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Leonora Carrington: The Floor 4706th, 1958 - Oil on canvas
“One has to be careful what one takes when one goes away forever.” ― Leonora Carrington, The Hearing Trumpet
(via jbe200)
Things and Stuff . Curated collections of themed words and images.
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Nicolas Malinowsky is a French artist who works as a graphic designer within the ill-Studio, a Paris-based creative platform. This series is taken from “Death and the afterlife” , his first solo exhibition.
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Rain Light
From a June 26, 2009 interview with Bill Moyers:
[.. BILL MOYERS: When we confirmed this meeting, you suggested that I read a poem in here called “Rain Light.” Why did you suggest that one?
W.S. MERWIN: I don’t know, I just — that seems to be a very close poem to me.
BILL MOYERS: Here it is.
W.S. MERWIN: “All day the stars watch from long ago
my mother said I am going now
when you are alone you will be all right
whether or not you know you will know
look at the old house in the dawn rain
all the flowers are forms of water
the sun reminds them through a white cloud
touches the patchwork spread on the hill
the washed colors of the afterlife
that lived there long before you were born
see how they wake without a question
even though the whole world is burning”
BILL MOYERS: “Even though the whole world is burning.” It is, isn’t it?
W.S. MERWIN: Yes. It is. It is burning, and we’re part of the burning. We’re part of the doing it. We’re part of the suffering it. We’re part of the watching it helplessly and ignorantly. And we know it’s happening. And it is just us. It is our lives. We’re burning. We’re, you know, we’re not the person we were yesterday. We’re not the person we were 20 years ago. -
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When my husband died, because he was so famous and known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me — it still sometimes happens — and ask me if Carl changed at the end and converted to a belief in an afterlife. They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again. Carl faced his death with unflagging courage and never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don’t ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous — not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance… That pure chance could be so generous and so kind… That we could find each other, as Carl wrote so beautifully in Cosmos, you know, in the vastness of space and the immensity of time… That we could be together for twenty years. That is something which sustains me and it’s much more meaningful…
The way he treated me and the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other & our family, while he lived. That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don’t think I’ll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful.
"Ann Druyan, wife of the late Carl Sagan
(via see-reverse-side)
(Source: monicks.posterous.com, via persephonesunset)
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"You now recall that your dreams always had background characters: the crowds in the restaurants, the knots of people in the malls and schoolyards, the other drivers on the road and the jaywalking pedestrians. Those actors don’t come from nowhere. We stand in the background, playing our parts, allowing the experience to feel real for the dreamer. […]
No one is very pleased about this work except for some former thespians among us."David Eagleman, Sum (via n-e-way)
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Billy Collins, "The Afterlife" →
They’re moving off in all imaginable directions,
each according to his own private belief,
and this is the secret that silent Lazarus would not reveal:
that everyone is right, as it turns out.
you go to the place you always thought you would go,
the place you kept lit in an alcove in your head.
Some are being shot into a funnel of flashing colors
into a zone of light, white as a January sun.
Others are standing naked before a forbidding judge who sits
with a golden ladder on one side, a coal chute on the other.
Some have already joined the celestial choir
and are singing as if they have been doing this forever,
while the less inventive find themselves stuck
in a big air conditioned room full of food and chorus girls.
Some are approaching the apartment of the female God,
a woman in her forties with short wiry hair
and glasses hanging from her neck by a string.
With one eye she regards the dead through a hole in her door.
There are those who are squeezing into the bodies
of animals—eagles and leopards—and one trying on
the skin of a monkey like a tight suit,
ready to begin another life in a more simple key,
while others float off into some benign vagueness,
little units of energy heading for the ultimate elsewhere.
There are even a few classicists being led to an underworld
by a mythological creature with a beard and hooves.
He will bring them to the mouth of the furious cave
guarded over by Edith Hamilton and her three-headed dog.
The rest just lie on their backs in their coffins
wishing they could return so they could learn Italian
or see the pyramids, or play some golf in a light rain.
They wish they could wake in the morning like you
and stand at a window examining the winter trees,
every branch traced with the ghost writing of snow. -
(Source: rmaddux)
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"The idea of an afterlife is simply there to give existence a meaning - to give sixty years of banality a sense of purpose. I mean, the idea of an afterlife is just as valid as the idea of a hot dinner - it all depends if you’re hungry."
Robert Smith (via elige)
(Source: oliviaerin, via elige)
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from
Old Time Religion: Faith Healers, Radio Preachers, and Evangelists!
Graphics of Revival, the Apocalypse and the Afterlife by Jim Linderman
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Afterlife, 2009
Adam Broomberg & Oliver Chanarin
-“The Afterlife series offers a re-reading of a controversial photograph taken in Iran on 6 August 1979. This remarkable image, taken just months after the revolution, records the execution of 11 blindfolded Kurdish prisoners by firing squad. The image, which captures the decisive moment the guns were fired, was immediately reproduced in newspapers and magazines across the world. The following year it was awarded a Pulitzer Prize and for the next 30 years its author was simply known as “Anonymous.”
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Theme: Linear by Peter Vidani
