July 27, 2014
bantuwax:

14.6928° N, 17.4467° W #bantuwax

bantuwax:

14.6928° N, 17.4467° W
#bantuwax

(via theboywiththebeautifulhair)

July 27, 2014

(via jambos6)

July 27, 2014
"There is no coming to consciousness without pain. People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own soul. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious."

— Carl Jung (via anamorphosis-and-isolate)

(via theboywiththebeautifulhair)

July 27, 2014
joereorda:

HERNAN BAS Leaving the nest, 2008 acrylic on linen over panel 50 x 40 inches 127 x 101 cm

joereorda:

HERNAN BAS
Leaving the nest, 2008
acrylic on linen over panel
50 x 40 inches
127 x 101 cm

(via blastedheath)

July 27, 2014

(Source: imposetonanonymat, via lapetitemortgallery)

July 27, 2014
20aliens:

ZHANG QING

20aliens:

ZHANG QING

(via lapetitemortgallery)

July 24, 2014

creativetime:

Has Trevor Paglen started an art-in-space trend?

digg:

Azuma Makoto sends flowers to space in his latest installation piece, Exobiotanica.

(via yougetthevodka)

July 24, 2014
mangomamita:


Corsican vendetta knife with floral detail

che la mia ferita sia mortale"may my wound be deadly"

mangomamita:

Corsican vendetta knife with floral detail

che la mia ferita sia mortale
"may my wound be deadly"

(Source: anti-romanticismo, via wild-bill-jones)

July 24, 2014

for kirkie

(Source: audiblejunk, via iknowitaintright)

July 24, 2014
homo-online:

Tales of the Tearoom Trade
In Vice we read: “I went into the cubicle to take a piss; lingered a bit before leaving. As I washed my hands, I had that impression you get of being watched so turned my head slightly to see a man standing in the cubicle doorway, looking at me. He had his cock out. As he looked, he rubbed it. My first reaction was the thought that I had never seen one so big; my second was of slight discomfort at the intensity of his gaze. My third was an erection.
It seemed like an eternity but eventually I followed him into the cubicle. He closed the door.
A gentleman never tells: suffice to say when I left I wasn’t a virgin. I then walked to school to pick up my GCSE results.
The spring in my step as I walked home wasn’t because of academic success.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t know these things happened: I’d loitered looking at the graffiti and explicit scrawlings. This was my first experience of cottaging – in the States they call it the “tearoom trade” – the act of procuring or having sex in a public toilet.
From then on, I looked for sex in toilets whenever I could. In the mid-90s it was easy and cock available pretty much whenever.
Not all sex happened in the cottage itself. Toilet walls were messaging boards of interests, times and phone numbers. Sometimes you’d find a secluded spot elsewhere with a guy you’d met in a cottage. But for me nothing beat sex in the cottage itself. Risky – the local bus drivers patrolled the toilets – but I wasn’t exactly thinking with my head. Who wouldn’t take a few risks for an easy fuck? That was its appeal: the lack of emotional involvement, of ulterior motivation: its honesty. Sex for sex’s sake. Nothing else.
I soon became adept at spotting cottaging “rituals” – the sideways glance from the guy at the urinal as you walked in, how he felt his cock as you stood next to him, that he wasn’t even pissing. The tapping of a foot under the cubicle door was a known sign. I could devote a whole article to glory holes. Some people say they used to take a shopping bag for a second pair of feet to stand in to avoid detection by police looking under cubicle doors. I never saw that but I did pass messages written on toilet roll between cubicles. But mostly it was that look held for just a few seconds too long. Then you knew.
It gained me my best friend at university. His first words to me were, “I have a place.” That afternoon I rimmed him for hours in his room, only stopping when his girlfriend knocked on the door.”
Read the rest here
HOMO

homo-online:

Tales of the Tearoom Trade

In Vice we read: “I went into the cubicle to take a piss; lingered a bit before leaving. As I washed my hands, I had that impression you get of being watched so turned my head slightly to see a man standing in the cubicle doorway, looking at me. He had his cock out. As he looked, he rubbed it. My first reaction was the thought that I had never seen one so big; my second was of slight discomfort at the intensity of his gaze. My third was an erection.

It seemed like an eternity but eventually I followed him into the cubicle. He closed the door.

