Hairskin hide, rough sackcloth
desert weeping, Lilith wails,
clutching at the famished breast
Donatello saw the lust for God.
Opposite of Adam’s/Michael’s. Canis Major and the other parts of the Merkabah. Also on pink post it note in spirit with my ditzy blonde ass!
Adam showed me his seal last night, and here is a crappily drawn rendition of the signet ring I was wearing on my right middle finger in gold: parts of a star with the constellation Orion throughout. Interesting and of course, on a pink post it. Anyone recognize this???
“The German Tango” study of WW1 political cartoon by Louis Raemmaekers
So probably none of you guys know me in real life (hello, this is a blog) but I literally have about 40-50 best friends. Then maybe 50 more close friends. Then even more friends. And hundreds of acquaintances. I counted. I’m a bubbly social butterfly most would describe as a “goody two shoes”. So it fits that my friends are some of the most important things in my life, friendship being my passion as it were, and serve as artistic inspiration. Jessica is my Master’s degree friend who works for SCIENCE JOURNAL AND MAGAZINE! She just turned 25 and we celebrated with Italian food at Dolce Vita. She also has a lit Instagram, which I based this picture on. She is amazing: a beauty pageant contestant that makes clouds in jars for her talent, fierce atmospheric scientist, proud Cornell marching band alumni, and unabashed fashionista. She is probably my best friend in the world and we just click on a Taylor Swift, bubbly blonde scientist level, me the biologist and environmental scientist, her the atmospheric scientist. Happy birthday Jessica!
Follow her on Insta!
30 minute study of Tintoretto’s Penitent Magdalene. Inspired by the one and only Izzi the Mothslayer to pick up art. Will be starting a Society6 shop, so heads up! I’m going to try to do a sketch a day.
In my foggy memory of my geriatric 25 year old mind
I thought it the albatross that shed blood from its
Christ breast for it’s young, those ancient beautiful
kohl eyed waterbirds that lay eggs for a lifetime.
But all along it has been the pelican, and Mothslayer
has led me to the Ghent altarpiece, why are they all
Belgian, I thought Antoine Weirtz was enough? But
now there is van Eyck and maybe I need a decade to
study it for clues to the Lapis, or maybe I need another
lifetime, it is now my current art obsession, and in truth
the pelican is the artist with pigment, a wounded warrior
of a poet with words. His Majesty had a Word, after all.
And in the end, words are all we have, and we are telling
stories in the dark.