This section may have poems with themes of death/animal death
I pause for a moment at your door
And consult my fate
This life is more stupid than even I could have hoped for
Every day a search party gets lost in the snow
With no one to dig them out again
I have tried for too long to act in ways that seem reasonable
Yet somehow, this makes me double-unreasonable?
Like flicking someone’s bra-strap at a coroner’s inquest
The official theme of this poem is
The official theme of all my poems which is
You get in love and then you die!
Oh write it in rhinestones on the lid of my coffin
Some people are too hard to be lived without
Once upon a time I used to feel like............huh
But then I started to feel a little more like..................................uhuh
Once upon a time I used to feel like.................??
But then I started to feel a little more like.................................????????
Having already walked out on everyone I ever said I loved
Things do not bode well for you
But things do also not bode well for me
Every year life gets less and less acceptable
And I feel uncertain of how to proceed in an appropriate fashion
To anticipate heartache is a grim satisfaction
Like tripping down a staircase in a peach negligee
Or an ancient forest with a new corsage of flames
It pleases me to subject myself to such whimsical hurt feelings
But under my main feelings, I have other, worse feelings
Like an auxiliary moat in which black swans are circling
If I ever die young I’m going to do it in style
.....like a Great Gatsby-themed suicide attempt!
Having already walked out on everyone I ever said I loved
I have so little left to say to you
I pause for a moment at your door
My eyes pouring out across the darkness
Oh let us not be little bitches to one another
Life is hard enough as it is
Life is hard enough and fast enough
And there is nothing in this world worth doing
But shaking our heads in awe
A little wind shifts the branches
A bird flies out of the radio and off into silence
I can hardly believe this
I can hardly believe this life
Every time I knock you let me in
HAVING ALREADY WALKED OUT ON EVERYONE I EVER SAID I LOVED by Hera Lindsay Bird
And consult my fate
This life is more stupid than even I could have hoped for
Every day a search party gets lost in the snow
With no one to dig them out again
I have tried for too long to act in ways that seem reasonable
Yet somehow, this makes me double-unreasonable?
Like flicking someone’s bra-strap at a coroner’s inquest
The official theme of this poem is
The official theme of all my poems which is
You get in love and then you die!
Oh write it in rhinestones on the lid of my coffin
Some people are too hard to be lived without
Once upon a time I used to feel like............huh
But then I started to feel a little more like..................................uhuh
Once upon a time I used to feel like.................??
But then I started to feel a little more like.................................????????
Having already walked out on everyone I ever said I loved
Things do not bode well for you
But things do also not bode well for me
Every year life gets less and less acceptable
And I feel uncertain of how to proceed in an appropriate fashion
To anticipate heartache is a grim satisfaction
Like tripping down a staircase in a peach negligee
Or an ancient forest with a new corsage of flames
It pleases me to subject myself to such whimsical hurt feelings
But under my main feelings, I have other, worse feelings
Like an auxiliary moat in which black swans are circling
If I ever die young I’m going to do it in style
.....like a Great Gatsby-themed suicide attempt!
Having already walked out on everyone I ever said I loved
I have so little left to say to you
I pause for a moment at your door
My eyes pouring out across the darkness
Oh let us not be little bitches to one another
Life is hard enough as it is
Life is hard enough and fast enough
And there is nothing in this world worth doing
But shaking our heads in awe
A little wind shifts the branches
A bird flies out of the radio and off into silence
I can hardly believe this
I can hardly believe this life
Every time I knock you let me in
HAVING ALREADY WALKED OUT ON EVERYONE I EVER SAID I LOVED by Hera Lindsay Bird
!THIS POEM MENTIONS SUICIDE!
The days I don’t want to kill myself
are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people
in the streets waiting for their high fives
and leaping, I mean leaping,
when they see me. I am the sun-filled
god of love. Or at least an optimistic
under-secretary. There should be a word for it.
The days you wake up and do not want
to slit your throat. Money in the bank.
Enough for an iced green tea every weekday
and Saturday and Sunday! It’s like being
in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ.
Just reeks of gratitude and funk.
The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin
my love’s life today. It’s like the time I said yes
to gray sneakers but then the salesman said
Wait. And there, out of the back room,
like the bakery’s first biscuits: bright-blue kicks.
