NathanWatkinsPhotography.com

All three photos are taken in Morocco

more polaroid beauty

I saw these beautiful things flash by as I was cycling through the center yesterday.
lovely morocco inspire pendant lights
pictures taken from terrainathome.com

japanese happy tape!! masking tape comes alive!

www.happytape.bigcartel.com

sara sent this link to me! can't wait to get some! I'll be afraid to use it though.. it's just too beautiful! I'll just stick in a bowl like this and have a pretty table center piece!

talk about the bible coming to life.
artist: cody miller
www.codyfmiller.com

photographer: tiara mia

A poem for Good Friday

Precarious Safety

Once in the fog of awake and asleep I saw
baby carriages hanging, suspended.
Cracked and in need of parts, they were
structurally unsound.

So, hands covered in small and stinging cuts,
I built precarious safety and called it
sticks woven together into a nest

Once I dreamt of fully conceived art,
prints of suburban homes with stick growths attached to their roofs.
I named them suburban stick-pods and took them as my own.

Once I saw, quickly, a man's teeth and bones straighten
and become the forming bones of an infant in the womb.
It kissed its mother before it was born
and lay, covered in blankets.
The layers came off and legs kicked happily.



Eva Christensen, 2009

I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.
I want to free what waits within me
so that what no one has dared to wish for

may for once spring clear
without my contriving.
If this is arrogant, God forgive me,
but this is what I need to say.
May what I do flow from me like a river
no forcing and no holding back,
the way it is with children

Then in these swelling and ebbing currents
these deepening tides moving out, returning
I will sing to you as no one ever has,

streaming through widening channels into the open sea.



Rainer Maria Rilke

my sister's first solo show:

"You Find This"
Senior Exhibition March 17-29, 2009
Eva Christensen


She created the hanging branch sculpture and the wall drawings.

one more!

hossintropia.com
spanish designer i discovered. the summer line is photographed in barcelona!
super beautiful!

super cool salt and pepper grinders from ikea.com/nl

i forget the sculptors name. it is at the nieuw kerk in the modern art and spirituality exhibit. great show.

thepaperapartment.blogspot.com

The Chronicles of Narnia illustrations

Pauline Baynes (1922-2008)

i've become a tea addict.

this kind looks really good and is fair trade:

www.oxfordethical.co.uk

I am not much given to tears, not ordinarily anyway. For joy? Yes. I can, and sometimes do, cry for joy. Grief and sorrow? We all can cry over them. We all do. And beauty. Always for beauty. But the truth of the thing is that I don't have a definition for beauty. Neither, of course, do philosophers or aestheticians, when one gets right down to it. In fact, with beauty, almost all of us have to fall back into the tired old saw of "I don't know how to describe it, but I know it when I see it."

With beauty, that trite saying means for me that I recognize immediately the strange stillness that always surrounds beauty, like an opening in space and time, making a corona or aura around it. I know by perceived sensation the way beauty goes straight to my thorax when it enters me, rising only later, if at all, to my head. I know the union I feel, if just for a few moments, with all things when I am in the presence of beauty. And I know that beauty makes me tear up just for the wonder of its being possible -  just for the sheer miracle that the stuff of creation can be so arranged as to become this that I receive as beauty.

Phyllis Tickle (in her forward to Jesus Brand Spirituality by Ken Wilson)

Infants

by Eva Christensen

The purest and most volatile form of life.

Their lives are in them.

All of it!

Compressed.

So rich it hurts.

Color so saturated they look like blood.

All of them.

Purple blood, green blood.

In babies!

You come away with yellow finger tips,

orange lips, blue eyes.

It stains and you're glad.

The baby grins, it's illuminated soul seeping out.

What are these things?

Are they even safe?

Probably not.

They are not what you think.

They are more.

More than we'll ever know from here.

But we knew once.

If only we could go back to our days of color.

(I just have to brag and share one of my sister's fabulous poems. This is my favorite! The photo is of Nora Holmes)