I'll Say, it's Ilse!
I'm Ilse, a 20-year-old, aspiring artist from southern California, and this is my personal blog.

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dreeastwood:

Wuuuuuuut

dreeastwood:

Wuuuuuuut

bejwelled:

Blue- Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, Yves Klein

1956- Gordon Parks documented the everyday lives of an extended black family living in rural Alabama under Jim Crow segregation for Life magazine’s photo-essay “The Restraints: Open and Hidden.” (via)

mutations:

bettafish-resistance:

thebluelip-blondie:

ras-al-ghul-is-dead:

A silent protest in Love Park, downtown Philadelphia orchestrated by performance artists protesting the murder of Michael Brown in Ferguson. The onslaught of passerby’s  wanting to take photos with the statue exemplifies the disconnect in American society.  Simply frame out the dead body, and it doesn’t exist.  

Here are some observations by one of the artists involved in the event:

I don’t know who any of these folks are.

They were tourists I presume.

But I heard most of what everything they said. A few lines in particular stood out. There’s one guy not featured in the photos. His friends were trying to get him to join the picture but he couldn’t take his eyes off the body.

"Something about this doesn’t feel right. I’m going to sit this one out, guys." "Com’on man… he’s already dead."

(Laughs.)

There were a billion little quips I heard today. Some broke my heart. Some restored my faith in humanity. There was an older white couple who wanted to take a picture under the statue.

The older gentleman: “Why do they have to always have to shove their politics down our throats.” Older woman: “They’re black kids, honey. They don’t have anything better to do.”

One woman even stepped over the body to get her picture. But as luck would have it the wind blew the caution tape and it got tangle around her foot. She had to stop and take the tape off. She still took her photo.

There was a guy who yelled at us… “We need more dead like them. Yay for the white man!”

"One young guy just cried and then gave me a hug and said ‘thank you. It’s nice to know SOMEBODY sees me.’

I’m just gonna keep reblogging this because this is truly how white America works. Like people have their weddings on plantations, Blackface was and still is a major source of entertainment and the biggest movie of all time was Gone With the Wind. White America will kill Black people and then smile and laugh and enjoy their day it sickens me that we’re treated this way.

There are no words.

are you fucking kidding me

bemoretea:

Put the petal to the mental and daydream. #BeMoreTea
Credit: Sam Cannon

bemoretea:

Put the petal to the mental and daydream. #BeMoreTea

Credit: Sam Cannon

cubebreaker:

TurboRoo, a chihuahua born without its front legs, was given a 3D printed cart made by San Diego firm 3dyn so he could train to be a service dog for disabled children.

NOOooo00ooOo

first-june:

loveyourchaos:

fatrat66:

The Avenue of Giants. The scenic 101 route in California, home of the Redwoods. 

This made my heart jump.

CAN YOU SAY ROADTRIP modern-musings

one of my goals in life is to see the redwoods

first-june:

loveyourchaos:

fatrat66:

The Avenue of Giants. The scenic 101 route in California, home of the Redwoods. 

This made my heart jump.

CAN YOU SAY ROADTRIP modern-musings

one of my goals in life is to see the redwoods

”i paint myself because i am so often alone”

bunnyjennyphotos:

jordantiberio:

Jordan Tiberio. Lacuna, 2013-2014. Double exposure on medium format.

October, 2013,  I used to fall asleep to the melancholy lullabies of your memory each night.  Tossing and turning I’d hope the thoughts of you would seep out of my ears if I moved with enough force, but my attempts always failed.  You see, when you were mine, and as your fingers would travel along the landscape of my limbs, seeds were planted within my bones.  Your love would arrive in the form of a storm, and I was always without my umbrella.  I remember feeling the rosebuds cracking through my marrow; my skin flushing the crimson color of their newborn petals.  Their roots rejoiced to the nurturing of your lips as they danced across my flesh.  But only a year after you planted your garden, a drought abruptly roared over my plains.  Those once luscious flower beds on my bones have now been long wilted, for my heart is void of the kind of love it desires the most. 

Your voice was an octave equal to the song of the birds in the early morning, waking up the Earth.  And it was not until I was no longer awoken by it, and I forgot its sweet melody, that I realized heartbreak does indeed fade away.  At some point my memories of you started to become diluted, some of them possibly existing as figments of my own imagination, never having existed in the first place.  And even if I wish not to admit it, I’d fantasize about your next relationship.  What if you loved them more?  What if you forgot about me?  It is hard for one to imagine a love with anyone but their ex-lover, so we scoff at how they seem so unaffected by the sadness they’ve inflicted on our hearts.  But experiencing these overwhelming daydreams only lead me to the same realization that forgetting the sound of your voice did.  One day I will love someone new just as you will.  And maybe his hands will plant a new flower all of his own in the bones you have left behind.

Artifacts of you will still resurface when the future farmers of your old land harrow the soil, and when they do I will dust them off and position them proudly on my mantle.  Because it is okay to hold onto distant times.  I will never apologize for the days I spend dreaming, or the evenings I bathe in nostalgia.  I refuse to let go of the memory of how your eyes were the colors of emeralds I wish I could wear around my neck.  And I may never cease reliving the ecstasy that was once so plentiful because I can’t just let you fade away.  I loved you first.  These are my memories— only I can control their fate— and they are what will make me feel alive.  No matter where you are, you will always be with me, and although we may no longer be in love, I still love you.

But while I’m here I must not deprive myself of joy, for we’ll all become just impressions in the bed sheets one day.

I’m happy drew and I were a part of this series. jordan is an incredible artist. I love all of these.

bhickencig:

This is easily one of the coolest sculptures I ever seen.

bhickencig:

This is easily one of the coolest sculptures I ever seen.

wispygirl:



Beauty and The Beast


A female freediver takes in the underwater scene, as a lemon shark slowly swims by

Whoa

wispygirl:

Beauty and The Beast
A female freediver takes in the underwater scene, as a lemon shark slowly swims by

Whoa


Michael Fassbender | L’uomo Vogue

Michael Fassbender | L’uomo Vogue


viα destroyed-and-abandoned: Mossy table tops at an abandoned hotel in Japan

viα destroyed-and-abandoned: Mossy table tops at an abandoned hotel in Japan

nowinexile:

The last words said by Black youth murdered by policemen.