Malland. Murals. Magnificent.

Seth Malland

sleep-mural-seth-malland

You MUST check out more at Seth Globalpainter’s website at GlobalPainter. (Especially “Walls”).

“Julien Seth Malland’s murals revive crumbling walls with vibrant images of children immersed in galaxies of color. The Paris-based artist, who also goes by the pseudonym Seth Globepainter, adds depth to flat, brick-and-plaster walls with a palette of vibrant hues that seem inspired by a crayon box.” (Source: mymodernmet)


The morning is the best time

sky-above-clouds-IV-Georgia-O'Keeffesky-above-the-clouds-IV-Georgia-O'Keeffe

The dirt resists you.  It is very hard to make the earth your own.  I’ve done much less to try to make it mine.  All my association with it is a kind of freedom.  Yet it’s hard to live at the ranch.  When I first came here I had to go 70 miles on a dirt road for supplies.  Nobody would go by in two weeks.  I thought the ranch would be good for me because nothing can grow here and I wouldn’t be able to use up my time gardening.  But I got tired of canned vegetables so now I grow everything I need for the year at Abiquiu.  I like to get up when the dawn comes.  The dogs start talking to me and I like to make a fire and maybe some tea and then sit in bed and watch the sun come up.  The morning is the best time, there are no people around.  My pleasant disposition likes the world with nobody in it.

~ Georgia O’Keeffe


Credits: Quote – Thank you Rob Firchau @ The Hammock Papers. Image: Sky Above The Clouds IV by Georgia O’Keeffe from mbell

Blue

blue-mist-dreamy-photography

The photographer is marco andres argüello. He was born and raised in McAllen, Texas and is currently living in Miami Beach, Florida.  Be sure to check out his amazing web site here. My favorite collections are Greek Isles, Island and Ultraviolet.


Soure: eikadan


It’s like pulling into our own train station after a long trip

book-reading-murakami

When you love something like reading — or drawing or music or nature — it surrounds you with a sense of connection to something great. If you are lucky enough to know this, then your search for meaning involves whatever that Something is. It’s an alchemical blend of affinity and focus that takes us to a place within that feels as close as we ever get to “home.” It’s like pulling into our own train station after a long trip — joy, relief, a pleasant exhaustion.

~ Anne Lamott, Stitches. A Handbook on Meaning, Hope & Repair


Image: iwetaczech

T.G.I.F.: It’s been a long week

ostrich-funny-TGIF


Barcelona based photographer Yago Partal pairs animal heads with human bodies to reveal their inner beast through their clothes.  Don’t miss other Zoo Portraits in the series at mymodernmet.com.

Unread. And looming.

books-reading-illustration-gif

My reading backlog, tweaking me, ever present, ever growing.
Unread books on night stand.
Unread eBooks slumbering on my Kindle.
Unread magazines. Hard copy + digital.
Unread newspapers. Hard copy + digital.
Unread articles and blog posts on my Pocket App and Evernote App.
Unread emails in a reading folder on gmail.
All swelling, bulging, throbbing – an alien blob slime slowly cutting oxygen.

Kooser chanting: I travel the endless reaches of my ignorance, all of the books I haven’t read, and never will, come rolling at me out of the dark like a hail of asteroids.

Apparently, I don’t suffer my affliction alone:

“Many people are drowning in magazines, articles, newsletters, books and blogs they want or need to read. Is it possible to get to Magazine Zero?…”

“Three in four people say they feel overwhelmed some or all of the time by too much information from magazines, newspapers and other media…”

“Everybody has this deep dark feeling that they aren’t keeping up…”

“I hope at some point I’ll catch up…”

Read more on how others are coping here: How to Declutter Your Magazine Pile: Prioritize and ‘ABR —always be reading” with digital apps and iPods


Image Source: sentimientos-en-el-aire

Riding Metro North. With the Crusaders.

art-sky-blue-clouds

It’s 27° F. I’m fast stepping to catch the 6:16 am train to Grand Central. My soles are snapping the rock salt crystals. The eyes are scanning the sidewalk on the look out for black ice. It’s March. It’s damn cold. I shiver. It’s over. It’s over soon.

