The Book of Revelations foretells the uncivilized lion falling in love with the lamb.
I don’t deal with religious texts too tough, but the way humanity seems to be carving solace in spirituality in the midst of these armageddon-esque events is certainly something to behold. Or perhaps this is the way its always been & I’m just now tuning in.
My favorite work changes every two days, this is most recent work & my favorite thus far. For the entire month of June, I’ve been doing free tattoos to get my hand used to the machine, learn the inner workings of the machinery, the science of inks, get in the habit of organizing appointments, & overall just dive headfirst into this inkpot as deep as possible.
The uncivilized lion falls in love with the lamb. The dangerous artist, once without an art form, falls in love with the needle.
Thanks Michelle.
Thank you.
Mreeuh Chang’s haunting nighttime traffic paintings have a sense of realism but still a hint of abstractness. I especially love this one with the rain streaks falling down the windshield, it’s so beautiful. View the rest of his gorgeous work, here.
“She was also my father, so I hardly got to see her…I was afraid of the dark, but it was only because I was a believer”
If my vagina were a mansion.
For those that know.
This lacefan earlace needs a name + price point. I’ve been sporting them around for about a month now, they’ve proved to be a guaranteed compliment item. The tip of the hook has been attached with a magnetic bead that detaches from the earlobe just in case something yanks during day-to-day adventure.
This is what my inner exhibitionist would look like.
Less obsessing over that fantasy idea of “success”.
More really awesome mistakes.
On one side of the continuum of modern day’s society, we’re living in a marvelous times of enlightenment, blessed with abundance and the ability to acquire information faster than ever before. On the other side of the same scale, we are in utter dystopia, plagued with earthquakes, oil spills, trafficking, genocide, etc.
True to man’s innate sense of equilibrium, most of us remain somewhere in the middle, nestled calmly in eye of reality’s hurricane, scanning twitter followers, thinking about how some teenage barista should have put more foam in the latte you just paid for.
The edge is where things really happen. A seven year old girl in Detroit has been set on fire & shot in the neck by the police, in her sleep.
Since hearing the news, I have been desperately attempting to make an orphan out of this pain, trying to convince myself that it has nothing to do with me, and it is not my pain to process.
But the rabbit hole plunge has already started. As difficult as it is to answer the “why”s and “how”s, smaller inquiries still emerge, all relentlessly leading to the root issue. If it’s not my pain to process, than whose is it? Who does the pain belong to?
The answer is no one. This is an alien pain, not belonging to anything humane. Not attached to any system of law, reason, not justifiable by any means.
I just went blank trying to ignore it again.
Still, the tether unwinds. Why is my heart trying to ignore something it cannot ignore?
At this point, my senses blur and I can’t tell what the true tragedy is: the fact that this innocent child was murdered, or the fact that our collective instinct is to disregard this issue as something that happens everyday. A bird chirps. A car honks. A police officer murders a child. More foam in my latte, please.
Few things are as hard to digest as a reminder of how fragile life is. As a matter of fact, everything we do contradicts this truth. In the midst of our ostentation and heavy-handedness, how do we ever find the perspective to realize how feeble we truly are? And more importantly, how do we manage to preserve a sense of humanity when it is constantly being breached?
By remaining inactive in the face of dehumanization towards another, we allow that monster to grow, and in turn subjugate ourselves to the same dehumanization. It’s imperative that we feel. It’s imperative that we question. Its imperative that we huddle our singular sorrows together into something that can spade the hopelessness we all feel, in unison.
Aiyana’s death is not some devastating movie scene or even a cautionary tale. It is a indicator of the level of peril we are in. The more you ignore the war, the more oppressive this peril becomes. It is a deep rooted war, this battle alone demands one to examine the motives and thoughts of police officers. Which demands examination of the law system. Which demands examination of the government’s quest to exterminate melanated people.
The edge is where everything really happens. Since the trail is as frightening as it is enduring, we must take refuge with each other to sew the edges of this marvelous dystopia together, now.
-MC