Iridescent. Like a scarab! Oh, who am I kidding,
it was nothing like a scarab! It was like
bright. blue. fucking. sneakers! I did not
want to die that day. Oh, my God.
Why don’t we talk about it? How good it feels.
And if you don’t know then you’re lucky
but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on, Everybody.
Say it with me nice and slow
no pills no cliff no brains onthe floor
Bring the bass back. no rope no hose not today, Satan.
Every day I wake up with my good fortune
and news of my demise. Don’t keep it from me.
Why don’t we have a name for it?
Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Hallelujah!
Hammond B3 Organ Cistern by Gabrielle Calvocoressi
are extraordinary. Deep bass. All the people
in the streets waiting for their high fives
and leaping, I mean leaping,
when they see me. I am the sun-filled
god of love. Or at least an optimistic
under-secretary. There should be a word for it.
The days you wake up and do not want
to slit your throat. Money in the bank.
Enough for an iced green tea every weekday
and Saturday and Sunday! It’s like being
in the armpit of a Hammond B3 organ.
Just reeks of gratitude and funk.
The funk of ages. I am not going to ruin
my love’s life today. It’s like the time I said yes
to gray sneakers but then the salesman said
Wait. And there, out of the back room,
like the bakery’s first biscuits: bright-blue kicks.
Iridescent. Like a scarab! Oh, who am I kidding,
it was nothing like a scarab! It was like
bright. blue. fucking. sneakers! I did not
want to die that day. Oh, my God.
Why don’t we talk about it? How good it feels.
And if you don’t know then you’re lucky
but also you poor thing. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Let the whole neighborhood hear. Come on, Everybody.
Say it with me nice and slow
no pills no cliff no brains onthe floor
Bring the bass back. no rope no hose not today, Satan.
Every day I wake up with my good fortune
and news of my demise. Don’t keep it from me.
Why don’t we have a name for it?
Bring the bass back. Bring the band out on the stoop.
Hallelujah!
Hammond B3 Organ Cistern by Gabrielle Calvocoressi
I am not ready to die yet: magnolia tree
going wild outside my kitchen window
& the dog needs a house, &, by the way,
I just met you, my sisters & I
have things to do, & I need
to talk on the phone with my brother. Plant a tree.
& all the things I said I’d get better at.
In other words, I am not ready to die yet
because didn’t we say we’d have a picnic
the first hot day, I mean,
the first really, really hot day?
Taqueria. & swim, kin,
& mussel & friend, don’t you go, go, no.
Today we saw the dead bird, & stopped for it.
& the airplanes glided above us. & the wind
lifted the dead bird’s feathers.
I am not ready to die yet.
I want to live longer knowing that wind
still moves a dead bird’s feathers.
Wind doesn’t move over & say That thing
can’t fly. Don’t go there. It’s dead.
No, it just blows & blows lifting
what it can. I am not ready
to die yet. No.
I want to live longer.
I want to love you longer, say it again,
I want to love you longer
& sing that song
again. & get pummeled by the sea
& come up breathing & hot sun
& those walks & those kids
& hard laugh, clap your hands.
I am not ready to die yet.
Give me more dreams. To taste the fig.
To hear the coyote, closer.
I am not ready to die yet.
But when I go, I’ll go knowing
there will be a next time. I want
to be like the cactus fields
I drove through in Arizona.
If I am a cactus, be the cactus
I grow next to, arms up,
every day, let me face you,
every day of my cactus life.
& when I go or you go,
let me see you again somewhere,
or you see me.
Isn’t that you, old friend, my love?
you might say, while swimming in some ocean
to the small fish at your ankle.
Or, Weren’t you my sister once?
I might say to the sad, brown dog who follows me down
the street. Or to the small boy
or old woman or horse eye
or to the tree. I know I knew I know you, too.
I’m saying, could this be what makes me stop
in front of that dogwood, train whistle, those curtains
blowing in that window. See now,
there go some eyes you knew once
riding the legs of another animal,
wearing its blue sky, magnolia,
wearing its bear or fine
or wolf-wolf suit, see,
somewhere in the night a mouth is singing
You remind me You remind me
& the heart flips over in the dusky sea of its chest
like a fish signaling Yes, yes it was me!
