How long did it take for Dee to get used to having one eye and no depth perception? I imagine that wouldn’t be an easy adjustment. Lots of running into things. He’d probably need some help from his brother for a while.

Oh it definitely took him a while to adjust. He would constantly bump into things. Of course he didn't mind relying on his brother Phobos for help on occasions.

So I uh tried depth perseption? I think? I'm not entirely sure and it kinda failed from what I was attempting--but that's okay, hopefully I can learn from this and make it better next time :p Oh yeah, also tried some lighting brushes, and everything probably looks so stupid and strange lol once again, please enjoy

I have an astigmatism, am near sighted and far sighted, have a lazy eye, have strabismus(I've had it since I was little, but I just learned the name for it recently because my old eye doctor said it was just my lazy eye, so forgive if the grammar is wrong), am night blind, have poor peripheral vision and the little I can see is just smears of color, am practically blind in one eye(I can't actually see out of it at all, but my eye doctor says there's a bit of vision left), and have very little if any depth perception, but I wear glasses, so obviously I'm not visually impaired(I've genuinely been told that)/sarcasm

Self dx dysgraphia(?) with fine tuned depth perception (more accurately finding out what's wrong about a perspective) culture is getting into drawing because of said depth perception and love for the craft but needing aids to help you draw any kind of lines (straight ones especially)

-CCC (our shading is fine though!! We just can't "line" good without our platform's assist {points you can drag/add/remove/etc which all connect})

(Though this makes our art feel way too similar to AI art for our liking and thus we don't really talk about it)

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From the Shadows of Evolution

“Art is the activity that exalts and denies simultaneously. ‘No artist tolerates reality,’ says Nietzsche. That is true, but no artist can get along without reality. Artistic creation is a demand for unity and a rejection of the world. But it rejects the world on account of what it lacks and in the name of what it sometimes is. Rebellion can be observed here in its pure state and in its original complexities. Thus art should give us a final perspective on the content of rebellion.”

-Albert Camus, The Rebel: An Essay on Man in Revolt-

Somewhere in the recesses of self, we defy gravity. The defining words for all things hover, after all. We create, construct, reconstruct; elicit conduits unseen. We are keepers, makers. We are wholly ours but given nonetheless. In that long pour, think—it’s not the body that gets undressed. As Camus writes:

“The symphonies of nature know no rests. The world is never quiet; even its silence eternally resounds with the same notes, in vibrations that escape our ears. As for those that we perceive, they carry sounds to us, occasionally a chord, never a melody. Music exists, however, in which symphonies are completed, where melody gives its form to sounds that by themselves have none, and where, finally, a particular arrangement of notes extracts from natural disorder a unity that is satisfying to the mind and the heart.”

Sometimes a hum, sometimes a roar, the impetus drives us, outward bound and inward leaning. And I ask, Is this right? Normal? Place as in the paradox, my space of fertile ground? I know, of course, as do you in all the ways we polyglot the same language; speak as one in foundational form though separate as voice.

“Art disputes reality, but does not hide from it,” Camus maintains. So I grasp, reach, find you there—in me, with me, the “living transcendence” I’ve learned is where I’m yours. Verse and meaning; the quiet revolution between split ribs and cardiac rhythms; crimes of logic, crimes of passion. For us, connection is the breach. And applied just right, we’re sentenced to be free.

I do not know how it feels to for somebody to truly understand my depth. I will not know until the day comes, and until this day I decide to be unreachable. Until this day, I’ll keep me to myself.

Just realized today that i don't always perceive depth??? Like, my depth perception is fine; i'm a decent amateur athlete, but i don't always clock what i see as physical objects taking up space. I sat around reminding myself that the trees across the street do indeed have depth and take up space and are not just a wall of green.

Idk if i've just spent so much time studying visuals as flat images that i can draw or paint, but i used to have experiences (mostly when i was in high school and extremely sleep deprived) where i would "step out of myself" and i'm starting to wonder if it was just a moment where i was really perceiving depth...

depth perception - Brooke Shaden

Does anyone else's depth perception or spatial awareness or whatever plummet when it's dark. This is the second time this week I have severely hurt myself by trying to touch my face and poking my own eyeball super hard instead after turning the light off and getting in bed for the night

I don't have depth perception

Moving from a 2D space to 3D with Emma Ridderstad

For a guy with pretty good depth perception, I get all kinds of fucked up when looking in a mirror trying to clip my facial hair.

The probability of you existing is 1 in 10^2,685,000—that’s 1 in 10 followed by almost 2.7 million zeroes. For scale, the number of atoms in the entire universe is only 10^80.

Somehow, from dust to single-celled organisms, through 4 billion years of generational evolution, survival—you are here. I am here. In simultaneity. In love.

“What are the odds?” you’d maybe ask. “What is this bringer of dreams? This weaver called to haberdash in stars upon our hearts?” And so...

In volume II of his notebooks, Leonardo da Vinci writes:

“The smallest natural point is larger than all mathematical points, and this is proved because the natural point has continuity, and any thing that is continuous is infinitely divisible; but the mathematical point is indivisible because it has no size.”

Just as the boundaries of bodies are the least of all things, we are—wholly us, wholly indivisible, coiled into this golden ratio. And nothing even comes a fleeting close because: You are my belonging.