pennymoons

Hullo. This is where I devise my infinite cat's cradles of could-have-beens.

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likeafieldmouse:

Rooms with a View 

This exhibition focuses on a subject treasured by the Romantics: the view through an open window. German, French, Danish, and Russian artists first took up the theme in the second decade of the nineteenth century.

Juxtaposing near and far, the window is a metaphor for unfulfilled longing. Painters distilled this feeling in pictures of hushed, spare rooms with contemplative figures; studios with artists at work; and open windows as the sole motif. As the exhibition reveals, these pictures may shift markedly in tone, yet they share a distinct absence of the anecdote and narrative that characterized earlier genre painting.”

1. Peter Ilsted

2. Carl Holsøe

3. Léon Cogniet

4. Wilhelm Bendz

5. Alfred Broge

6. Caspar David Friedrich

7. Georg Friedrich Kersting

8. Jacobus Vrel

9. Johann Erdmann Hummel

10. Vilhelm Hammershøi

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Leo Berne

Leo Berne

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Withnail & I (1986)

Withnail & I (1986)

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Guy Billout

Guy Billout

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Jim Hodges - Give More Than You Take (2014)

Jim Hodges - Give More Than You Take (2014)

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Completely immersing my last days of summer in Eliot’s Middlemarch. Sweet Jesus. A 900-page novel and every single page is wrought of gold (even if I am only on page 200). As Zadie Smith said, George Eliot really does seem to solve “the head/heart schism of literature” - such distinct emotions, such unaffected and feeling descriptions & remarks. A perfect amalgamation of all that is beautiful and raw in messy little human beans.
"We are all of us born in moral stupidity, taking the world as an udder to feed our supreme selves: Dorothea had early begun to emerge from that stupidity, but yet it had been easier to her to imagine how she would devote herself to Mr. Casaubon, and become wise and strong in his strength and wisdom, than to conceive with that distinctness which is no longer reflection but feeling—an idea wrought back to the directness of sense, like the solidity of objects—that he had an equivalent centre of self, whence the lights and shadows must always fall with a certain difference."

Completely immersing my last days of summer in Eliot’s Middlemarch. Sweet Jesus. A 900-page novel and every single page is wrought of gold (even if I am only on page 200). As Zadie Smith said, George Eliot really does seem to solve “the head/heart schism of literature” - such distinct emotions, such unaffected and feeling descriptions & remarks. A perfect amalgamation of all that is beautiful and raw in messy little human beans.

"We are all of us born in moral stupidity, taking the world as an udder to feed our supreme selves: Dorothea had early begun to emerge from that stupidity, but yet it had been easier to her to imagine how she would devote herself to Mr. Casaubon, and become wise and strong in his strength and wisdom, than to conceive with that distinctness which is no longer reflection but feeling—an idea wrought back to the directness of sense, like the solidity of objects—that he had an equivalent centre of self, whence the lights and shadows must always fall with a certain difference."

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I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By the false azure in the windowpane

-Vladimir Nabokov +

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jacobvanloon:

Sketchbook pages, 2012-14

#1 left panel, #4 right panel, #5 left panel - Studies of Carravagio, Tarkovsky’s Stalker, and Edward S. Curtis respectively

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Mirror by Sverrir Thorolfsson on Flickr.

Mirror by Sverrir Thorolfsson on Flickr.

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brightwalldarkroom:

What will your verse be?

(Dead Poets Society, 1989)

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