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vriad_lee ([personal profile] vriad_lee) wrote2012-06-28 06:16 pm
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разнообразное.
часть уже выкладывал в photopath, фейцбухе и моем тамблере, так что сорри если что.



“Girl with Curlers, Los Angeles, 1949” By Ida Wyman



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Germaine Krull - Bal musette
Paris, France, 1928.



http://youreawhorebecausei-.tumblr.com/post/25883687693



http://aubreyylynne.tumblr.com/


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william strang



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http://pvtp.tumblr.com/post/23476786024



http://nesw.tumblr.com/post/20847576611




Greta Riddock with dog in pram
Photographer: Charles Riddock

“Slavery and child labor didn’t become unacceptable by magic. It took hard, dedicated, courageous work by lots of people. The same is true of torture, which was once completely routine.”
— Noam Chomsky



Dan Graham: Homes for America
http://www.liveauctioneers.com/item/10229901



Viviane SassenKapijmpanga

“Don’t condemn sensuality. It has been condemned by the whole world, and because of their condemnation, the energy that can flower in sensuality moves into perversions, jealousy, anger, hatred — a kind of life which is dry, with no juice. Sensuousness is one of the greatest blessings to humanity. It is your sensitivity, it is your consciousness. Consciousness filtering through the body is what sensuousness is.”
— Osho

“Yes, we had hoped to find a people conscious of the ‘rights of man’ – that was to be the higher moral sanction of our politics. Instead, we found an amorphous mass, a slave-people who occasionally produced some powerful individuals, but on the whole were immersed in a deep, lethargic sleep. And so, to avenge that distortion of human nature, we revolutionaries had drawn our swords against the state. First idealism, then pained outrage–that is the entire psychology of the classical or heroic period of our revolutionary history.”
— Olga Lyubatovich (1854-1917)

sounds familiar



Conroy Maddox, ca.1941 


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The Kyzylagachesk Preserve, 1960 by Nicolai Nemnonov


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http://nativethoughts.tumblr.com/


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Ben Shahn: Arkansas 1935



http://cac-tus.tumblr.com/post/18902755423/cactussen-echinopsis-chamaecereus-silvestris



http://nativethoughts.tumblr.com/post/17700860521/texodus




Female soldier, Vietnam war



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http://elegantescapism.tumblr.com/


“Common-sense in an uncommon degree is what the world calls wisdom.”
— Samuel Taylor Coleridge




The Dardanelles, a Gallipoli sketch book Pt 2



Walton Ford



The Janitor Who Paints, 1937, Palmer Hayden. American (1890 - 1973)

“Never express yourself more clearly than you are able to think.”
— Niels Bohr

“Arguing is really saying, “If you were really more like me, then I could like you better.”
— Wayne Dyer



Farrukh Beg, Sultan Ibrahim Adil Shah II riding his prized elephant, Atash Khan; Bijapur, Deccan, ca. 1600; opaque watercolor and gold on paper. Via Studio and Garden

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”
— Annie Dillard

“Our knowledge is determined by the social boundaries upon it; for example, Sade, the eighteenth century lecher, knew that manipulation of the clitoris was the unique key to the female orgasm, but a hundred years later, Sigmund Freud, a Viennese intellectual, did not wish to believe that this grand simplicity was all there was to this business.”
— Angela Carter, The Sadeian Woman

“Never despair, but if you do, work on in despair.”
— Edmund Burke



http://partizany.tumblr.com/

“Reject the lie that anyone is self made. Everyone was led, inspired, nurtured. Everyone owes their existence to something.”
— Brother Ali

“Those who are willing to be vulnerable move among mysteries.”
— Theodore Roethke

“Nowhere in a zoo can a stranger encounter the look of an animal. At the most, the animal’s gaze flickers and passes on. They look sideways. They look blindly beyond. They scan mechanically…That look between animal and man, which may have played a crucial role in the development of human society, and with which, in any case, all men had always lived until less than a century ago, has been extinguished.”
— John Berger, About Looking, 1980; (quoted from a footnote in The Lives of Animals by J.M. Coetzee)

“Some people bring out the worst in you, others bring out the best, and then there are those remarkably rare, addictive ones who just bring out the most. Of everything. They make you feel so alive that you’d follow them straight into hell, just to keep getting your fix.”
— Karen Marie Moning

