Jalz
Poster art
"The Azadi (“Freedom”) tower is one of Tehran’s most recognisable 20th-century landmarks. Built under the reign of the last Shah of Iran, it was finished in 1971 and named Shahyad Tower (Shah Memorial Tower). Following the 1979 revolution, associations with royalty were swiftly removed. Now, it’s being associated with freedom from the very regime which renamed it.
The Iranian graphic designer Jalz has drawn on the tower for one of his designs in support of the recent protest movement. “This is the sole image of Iran’s freedom,” argues Jalz. Combining an image of the tower with Matisse’s dancers and the “women, life, freedom” protest slogan which is so central to the movement, he wanted to complete the sense of freedom for the female body."
– From ‘Something in me sparked’: the Iranian women using art to protest, The Guardian
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Maria Lassnig
Self-portraits
"We’re just starting to understand that just because you’re born with a certain set of genes, you’re not in a biologic prison as a result of those genes — that changes can be made to how those genes function, that can help.
And maybe some changes are more likely to occur than others, and some genes are more flexible than other genes, but the idea is a very simple idea, and you hear it from people all the time. People say, when something cataclysmic happens to them, “I’m not the same person. I’ve been changed. I am not the same person that I was.”
And we have to start asking ourselves, well, what do they mean by that? Of course, they’re the same person. They have the same DNA, don’t they? They do. And what I think it means is that the environmental influence has been so overwhelming that it has forced a major constitutional change, an enduring transformation. And epigenetics gives us the language and the science to be able to start unpacking that"
– Rachel Yehuda, from The On Being Podcast, How Trauma and Resilience Cross Generations
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Cosmos Within
Hand-cut collage by @muchadoaboutcutting
"An important current in modern Western thinking about religion [...] has been to emphasise experience as being at the heart of religion. Indeed, many have claimed that… there is an experience common to diverse cultures and histories, and that if we strip away this overlay we will discover a common core experience, variously expressed as a sense of divinity, a sense of the ‘numinous’, of merging into an ocean of joy, or becoming one with the divine, and so on. Diverse religions are different paths to the same goal of a unified mystical experience."
– From the introduction to The Tantric Body: The Secret Tradition of Hindu Religion, by Gavin Flood
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Emma Kunz
Geometric drawings
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Roderic O'Conor
Red rocks and sea
Oil on canvas
[...] There is no sand here, only pebbles and driftwood and shells. Everything scrapes against us, leaves a mark on our skin: rocks, wind, salt. The cold hurts at first but we push ourselves headfirst into the waves and come up screaming, laughing. I push away all thoughts of jellyfish and stingrays, the ones the orca sometimes come to hunt. The shore in sight, I float on my back and let the ocean hold me in its arms. Big invisible currents surge up from beneath, rocking me closer. I dip my head backwards and there is tiny Mākaro Island hanging upside-down in my vision, perfectly symmetrical and green, as if it’s only just risen out of the sea.
– from ‘Small Bodies of Water’, by Nina Mingya Powles
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To the Light of September | W.S. Merwin
When you are already here
you appear to be only
a name that tells of you
whether you are present or not
and for now it seems as though
you are still summer
still the high familiar
endless summer
yet with a glint
of bronze in the chill mornings
and the late yellow petals
of the mullein fluttering
on the stalks that lean
over their broken
shadows across the cracked ground
but they all know
that you have come
the seed heads of the sage
the whispering birds
with nowhere to hide you
to keep you for later
you
who fly with them
you who are neither
before nor after
you who arrive
with blue plums
that have fallen through the night
perfect in the dew
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Victoria Crowe
Oil painting
“Some species of trees spread root systems underground that interconnect the individual trunks and weave the individual trees into a more stable whole that can’t so easily be blown down in the wind. Stories and conversations are like those roots.”
— Rebecca Solnit, “A Short History of Silence”
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Zanele Muholi
Somnyama Ngonyama [Hail the Dark Lioness]
“I’m reclaiming my blackness, which I feel is continuously performed by the privileged other. My reality is that I do not mimic being black; it is my skin, and the experience of being black is deeply entrenched in me. Just like our ancestors, we live as black people 365 days a year, and we should speak without fear."
– Zanele Muholi
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Yayoi Kusama
Painting
“The moving moment when I went into the universe”
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Bill Brandt
East Sussex Coast
Strange house we must keep and fill.
House that eats and pleads and kills.
House on legs. House on fire. House infested
With desire. Haunted house. Lonely house.
House of trick and suck and shrug.
Give-it-to-me house. I-need-you-baby house.
House whose rooms are pooled with blood.
House with hands. House of guilt. House
That other houses built. House of lies
And pride and bone. House afraid to be alone.
House like an engine that churns and stalls.
House with skin and hair for walls.
House the seasons singe and douse.
House that believes it is not a house.
– Tracy K. Smith, Ash
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October | Don Thompson
I used to think the land
had something to say to us,
back when wildflowers
would come right up to your hand
as if they were tame.
Sooner or later, I thought,
the wind would begin to make sense
if I listened hard
and took notes religiously.
That was spring.
Now I’m not so sure:
the cloudless sky has a flat affect
and the fields plowed down after harvest
seem so expressionless,
keeping their own counsel.
This afternoon, nut tree leaves
blow across them
as if autumn had written us a long letter,
changed its mind,
and tore it into little scraps.
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Rinko Kawauchi
Photography
This paying attention is the foundational act of empathy, of listening, of seeing, of imagining experiences other than one’s own, of getting out of the boundaries of one’s own experience.
– From The Mother of All Questions, Rebecca Solnit
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