Sunworshippers

-- Cathy Song "Look how they love themselves," my mother would lectures as we drove through the ironwoods, the park on one side, the beach on the other, where sunworshippers, splayed upon towels, appeared sacrificial, bodies glazed and glistening like raw fish in the market. There was folly and irreverence to such exposure, something only people with dirty feet did. Who will marry you if your skin is sunbaked and dried-up like beef jerky? We put on our hats and gloves whenever we went for a drive. When the sun broke through clouds, my mother sprouted her umbrella. The body is a temple we worship secretly in the traveling revivalist tent of our clothes. The body, hidden, banished to acceptable rooms of the house, had only a mouth for eating and a hole for eliminating what the body rejected: the lower forms of life. Caramel-colored stools, coiled heavily like a sleeping python, were a sign we were living right. But to erect a statue of the body and how the body, insolent and defiant in a bikini, looked was self-indulgent, sun- worshipping, fad diets and weight-lifting proof you loved yourself too much. We were not allowed to love ourselves too much. So I ate less, and less, and less, nibbling my way out of meals-- the less I ate, the less there was of me to love. I liked it best when standing before the mirror, I seemed to be disappearing into myself, breasts sunken into the cavity of my bird-cage chest, air my true element which fed in those days of college, snow and brick bound, the coal fire in my eyes. No one knew how I truly felt about myself. Fueled by my own impending disappearance, I neither slept nor ate, but devoured radiance, essential as chlorophyll, the apple's heated core. Undetected, I slipped in and out of books, passages of music, brightly painted rooms where woven into the signature of voluptuous vines was the one who flew one day out of the window, leaving behind an arrangement of cakes and ornamental flowers; to weave one's self, one's breath, ropes of it, whole and fully formed, was a way of shining out of this world.

The Windows

Untitled by Mariam Sitchinava Via Flickr: Website | Facebook | Tumblr

Doing a few volcano illustrations, pyroclastic flows and lava spewing, neon colours on black.  Just testing. 

Ella Webb

S P R I N G in Paris

Soaking up the beautiful architecture at The Broad today. Pro-tip: forget about sleep and get out there early unless you like waiting in lines! http://ift.tt/1lFzn2k

From Semblances

J Wesley Brown

i dreamt / november 2014 / karolina koryl

by Anastasia Autumn

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New York City

www.hellothierry.com

Northern Ardeche, France.

Intricate Mud Paintings on School Walls in India by Yusuke Asai

by Johnny

First 3 Pictures

The Niranjana School is located in Bahar, in east India. It was founded by donations from Japanese students and regularly maintains a connection between Japan, often inviting Japanese artists to create public art for the students. One of these was Yusuke Asai, a 33-year old artist who paints with basically anything he can get his hands on. This includes, but is not limited to, tape, pens, leaves, dust and mud.

In order to raise awareness for the school, and to bring art into the classroom, which is literally a 17-hour train ride from New Delhi, Asai traveled to the school to create one of his signature paintings. Using 8 different types of local mud, dirt and dust Asai created an immersive mural that covered the all walls of the classroom with a universe of people, animals and vegetation. Unfortunately the installation wasn’t permanent and was washed away after several months, but we do have these photos to document the art.

Here are some other works by Asai that were painted on walls:

4.“The indoor forest / The ground story” . Masking tape, pen. Photo: Ko Yamada

5.“Multiple Worlds”. Masking tape, pen. photo: Keizo Kioku

6.“Mud painting: large mountain” . Mud and water collected in Gunma. Photo: Masaru Yanagiba

November 18, 2013. Internally displaced Christians in Bossangoa, Central African Republic.

Rest in peace, Camille Lepage.