Photo by Chris Barbalis on Unsplash
Acerca de mim
quarta-feira, outubro 31, 2018
terça-feira, outubro 30, 2018
David Bowie, Life on Mars, 1973 by Mick Rock
‘David Bowie asked me to shoot a video for Life on Mars for its release as a single. I photographed him in the Freddie Burretti suit he wore for it with makeup by Pierre La Roche (who had styled him for the cover of Aladdin Sane). He never wore that suit again, never had that makeup on again. He never looked more amazing – like a space doll. A couple of months later he famously retired the androgynous Ziggy Stardust character, after which he started wearing a lot of tailored suits. This photograph catches him morphing from one look to another.’
Photograph: Mick Rock/Rock Sale2018
‘David Bowie asked me to shoot a video for Life on Mars for its release as a single. I photographed him in the Freddie Burretti suit he wore for it with makeup by Pierre La Roche (who had styled him for the cover of Aladdin Sane). He never wore that suit again, never had that makeup on again. He never looked more amazing – like a space doll. A couple of months later he famously retired the androgynous Ziggy Stardust character, after which he started wearing a lot of tailored suits. This photograph catches him morphing from one look to another.’
Photograph: Mick Rock/Rock Sale2018
www.theguardian.com
Alphonse Mucha
Blue Nude II by Henri Matisse
Great Wave Off Kanagawa by Katsushika Hokusai
Keith Haring
Les Demoiselles d’Avignon by Pablo Picasso
Making The Wave. Photograph Marc Evan
Medusa by Caravaggio
The Kiss by Gustav Klimt
The Persistence of Memory by Salvador Dalí
The Scream by Edvard Munch
The Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh
This Is Not a Pipe by René Magritte
Fonte: www.theguardian.com
segunda-feira, outubro 29, 2018
“Imposing mental labels and judgments onto everything that we see and experience destroys our sacred sense of Oneness with all life.”
~Anon I mus (Spiritually Anonymous)
http://egoawarenessmovement.org/
~Anon I mus (Spiritually Anonymous)
http://egoawarenessmovement.org/
Fímbria de melancolia,
memória incerta da dor,
ouço-a no gravador,
no fado que não se ouvia
quando ouvia o seu clamor.
Porque era já no passado
o presente dessa hora
e que me ressoa agora
a um outro mais alongado.
Assim a dor que se sente
no outro obscuro de nós
nunca fala a nossa voz
mas de quem de nós ausente,
só a nós próprios consente
quando não estamos nós
mas mais sós do que ao estar sós.
Onde então estamos nós?
Vergílio Ferreira, in 'Conta-Corrente 1'
domingo, outubro 28, 2018
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