August 25, 2014   12,110 notes

likeafieldmouse:

Li Hui

August 25, 2014   667 notes

(Source: kitschyofficial)

August 25, 2014   1,963 notes

(Source: grett, via not-so-sweet-disposition)

August 25, 2014   4 notes

“ We grew out of the sadness. ”

05.23.2014

July 19, 2014   1,014 notes

(via not-so-sweet-disposition)

July 19, 2014   27,256 notes

(via sick0fl0ves0ngs)

July 18, 2014   7,009 notes

artchipel:

Artist on Tumblr

James Fenner | on Tumblr (USA)

James Fenner is a freelance illustrator who has studied Media Art and Animation at The Art Institute Of Portland, in Oregon. His illustration is a harmonious mix of graphite and digital techniques, distinguished by its dreamlike approach and whimsical sets. Fenner is an aspiring editorial illustrator, most of his pieces tell their own tale, and the characters he depicts are more protagonists of a larger story than simple subjects. (cf. Fresh&Bold)

© All images courtesy of the artist

[more James Fenner | artist found at septagonstudios]

July 18, 2014   899 notes

(Source: fb-lapices, via darksilenceinsuburbia)

May 24, 2014   1,495 notes
quaintrelle-style:

Photo by Andrea Hübner

quaintrelle-style:

Photo by Andrea Hübner

(via humanity-can-sing-harmony)

May 22, 2014   3 notes
National Geographic gone kitsch

National Geographic gone kitsch

May 22, 2014   16,123 notes

leslieseuffert:

Alexandra Levasseur (b. 1982, Canada) Various Works of 2013

(via sexyvase)

May 18, 2014   10 notes

How it is fickle, leaving one alone to wander

the halls of the skull with the fluorescents
softly flickering. It rests on the head

like a bird nest, woven of twigs and tinsel
and awkward as soon as one stops to look.
That pile of fallen leaves drifting from

the brain to the fingertip burned on the stove,

to the grooves in that man’s voice
as he coos to his dog, blowing into the leaves

of books with moonlit opossums
and Chevrolets easing down the roads
of one’s bones. And now it plucks a single

tulip from the pixelated blizzard: yet

itself is a swarm, a pulse with no
indigenous form, the brain’s lunar halo.

Our compacted galaxy, its constellations
trembling like flies caught in a spider web,
until we die, and then the flies

buzz away—while another accidental

coherence counts to three to pass the time
or notes the berries on the bittersweet vine

strewn in the spruces, red pebbles dropped
in the brain’s gray pool. How it folds itself
like a map to fit in a pocket, how it unfolds

a fraying map from the pocket of the day.

Joanie Mackowski, “Consciousness

(Source: pigmenting, via pigmenting)

May 17, 2014   271,046 notes
.

.

(Source: dmig, via vhouls)

May 16, 2014   204,286 notes

(Source: themountainlaurel, via nakedd-i-came-nakedd-i-must-go-)

May 15, 2014   3 notes

“ We were nothing more than a collection of infinite almosts. ”

11.09.13