Este viernes 20 de noviembre #CircuitoPostPorno Bogotá en el marco del #KuirBog

Craig Davies for Art-Sheep Paris, glam and beautiful transsexuals in the 1950s city of light. Christer Strömholm is considered to be the father of Swedish photography. Known for his black-and-white captivating photographs, he was an influential role model and an educator. Strömholm lived in Paris in the late 1950s and early 1960s and captured a…

Rose Freymuth-Frazier

Information on Rockbitch

Circuito Post-Porno, busca poner en la escena cultural bogotana diferentes prácticas artísticas que…

Y se vino! Todos muy atentos, aquí publicaremos toda la información sobre Circuito Post-Porno, del 1ero al 15 de noviembre.

Resistance Through Rituals, Fiasco Subculture Issue , styling and graphic intervention Riccardo Slavik, Ph Lorenzo Marcucci

feat Anatol, Conor, RJ, Mikkel etc

from 2013 by primal scream

To be white, or straight, or male, or middle class is to be simultaneously ubiquitious and invisible. You’re everywhere you look, you’re the standard against which everyone else is measured. You’re like water, like air. People will tell you they went to see a “woman doctor” or they will say they went to see “the doctor.” People will tell you they have a “gay colleague” or they’ll tell you about a colleague. A white person will be happy to tell you about a “Black friend,” but when that same person simply mentions a “friend,” everyone will assume the person is white. Any college course that doesn’t have the word “woman” or “gay” or “minority” in its title is a course about men, heterosexuals, and white people. But we call those courses “literature,” “history” or “political science.” This invisibility is political.

Michael S. Kimmel, in the introduction to the book, “Privilege: A Reader” (via thinkspeakstress)

ÜNISEKS wishes you a Happy NEW YEAR!

All I wanted comes in colors Vanish everyday I keep these promises, these promises Stranger things will come before you Always out of the way We keep these promises, these promises Can you call it See it coming Just enough to tell a story bout a Portrait of a Young girl waiting for a new year All you ever wanted Is it getting away? Visions of a feeling The footsteps at bay You were getting stronger Memories again Now you're open wider It's better this way All I wanted comes in colors Vanish everyday I keep these promises, these promises Stranger things will come before you Always out of the way We keep these promises, these promises Won't you write a letter On the page In your own way Write it in a letter On the page It's your own way You were getting wiser It's better this way Faces in the mirror Memories again Now look to a feeling It's lighter than breath All you ever wanted Is it getting away? Can you call it See it coming Just enough to tell a story bout a Portrait of a Young girl waiting for the ending of an era Can you call it See it coming Just enough to tell a story bout a Portrait of a Young girl waiting for the new year

A propósito del lenguaje...

16 He meditado hoy, en un intervalo de sentir, en la forma de prosa que uso. En verdad, ¿cómo escribo? He tenido, como todos han tenido, el deseo pervertido de querer tener un sistema y una norma. Es cierto que he escrito antes de la norma y del sistema; en esto, por tanto, no soy diferente de los demás. Analizándome esta tarde, descubro que mi sistema de estilo se as

ienta en dos principios, e inmediatamente, y con la buena manera de los buenos clásicos, erijo estos dos principios en fundamentos generales de todo estilo: decir lo que se siente exactamente como se siente -claramente, si es claro; oscuramente, si es oscuro; confusamente, si es confuso- comprender que la gramática es un instrumento, y no una ley. Supongamos que veo ante nosotros una muchacha de modales masculinos. Un ente humano vulgar dirá de ella, «Esa muchacha parece un muchacho». Otro ente humano y vulgar, ya más cerca de la conciencia de que hablar es decir, dirá de ella «Esa muchacha es un muchacho». Otro igualmente consciente de los deberes de la expresión, pero más animado por el afecto de la concisión, que es la lujuria del pensamiento, dirá de ella «Ese muchacho». Yo diré «Esa muchacho», violando la más elemental de las reglas gramaticales, que manda que haya concordancia de género, como de número, entre la voz substantiva y la adjetiva. Y habré dicho bien: habré hablado en términos absolutos, fotográficamente, fuera de la vulgaridad de la norma, y de la cotidianeidad. No habré hablado: habré dicho. Fernando Pessoa (1998). El Libro del desasosiego.