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David Lynch’s thoughts on death 🕊️

Video by @alecogg

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Please don't touch my heart, it's already been through a long journey. Now it just wants to rest in peace with the rest of my bones.

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“The documentary power of photography is undeniable, but for me as an artist, the magic lies in its potential to transcend reality.” - Sander Vos

Sander Vos is a London-based photographer whose captivating imagery invites viewers deep into his imagination.

When you first set eyes on Sander’s work, it might be easy to assume you were looking at pieces by a surrealist great or a modernist icon from the interwar period, rather than that of a contemporary artist a century later. Yet, though the Dutch artist’s work undoubtedly bears the influence of these luminaries, his style is very much his own.

The surrealist element to his work is palpable, particularly in his various fine art series. His creative use of light, texture, and layering engenders intriguing compositions that stir the imagination and evoke the work of greats like Man Ray or Curtis Moffat.

#independentphoto #blackandwhitephotography #photochallenge #portraitphotography #photojournalist #photographer #fineart #bw #people #photography #bnw #streetphotography #artist #photostory #award #monochrome #surreal #humanity #pictureoftheday #photocompetition #candid #artist #blackandwhite #fineartist #portraits #art #artist #landscape #photoinspiration⁠ #fineart

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Oh, bathe me with your strength and take me where all the promises are.

River, by Joni Mitchell

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I want to leave all the doves

In the cedar of your soul

And all the kiss on your feet

That you stop looking at me mockingly

I know that I am giving you little

And I will ask you for much

Be the lonely cloud in my meadow

I will be your beloved green

And you will be a shadow in my half

And if you see that my green is burning

Your tearful sorrow will rain

And the new green will be made

And that you do not go away in February

Behind that black flock

, towards the pine forest

I also want to be the owner of the sky and a pine forest

But it is necessary

That you teach me to fly

Become a nearby Sun in the distance

Become a log in the memory

And burn inside me

I do not want to have more cold nights

Or be able only in dreams

To wake up next to you

That we have around us

Who bellows our names

And much shade to give

And when we get to the earth

Join me in sap

So we will make shade just the same

And don't leave in February

Behind that black flock,

towards the pine forest

I also want to be the owner of the sky and a pine forest

Silvina Garré

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Artist: Inge Schuster. “Jazz in the streets”

Each images was crafted in Midjourney, refined in Lightroom and brought to life in Luma Dream Machine.

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“The next morning I got up early, cut myself a stick and set off for a walk outside the town limits. I’ll walk, I thought, and forget my sorrows.”— Ivan Turgenev

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Marriage Story (2019)

directed by Noah Baumbach

cinematography by Robbie Ryan

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I wandered lonely as a cloud

That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;

Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the milky way,

They stretched in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:

Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:

I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;

And then my heart with pleasure fills,

And dances with the daffodils.

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud By William Wordsworth

Artist: @ingeschuster

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Danez Smith, Don't Call Us Dead

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Sometimes my soul is in mourning. My heart bursts into tears and my body descends into the depths of pain and blood that eats away at it. Already destroyed, I would like to see a thread of light that will simply save it, just once, just once.

Sylwia Anna Photographer

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Clarice Lispector, A Breath of Life

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Maggie Smith was not just a legend on stage and screen, but she was a beloved mother and grandmother, often talking in recent years about how happy and thriving she was in her “granny era.” As we often talk about here at The Sunday Paper, Smith truly helped to refine aging with humor and grace. It is not often that someone is beloved by generation after generation for so many different reasons, yet that was Smith. She truly will be missed, but may we cherish her memory. #architectsofchange

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A brilliant and talented actress, we will miss you deeply. 💔 #damemaggiesmith

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(For those who know the language of birds…)

A curious encounter unfolds within me somewhere between a memory and a dream. A strange little girl, no more than seven winters old, seated at a timeworn table beneath the gnarled branches of an ancient oak, her eyes a peculiar blend of innocence and knowing beyond her years.. Across from her, is the Raven King—a creature both majestic and inscrutable, draped in feathers as dark as the void between stars. His eyes, glimmering with secrets, are fixed upon the girl, and his sharp beak almost - but not quite - curls into a knowing smile.

The tea, a silvery brew with the aroma of autumn and twilight, swirls in the cup with a life of its own, reflecting an ephemeral dance of light that filters through the canopy of trees. As the girl pours a cup, her expression is curious and intent, as though the tea itself speaks the Raven King’s secrets of unremembered realms and forgotten dreams.

And it is here where the boundaries of what is known dissolve. The Raven King, a being of ancient wisdom and whimsical charm, and the little girl, a symbol of untamed curiosity, share a communion that transcends the ordinary. Their tea party, a ritual of shared enchantment and whispered tales, is a testament to the boundless magic that permeates the inner realm of every woman who secretly knows she is a bird girl.

This work then is not meant as a mere capturing of a moment but a reminder of soul and a true north, as well as an invitation to journey into the heart of a world where the fantastical and the real are intertwined in a delicate dance. That to be alive is a mystery and within the realm of the extraordinary, even the most mundane moments are forever suffused with wonder and magic.

“Tea With the Raven King”

#hookland

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Willow Springs (1973), dir. Werner Schroeter

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the unbearable lightness of being, philip kaufman 1988 / henri de toulouse-lautrec/ peter wever / egon schiele