“As soon as you concern yourself with the ‘good’ and ‘bad’ of your fellows, you create an opening in your heart for maliciousness to enter. Testing, competing with, and criticizing others weaken and defeat you.”
— Morihei Ueshiba

“We are not meant to stay wounded. We are supposed to move through our tragedies and challenges and to help each other move through the many painful episodes of our lives. By remaining stuck in the power of our wounds, we block our own transformation. We overlook the greater gifts inherent in our wounds — the strength to overcome them and the lessons that we are meant to receive through them. Wounds are the means through which we enter the hearts of other people. They are meant to teach us to become compassionate and wise.”
— Caroline Myss

“We have to abandon the arrogant belief that the world is merely a puzzle to be solved”
— Vaclav Havel’s Critique of the West



http://waxxwing.tumblr.com/post/24218777226



rug by Josef Frank





фешин



http://koroleni.livejournal.com/339349.html







Lisa Hooper



http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Georg_Flegel



Animais de Gaia: Timidez



Mario Giacomelli. Italian (1925 - 2000)



Distracted Visitors, art by Amos Sewell. From the April 29, 1961 Saturday Evening Post cover.



http://polny-shkaf.livejournal.com/64646.html



Don McCullin

Aldermaston, England, Early 1960s.

"You couldn't get a clue during the clue mating season in a field full of horny clues if you smeared your body with clue musk and did the clue mating dance."
—Edward Flaherty

Commodus, сын императора-философа Марка Аврелия:

Commodus was also known for fighting exotic animals in the arena, often to the horror of the Roman people. According to Gibbon, Commodus once killed 100 lions in a single day.[15] Later, he decapitated a running ostrich with a specially designed dart[16] and afterwards carried the bleeding head of the dead bird and his sword over to the section where the Senators sat and gesticulated as though they were next.[17] On another occasion, Commodus killed three elephants on the floor of the arena by himself.[18] Finally, Commodus killed a giraffe which was considered to be a strange and helpless beast.
(from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commodus)

Commodus raised the ire of many military officials in Rome for his Hercules persona in the arena. Often, wounded soldiers and amputees would be placed in the arena for Commodus to slay with a sword. Commodus' eccentric behaviour would not stop there. Citizens of Rome missing their feet through accident or illness were taken to the arena, where they were tethered together for Commodus to club to death while pretending they were giants.[14] These acts may have contributed to his assassination.
(from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commodus)

I always thought death would come on the freeway in a few horrifying moments, so you'd have no time to sort it out. Having months and months to look at it and think about it and talk to people and hear what they have to say, it's a kind of blessing. It's certainly an opportunity to grow up and get a grip and sort it all out. Just being told by an unsmiling guy in a white coat that you're going to be dead in four months definitely turns on the lights. ... It makes life rich and poignant. When it first happened, and I got these diagnoses, I could see the light of eternity, a la William Blake, shining through every leaf. I mean, a bug walking across the ground moved me to tears.
(from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terence_McKenna)

—Terence McKenna, "This World...and Its Double",
(from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terence_McKenna)



RESOLUTION AND INDEPENDENCE

I

THERE was a roaring in the wind all night;
The rain came heavily and fell in floods;
But now the sun is rising calm and bright;
The birds are singing in the distant woods;
Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods;
The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters;
And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.

II

All things that love the sun are out of doors;
The sky rejoices in the morning’s birth;
The grass is bright with rain-drops;—on the moors
The hare is running races in her mirth;
And with her feet she from the plashy earth
Raises a mist, that, glittering in the sun,
Runs with her all the way, wherever she doth run.

III

I was a Traveller then upon the moor,
I saw the hare that raced about with joy;
I heard the woods and distant waters roar;
Or heard them not, as happy as a boy:
The pleasant season did my heart employ:
My old remembrances went from me wholly;
And all the ways of men, so vain and melancholy.

IV

But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the might
Of joy in minds that can no further go,
As high as we have mounted in delight
In our dejection do we sink as low;
To me that morning did it happen so;
And fears and fancies thick upon me came;
Dim sadness—and blind thoughts, I knew not, nor could name.

V

I heard the sky-lark warbling in the sky;
And I bethought me of the playful hare:
Even such a happy Child of earth am I;
Even as these blissful creatures do I fare;
Far from the world I walk, and from all care;
But there may come another day to me—
Solitude, pain of heart, distress, and poverty.

