Idk why but ur blog is so comforting it’s so well organized and curated i love it! like walking into a someone’s well decorated home
THANK YOU… that’s so sweet… i will admit that i spend maybe more time than is reasonable arranging the things i love on here in a way that is pleasing to go through so i’m grateful you like it! #myhome
Hand painting, “vernacular art and architecture in West Africa”, specifically Ghana, Nigeria, Burkina Faso and Mauritania, 1987-88 © Margaret Courtney-Clarke
"Les Signes du Zodiaque," Le Filet Brodé (No. 5), c. 1900
DWELLINGS SCULPTED OUT OF ROCKS IN THE REGION OF GÖREME, TURKEY
fontec, 1988. it's a surprise to see this release date alongside the sound of the album, whose title translates to baby breath. echoing frissons of folk festival oriented jishuban records of the seventies, sustaining the same vocal beams and gossamer twined buildup of affective pull through dynamics, group harmonies, and compositional segues as wataboshi well before them.
Gjon Mili, Jascha Heifetz playing with a light attached to his bow traces the bow movement, New York, 1952
A day made just for leeches. I wrote many letters, never received. A sound of a train as if understood. An emblem. A single black day behind, a single black day ahead. A song sung so low it stays. Clean cold soft sheets. The full moon. Pine in sun. Images of planets from the right distance, this one too.
from "Camp," Molly Brodak's final poem, published in Molly by Blake Butler.
