Jusqu'ici, tout va bien

 

Head within an Aureole (1894)

The devil raised his head in the air (1876) (Not in the show, but still!)

Odilon Redon: Otherworldly Visions closes at the Getty this Sunday.

Between the devil and the deep blue sea

 

Henry Fuseli, Odysseus in front of Scylla and Charybdis (1794-1796)

Metropolitan Museum of Art Spring 1988 Bulletin: Photography Between the Wars

Link here.

Took me back through a door I had closed long ago / I have given up trying to recognize you in the surging wave of the next moment

Herbie Hancock, "I Thought It Was You"

And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors

were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back

my too-sudden image.

I don't know how I belong to you but I do somehow

@, "Autosmile"

 

Suzanne Jackson, Sapphire & Tunis (2010-11)

Several girls galore

Odion Redon lithographs of Beatrice Potinari, 1897.

 

Ringing through my brain

 

Piero della Francesca, The Annunciation (1452-66)

 

90 degrees every fucking day

 

Joseph Wright of Derby, Two Boys with a Bladder (1767)

 

Reggie

 

¡Diles que no me maten!

 

Juan Rulfo

Highway 128 as it snakes along the Navarro river and meets the 1 / why must it be that you always creep into my dreams

 

“Apollo,” Stravinsky/Balanchine

Alexandra Danilova and Serge Lifar, 1928

Suzanne Farrell, Gloria Govrin, Patricia Neary, and Jacques d'Amboise with the New York City Ballet, 1965

your hair over your forehead and your memories

I will always, always, always love Frank O’Hara

 

I wouldn’t marry a man who proposed to me over an invention

Watched Meet Me in St. Louis on Christmas day and could not stop thinking about the first chapter of Baudrillard’s The System of Objects.

No sky for their dispersing

 

from Samuel Beckett, The Unnamable

eBay Chronicles

by Mark Jacob's for Mark by Mark Jacob's in collaboration with Mark Jacob's for Mark by Mark Jacob's

Roland Barthes, from A Lover's Discourse: "Tenderness"

1. There is not only need for tenderness, there is also need to be tender for the other: we shut ourselves up in a mutual kindness, we mother each other reciprocally; we return to the root of all relations, where need and desire join. The tender gesture says: ask me anything that can put your body to sleep, but also do not forget that I desire you – a little, lightly, without trying to seize anything right away.

Sexual pleasure is not metonymic: once taken, it is cut off: it was the Feast, always terminated and instituted only by a temporary, supervised lifting of the prohibition. Tenderness, on the contrary, is nothing but an infinite, insatiable metonymy; the gesture, the episode of tenderness (the delicious harmony of an evening) can only be interrupted with laceration: everything seems called into question once again: return of rhythm - vritti - disappearance of nirvana.

2. If I receive the tender gesture within the field of demand, I am fulfilled: is this gesture not a kind of miraculous crystallization of presence? But if I receive it (and this can be simultaneous) within the field of desire, I am disturbed: tenderness, by rights, is not exclusive, hence I must admit that what I receive, others receive as well (sometimes I am even afforded the spectacle of this). Where you are tender, you speak your plural.