Occasional traveller, full time dreamer. Teacher, optimist. Unicorns' lover and mail addict.
86 posts
Latest Posts by mysticcheesecakeballoon - Page 2
Henri Matisse, Intérieur, bocal de poisson rouge, 1914, huile sur toile, 147 x 97 cm, Centre Pompidou, Paris.
Source: “Matisse: paires et séries”, 7 mars 2012 au 18 juin 2012, Centre Pompidou, Paris.
Source: Kieron Gillen and Jamie McKelvie, The Wicked + The Divine, Issue 30, 9 August 2017.
Source: Saturday Morning Cartoons: Baopu #15 by Yao Xiao.
Il marchait sur un pied sans savoir où il poserait l’autre. Au tournant de la rue le vent balayait la poussière et sa bouche avide engouffrait tout l’espace. Il se mit à courir espérant s’envoler d’un moment à l’autre, mais au bord du ruisseau les pavés étaient humides et ses bras battants l’air n’ont pu le retenir. Dans sa chute il comprit qu’il était plus lourd que son rêve et il aima, depuis, le poids qui l’avait fait tomber.
Pierre Reverdy, “La saveur du réel”, Plupart du temps, 1915-1922.
“Cassius Clay, happy after he won his fight against Archie more as he predicted he would”, Stanley Weston, 1962, Los Angeles, USA.
Camille Pissarro,Vue de Bazincourt, effet de neige, soir 1894, huile sur toile, 54,5 x 65 cm, Ordrupgaard Museum, Copenhague.
Source: “Pissarro à Eragny, la nature retrouvée”, 16 mars au 9 juillet 2017, musée du Luxembourg, Paris.
Autour d’Holbox, Mexique, 2016.
Source: Mystic Cheesecake Balloon’s family.
For years now I have heard the word "Wait!" It rings in the ear of every Negro with piercing familiarity. This "Wait" has almost always meant "Never." We must come to see, with one of our distinguished jurists, that "justice too long delayed is justice denied." We have waited for more than 340 years for our constitutional and God-given rights. The nations of Asia and Africa are moving with jetlike speed toward gaining political independence, but we stiff creep at horse-and-buggy pace toward gaining a cup of coffee at a lunch counter. Perhaps it is easy for those who have never felt the stinging darts of segregation to say, "Wait." But when you have seen vicious mobs lynch your mothers and fathers at will and drown your sisters and brothers at whim; when you have seen hate-filled policemen curse, kick and even kill your black brothers and sisters; when you see the vast majority of your twenty million Negro brothers smothering in an airtight cage of poverty in the midst of an affluent society; when you suddenly find your tongue twisted and your speech stammering as you seek to explain to your six-year-old daughter why she can't go to the public amusement park that has just been advertised on television, and see tears welling up in her eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people; when you have to concoct an answer for a five-year-old son who is asking: "Daddy, why do white people treat colored people so mean?"; when you take a cross-country drive and find it necessary to sleep night after night in the uncomfortable corners of your automobile because no motel will accept you; when you are humiliated day in and day out by nagging signs reading "white" and "colored"; when your first name becomes "nigger," your middle name becomes "boy" (however old you are) and your last name becomes "John," and your wife and mother are never given the respected title "Mrs."; when you are harried by day and haunted by night by the fact that you are a Negro, living constantly at tiptoe stance, never quite knowing what to expect next, and are plagued with inner fears and outer resentments; when you go forever fighting a degenerating sense of "nobodiness"–then you will understand why we find it difficult to wait.
Martin Luther King, Letter from Birmingham Jail, 1963.
“Muhammed Ali Training at Madison Square Garden”, George Kalinsky, New York, USA, 1967.
Marc Chagall, Au-dessus de Vitebsk, 1915-1920, huile sur toile, 67 x 92,7 cm, the Museum of Modern Art, New York.
Source: “Chagall, entre guerre et paix”, du 21 février au 21 juillet 2013, Musée du Luxembourg, Paris.
I Was Considering How i was considering how within night’s loose sack a star’s nibbling in- fin -i- tes- i -mal- ly devours darkness the hungry star which will e -ven tu- al -ly jiggle the bait of dawn and be jerked into eternity. when over my head a shooting star Bur s (t into a stale shriek like an alarm-clock)
E. E. Cummings, 100 Selected Poems, 1959.
Source: “American boxer Classius Clay (later Muhammad Ali) (center), dressed in a tuxedo, holds court at a diner with fans, friends, and admirers after his defeat of Sonny Liston”, Bob Gomel, 1964, Miami, USA.
Wassili Kandinsky, Couple à cheval, 1906-1907, huile sur toile, 55 x 50,5 cm, Städtische Galerie im Lenbachhaus, Munich.
Source: “Le mythe de la couleur”, 29 juin au 21 novembre 2012, Fondation Pierre Gianadda, Martiny.
Shin’Ichiro Watanabe and Keiko Nobumoto, Cowboy Bebop, 1998-1999.
Dark Secret
Fukugawa Hachiman Matsuri, Tokyo, Japan, 2015.
Source: Mystic Cheesecake Balloon
Le vingt-cinq septembre douze cent soixante-quatre, au petit jour, le duc d’Auge se pointa sur le sommet du donjon de son château pour y considérer, un tantinet soit peu, la situation historique. Elle était plutôt floue. Des restes du passé traînaient encore çà et là, en vrac. Sur les bords du Ru voisin, campaient deux Huns; non loin d’eux un Gaulois, Eduen peut-être, trempait audacieusement ses pieds dans l’eau courante et fraîche. Sur l’horizon se dessinaient les silhouettes molles de Romains fatigués, de Sarrasins de Corinthe, de Francs anciens, d’Alains seuls. Quelques Normands buvaient du calva. Le duc d’Auge soupira, mais n’en continua pas moins d’examiner attentivement ces phénomènes usés. Les Huns préparaient des stèques tartares, le Gaulois fumait une gitane, les Romains dessinaient des grecques, les Sarrasins fauchaient de l’avoine, les Francs cherchaient des sols et les Alains regardaient cinq Ossètes. Les Normands buvaient du calva. _ Tant d’histoire, dit le duc d’Auge au duc d’Auge, tant d’histoire pour quelques calembours, pour quelques anachronismes. Je trouve cela misérable. On n’en sortira donc jamais?
Raymond Queneau, Les fleurs bleues, 1965.
Ferdinand Hodler, Le Männlichen, 1908, huile sur toile, 57 x 71,5 cm, collection Christoph Blocher.
Source: “Hodler, Monet, Munch: Peindre l’impossible”, 15 janvier 2016 au 22 janvier 2017, Musée Marmottan-Monet, Paris.
A Season in Sète, Etang de Thau, France, 2014-2015.
Source: Mystic Cheesecake Balloon.
I've a pocket full of dreams to sell," said Teddy, whimsically,... "What d'ye lack? What d'ye lack? A dream of success--a dream of adventure--a dream of the sea--a dream of the woodland--any kind of a dream you want at reasonable prices, including one or two unique little nightmares. What will you give me for a dream?
Lucy Maud Montgomery, Emily Climbs, 1925.