The possibility of death is introduced, that possibility turns into inevitability, death comes and is then considered—The Grey is structured as a string of scenes that proceed according to this pattern. The repetition recalls Sam Peckinpah’s apocalyptic Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid—except that Carnahan, it turns out, is even less of a romantic than Peckinpah was. There is no grand West fading into an uncertain future, no slow motion, no “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”; these are fairly ordinary men letting go of their unremarkable lives in the face of a bleak, matter-of-fact, vivid, tactile doom.
Mark Dean Veca, “That’s All,” 2010, Ink and acrylic on canvas, 66” x 99”

Mark Dean Veca, “That’s All,” 2010, Ink and acrylic on canvas, 66” x 99”

I believe your skin is the window of what is going on inside.

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(via r, via huff)


Diego Rivera, “Indian Warrior,” 1931

Diego Rivera, “Indian Warrior,” 1931

I was wearing a suit and she was dishy and a little bit bombed, and she smelled like soap and flowers and had cigarette breath. We came close to forgetting ourselves.
I would like to thank NME for bestowing upon me such a great accolade. I have dreamt of this moment since I was 43 years old. I accept that I am now a genius, just like God.
Angela Dufresne, “Bierstadt Cover with Fly Fisherman,” 7’ x 11’, oil on canvas, 2010

Angela Dufresne, “Bierstadt Cover with Fly Fisherman,” 7’ x 11’, oil on canvas, 2010