i don’t know how to stay in and enjoy my rent but i do know to swirl and drown.
i love when people can qualify a desire to be seen inside out vs outside in • big fan of nail polishes and debriefs • noncurante is a word i learnt in italian recently • some fossils and bones are better than their lived lives • some meta shit about perceiving the perciever to idek • i like blue • and i like pigeons • i LOVE the sun • and i love conversations that act as a digestivo to everything life has been alchemising in my silly head •
how to hold the ephemeral without bruising it, how to hold the self without bruising it
can the ephemeral stay true while being held? can the bruise be held for a fleeting moment?
staring into waves of blue hair and kisses of blue lips
Ephemeral 212 for @ // In between looks
as we messed around in between shots for @freeing.studio@irenemorosini campaign, something ephemeral washed over us in waves of blue. biggest thank you to @ilenia.gobbato for playing with me and my camera, and the lovely team @irenemorosini@beatriceepavan@amedeotrezza@ghostofnic@volgariferragliespazio@planetkcreations@cristinaqiu
state of the union? big fan of nuance. big fan of greys, blues and browns, doors with greys, blues and browns, chocolate mousse (bonus points if it has a lil kiss of sea salt and some blues and browns), straight hair (for a hot second before the heat snatches it away), seasonality and familiar things returning to unfamiliar places. and also yogurt bowls.
some sundays sunday a little too hard and then there’s sundays like today or mina day 🫧, many moons ago that feel like you’re a floating lil jellyfish a crescent cove. happy aries season 💒
out of context archives from a monday evening (or rather conti in sospeso from a wednesday night)
most answers to questions that people are asking around me are just to not think through things that you need to feel, and not feel through things you need to act and so on, but can we ever actually swirl out of it of all we do is revere the relic left behind but never the ritual of creation.
there is a devotion to creation that feels absent. i know i always have something to say about obsession and worshipping (and i always will teehee) and i say that again for the sake of acting, and nurturing the act of acting. not planning. not controlling. just acting.
the sword of damocles looming over our heads (running out of time, running out of ways, running out of ideas, running away) feels endlessly more harmless when creation is seen as an act of nurturing rather than an act inspired.
now don’t get me wrong, i’m a big big fan of the hedonism and mystique of inspiration and it drives me more than i’d care to admit but there really feels like a void (that i am scream-whispering into rn) for the veneration of thinking, ritual of doing and letting it swirl into whatever it needs to be through you.
is chasing a rush of finishing a creation the only thing that makes me start creating? is the rush even that bad if i chase it in different ways, reflect each time and never swirl into circles but only spirals that take you endlessly further? (i had something to say about the first rung of maslow’s hierarchy of needs for an artist feeling a bit optional in a hungry and hunger obsessed city like milan but it’s a raw thought. she needs to cook a lil more)
idk dude, but i love basquiat and i love loving his process and way of synthesising life more than his art itself.
maybe thinking acting and feeling are more of a polarity (i know they’re three but like come on, see the vision plsss teehee) than a spectrum, contrary to the zeitgeist.
anyway, pretty pictures for uuu, kill your gods, worship their stories.
