April142014
11PM

(Source: c-inismus, via c-i-g-a-r-r-o-s)

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(Source: h0-w, via helloomandi)

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darksilenceinsuburbia:

Marius Schultz

First there was nothing. A story of the universe told by trees.

In most religions trees tells the story of wisdom and the circle of life. But what do they see? Besides the tree, the branches, the leaves, and the roots? My project is to discover the trees, the growth through seasons — with beauty and reality in mind. Not as a painter or a fairytale teller. But as a watcher of today. The red haired girls represent the relation of time and human reproduction. Trees alone doesn’t tell anything without humans. The project started in 2008 and will continue.

From Norse mythology:

In the middle of Asgard, where the gods lived, was Yggdrasil. Yggdrasil was the tree of life. It was an eternal green Ash tree; its branches stretched out over all of the nine worlds, and extended up and above the heavens. (See more at: http://www.viking-mythology.com/yggdrasil.html)

The tree of life, referred to in Genesis, is the symbol of God’s provision for immortality in the Garden of Eden. Of all the trees that were in the Garden of Eden, two were named for their great importance, but just as one — the tree of life — was a blessing to Adam and Eve, the other was to become a curse for all of their posterity. “And the Lord God made all kinds of trees grow out of the ground — trees that were pleasing to the eye and good for food. In the middle of the garden were the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil” (Genesis 2:9).

Website

12AM

80slove:

Ferris

(via tacitadetang)

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darksilenceinsuburbia:

Tsutomu Yamagata

Thirteen Orphans

This is the story of the singular people who gather at the lotus pond in Tokyo.

One day an old man in a plain suit sat next to me by a pond in a park. He began to put powder on his face and changed into a woman’s kimono. He started dancing to the Japanese ballad that came over his radio, smiling all over his face. He told me that he was a master of Japanese dancing, that he was a homosexual, and that he had cancer. Another day, I met an old millionaire in underwear who rode a rickety bicycle, and yet another day, I met a devilish-looking man who in fact was a mammy’s boy. The pond is a wide lotus pond called Shinobazunoike. As I went there more often, I met more people like them. Before long, I began to take photographs of them and listen more to their stories.

There is something about the people I met at the pond that peculiarly attracts me, something more than just how they look, just what they say about themselves. It is as if they had a kind of magnetic power, unseen and quiet, further attracting those who take a close look at them.

I go to the pond often and share time with the people. Each subject has his or her own background and character so unique that no stereotype can define them. It is as if all sorts of mutually-conflicting and complex human characters – vigor and weakness, harshness and gentleness, beauty and ugliness, and so forth – all reveal themselves as they are in each person, and quietly create a magnetic power of his or her own.

Website

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