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#freudian
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The Girl Can't Help It | 1956
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neilsanders · 8 months
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UHOH I think I may have inadvertently drawn nude squidward fanart. I guess the heart wants what the heart wants
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femblogger · 2 months
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rip freud girlbloggers would've proved your death drive theory right
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aurabora · 16 days
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rip sigmund freud you would have loved usuk
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samdeancrimespree · 4 days
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so i love to pretend that the finale is not real but IF IT IS. how likely is it that sam’s wife looks freakishly like dean. like honest to god, could be twins, auburny brown hair green eyes freckles EVERYTHING. how likely is it that sam and deanna or whatever get mistaken for siblings, and it freaks her out but sam is completely unbothered by it. how likely is it that sam basically chose a dean-twin egg donor in the hopes of recreating his favourite person because that was as close as he could get. and dean ii is cool, almost as good as dean, and suddenly he barely looks at Her anymore. he has a better replacement and it reminds him that she’s a stranger to him. sam’s wife doesn’t know how to feel about how much sam ignores her to hang out with his their kid, because all her friends wish their husbands spent that much time being dads, but she’s starting to feel like sam was never really her husband. and sam kinda hates every second of it, but he does it because he promised he wouldn’t die yet, and he doesn’t want to go to their shared heaven and have dean be disappointed in him. he feels like he’s cheating on dean for the moments when he finds himself loving her, but every time it’s just because she reminded him of dean.
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pazzesco · 9 months
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Portrait of Georgia O’Keeffe by Alfred Stieglitz;  Yellow Calla by Georgia O’Keeffe;  Jimson Weed/White Flower No. 1 by Georgia O’Keeffe;  Red Canna by Georgia O’Keeffe
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Grey Lines with Black, Blue and Yellow — Georgia O’Keeffe (1923)
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Music, Pink and Blue No. 2 — Georgia O’Keeffe (1918)
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On the left- Georgia O'Keeffe, Photographed by her future husband. In the center- O'Keeffe's "Black Iris", & on the right, a photo of her husband, Alfred Stieglitz
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Georgia O'Keeffe Painting, photograph, by Alfred Stieglitz (1918).
O’Keeffe’s drawings first caught the attention of photographer and New York gallery owner Alfred Stieglitz. Stieglitz was an influential member of the art community — the only man among his peers who believed women could create art equal to that of men — and he became O’Keeffe’s chief promoter, she became his mistress, and the two later married in 1924.
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Red Canna 1 | Georgia O'Keeffe & O'keeffe's image on top of Red Canna 1, (1924), not to be confused with her many other red canna paintings from earlier, like Red Canna (1919) below
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Two Calla Lilies on Pink, 1928
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Calla Lily with Roses, 1926
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Ram's Head and White Hollyhock, New Mexico, 1935
New Mexico and its otherworldly landscapes would prove restorative for the artist, as it had before and would continue to do. In 1934, following her first visit to Ghost Ranch, north of Abiquiú in New Mexico, O’Keeffe would return to painting with renewed enthusiasm—and, with Ram’s Head, White Hollyhock-Hills the following year, ushered in her mature style, which juxtaposed elements with imaginative freedom. 
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Georgia O'Keeffe 1887 - 1986
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computers-best-friend · 4 months
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This is for all of my English/psychology/biology/philosophy/literally any topic girlies who cannot escape Freud. Everywhere I go, everything I watch, he haunts me.
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I was watching a video about literally liminal spaces and he still somehow came up. Tell me how.
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yorgunherakles · 1 year
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pek çoğumuz sevgiyi hiç yaşamamışızdır. yaşadığımız şey karşılıklardır.
david kessler - yaşam dersleri
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zac-yang · 4 days
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Recovering the maternal in art
Thoughts on Hamlet #1
A crazed rant on Hamlet, art in modernity, Susan Sontag, and female power in Christian theology
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The feminine urge to be daddy's mommy. — — Natalie Wynn, Contrapoints
This is the first of my series of meditations based on Shakespeare’s Hamlet, which I have been studying as part of English literature A-level. It is the basis on which I expand into wider general reflections on culture and philosophy, linking to other things I’ve read or watched recently.
