Bartolomeo Sirigatti was painted holding a letter that says something about how the artist is almost finished with the work, and that he likes it very much. Good grief, Bart. Actually, good grief to the stupid artist that has to high five himself IN HIS OWN PAINTING.
Though, this reminds me of sending a screenshot of a flirty conversation I had with a boy I like to the boy I like when I meant to send it to my best friend for confirmation/advice. Oops, but well done regardless.
Look at how hopeful this poor man’s Jennifer Lawrence looks at this dinner party. Too bad she’s by her goddamn self, and she only has one bottle of wine. Amateur.
Sofanisba Anguissola is a bad B. Like, legit, she was a successful woman painter before it was even a thing. “Chess Game” is from 1555, and shows one of her sisters absolutely schooling another one in chess.
Anguissola gives a series of eff yous to all her haters:
– She incorporates an idealistic landscape in the background versus a limiting indoor tavern shot. Boom.
– She makes her sister look directly at the viewer, which is, like, the most suggestive and powerful thing ever.
– The embellished fabric shows they not only have brains to burn, but money as well.
Also, how amazing is the gleeful look on her youngest sister? I feel that way about avoiding all my work today at the office to surf BuzzFeed style articles instead.
I have every intention of rocking brunch this weekend, but instead of this cute flapper fashion and TEA, for crying out loud, I’m gonna go with a blow out and just pitchers of mimosas.
This girl’s 12 tattoos away from looking just like me on a casual Saturday night. Well, my eyebrow game is better, and I’m not that showy about that cleave…but hell, it’s almost my birthday, so why not.
What’s awesome is that Amedeo Modigliani was an exclusive bastard in Paris, and hung out with the likes of Picasso and Diego Rivera. Ugh, gross, there’d be just them and me left in the world and I’d still swipe left on that.
Dear Birthday Santa: I want ’em all.
Earlier this week, some boy suggested we wouldn’t work out because of his feelings for someone else. I just wanted to be like, “Uh, my dog is here. I wasn’t even paying attention to you to begin with.”
Please God, don’t say a word to me until it’s 5pm Friday. Don’t say a single word.
I’m sure I’ve taken on all three glances during my bad date last weekend.
“So as I was saying,” I said to no one ever.
Sadly, Picasso and model Battina Graziani don’t exactly look like they’re having a good time. It’s hard for me to even imagine working to sustain the attention of a man, so yeesh, Batty, looks rough!
arthipstory 