everything dear

Amazing works in  felt - Amsterdam View high resolution

Amazing works in felt - Amsterdam

Richard Serra, Verb List Compilation - Actions to Relate to Oneself (1967 - 1968) View high resolution

Richard Serra, Verb List Compilation - Actions to Relate to Oneself (1967 - 1968)

Jules Olitski, Arnolfini Baby

"There is value in long years of obscurity, if one doesn’t go insane or suicidal, in that, simply because no-one is looking, the habit of fooling around and trying things out gets ingrained" Jules Olitski
View high resolution

Jules Olitski, Arnolfini Baby

"There is value in long years of obscurity, if one doesn’t go insane or suicidal, in that, simply because no-one is looking, the habit of fooling around and trying things out gets ingrained" Jules Olitski

Jules Olitski, Cleopatra’s Flesh

Jules Olitski, Cleopatra’s Flesh

Awelye & Bush Melon by Betty Mbitjana View high resolution

Awelye & Bush Melon by Betty Mbitjana

sophiemunns:

‘counting the inheritance I’ 2002
sophie munns

sophiemunns:

‘counting the inheritance I’ 2002

sophie munns

i12bent:

Today’s mini feature - Men Who Write…
Ted Hughes - Aug. 17, 1930 - 1998 - a fine poet.
****
The Thought-FoxI imagine this midnight moment’s forest:Something else is aliveBeside the clock’s lonelinessAnd this blank page where my fingers move.Through the window I see no star:Something more nearThough deeper within darknessIs entering the loneliness:Cold, delicately as the dark snowA fox’s nose touches twig, leaf;Two eyes serve a movement, that nowAnd again now, and now, and nowSets neat prints into the snowBetween trees, and warily a lameShadow lags by stump and in hollowOf a body that is bold to comeAcross clearings, an eye,A widening deepening greenness,Brilliantly, concentratedly,Coming about its own businessTill, with a sudden sharp hot stink of foxIt enters the dark hole of the head.The window is starless still; the clock ticks,The page is printed.
(Photo: Fay Godwin, 1971 - bromide print, NPG, Londo)

i12bent:

Today’s mini feature - Men Who Write…

Ted Hughes - Aug. 17, 1930 - 1998 - a fine poet.

****

The Thought-Fox

I imagine this midnight moment’s forest:
Something else is alive
Beside the clock’s loneliness
And this blank page where my fingers move.

Through the window I see no star:
Something more near
Though deeper within darkness
Is entering the loneliness:

Cold, delicately as the dark snow
A fox’s nose touches twig, leaf;
Two eyes serve a movement, that now
And again now, and now, and now

Sets neat prints into the snow
Between trees, and warily a lame
Shadow lags by stump and in hollow
Of a body that is bold to come

Across clearings, an eye,
A widening deepening greenness,
Brilliantly, concentratedly,
Coming about its own business

Till, with a sudden sharp hot stink of fox
It enters the dark hole of the head.
The window is starless still; the clock ticks,
The page is printed.

(Photo: Fay Godwin, 1971 - bromide print, NPG, Londo)

Cory Wakurtu, Surprise, 1995

Cory Wakurtu, Surprise, 1995

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