I review my notes for my 8:30 am presentation. And then shift to the morning papers.  I scan my calendar.  I complete the Morning rituals. I’m done early.

The gear box is misfiring. Where’s the pre-game anxiety? Where’s the morning email missives? Where’s the pullin’ Locomotive?

The noise-canceling earphones and the music player are dialed up. I’ve encased Myself inside Myself. Myself and Bob Seger, Against the Wind.

My phone vibrates signaling a text from Rachel — she’s two trains behind me. Hi Daddy! I send her a link in reply: FDA Panel Backs Kythera Double-Chin TreatmentThanks Dad. Another genetic beauty mark that you’ve passed down to me. I chuckle. She’s mine. Not yet 7 am and she’s counterpunching. That’s My Girl.

The train enters a long, slow curve into Manhattan.  Rachel is leaning into the curve, behind but with me — her electronic Hi Daddy, Oliver’s soft wind, like a belt of silk, wraps the house.

We’re in the tunnels. The normal pulse escalation zone. I’m watching the Commuters scrambling to gather their bags to prepare for ejection.  I’m watching. Sitting. At Peace, Calm and Centered – with Seger crooning in the background. Damn de-stabilizing. Mad-Man turned Zen.

I let the masses pour out of the train and clear. I follow behind the herd.

I exit out onto 42nd Street and Vanderbilt, and she catches me catch her eye.

I’m OFF. Again. FAIL! Commuters Creed: Avoid eye contact. [Read more…]

But, not yet have I reached that bright life or that white happiness – not yet.

bell-church-monk-russia-kosnichev

Men and women of faith who pray – that is, who come to a certain assigned place, at definite times, and are not abashed to go down on their knees – will not tarry for the cup of coffee or the news break or the end of the movie when the moment arrives. The habit, then, has become their life. What some might call the restrictions of the daily office they find to be an opportunity to foster the inner life. The hours are appointed and named; they are the Lord’s. Life’s fretfulness is transcended. The different and the novel are sweet, but regularity and repetition are also teachers. Divine attentiveness cannot be kept casually, or visited only in season, like Venice and Switzerland. Or, perhaps it can, but then how attentive is it? And if you have no ceremony, no habits, which may be opulent or may be simple but are exact and rigorous and familiar, how can you reach toward the actuality of faith, or even a moral life, except vaguely? The patterns of our lives reveal us. Our habits measure us. Our battles with our habits speak of dreams yet to become real. I would like to be like the fox, earnest in devotion and humor both, or the brave, compliant pond shutting its heavy door for the long winter. But, not yet have I reached that bright life or that white happiness – not yet.

~ Mary Oliver, Long Life: Essays and Other Writings


Art: Oldsamovar (Art by Alexanderliech Kosnichev)

 

Transfiguration (aka Wow)

transfiguration-ben-hopper-flamingo

“Photographer Ben Hopper‘s “Transfiguration” project transforms his subjects into living sculptures. Each photo is charged with kinetic energy, only heightened by the bold streaks of body paint and splatters of white powder. Some of the photographs look like cubist paintings because of the contrast between black, white, and human flesh along with the seemingly impossible angles and feats of flexibility performed by the subjects. The body paint looks almost like strokes of charcoal, creating depth while also the illusion of two-dimensionality.”

transfiguration-ben-hopper-1

Don’t miss 34 other incredible shots here: Transfiguration – Ben Hopper’s Blog


Source: Precious Things 

MMM*: And you say, what?

turned-sheet-gerhard-richter-art

Poets must read and study, but also they must learn to tilt and whisper, shout, or dance, each in his or her own way, or we might just as well copy the old books. But, no, that would never do, for always the new self swimming around in the old world feels itself uniquely verbal. And that is just the point: how the world, moist and bountiful, calls to each of us to make a new and serious response. That’s the big question, the one the world throws at you every morning. “Here you are, alive. Would you like to make a comment?” This book is my comment.

~ Mary Oliver, Long Life: Essays and Other Writings


Notes: 1) MMM* = Monday Morning Mantra. 2) Turned Sheet (1965) by Gerhard Richter via vjeranski