Elizabeth Fisher

Millions of people never analyze themselves. Mentally they are mechanical products of the factory of their environment, preoccupied with breakfast, lunch, and dinner, working and sleeping, and going here and there to be entertained. They don’t know what or why they are seeking, nor why they never realize complete happiness and lasting satisfaction. By evading self-analysis, people go on being robots, conditioned by their environment. True self-analysis is the greatest art of progress.

— Paramahansa Yogananda (via disobey)

Well put

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theforgottencorner:

Sonepur Mela, Don McCullin

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Things on the left (white side) where all acquired in the past 7 months of living in NYC. Things on the right (brown side) where all accumulated during the last year spent living in Texas. Accumulated/Acquired; gifted, pilfered, discovered….. in more exacting terms).
WHITE SIDE (starting in lower left corner): Osha Root, Giant crab shell, Ginkgo biloboa leaf, plastic dinosaur, Evil eye protector medallion necklace on cotton string, antique monkey, Foreign money carvings by Erin, antique White makeup jar, Pottery, monkey legs, shell, chandelier crystals, Assorted rocks and crystal chips, antique ointment bottle.
BROWN SIDE (starting in lower left corner): Jaw bone with teeth, coyote skin, vertebrae, skeleton agave, nut, larvae/worm nest on stick burned by fire, fossilized rock, gun casings, skeleton ocotillo, owl feather, Antler necklace on brass coated steel chain, dead bees and one moth, shell fossil, monarch butterfly wing.

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In my low periods, I wondered what was the point of creating art. For whom? Are we animating God? Are we talking to ourselves? And what was the ultimate goal? To have one’s work caged in art’s great zoos— the Modern, the Met, the Louvre? I craved honesty, yet found dishonesty in myself. Why commit to art? For self-realization, or for itself? It seemed indulgent to add to the glut unless one offered illumination.

— Patti Smith, Just Kids (via particlesofmatter)

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Wilson Bentley is one of my favorite stories, or people ever, try to remind myself of his passion when I feel discouraged….

On January 15, 1885, Wilson Bentley photographed his first snowflake. Over the course of the next 46 years, he captured 5,000 more images of what he called “tiny miracles of beauty.” He was the first person to say that no two snowflakes are alike.

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beatinglionheart:

1919 solar eclipse (negative)

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Desired Constellation

“With a palm full of stars
I throw them like dice
Repeatedly
I shake them like dice
And throw them on the table
Repeatedly
Repeatedly
Until the desired constellation appears
And I ask myself:
How am I going to make it right?”

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forbiddenalleys:

taphophilia, n.

the passion for and enjoyment of cemeteries

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