Seen recently: The Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston.
Admired: There’s so much movement in this painting, and yet so much balance. It manages to convey an engulfing atmosphere that it presides in the most soulful place on the planet. The distribution of light works to create an ambiguity of the dancer’s contorted body, blurring her directionality. There’s also a shout out to Delacroix’s Liberty, this time interpreted as a tortured journey.
amazing afternoon with my ladies at the turkish baths in the east village. i feel like once a week something happens that reminds me how much i love new york city. whether its a cab ride over the brooklyn bridge as i fawn over the beautiful brights lights of the city, or a shared meal with friends where everybody i meet introduces me to a new and exciting world; i fall in love with new york again and again. today it was the turkish baths. i’ve walked by so often, and wondered what laid beyond those ominous doors. walking inside, you feel like you are transported to another world, when you traveled around europe, stayed at hostels, met strangers that you shared far too intimate stories with, never to see again. perhaps a more brazen, freer time of your life. that’s what this felt like, smack in the middle of the east village. we sweated, froze, were covered in mud, and i loved every minute of it.
although i think the descendants seems to be a bit over hyped, i do think that it’s actually a good representation of the complicated nature of grief. it’s not an easy thing to understand or to know how to handle when life treats you to it’s scariest subject matter. i remember the morning of my mothers funeral, my brother asked me if we were supposed to wear black…why should we know? oftentimes movies represent grief as black and white: somebody dies in your family, you are sad. but it’s much more than that. it’s all the feelings you had for this person when they were alive, and a fast forward reconciliation of what they will be to you for the rest of your life.
i liked the idea that george clooney’s character didn’t know what to do and he needed his daughter to guide him. his need to somehow face his own emotions while trying to stay strong to guide his daughters through theirs is not an easy task. it’s a tough business, grieving, and it’s certainly nice to see it reflected through a more realistic lens.
thanksgiving at casa de duval
we are but small creatures in this vast universe
one of the things that my mother and i shared was our eyes. she had beautiful hazel eyes that were littered with millions of freckles that you could only really see when you got up close.
now in my life, i hold our signature commonality close to me, as they make me feel like a part of my mother still resides inside of me, and when i look at myself, i can remember her shining eyes through mine.
eyes dotted
freckled with the experience of a lifetime
each dot signified pain
one for the loss of a loved one
what a sorrow
a child is such a precious gift
only to be taken away without any explanation
one for the loss of a loved country
we always associate ourselves
with the country of our homeland
one for the disintegration of a soul
how hard it must be
to live, knowing,
that you are dying
and one for the disintegration of a body
this cancer was incurable
an internal fight
we share so much
we share our blood
our skin
our culture, religion
yet we also share
our eyes
the windows to the world inside
we still share so much
our hearts
our loves
our memories
our loss
dina biblarz, 2000
(via architizer)
Dina, you are now a lovely young woman with a college degree. Use your charm and intuition for the good of humankind and never forget your roots. - my dad, 2004.
