bálsamo para los labios y perfumes de lujo son el camino a mi corazón.


tapist:

Aranda/Lasch

tapist:

Aranda/Lasch

dreaming of cacti

dreaming of cacti

artistandstudio:

The cover of the last issue of the Surrealist review, La Révolution surréaliste No. 12, 1929. In the center is Rene Magritte’s The Hidden Woman. The text in the painting reads, “I do not see the (woman) hidden in the forest.”  Surrounding the painting is the inner circle of the Paris Surrealists, all with their eyes closed:  (top row) Maxime Alexandre, Louis Aragon, André Breton, Luis Bunuel, Jean Caupenne; (second row) Salvador Dalì and Paul Éluard; (third row) Max Ernst and Marcel Fourrier; (forth row) Camille Goemans and René Magritte; (bottom row) Paul Nougé, Georges Sadoul, Yves Tanguy, André Thirion, Albert Valentin. [x]

artistandstudio:

The cover of the last issue of the Surrealist review, La Révolution surréaliste No. 12, 1929. In the center is Rene Magritte’s The Hidden Woman. The text in the painting reads, “I do not see the (woman) hidden in the forest.”  Surrounding the painting is the inner circle of the Paris Surrealists, all with their eyes closed:  (top row) Maxime Alexandre, Louis Aragon, André Breton, Luis Bunuel, Jean Caupenne; (second row) Salvador Dalì and Paul Éluard; (third row) Max Ernst and Marcel Fourrier; (forth row) Camille Goemans and René Magritte; (bottom row) Paul Nougé, Georges Sadoul, Yves Tanguy, André Thirion, Albert Valentin. [x]

vuls:

Sam Francis
Untitled (SFF#547), 1969–1971

vuls:

Sam Francis

Untitled (SFF#547), 1969–1971

(Source: generic-art)

poeticasvisuais:

Alexander Calder with “Edgar Varese” and “Untitled” , Saché, France, 1963

poeticasvisuais:

Alexander Calder with “Edgar Varese” and “Untitled” , Saché, France, 1963

(Source: boyirl)

I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked… I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn’t make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet.
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar (via misswallflower)
sleepyberry:

two punnets for the price of one! on my way to a berry belly.

sleepyberry:

two punnets for the price of one! on my way to a berry belly.

(Source: kettle-o-fish)

(Source: aminorwreck)