One day, I realized that I was making the same trip every day for almost four years. Waking up at the same time, taking the same routes through the same streets, walking on the same sidewalks in front of the same buildings…This is why I wanted to find a visual way to represent this phenomeon called routine.
This is a work about repetition and rhythm, present in many forms, not only with people walking by but also with the building’s facades.
Complete series visible here | Tumblr
|| Reblog ||
I’m no god. I’m no work of art. I’m nothing so paramount that I’d move you to tears….
I’ve been told that my tumblr is quite similar the work of Andy Goldsworthy. The thoughts that I pour out and the way that I weave words; the poetry and the photography. The raw imagery. The mistakes and the spelling errors and the imperfections of my recipes; the lists and the numbers and the minute obsessions. they inspire, if no one else, myself into becoming greater. More advanced. More powerful.
I’m using periods wrong; also semicolons.
The videos and the quotes. The darkness and the bright spots too. You’ve all been invited into this mass universe that I’ve created. And I’ve speckled each of you as planets all around my galaxies and nebulas so that you could make up a part of my personal community. I don’t think I ever received a birthday candle from tumblr the three years this blog existed…..
the URL must be synonymous to Jehovah’s Witnesses. yeah. Jehovah’s Witnesses are sweet as milk. a painful sugary drink. mmm gritty. I often think of reaching back and capturing, the compositions to read to my nieces and nephews as bedtime stories once they become school age. Or even to the unborn. So they’ll know what magic sounds like.
But that’s a bit pompous of me isn’t it? Quite.
(insert monocle adjustment here)
well anyway…. eventually the sunrises upon frozen sculptures. And love letters that are written in the sand become forgotten grains under the footsteps of the moon. after while the fragile limbs of my artistry snap, break, and are transcended by seasonal winds….
again I’m no god.
but i’m pretty sure my existence is pretty omnipotent.
if you’ve been audience enough.
Quillium C. Wordsmith
Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self.
The beginning is the most important part of the work.
you do realize
it’s the minimalism that got me
the simplicity of the message.
i love this june thing.
I said I needed to post something - so here’s something….
Listening: My Climb playlist - based off of “Climb” by Mos Def. This has to be some of the smoothest hip hop ever.
Reading: Re-reading Shackling Waters by Adam Mansbach. It deserves it.
Doing: Going over my expenses for just one day and preparing myself for this weekend adventure.
Eating: Garbage. A ton of garbage. Otherwise a chipotle chicken sandwich from Burger King.
Drinking: approximately 32 ounces of water. I’ve been drinking soda all day and my face is glowing with evidence. It doesn’t help that I’m due for a visit to the hairdresser.
Wearing: that white thermal with the hole that looks like a stain because it’s not quite a hole yet. And those extra thick comfy black sweatpants that has too much keychain in it.
Feeling: almost completely overwhelmed. I’m overthinking. A little tired. Distracted - but only by things I ought be distracted by.
Weather: Parly cloudy skies. Clear mostly. 50°F and the window fan is spinning steady.
Wanting: My passion back. For everything. I hope this excursion helps with that. I need it bad.
Needing: To revisit my goals created earlier this year. I swear the amount of money I spent in the past month got me questioning the hypocrisy associated with this “minimalist” lifestyle of mine. (file under: call Tyra-Girl)
Thinking: Can I do something right while at work? Will they call me when I’m gone? How long will I sleep? Why does my calendar say “Nothingness” and I’ve been doing - “everything”. My fashion sense. My perception and regard to sex.
Enjoying: My clean clothes. My evening.
Sometimes you have to play for a long time to be able to play like yourself.
by Andrew Wyeth
Because who doesn’t like
"Moaning" by Charles Mingus New York.
What would the trunk of a tree sound like if a cross section of it were played like an LP? With his creation Years, Bartholomäus Traubeck attempts to answer that question by using a turntable, PlayStation Eye Camera, a stepper motor to control the arm, and computer running Ableton Live. As you’ll hear in the video above, the rings of the tree trunk, as interpreted by this piece, create an eerie and ominous piano track that sounds like it was taken from psychological horror film. Who knew trees were so emo?