& yes, it was, & you were there, & are here now,
yes, honey, yes hive, yes I will, Jack,
see you again, even if it’s a lie, don’t
let me know, not yet, not ever, I need to think
I’ll see you, oh,
see you
again.
I Am Not Ready To Die Yet by Aracelis Girmay
going wild outside my kitchen window
& the dog needs a house, &, by the way,
I just met you, my sisters & I
have things to do, & I need
to talk on the phone with my brother. Plant a tree.
& all the things I said I’d get better at.
In other words, I am not ready to die yet
because didn’t we say we’d have a picnic
the first hot day, I mean,
the first really, really hot day?
Taqueria. & swim, kin,
& mussel & friend, don’t you go, go, no.
Today we saw the dead bird, & stopped for it.
& the airplanes glided above us. & the wind
lifted the dead bird’s feathers.
I am not ready to die yet.
I want to live longer knowing that wind
still moves a dead bird’s feathers.
Wind doesn’t move over & say That thing
can’t fly. Don’t go there. It’s dead.
No, it just blows & blows lifting
what it can. I am not ready
to die yet. No.
I want to live longer.
I want to love you longer, say it again,
I want to love you longer
& sing that song
again. & get pummeled by the sea
& come up breathing & hot sun
& those walks & those kids
& hard laugh, clap your hands.
I am not ready to die yet.
Give me more dreams. To taste the fig.
To hear the coyote, closer.
I am not ready to die yet.
But when I go, I’ll go knowing
there will be a next time. I want
to be like the cactus fields
I drove through in Arizona.
If I am a cactus, be the cactus
I grow next to, arms up,
every day, let me face you,
every day of my cactus life.
& when I go or you go,
let me see you again somewhere,
or you see me.
Isn’t that you, old friend, my love?
you might say, while swimming in some ocean
to the small fish at your ankle.
Or, Weren’t you my sister once?
I might say to the sad, brown dog who follows me down
the street. Or to the small boy
or old woman or horse eye
or to the tree. I know I knew I know you, too.
I’m saying, could this be what makes me stop
in front of that dogwood, train whistle, those curtains
blowing in that window. See now,
there go some eyes you knew once
riding the legs of another animal,
wearing its blue sky, magnolia,
wearing its bear or fine
or wolf-wolf suit, see,
somewhere in the night a mouth is singing
You remind me You remind me
& the heart flips over in the dusky sea of its chest
like a fish signaling Yes, yes it was me!
& yes, it was, & you were there, & are here now,
yes, honey, yes hive, yes I will, Jack,
see you again, even if it’s a lie, don’t
let me know, not yet, not ever, I need to think
I’ll see you, oh,
see you
again.
I Am Not Ready To Die Yet by Aracelis Girmay
Life is short, though I keep this from my children.
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
Good Bones By Maggie Smith
Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine
in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways,
a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways
I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least
fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative
estimate, though I keep this from my children.
For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird.
For every loved child, a child broken, bagged,
sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world
is at least half terrible, and for every kind
stranger, there is one who would break you,
though I keep this from my children. I am trying
to sell them the world. Any decent realtor,
walking you through a real shithole, chirps on
about good bones: This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful.
Good Bones By Maggie Smith
In a dream I meet
my dead friend. He has,
I know, gone long and far,
and yet he is the same
for the dead are changeless.
They grow no older.
It is I who have changed,
grown strange to what I was.
Yet I, the changed one,
ask: 'How you been?'
He grins and looks at me.
'I been eating peaches
off some mighty fine trees.'
A Meeting by Wendell Berry
my dead friend. He has,
I know, gone long and far,
and yet he is the same
for the dead are changeless.
They grow no older.
It is I who have changed,
grown strange to what I was.
Yet I, the changed one,
ask: 'How you been?'
He grins and looks at me.
'I been eating peaches
off some mighty fine trees.'
A Meeting by Wendell Berry
More amazed than anything
I took the perfectly black
stillborn kitten
with the one large eye
in the center of its small forehead
from the house cat’s bed
and buried it in a field
behind the house.
