When I suggest a brunch spot known for chicken and waffles, even my dog is grateful.
Let the parade begin.
arthipstory
makin' art real talk
Category Archives: Art
dali-ve me alone.
Oh good, Wednesday. The day of the week where seconds melt like years, and Friday seems like a solid eternity away.
idol.
I love a good nonchalant gaze while dressed up in crepe.
just one more thing
Honestly, there are about seventy different captions I want to use on this:
Option A, to my blind date: “Do you mind repeating that thing about me being funny? I want to write that down.”
Option B, to my friend on the phone: “Okay, I’m ready to listen to all the problems you have with being single.”
Option C, to literally anyone in the workplace at 4:57: “Sure thing, I’m not busy at all. What can I help you with?”
Picasso was a rather significant procrastinator when he started painting Guernica in 1937. It was commissioned for the World’s Fair (held that year in Paris), but started it like, three weeks before the exhibition was scheduled to open. Three weeks, Pablo!? OH MAN. All my greatest papers were always started the night before.
Things you might not know, but will be glad to when I tell ya:
- Picasso included another version that had color (including a sad—yet probably captivating—red tear from the crying woman),
- Germany’s recommendation of the piece was not positive (in fact, it was compared to work a four year old could accomplish),
- Picasso doesn’t give a damn about interpreting the elements or composition.
The moment when I realized I got dressed up to go on a date, only to learn the guy’s most certainly not over his ex.
What a gosh darn waste of a choker.
comin for ya
James Tissot painted On the Thames in 1882. What’s a real downer is, Tissot’s main hang and muse, Kathleen Newton, died the same year. She met him a few years earlier, and then had a son…like, exactly nine months later.
What I love:
a.) her sassy face
b.) her teensy little waist
c.) the two dudes that get suckered into steadying her off the boat
I once took an Uber pool with the frattiest guys, and they didn’t even suggest getting out of the car to help me out…let alone taking me across water.
omg.
Are you KIDDING ME, James Tissot?! You are a bona fide BABE.
I don’t even care that you didn’t exhibit with the Impressionists in 1874: all the more reason you’re just a renegade hottie.
hey ladies!
Comin’ outta the weekend like whoa.
arthipstory 