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#joe brainard
sapphireshorelines · 6 days ago
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August 1st Today is the first day of August. Sniff. July is over. I got up this morning at 6:30. I don’t know why. The dew was very thick and beautiful. All white. Now, however, the sun is out. The sky is blue. And it is going to be a beautiful day. [...]
August 1st Yesterday was not the first day of August. Today is. A free day. Bill and I tried to collaborate this morning but it didn’t work out. [...]
Aug. 3rd Actually I am not sure if today is the 3rd or not. It might be the 4th or the 5th. It really doesn’t matter. [...]
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1. The poem present only in a letter Dickinson had sent to Higginson in August 1877, that Popova imagines to have been possibly written having witnessed the eclipse on September 29, 1875:
It sounded as if the streets were running— /And then—the streets stood still—/ Eclipse was all we could see at the Window/ And Awe—was all we could feel. / By and by—the boldest stole out of his Covert/ To see if Time was there/ Nature was in her Opal Apron—/ Mixing fresher Air.
2. Asaph Hall was about to give up his frustrating search for a Martian moon one August night in 1877, but his wife Angelina urged him on. He discovered Deimos (pic 1 below) the next night, and Phobos (pic 2 below) six nights after that. (x)
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Joe Brainard, Dairy 1969 | Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway, 1925 | Mary Oliver, August, 1993 | Vincent van Gogh, Sorrowing Old Man (At Eternity's Gate), 1890 | Maria Popova, Figuring, 2019 | Ocean Vuong, Night Sky With Exit Wounds, 2016 | Taylor Swift, August, 2020
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archivedeathdrive · a month ago
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Joe Brainard, Untitled, 1970
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grundoonmgnx · 10 months ago
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Joe Brainard (American, 1942-1994), Untitled (Toothbrushes), 1973-74 
Oil on canvas, 12 x 9 in
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las-microfisuras · 8 months ago
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Joe Brainard, 1975
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mildlydiscouraging · 2 years ago
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Art + Chilling on a Green Sofa
“He is lounging on the olive green velvet sofa with two patterned pillows. Very focused in. (No eliminations.) Very French. Also a bit, alas, Sargent.”
— Joe Brainard, letter to Fairfield Porter, 1973
Ramon Casas, “Jove decadent. Després del ball” (1899) / Joe Brainard, “Whippoorwill” (1973) / John Singer Sargent, “Nonchaloir (Repose)” (1911) / Salman Toor, “East Village Apartment II” (2017) / Joe Brainard, “Untitled (Whippet on Green Couch)” (1973) / John Lavery, “The Green Sofa” (c. 1903)
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1221ea · a year ago
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Pansies by seminal queer artist Joe Brainard, 1968
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serpentinesheldonserpentine · 5 months ago
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It was the best of times, it was the absolute best of times.
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Joe Brainard was born March 11 in 1942.
Anyone curious about life in the 50’s and 60’s in the USA for white folks of average means should peruse Brainard’s I Remember. Chances are you’ll smile with recognition.
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garadinervi · a year ago
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«The World», No. 16, Edited by Anne Waldman and Lewis Warsh, Poetry Project, New York, NY, 1969. Feat. Ted Greenwald, Joe Brainard, Clark Coolidge, Frank O'Hara, Aram Saroyan, John Giorno among others
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chainsawpunk · a year ago
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Joe Brainard, Untitled, 1971
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leggerezza-dell-essere · a year ago
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____Joe Brainard.
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commetombeunarbre · 2 months ago
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Death has a very black reputation but, actually, to die is a perfectly normal thing to do.
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elizabethanism · 9 months ago
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“I Remember,” by Joe Brainard
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sublecturas · 9 months ago
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“Me acuerdo y otros autorretratos”, de Joe Brainard
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grundoonmgnx · 10 months ago
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Joe Brainard (American, 1942-1994), Untitled (Portrait of Joe), n.d. 
Mixed medai, 11 x 9.5  in
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archivedeathdrive · a year ago
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thelonelymonths · 12 months ago
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I Remember
Based on “I Remember” by Joe Brainard. Part of my writing through trauma series.
I remember the coupon bin I’d look through after Girl Scout meetings, when my troop leader would call my mom to come get me so she could lock up.
I remember the foggy windows of my neighbor’s car, how I’d draw on them as she drove me to choir concerts because my parents were working late.
I remember the purple dress I wore for my third-grade ballet recital.
I remember how few times I’ve felt noticed.
I remember the diamond pattern of the seat cushions at my grandma’s funeral.
I remember the nun who held my hand as I cried, as she whispered to me, “heartbreaks don’t last forever.” She smelled like vanilla, and passed away the following December.
I remember five winters in a row of strep throat. The pattern ended the next year, after my doctor said I’d have to have my tonsils removed if it happened again.
I remember how much it takes to be sick, and to dance, and to die.
I remember my friend driving to the school to pick me up an hour after rehearsal ended. He brought his dogs with him, in an attempt to cheer me up, and cussed out my parents for forgetting again.
I remember the rotten banana on the floor of my sister’s car. We laughed at it. She gave the excuse of “it’s not bad. it’s just cold.”
I remember having to walk home from musical practices when my father wouldn’t answer my texts.
I remember being cold.
I remember how fast my heart was pounding the first time I snuck out of the house.
I remember the arcade games in the back of The Smiling Moose.
I remember the shitty music loudly thumping through the speakers, played by less shitty (but equally loud) people.
I remember chugging water out of Dixie cups– I had to stay hydrated enough to body check anyone who tried to cause problems.
I remember stickers covering the walls of the disgusting bathroom.
I remember the warmth of every stranger whose hand I’ve held.
I remember grape soda. And toast.
I remember late night photo shoots on Mt. Washington trails.
I remember being remembered.
I remember it’s getting cold again.
I remember I hate the cold.
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biblioklept · 8 months ago
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If Nancy Knew What Wearing Green and Yellow on Thursday Meant -- Joe Brainard
If Nancy Knew What Wearing Green and Yellow on Thursday Meant — Joe Brainard
If Nancy Knew What Wearing Green and Yellow on Thursday Meant, 1972 by Joe Brainard (1942– 1994) 
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