

thinking them at least as good as the next man’s.
Then a great devouring cloud

came and loitered on the horizon, drinking
it up for what seemed like months or years.

—John Ashbery