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Over The Waves by Setsuko Matsushima

art quilt

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Kirsten Chursinoff

A selection of berry-themed textile art. Free-motion machine quilting and hand embroidery, using some quilting and applique techniques.

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Lantanas in the afternoon.

Bsky / Tip jar

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LA Cares AIDS campaign (c.1984) starring Zelda Rubinstein Zelda Rubinstein was a little person (the term she preferred) who began acting in her 40's. Her big break came in 1982 with her role as Tangina Barrons in the film Poltergeist.

In 1984, she was the the central figure in a series of advertisements, directed towards gay men specifically, promoting safer sex and AIDS awareness. Rubinstein did so at risk to her own career, especially so shortly after her rise to fame, and admitted later that she did "pay a price, career-wise." "I lost a friend to AIDS, one of the first public figures that died of AIDS," the actress said in an interview with The Advocate. "I knew it was not the kind of disease that would stay in anybody's backyard. It would climb the fences, get over the fences into all of our homes. It was not limited to one group of people." She attended the first AIDS Project Los Angeles AIDS Walk. (Source:Wikipedia)

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Aref El-Rayess (1928 - 2005) - Jeddah (The Calm Shore). 1982. Oil on canvas.

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Untitled from the Desert series, Aref El Rayess, 1988

Oil on canvas 29 ⅞ x 48 in. (76 x 122 cm)

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A bond made of fire and spider webs

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to do: love & make art // watercolor, gouache, ink

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projection

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Se van rompiendo cosas

en la casa

como empujadas por un invisible

quebrador voluntario:

No son las manos mías,

ni las tuyas,

no fueron las muchachas

de uña dura

y pasos de planeta:

no fue nada y nadie, 

no fue el viento, 

no fue el anaranjado mediodía 

ni la noche terrestre,

no ni la nariz ni el codo, 

la creciente cadera, 

el tobillo, 

ni el aire

se quebró el plato, se cayó la lampara,

se derrumbaron todos los floreros

uno por uno, aquel

en pleno octubre

colmado de escarlata,

fatigado por todas las violetas,

y otro vacío 

rodó, rodó, rodó 

por el invierno 

hasta ser solo harina 

de florero

recuerdo roto, polvo luminoso. 

Y aquel reloj

cuyo sonido 

era

la voz de nuestras vidas,

el secreto 

hilo 

de las semanas, 

que una a una 

ataba tantas horas

a la miel, al silencio, 

a tantos nacimientos y trabajos,

aquel reloj también 

cayó

y vibraron 

entre los vidrios rotos 

sus delicadas vísceras azules,

su largo corazón

desenrollado.

 

La vida va moliendo 

vidrios, gastando ropas,

haciendo añicos,

triturando 

formas

y lo que dura con el tiempo es como

isla o nave en el mar,

perecedero,

rodeado por los frágiles peligros,

por implacables aguas y amenazas.

 

Pongamos todo de una vez, relojes,

platos, copas talladas por el frío,

en un saco y llevemos

al mar nuestros tesoros:

Que se derrumben nuestros posesiones 

en un solo alarmante quebradero,

que suene como un río 

lo que se quiebra

y que el mar reconstruya 

con su largo trabajo de mareas

tantas cosas inútiles 

que nadie rompe

pero se rompieron.

— Pablo Neruda, Oda a las Cosas Rotas

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By Cassandra Jean

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Anna Haifisch

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Oh, a dainty plant is the Ivy green,

that creepeth o'er ruins old!

Of right choice food are his meals, I ween,

in his cell so lone and cold. 

The wall must be crumbled, the stone decayed,

to pleasure his dainty whim,

and the mouldering dust that years have made

is a merry meal for him.

Creeping where no life is seen,

a rare old plant is the Ivy green.

Fast he stealeth on, though he wears no wings,

and a staunch old heart has he.

How closely he twineth, how tightly he clings,

to his friend, the huge Oak Tree! 

And slily he traileth along the ground,

and his leaves he gently waves

as he joyously hugs and crawleth round

the rich mould of dead men's graves.

Creeping where grim death has been, 

a rare old plant is the Ivy green.

Whole ages have fled and their works decayed

and nations have scattered been;

but the stout old Ivy shall never fade

from its hale and hearty green.

The brave old plant, in its lonely days,

shall fatten upon the past:

for the stateliest building man can raise

is the Ivy's food at last.

Creeping on where time has been,

a rare old plant is the Ivy green.

— Charles Dickens, The Ivy Green

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GIRLY JUST FOUND OUT ABOUT CYERCE ELEGANS

If Cyerce nigricans is a butterfly, then this is a fairy... Cyerce nigricans for comparison:

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My Brilliant Friend, Elena Ferrante

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If someone was walking across

your lawn last night, it was me.

While you dreamt of prowlers, I was

prowling down empty lates, to breathe

the conifer coolness of just 

before dawn. Your flowers were closed,

your windows black and withdrawn.

Sometimes I see a square of

yellow light shining through the trees,

and I cross the grass and look in.

Your great body on the bed

is nude and white, and though I'm starved

for love like everyone, the sight

of your black sex leaves me cold.

What would I say to a squad car

if it came on its noiseless tires

and picked me out with its lights, like

a cat or a rabbit? That I

only wanted to see how people 

live, not knowing how? That I

haven't had a woman in months?

Therefore I stay out of sight

and do not speak. Or if I speak,

I make small animal sounds

to myself, so as not to wake you.

They were tears full of seed. What

I wanted to do was enter

and bend and touch you on the cheek.

— Robert Mezey, A Confession

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Poppies, Robert Vonnoh, 1888