Tyler The Creator, 2021

Palestinian resistance fighter reading “Quotations from Chairman Mao”, 1969

Roberto Burle Marx. Garden Design Saenz Peña Square, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil, Plan, 1948. Gouache on paper, 24 3/8 x 40" (61.9 x 101.6 cm). The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Gift of Philip L. Goodwin

Residential Interiors, 1992

Frida Kahlo, Moses, 1945.

My love, The moment has come to send you a farewell tasting of earth (dry leaves, something far away and disused). I wanted to do this with lines that don’t reach the margins—often called poems—but I have failed. There are so many intimate things for your ears only that words cannot express, only the shy algorithms that amuse my breaking wave. The noble trade of poet is not for me. It isn’t that I don’t have sweet things to say. If you only knew what is contained there in a whirl inside me. But the shell that contains them is too long, convoluted and narrow. They emerge, exhausted from the journey, and in a bad mood, elusive; the sweetest ones are the most fragile and are left behind, shattered, disparate vibrations… I’m a useless medium. I would disintegrate trying to convey everything at once. Let’s use everyday words to capture the moment. […] That is how I love you, remembering the bitter coffee every morning, the taste of the dimple in your knee, the ash of a cigar delicately balanced, the incoherent grumbling with which you defend your impregnable pillow.[…] That is how I love you, watching the children grow, like a staircase with no history (and I suffer because I can’t witness those steps). Every day, it’s like a stabbing in my side, upbraiding the idler from its shell. This will be a real farewell. Five years in the mire have aged me. Now there remains only one last step—the definitive one. The siren songs have ended, and so has my inner conflict. Now the flag is raised for my last race. The speed will be such that screams will accompany me. The past has come to an end; I am the future in progress. Don’t call me, because I won’t be able to hear you. But I will sense you on sunny days, under the renewed caress of bullets. […] I will keep a look out for you, in the way a dog remains alert while it’s resting, and I will imagine every part of you, piece by piece, and altogether.If one day you feel the force of an overbearing presence, don’t turn around, don’t break the spell, just keep on preparing my coffee, and let me experience you in that instant, for al

Emily Jacir

‘MEMORIAL TO 418 PALESTINIAN VILLAGES WHICH WERE DESTROYED, DEPOPULATED AND OCCUPIED BY ISRAEL IN 1948′

A refugee tent embroidered with the names of the 418 Palestinian villages.

“blue nude”, 2015 by Norman Engel

Junji Ito  //  Hayao Miyazaki

Christina Bothwell (American, b.1960 - working in rural Pennsylvania)

cast glass with mixed media (stone, ceramic, taxidermied animal elements) - 2007 - 2017

While You Were Sleeping

When the Body Sleeps

Season

Dreaming

I Fell Into a Dream

Mermaid

Baby Mermaid

Flightless Woman

Octopus Girl

in collaboration with Robert Bender - Dream Within a Dream

http://christinabothwell.com/