traces
Ruth Halbert: looking, thinking, making
  • mondonoir:

    Lena Nyadbi, Jimbala Country (2001), natural earth pigments and synthetic binder on canvas

    (via artpropelled)

    • 400
    • 400
  • "What If… What if our religion was each other? If our practice was our life? If prayer was our words? What if the Temple was the Earth? If forests were our church? If holy water—the rivers, lakes and oceans? What if meditation was our relationships? If the Teacher was life? If wisdom was self-knowledge? If love was the center of our being?"
    Ganga White (via shaktilover)
    • 93
  • lawrenceleemagnuson:

    Joseph Mallord William Turner


    Joseph Mallord Wlliam Turner (1775-1861)
    Sunset Over Petworth Park (1828)
    gouache 139 x 193 cm
    The National Gallery of Ireland

    • 324
    • 324
  • "                                         What makes us leave what we love best?
    What is it inside us that keeps erasing itself
    When we need it most,
    That sends us into uncertainty for its own sake
    And holds us flush there
                                        until we begin to love it
    And have to begin again?
    What is it within our own lives we decline to live
    Whenever we find it,
                                         making our days unendurable,
    And nights almost visionless?
    I still don’t know yet, but I do it."
    Charles Wright, “25 – 29 August 1984,” The World of the Ten Thousand Things: Poems 1980-1990. Farrar, Straus and Giroux (September 1, 1991)

    (Source: observando, via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

    • 487
  • "We pretend that the worst fate would be for people to hate us when our back is turned, but the real pain — the one made all the more unbearable by how true it actually is — is not being thought of at all."
    Chelsea Fagan, What It Means To Be Young (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)
    • 41
  • "

    No story is like a wheeled vehicle whose contact with the road is continuous. Stories walk, like animals or men. And their steps are not only between narrated events but between each sentence, sometimes each word. Every step is a stride over something not said.

    The suspense story is a modern invention…and consequently today one may tend to overestimate the role of suspense, the waiting-for-the-end, in story-telling. The essential tension in a story lies elsewhere. Not so much in the mystery of its destination as in the mystery of the spaces between its steps towards that destination.

    All stories are discontinuous and are based on a tacit agreement about what is not said, about what connects the discontinuities. The question then arises: Who makes this agreement with whom? One is tempted to reply: The teller and the listener. Yet neither teller nor listener is at the centre of the story: they are at its periphery. Those whom the story is about are at the centre. It is between their actions and attributes and reactions that the unstated connections are being made.

    "
    From Another Way of Telling, by John Berger and Jean Mohr (via literarypiano)

    (via catherinewillis)

    • 20
  • lawrenceleemagnuson:

    Vilhelm Bjerke-Petersen (Denmark 1909-1957)
    Day and Night (1943)
    oii on canvas 32 x 40 cm

    • 240
    • 240
  • lawrenceleemagnuson:

    Frits Thaulow (Norway 1847-1906)
    Woman with a Faggot in Winter Landscape (1875)
    oil on paper mounted on board

    • 14
    • 14
  • lawrenceleemagnuson:

    Christian Krohg (Norway 1852-1925)
    Ivan Wolkof med sin balalaika
    oil on canvas

    • 20
    • 20
  • lawrenceleemagnuson:

    Paul Klee (1879-1940) Later Work
    Morgengrau - Grey Morning (1932)
    gouache on paper laid down on the artist’s mount 33 x 41 cm

    • 107
    • 107