AHHH! THE HOLIDAYS ARE HERE!
Holidays for me are the equivalent of being in a super-scare-your-balls-off haunted house. If you're also in a bit of a panic this month, feel free to chill out with a stiff drink and rest easy dreaming of these sunny vistas and beautiful destinations.
a model representing a scene with three-dimensional figures, either in miniature or as a large-scale museum exhibit.
a scenic painting, viewed through a peephole, in which changes in color and direction of illumination simulate changes in the weather, time of day, etc.. (source: google)
We find ourselves longing for this little finite space that can be controlled. This diorama, this little box, a glimpse into our world or someone else's. In this place we are kings/queens. In this place we seek divination. We can go wherever we want to go, do whatever we want to do, and be whoever we want to be. In a world that is constantly in flux we stare into the abyss of this life that contains us, longing for the simplicity of childhood daydreams and seasons in the sun. But are we three-dimensional or just flagellating our vices for the masses? Are we a carving etched on history or a living, breathing real boy/girl living inside a scene that replays itself in a myriad of ways into dusk? Today we are searching for answers to whether we live inside this fragile frame or outside in a wild sea of ignorance.
In matters of meritocracy, sometimes we haven't the faintest idea what is going on. We humbly oblige some more moderate version of ourselves to demonstrate how to behave in modern society, yet our current society is full of upheaval and a future that has yet to be determined. We call them the accolades, these momentary glimpses of privilege and centrifugal forces that we often take for granted. Some call it divination or intervention. We walk blindly or swim into their seas, letting the current and the windswept sand direct us where we're meant to go and where we belonged all along.
Violence in the flowers where they found you
Can I wait the hours
Would it be untrue
Climb up to the tower
So that you can see
All across the hours"- BH
I found myself walking down North Williams the other day and even though it's still warm outside, you can feel summer starting to go into its deep annual slumber.
You can feel it in the air and in the sunlight and everything around you-- this waiting and tension that makes us so impatient for pumpkin spice lattes, cozy pullovers, and leaf pile rambling . We're all waiting for something. We're waiting for the kettle to whistle, or the bus to arrive, or a multitude of other events that could occur in an otherwise linear day. What are you waiting for?
"caught in a flower's hue" by
"effetto farfalla." by
"inertia creeps" by
"this beautiful creature must die/a death for no reason/ and death for no reason is murder" by
"my little geisha" by
“By its nature, the metropolis provides what otherwise could be given only by traveling; namely, the strange.”
Living in a city always has its share of "strange." The metropolis tends to have a cultural ambiguity-- a series of extreme refinements and likewise extreme dereliction. Yet the fabric of the city is so much more vibrant than that comparison. The "metropolis" itself is very much centered around the people. Even if you live in a small town, some part of you can relate to the "human" scale of the metropolis. Just like any great empire, it is based on people-- people who are fragile and fallible. Like any Ayn Rand creation, we breathe life into our city and our city breathes life into us. I believe the following artists have captured the essence of this beautifully.
"in my head" by
"after biking" by
"glastür-- french door" by