I suppose I could have given it
to a museum,
I could have called the local
newspaper.
But instead I took it out into the field
and opened the earth
and put it back
saying, it was real,
saying, life is infinitely inventive,
saying, what other amazements
lie in the dark seed of the earth, yes,
I think I did right to go out alone
and give it back peacefully, and cover the place
with the reckless blossoms of weeds.
The Kitten by Mary Oliver
I took the perfectly black
stillborn kitten
with the one large eye
in the center of its small forehead
from the house cat’s bed
and buried it in a field
behind the house.
I suppose I could have given it
to a museum,
I could have called the local
newspaper.
But instead I took it out into the field
and opened the earth
and put it back
saying, it was real,
saying, life is infinitely inventive,
saying, what other amazements
lie in the dark seed of the earth, yes,
I think I did right to go out alone
and give it back peacefully, and cover the place
with the reckless blossoms of weeds.
The Kitten by Mary Oliver
LINKS
https://danimotora.online/; really really cool artist https://www.victoriamanganiello.com/computer1; really cool art piece
http://www.aerocatures.com/; an old website full of old aeromorph art pieces (kind of interesting, I just don't want to loose this site)
WIP
IMAGES
This section has gore
This is honestly a real dump like im not sorting through any of these and theyre mostly added for their visual as ive not digged further into what they are so,,,, i'm very much debating removing this section, but it's a good motivator to finally add images to all these goddamn pieces ive only noted down by name
Mia Bergeron (American, b. 1980, New York City, NY, USA) - Lovers
Shannon Cartier Lucy, The Autopsy, 2021
gore sculptures by artist Cao Hui
Anna Haifisch
Charles M. Schulz Museum
WolfGeorg 1. Straßenkatzengang (Street cats gang) 2. Gefährliche Katzen (Dangerous Cats), 2018
Marie Liljedahl
tell me where it hurts, batancha, 2022
Fake Killer Plane, ccasino 2019
John Brosio - Dinosaurs Eating CEO (2013)
New Cats On The Blog Isabel reitemeyer 2017
Kat Lyons — Grotto
Deborah Sengl — Coro(h)na
na-,-abendessen,-2020,-acryl-auf-leinwand,-60-x-80-cm.jpg)
Miles Cleveland Goodwin (American, b. 1980) Ole Duke, 2015
Self Portrait as Vulture, bioluminator, 2020
Francisco Rodríguez, Man with Dog, 2022
Joanna Karpowicz (Polish, 1976) - Anubis Traveling (2014)
Rudolf Kosow (German, b.1972) Phenomenon II, 2018
hangry gouache, marker, and pen on wood spring 2022 goodpossums
Joey Ruddick 2022
Floating Island Pizza Hut by Scott Listfield
Study of a Fossa, evanlovejoy
"cat soup" (nekojiru-sou)
rey Abdella, Shocker, 2018
Marc Pouyet
Jo Tunn and Vinegar Tom. paolo
Stace Forand
ken lum
Yuzu Kato 'Borrowing from the Tiger's Majesty'.
Jaakko Pallasvuo / David Lynch (The Angriest Dog In The World)
Poéme Maudit by Santiago Caruso, 2013
Shinya Azuma - Flexible cat, 2022
liquid series by Dom Sebastian
Gianpaolo Pagni, DESSINS AU TAMPON (DAT)_A4_2023_023, 2023
Catupecu Machu - Eso vive (DVD) (2002) Cover design and artwork by: Sean Saylor Hueyo & Mariano Scotoni
Saul Steinberg, Country Noises.
Mark Vomit (2020)
Jess Dobkin’s “Its not easy being green”
To The Lightning, Catherine Ennis. 1988.
Paik/Abe Video Synthesizer
Jean-Vincent Simonet
Liz Daxauer
“Assembled”, Kitasavi
Inari Krohn, Finnish, 1945 The Shadow of the Bird, 2015
Mamoru Shimokochi, 1981
Alisa Shea, ‘A Feminine Touch’, 2021
Takagi Haruyama . Circa 1850
Ed Ruscha, Very Angry People, 1973
josep maynou
“Comme Un Frisson Dans L’Eau” photographed by Thomas
Takashi Murakami: Milk (1998)
Betty Busby, a textile artist
strange decanters by etienne meneau
The Original Rainbow Pride Flag (1978) by Gilbert Baker.