This piece begins as art criticism about excessive author presence in modern art, with allusion to Hamlet as an embodiment of such modern artist. But then it kind of diverges into a theological tangent and ultimately an argument about gender and female power in Christian myths.
It doesn’t really neatly belong to any specific literary category. It is essay-like, but is full of poetic logic. Perhaps just read it as a kind of unhinged diary entry or notes app notes that should have stayed in the drafts.
— — Z
1
Modern authors, perhaps due to their peculiar awareness of themselves as authors, have felt this exceeding sense of self-inflicted obligation, that they have to force their authorships onto the audience, to make them aware that what they’re seeing, is in fact, created by them. And not just by the world.
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‘What a piece of work / Is a man!’ Hamlet, II, ii, 301–302
What I mean by this could be seen most obviously in the attempt that modern authors try to push “message” into their works, or simply the conscious attempt to have any message at all. Consciousness is really the crime here. There is a kind of forcedness in modern art, a lack of the grace, the relaxed effortlessness that is so prevalent in classical, canonical art. Modern art is always agitating, in a permanent state of anxiety and uncertainty in whether it has “correctly” communicated its message to its audience.
Notes: Hamlet is seen by many as Shakespeare’s most philosophical play, his most message-heavy work, with deep contemplations on the nature of existence.
The long soliloquies of the eponymous prince has long been described as rigorously academic in style, perhaps most famously, in the ‘to be or not to be’ soliloquy. It is the most decontextualised soliloquy uttered by the prince, in which he solely speaks on the conceptual matters of life and death.
Yet this intellectual aspect of the play might perhaps what Shakespeare precisely is trying to satirise here. A tormenting, self-cannibalising, painful intellectual interiority, emerging in the early modern West, with its deep Christian moralism and inhuman rationalism, is here presented as precisely what drives the main character, and those around him, into misfortunes.
‘O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!’
Hamlet, II. ii. 538
The dramatic forcedness of Hamlet's messaging is perhaps most evident in the almost ravage-like scene in Gertrude's chamber (III, vi), in which he almost embodies the incestuous and murderous Nero. 'Let not ever The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom. Let me be cruel, not unnatural.' III. ii. 366-368
Susan Sontag said that art should be flirtation, not rape. Well, many modern art feels like rape to me. They feel like rape in the way that they try to force one singular thing onto its recipient. It refuses a defused, tender sensuality that slowly transmits and triggers desires through a landscape of polyamorous tenderness. Instead, it is strictly patriarchal, scriptural, the word of the Father, of God, Author The Creator. There is a violence to it. But more so there is a naivety to it.
The violence is in the naivety. In its brutal attempt to not appear naive, but rather adultly, scholarly, fatherly, like the son who resolves the Oedipus complex by identifying with the father to escape the fate of castration. The dwarf dressed in the giant’s robes.
‘But two months dead — nay, not so much, not two-
So excellent a king, that was to this
Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth!’
‘My father’s brother, but no more like my father/ Than I to Hercules’
Hamlet comparing his father to his uncle, the current King Cladius, and himself, I. ii. 138–142; 153–154
This is the modern author. The anxious son, boy, fearing castration, if not already castrated, living in the shadow of the father, haunted by him, resenting his mother, the wanton, the whore, the true artistry of the world.
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Hamlet (1949). Laurence Olivier
True art is always promiscuous. She is the Saint of All Sins. The Virgin in the Brothel. The Whore in the Church. The Holy Witch. The High Priestess of Filth. She is a woman. She is mother. The Oracle (whose words are obscure because they’re divine, not to Him the God, but the real, hedonistic god of music and joy, through whom she is enlightened in darkness). The Sea. Shall I moor tonight in thee.
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Twilight, Contrapoints, Natalie Wynn
He, the God, and Her, Nature, whose fundamental battle is once again reenacted in this.
