on the day that you were born the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true
(Source: peyotecoyote, via beocean)
(via s-tarly)
"the rapturous satisfactions of consumption surround us, clinging to objects as if to the sensory residues of the previous day in the delirious excursion of a dream"
baudrillard
(Source: klaumich, via jesuisperdu)
me being one of them. this is terrible.
Unprecedented number of sea otter deaths along California coast: After being brought back from the brink of extinction, the mammal is again in peril. The U.S. Geological Survey reported that 335 dead, sick or injured otters were found in 2011, a record high.
Photo: A sea otter basks in the sun in Moss Landing Harbor in Monterey Bay. The U.S. Geological Survey reported that 335 dead, sick or injured otters were found along the California coast in 2011, a record high. Credit: Vern Fisher / Monterey County Herald
(Source: Los Angeles Times)
This is the Printmaker when he/she experiences the following: a stone breaks, buys brittle rubylith, a screen fills in, a plate gets accidentally left in the acid for three days, cuts too much away from their block, you realize you should work downtown taking fingerprints from criminals because that is what your prints look like anyway, woodblock is warped, copper gets scratched, stone fills in, screen rips, cuts finger with gouge, film has banning, underexposes, overexposes, nice round scratches on your perfectly grained stone, beer runs out, holes stretch on paper, some douche prints on the felts, someone hides the last scoop of photo-emulsion, type gets slammed on the tympan, ink bronzes when dry, yellow ink turns green on copper, some dick uses cheesecloth as tarlatan, technician buys the cheap ass tint base that is yellower than benz, some eco-friendly person tries to tell them that water based inks are equal to oil, someone has hidden the opaque white….again, someone forgot to clean the roller (and slab, and ink knives, and edge of table, and the fan, and the can of ink they were using, and their fucking hands which have left fingerprints all over the press, prints, drying rack, water fountain, doorknob, acid bottles, cheesecloth, stone lift, and everything else they happened to touch), someone didn’t clean the emulsion tray, someone didn’t put the type back in the shelves, it takes four days to etch a plate because of weak mordant, there is more ink on your face than on paper, why do my prints suck-ass, someone used your paper you had soaking for two hours, relief block filled in because the ink was too soupy, relief block printed gray because you didn’t have enough ink on it, beveling……what’s that?, the squeegee is dull, your registration got fucked somehow, over packed cylinder, ink smudges out from the bottom of your plate because you didn’t think to clean the back of it before putting it on the press (you are the same person who printed on the felts), someone used the yellow tarlatan for blue ink, fuck me, is she really going out with him, ink bleeding like a stuck pig, someone forgot to clean the sides of the roller, you realize that your emulsion was still wet when you exposed your screen (or better yet, knew it was wet but were in a hurry and didn’t give a flying fuck about anyone else…..dickhead), rollers are hard as a rock, the nitrile glove box is empty (but then you remembered you don’t wear them anyway, do you?), when your friend tells you he/she has made a digital print and now they are a printmaker, what’s ventilation, you want to use the drying rack but someone has had their prints in there for over a month, your print has water streaks all over it, your ink is dry on that screen dummy, someone has left more grease on the bottom of the tympan then the top, you want to use the ink but it feels as if someone super-glued the top to the can, the 80 grit is out so have fun using 100 for a hour, hand cleaner is empty…hello shitty pink liquid, water bowls are black with ink, not a clean sponge within a mile, you don’t know which is the mag, whiting or talc, more scratches on the exposure unit than last semester, is that letter press or braille, where is the duck tape, who left this crumb here, why am I doing this?????????? Add on at your discretion.
paolo pellegrin
Richard Estes. Kentucky Fried Chicken, 2007. Screen-print with 110 colors, Image: 24” x 16”
Just when you were telling your friends last night at 2 AM that you were a really good screen-printer.
"
There must be quite a few things a hot bath won’t cure, but I don’t know many of them. Whenever I am sad I’m going to die, or so nervous I can’t sleep, or in love with somebody I won’t be seeing for a week, I slump down just so far and then I say: “I’ll go take a hot bath.”
I mediate in the bath. The water needs to be very hot, so hot you can barely stand putting your foot in it. Then you lower yourself, inch by inch, till the water’s up to your neck.
I remember the ceiling over every bathtub I’ve ever stretched out in. I remember the texture of the ceilings and the cracks and the colors and the damp spots and the light fixtures. I remember the tubs, too: the antique griffin-legged tubs, and the modern coffin-shaped tubs, and the fancy pink marble tubs overlooking indoor lily ponds, and I remember the shapes and sizes of the water taps and the different sorts of soap holders.
I never feel so much myself as when I’m in a hot bath.
I lay in that tub on the seventeenth floor of this hotel for women-only, high up over the jazz and push of New York, for near onto an hour, and I felt myself growing pure again. I don’t believe in baptism or the waters of Jordan or anything like that, but I guess I feel about a hot bath the way those religous people must feel about holy water.
"Plath