Grass - 1967. Art by Greg Irons & Tom Connell.
El Infierno de Mark Powell
Lucy Sparrow Opens The Bourdon Street Chemist, a Fully Stocked Felt Pharmacy
Heiko Hellwig
Erika Lee Sears
Wassily Kandinsky, Colorful Life, 1907
Andrew Wyeth, Wild Dog (1959)
crab. Moche culture, Peru. 6-7th century. copper.
Shoes, 1950-90, Xian, Shaanxi, Central China.
Genna Howard - Angel, 2019
Haley Wood
John Isaacs, ARE YOU STILL MAD AT ME, 2001
Kristine & Colin Poole, Hot Diggety Dog, 2015
Rafał Borcz
Motohiko Odani: Berenice (2003)
Berenice Darrer
Hans Erich Fischer - Schreitende Katze (1957)
river berumen
River Rocks in Lucite Cube Paperweight by William Rolfe
ha-ha fw16
Shauna Richardson, Hung Hare
Cart Mathieu. Blood. Photography
Lance Letscher (American b.1962) Pink Sparrow (2015)
https://www.tumblr.com/viciar/714816036384440320
Nostalgic Neopets, Michelle Marie Mears, Acrylic on Wood Panel, 2021.
'Disco' by yin_0909 on twitter
Tuesday Riddell — Seed Snow Stream 2021
'but ghosts haunt the day, don't they?' embroidery on calico fabric, 2023 thebonedogs
Mitsuru Watanabe — Yukiko dreaming (oil on canvas, 1996)
Lydia Blakeley (British, b. 1980) I hope this email finds you well ,2021
Rabbit on a Train by Michael Sowa
gauvainmanhattan on instagram
Sung Hwa Kim (Korean, 1985) - I woke up. The moon is full, so I send my wishes to the universe. (2021)
Chicago Tribune, Illinois, March 22, 1910
Day of dread, Tye Martinez
バケタン2号 アイボリー (baketan)
Artwork by Tsunotsuno (2022)
H. R. Giger: Harkonnen Chair (1965)
Bryan Christie: Every Angel is Terror (2014)
Andy Goldsworthy
Ken Gun Min - Xochipillia, 2022
today's menu, 1mhcl, 2023
Chester Arnold (American, b. 1952)
I Have Not Been As Others Were, 2015
Pair of Plane aerogon 2010
Mirror installation Heaven on Earth (2014) by Shirin Abedinirad
Paolo Meloni
ANNA BEEKE Mimic 2012
Small chapel in Cassel, France, 2018.
Masanori Umeda: Getsuen Lily Chair (1990)
ceramic mugs by tim kowalczyk
Michael Ayrton
‘Clinamen’, by Céleste Boursier-Mougenot
Aleksandra Waliszewska (Polish, b. 1976, Warsaw, Poland)Female Artists - Untitled, 2017, Paintings: Gouache on Paper
Simon Bussy - Bird of Paradise on a branch (1948)
Susumu Endo
wavy | Leica M6 | Pro Image 100 | 2020
Sue De Beer, Two Girls, 2001
A Thing Like You and Me, chalk pastel on paper 2023 groupcritpowerdynamics
Objecthouse, Cardboard, acrylic paint, 2022 groupcritpowerdynamics
Loren D. Adams Jr.
Jana Sterbak, Ethics, Virtue, Sexual Fantasies, and Reputation, 1987, embroidery on cotton
Hannah Knox
The Order of Release 1746 - Sir John Everett Millais, ( 1829-1896 )
Debra Spence (Australian, b. 1960) ‘After Tea and Cake’, 2022 Pastel pencils on pastelmat, 22 x 30cm
Kazuki Takamatsu
Georgia O’Keeffe
Dan Hays - Colorado Snow Effect (2008) - Oil on canvas
the lovers
Mozu: 名古屋展 (2021)
Sneha Solanki ‘The Lovers’
artwork by Stefan Visan
SPARKLEHEAVEN Student Research Show (2022) HOLY SHIT THEY DID IT!!!!!!!!! THEY FUCKING DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS WHAT ITS ALL ABOUT
Julia Kowalska (Polish, 1995) - Milky Blind Eye (2023)
Alfred Roll - Head of a Horse (n.d.)