Genesis 1:2, the Spirit of God moved upon the face of waters. God moved on top of the sea, God on nature, man on woman, reason on art, this is the fundamental violation, the real original sin, the forbidden fruit of knowledge, brought forth by Himself through his very presence. The fault of the Fall is not in us. It is in Him. For to be holy is to be aware of the profane, as the opposite is equally true. Therefore to be profane, to be sinful, is precisely to be aware of the existence of the hallow. To learn about it. To aspire to it. Without sin, there would be no God. Like there would be no man without woman.
‘Whatever is the subject of a prohibition is basically sacred’.
‘The taboo does not banish the transgression but, on the contrary, depends upon it, just as the transgression depends on the existence of the taboo: “The transgression does not deny the taboo but transcends it and completes it”.’
Georges Bataille, Eroticism: Death and Sensuality
‘That discourse one might call the poetry of transgression is also knowledge. He who transgresses not only breaks a rule. He goes somewhere that the others are not; and he knows something the others don’t know.’
Georges Bataille, Story of the Eye
Notes: St. Augustine of Hippo wrote that original sin is transmitted by concupiscence and enfeebles freedom of the will without destroying it. But isn’t will also what precisely drove one (Eve) to the origional sin? Perhaps the will is much like Kant’s conception of freedom, a thing that creates its own limits.
Without an elusive ideal to aspire to, we will never be aware of our skin-felt wretchedness. The fruit is not only planted by God, it is God, it is God who eats the fruit, it is God who is the fruit being eaten, and it is God who is watching all of this.
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I find it interesting. The closeness between the angel and Satan. Almost mirror images. In Michelangelo’s painting of the sin of Adam and Eve from the Sistine Chapel ceiling.
The decision to have the woman be the one to eat the fruit therefore, is interesting, on multiple levels. She is the original sinner, but also the one closest to God. For the fruit is God, but the fruit is also sin, and it is through the death of the man that she (gives birth to) achieves salvation. She is sin, but she is sin in grace, the glorified sin, the sin made divine, the virgin who gives birth, saved from stoning (here she also mirrors the other Mary, the other permitted sinner, Mary Magdalen), who gives birth to the man who is going to die, through which she successfully redeems herself. She is the mother, and she is the sinner, the original in both, and in both she is holy.
Eve is Mary and Mary is Eve.
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The tree of death and of life in the Salzburg Missal: Eve gives the representatives of the old covenant the fruit that brings sin and death from the tree of paradise. Mary, on the other hand, gives the faith hosts, the bread of life. — — The New Eve (Latin: Nova Eva) is a devotional title for Mary, the mother of Jesus. Since the second century, numerous Eastern and Western Church fathers have expressed this doctrinal idea as an analogy to the biblical concept of the New Adam.
The man is essentially an accessory to her, a passage through which she penetrates through to achieve her eventual goal. He is only a thing that she decorates herself with. The baby in her bosom. The man on her laps (Pietà). The feminine urge to be daddy’s mommy. The gravedigger, whose death goes unmentioned, outlived everyone. Her blue robe is serene, like the halcyon sea.
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Sandro Botticelli’s Madonna and Child, painted in 1480, shows a reflective Mary in deep blue.
Z
17.03.2024
(with notes later added 24.03.24)
Source:
Susan Sontag, Against Interpretation, On Style, The artist as examplary sufferer
Natalie Wynn, Contrapoints, Twilight
Georges Bataille, Eroticism: Death and Sensuality, Story of the Eye
Janet Adelman, Man and Wife Is One Flesh: Hamlet and the Confrontation with the Maternal Body
I have also posted this on Medium.
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midnights-dragon · 2 months
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rip sigmund freud you would’ve loved the mommy kink tag on ao3
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heterorealism · 1 year
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(via (1) Pinterest)
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The Game | 1984 — aka The Cold
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eleanoraborealis · 1 year
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🌺🍄🌺
Sleep and Dream
(Irmo and Este)
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sataniccapitalist · 5 months
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Classic Freudian slip
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disgustingposer · 5 months
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"You having a bad relationship with your family means you want sex, sex sex sex sexxxxxxxxxxxx aaaa sexxx im goin to cum fack fack"
Sigmund Freud
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pagansphinx · 5 months
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Salvador Dalí (Spanish, Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a Pomegranate a Second before Waking • 1944 • Oil on panel • Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid
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