VI

My whole life I have lived in pleasant thought,
As if life’s business were a summer mood;
As if all needful things would come unsought
To genial faith, still rich in genial good;
But how can He expect that others should
Build for him, sow for him, and at his call
Love him, who for himself will take no heed at all?

VII

I thought of Chatterton, the marvellous Boy,
The sleepless Soul that perished in his pride;
Of Him who walked in glory and in joy
Following his plough, along the mountain-side:
By our own spirits are we deified:
We Poets in our youth begin in gladness;
But thereof come in the end despondency and madness.

VIII

Now, whether it were by peculiar grace,
A leading from above, a something given,
Yet it befell, that, in this lonely place,
When I with these untoward thoughts had striven,
Beside a pool bare to the eye of heaven
I saw a Man before me unawares:
The oldest man he seemed that ever wore grey hairs.

IX

As a huge stone is sometimes seen to lie
Couched on the bald top of an eminence;
Wonder to all who do the same espy,
By what means it could thither come, and whence;
So that it seems a thing endued with sense:
Like a sea-beast crawled forth, that on a shelf
Of rock or sand reposeth, there to sun itself;

X

Such seemed this Man, not all alive nor dead,
Nor all asleep—in his extreme old age:
His body was bent double, feet and head
Coming together in life’s pilgrimage;
As if some dire constraint of pain, or rage
Of sickness felt by him in times long past,
A more than human weight upon his frame had cast.

XI

Himself he propped, limbs, body, and pale face,
Upon a long grey staff of shaven wood:
And, still as I drew near with gentle pace,
Upon the margin of that moorish flood
Motionless as a cloud the old Man stood,
That heareth not the loud winds when they call
And moveth all together, if it move at all.

XII

At length, himself unsettling, he the pond
Stirred with his staff, and fixedly did look
Upon the muddy water, which he conned,
As if he had been reading in a book:
And now a stranger’s privilege I took;
And, drawing to his side, to him did say,
“This morning gives us promise of a glorious day.”

XIII

A gentle answer did the old Man make,
In courteous speech which forth he slowly drew:
And him with further words I thus bespake,
“What occupation do you there pursue?
This is a lonesome place for one like you.”
Ere he replied, a flash of mild surprise
Broke from the sable orbs of his yet-vivid eyes,

XIV

His words came feebly, from a feeble chest,
But each in solemn order followed each,
With something of a lofty utterance drest—
Choice word and measured phrase, above the reach
Of ordinary men; a stately speech;
Such as grave Livers do in Scotland use,
Religious men, who give to God and man their dues.

XV

He told, that to these waters he had come
To gather leeches, being old and poor:
Employment hazardous and wearisome!
And he had many hardships to endure:
From pond to pond he roamed, from moor to moor;
Housing, with God’s good help, by choice or chance,
And in this way he gained an honest maintenance.

XVI

The old Man still stood talking by my side;
But now his voice to me was like a stream
Scarce heard; nor word from word could I divide;
And the whole body of the Man did seem
Like one whom I had met with in a dream;
Or like a man from some far region sent,
To give me human strength, by apt admonishment.

XVII

My former thoughts returned: the fear that kills;
And hope that is unwilling to be fed;
Cold, pain, and labour, and all fleshly ills;
And mighty Poets in their misery dead.
—Perplexed, and longing to be comforted,
My question eagerly did I renew,
“How is it that you live, and what is it you do?”

XVIII

He with a smile did then his words repeat;
And said, that, gathering leeches, far and wide
He travelled; stirring thus about his feet
The waters of the pools where they abide.
“Once I could meet with them on every side;
But they have dwindled long by slow decay;
Yet still I persevere, and find them where I may.”

XIX

While he was talking thus, the lonely place,
The old Man’s shape, and speech—all troubled me:
In my mind’s eye I seemed to see him pace
About the weary moors continually,
Wandering about alone and silently.
While I these thoughts within myself pursued,
He, having made a pause, the same discourse renewed.

XX

And soon with this he other matter blended,
Cheerfully uttered, with demeanour kind,
But stately in the main; and when he ended,
I could have laughed myself to scorn to find
In that decrepit Man so firm a mind.
“God,” said I, “be my help and stay secure;
I’ll think of the Leech-gatherer on the lonely moor!”

1807