Louise Bourgeois, Self Portrait. 2007. Bronze with silver nitrate patina; YAAAAAAAH!!!!! SELF PORTRAIT\
Minyoung Kim — Sharp Reflection (acrylic on unstretched canvas, 2023)
There Are So Many Ghosts at My Spot, Karman Verdi
TOOLbelt (2002) by Martha Summers
Sino-French Science Park Church
BOLAVLK/WEREAWOLF | animation student film 2023 [read CW in desc!] I WAS WAITING FOR THIS ONE. IT SERVED. hoooooooooolly shit the end the end the end the end the end the end we live in a time and age and this hitsso hard sournoodl is a genius
ad also you know what in the same chance Body of water by this artist is also incredible
@mrgryphon - The thrill, the fear, the hope, oil on paper, 2021 YESSSSSSSSS HAHAHAH!!!!!!!!! YES!!!!!!!!!
Adoration of the Magi, 2011 Eckart Hahn
How Much I Miss You acrylic paint on stretched canvas 30”x40” meowgirl300
schiaparelli spring summer 2024
the battle of versailles fashion show documentary
Untitled, 2022 Suzanne M. Shifflett
Gao Hang (Chinese, 1991) - Your Mountains Are So Fucking Full of Meaning (2021)
Dsquared2 Fall 2023 Menswear
‘burning at the fresh awareness of elsewhere’, 2023, wool and embroidery thread on hessian fabric, 90cm x 145cm (instagram)
Amanda Ba (Chinese-American, 1999) - I-71 (2023) <— painting of a chinese american on a motercycle
Dale Chihuly (*1941) <— glass works that look like anemones
Carlos Mensa - Fat with a Helmet (1974) <— incredibly beautiful painting of a woman wearing a helmet (gender
Caster Semenya
Rick Lowe
ashley williams ss24 metal axe by katherine gomez ⋆ cast in aluminum with gold and swarovski details
https://www.instagram.com/excellentname/
Gulch / Sunami - Split (2021)
A poster of printers marks. 2008 Fanette Mellier
reading in bed. painting by marta astrain.
Opal Mae Ong - There Was No Message Given, 2023
Y-3 by Yohji Yamamoto: Saeko Tsuemura Longsleeve Shirt, autumn/winter 2004
Butch, Katie Niles, 1994
Mayra Vom Brocke — En la Casa (In the House) [acrylic on canvas, 2019/2020]
Mildred Anne Butler - Shades of Evening (1904)
Wish You Were Here by Victoria Siemer
Tokujin Yoshioka MOT 2013 Crystal paintings, exposed for 6 months to the vibrations from Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake
necrocard, 1999 Color print on card paper | Stewart Home, Neoist Alliance
Patricia Piccinini — The Stags (fiberglass, automotive paint, leather, steel, plastic, and rubber, 2008)
Wendy Klemperer, Howling Naildog, 1999
top - Ana Rewakowicz: Inside Out (2001) bottom - Alex Schweder: Snowballing Doorway (2009)
john boskovich - feel it mothefuckers (1997)
Linus Borgo (American, 1995) - Fuzzy FTM Transsexual Amputee Plays with Magic Wand and Poppers (Self Portrait) (2020)
Pippa Garner "Act Like You Know Me"
Lucia Dovičáková — Dreaming About Death on Pink Sofa (oil, canvas, 2022)
All of your loved ones are here waiting - Parker S. Jackson
Patricia Piccinini — La Brava
https://twitter.com/arvaker_maksim
May Murad - Je ne suis pas un robot, 2021
Gerard Schlosser - Il n'y sera plus. 1989
treasure. gouache watercolor and digital collage
spectrum tea bowls by satoshi miyashita, 2023, ceramic glaze
Carolein Smit - Rakker mit gouden trannen (Rascal with golden tears) (2009)
closeness lines over time by olivia de recat