A gentleman never tells: suffice to say when I left I wasn’t a virgin. I then walked to school to pick up my GCSE results.

The spring in my step as I walked home wasn’t because of academic success.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t know these things happened: I’d loitered looking at the graffiti and explicit scrawlings. This was my first experience of cottaging – in the States they call it the “tearoom trade” – the act of procuring or having sex in a public toilet.

From then on, I looked for sex in toilets whenever I could. In the mid-90s it was easy and cock available pretty much whenever.

Not all sex happened in the cottage itself. Toilet walls were messaging boards of interests, times and phone numbers. Sometimes you’d find a secluded spot elsewhere with a guy you’d met in a cottage. But for me nothing beat sex in the cottage itself. Risky – the local bus drivers patrolled the toilets – but I wasn’t exactly thinking with my head. Who wouldn’t take a few risks for an easy fuck? That was its appeal: the lack of emotional involvement, of ulterior motivation: its honesty. Sex for sex’s sake. Nothing else.

I soon became adept at spotting cottaging “rituals” – the sideways glance from the guy at the urinal as you walked in, how he felt his cock as you stood next to him, that he wasn’t even pissing. The tapping of a foot under the cubicle door was a known sign. I could devote a whole article to glory holes. Some people say they used to take a shopping bag for a second pair of feet to stand in to avoid detection by police looking under cubicle doors. I never saw that but I did pass messages written on toilet roll between cubicles. But mostly it was that look held for just a few seconds too long. Then you knew.

It gained me my best friend at university. His first words to me were, “I have a place.” That afternoon I rimmed him for hours in his room, only stopping when his girlfriend knocked on the door.”

Read the rest here

HOMO

July 24, 2014
pricebullington:

Jean-Michel Basquiat

pricebullington:

Jean-Michel Basquiat

(via goodbyewhorses)

July 23, 2014
notyourdaddy:

jamesthebeloved:

NEW LIFE

Alright children……can we have some honest talk. Everyone of you has some amazing content on your blog, otherwise I wouldn’t be following you. But let’s be honest, none of you (artists excluded) are creating ANY of the content that you’re posting (aside from the occasional selfie or photo of your cat). Do you know who is creating most of the content for your blog? Artists are.
Very rarely do I see anybody giving credit for the work you’re passing around and using to try and give your blog some credibility. It takes less than 5 seconds to google image search and find out the name of the artist whose work you’re posting. And less than 10 seconds to link to their work!
Do you know who makes practically no money? Artists. Every time you reblog an image from an artist without credit, that’s potential exposure you’re taking away from that artist. I’ve occasionally gotten an opportunity that arose from someone seeing my work on Tumblr. That’s amazing! That’s the way that it should be! But that’s not going to happen if all tumblr is is a bunch of blank, free images utilized for quick, easy consumption. All of this artwork that you love, that you reblog, that feeds your soul….it takes time, energy, creativity, and MONEY! It doesn’t just appear out of nowhere for you.
And the WORST is when some blog automatically takes the credit off of an image and replaces it with “for more images like this check out_____”. UGH! So gross! Actually, for more images like this check out the fucking artist that created it! We should be actively and publicly shaming these blogs.
But at least those blogs keep you as the source for the work. This photo above is my image and was reposted by jamesthebeloved. They literally liked the original image (that had the photo credit and me as the source), but then saved it to their computer and reposted it with zero credit and some alternate text (“NEW LIFE”…..sorry, but that piece is already titled and it’s a brilliant and beautiful title). I contacted them and asked them why they did this, and they said that they don’t like a lot of text on their blog. grrrrrrr
Do you know what this leads to? Occasionally I’ll see one of my images roll past my dash with 50,000 notes, no credit, and some other tools blog as the source. That’s just 50,000 people that actively pushed the button to like or reblog. There’s no telling how many hundreds of thousands of other people saw that image roll across their dash without any name attached to it.
Support your artists people! I make practically no money from this. Most artists don’t. It doesn’t take much time, and PLEASE don’t be the jerk that removes credit from other people’s work! It’s shameful….and what would your blog look like if you drive all of the visual artists out? It would look sad and boring.

