performance art is all misdirection. it tricks us into looking away from meaning and instead focusing on a set of rules that dictate a contrived situation, and when we look back suddenly meaning has appeared. but we know that meaning can’t appear out of nowhere, so we conclude that the meaning was there all along. yes, it was there, but it was somewhere else. it was in the performer’s pocket, in their sleeve, it was behind their eyes, it was at the back of their tongue, or in the center of their brain, hoping to escape but kept away by want of articulation. and at the end of it all, the artist has only said “i have it”


Paris, Texas (1984)

(via laurapalmer7)


Claude Monet, La maison à travers les roses, 1925

in these times of nihilism it’s good to have values of any kind

my life keeps hitting new lows, it’s bound to turn around soon, i can feel it, i’m excited

Gardenhead / Leave Me Alone by Neutral Milk Hotel

all i eat is couscous and smoothies

The Art of Patrons by Fucked Up

i think i’m not equipped to live in this world


Yue Minjun - Untitled, 2005. Oil on canvas

schopenhauer said a precondition for reading good books is not reading bad ones because life is short and i think i should apply this to many other things