Monthly Archives: May 2016

siobhan gallagher

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Please, Jesus, Siobhan, plz be my best friend, plzzzzz. These are the BEST EVER.

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not another one…

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So, we have another crisis. I’m gonna put it right alongside Britney circa 2007 and world hunger. I found another Gauguin work I don’t despite with every fiber of my being.

People ask me all the time, “Why do you hate Gauguin so much?” And I’m like, I just do. I don’t ask why your facial hair is actually ridiculous. I don’t ask why you’re wearing that jean jacket with that terrible lasercut skirt.

Mette Gauguin en Robe du Soir (French makes it even more tolerable!) was painted in 1884, years before he met van Gogh and became a high school girl gossiping at his locker with Emile Bernard about other painters. It’s also an early work of his career, so I like how this piece is more subtle in its colors. Another sign of this being early is how his woman subject is, uh, wearing clothes.

Mette was his wife who gave him (count ’em) FIVE CHILDREN. They separated after she cited their “difference in values.”

Way to go, Mette! I’m glad you recognized a sucker when you see one.

in new york?

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Go see this scale model of the “PsychoBarn,” by Cornelia Parker. More here.

I tried to see it a few weeks ago, but was refused to be taken by my host because I hadn’t ever seen the movie Psycho before…fast forward to that Saturday night, where we watched the movie and pounced on two pints of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food.

Soliddddd.

woman on a terrace

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Antoine Vestier really cracks me up. Like, his titles are the most ridiculously vague things I have ever read. The one above is called “Portrait of a Woman on a Terrace, a Landscape Beyond.”

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This one’s “Woman with a Book Next to a River Source.”

A RIVER SOURCE. Girlfriend’s just chillin’ at streams, reading. GOOD. That’s my ideal Tuesday. Whenever someone asks what I like to do for fun, from now, I’m just going to say, “You know what? Nothing gets me more excited than reading at the joining of two streams to create a damn river.”

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the new novel

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Winslow Homer showed The New Novel in 1877. This scene is everything I hope for on almost every occasion…even when I’m scheduled to be somewhere very important.

Fun Fact: Apparently, leisure reading was considered a sultry task, and one article I read about this completely overreads into this work’s “blatant sensuality” with her foot stretched out “like a cat.”

GET REAL. Stop imagining things! Sometimes a cigar’s just a cigar.

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eugenie estruc

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I can’t tell you how much I like this portrait of Eugenie Estruc by Camille Pissarro. The artist’s niece really seems to hate just about everything around her, and that’s generally how I feel on Sundays.

goFUNdme

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Here’s the deal. I never, EVER post personal information on this thing (except for bad dates and my hatred for Mondays). Most of that is like, universal, though, yeah?

But I figured I’d take a stab (insert Charlotte Corday and Marat joke here) about promoting something I super need help with.

Long story short, I used to teach in Baltimore City and now I don’t. They want money back for my certification, even though I was non-renewed by a spiteful administration. Whatever. I need help.

THIS IS THE GOFUNDME LINK. THIS RIGHT HERE.

Even if you donate what you’d spend on coffee + doughnuts to this, it’s something and it means A LOT TO ME.

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If I had a dollar for how many times I’ve been called frigid this week…I’m sure I could afford the intricate fabric and gold inlay of all these nice things. And, yep, I’d probably be just. as. frigid.

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I was so hopeful for the week. Like, glitzed up, dressed-up-in-silk and pouting, hopeful.

And then I got to work. No, actually, it’s when my alarm went off.

I didn’t even give myself the option of yards of silk. I went with a zipped-back sweater and called it a day.

 

pissarro

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With weather like this, I’m refusing to go out and celebrate any sort of aerial views. I’ll just pretend I’m looking out to this beautiful view of Camille Pissarro’s Boieldieu Bridge, though I’m really just watching House of Cards with my second pot of coffee.

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