And if you’re wondering, here’s the proper credit for that image:

A very gentle glove
from Hazing the Muse by Benjy Russell and Rya Kleinpeter

Amen brother

notyourdaddy:

jamesthebeloved:

NEW LIFE

Alright children……can we have some honest talk. Everyone of you has some amazing content on your blog, otherwise I wouldn’t be following you. But let’s be honest, none of you (artists excluded) are creating ANY of the content that you’re posting (aside from the occasional selfie or photo of your cat). Do you know who is creating most of the content for your blog? Artists are.

Very rarely do I see anybody giving credit for the work you’re passing around and using to try and give your blog some credibility. It takes less than 5 seconds to google image search and find out the name of the artist whose work you’re posting. And less than 10 seconds to link to their work!

Do you know who makes practically no money? Artists. Every time you reblog an image from an artist without credit, that’s potential exposure you’re taking away from that artist. I’ve occasionally gotten an opportunity that arose from someone seeing my work on Tumblr. That’s amazing! That’s the way that it should be! But that’s not going to happen if all tumblr is is a bunch of blank, free images utilized for quick, easy consumption. All of this artwork that you love, that you reblog, that feeds your soul….it takes time, energy, creativity, and MONEY! It doesn’t just appear out of nowhere for you.

And the WORST is when some blog automatically takes the credit off of an image and replaces it with “for more images like this check out_____”. UGH! So gross! Actually, for more images like this check out the fucking artist that created it! We should be actively and publicly shaming these blogs.

But at least those blogs keep you as the source for the work. This photo above is my image and was reposted by jamesthebeloved. They literally liked the original image (that had the photo credit and me as the source), but then saved it to their computer and reposted it with zero credit and some alternate text (“NEW LIFE”…..sorry, but that piece is already titled and it’s a brilliant and beautiful title). I contacted them and asked them why they did this, and they said that they don’t like a lot of text on their blog. grrrrrrr

Do you know what this leads to? Occasionally I’ll see one of my images roll past my dash with 50,000 notes, no credit, and some other tools blog as the source. That’s just 50,000 people that actively pushed the button to like or reblog. There’s no telling how many hundreds of thousands of other people saw that image roll across their dash without any name attached to it.

Support your artists people! I make practically no money from this. Most artists don’t. It doesn’t take much time, and PLEASE don’t be the jerk that removes credit from other people’s work! It’s shameful….and what would your blog look like if you drive all of the visual artists out? It would look sad and boring.

And if you’re wondering, here’s the proper credit for that image:

A very gentle glove

from Hazing the Muse by Benjy Russell and Rya Kleinpeter

Amen brother

July 23, 2014
iheartmyart:

Joram Roukes, ”Jocky Picnic”, 2014, Oil on linen, Framed (dimensions are of artwork only) 120 x 72”, 305 x 183 cm, posted with permission of Thinkspace Gallery.
Exhibition, Joram Roukes: Paramnesia at Thinkspace Gallery, Culver City, California, July 19, 2014 - August 9, 2014

iheartmyart:

Joram Roukes, ”Jocky Picnic”, 2014, Oil on linen, Framed (dimensions are of artwork only) 120 x 72”, 305 x 183 cm, posted with permission of Thinkspace Gallery.

Exhibition, Joram Roukes: Paramnesia at Thinkspace Gallery, Culver City, California, July 19, 2014 - August 9, 2014

July 23, 2014
iheartmyart:

Joram Roukes, ”Skid Bro”, 2014, Oil on linen, 64 x 48”, 163 x 122 cm, posted with permission of Thinkspace Gallery.
Exhibition, Joram Roukes: Paramnesia at Thinkspace Gallery, Culver City, California, July 19, 2014 - August 9, 2014

iheartmyart:

Joram Roukes, ”Skid Bro”, 2014, Oil on linen, 64 x 48”, 163 x 122 cm, posted with permission of Thinkspace Gallery.

Exhibition, Joram Roukes: Paramnesia at Thinkspace Gallery, Culver City, California, July 19, 2014 - August 9, 2014

July 22, 2014
blackcontemporaryart:

Hassan MusaThere are no tigers in Africa, 2002Inks on textiles - 292 x 117cm

blackcontemporaryart:

Hassan Musa
There are no tigers in Africa, 2002
Inks on textiles - 292 x 117cm

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