fashion-runways:

Agatha Ruiz de la Prada Madrid Fashion Week W/F 2014

I tell my students, ‘When you get these jobs that you have been so brilliantly trained for, just remember that your real job is that if you are free, you need to free somebody else. If you have some power, then your job is to empower somebody else. This is not just a grab-bag candy game.’
130186:

Chanel Haute Couture Fall 2014

130186:

Chanel Haute Couture Fall 2014

janetmock:

Three years ago, I first told my story in Marie Claire. Today, I am proud to announce that I am joining the magazine’s editorial team as a Contributing Editor. In my role, I will write for the print and online versions of the magazine, act as a brand ambassador and contribute insight and ideas about culture and beauty, politics and pop culture.

Oh, fuck yeah.

janetmock:

Three years ago, I first told my story in Marie Claire. Today, I am proud to announce that I am joining the magazine’s editorial team as a Contributing Editor. In my role, I will write for the print and online versions of the magazine, act as a brand ambassador and contribute insight and ideas about culture and beauty, politics and pop culture.

Oh, fuck yeah.

luveday:

staxilicious:

dbvictoria:

Detroit Agate – You Will Never Guess What it is Made From

When cars are manufactured and painted today, it is all done in clinical clean and well extracted facilities. This means that after each car has been painted, there is no leftover paint. This is not how things used to be. In the past, cars were painted in booths where the excess paint would just fall to the floor.

Over the years the paint would form thousands of layers as more and more cars were painted. If you were to chip away part of the floor, you would be able to see all these layers in all their different colours. This is called Fordite or “Detroit Agate”.

After chipping off the block of Fordite, it can be cut into smaller pieces and polished. The polished stones can end up looking both unique and beautiful. Fordite is becoming very popular for its unique beauty especially with jewelry makers who can commend high prices for this precious material. The material has a grain, almost like the grain of an old tree.

My cousin was married to a guy who paints cars for a living. He and I chatted about car enamels once or twice. It was enlightening. Car paint is just amazing stuff. So phenomenal.

my city…

workneverover:

softpyramid:

Njideka AkunyiliHer Widening Gyre 2011 charcoal, acrylic, collage and xerox transfers on paper 6 ft. × 4.5 ft.

you gotta have art

workneverover:

softpyramid:

Njideka Akunyili
Her Widening Gyre
2011 
charcoal, acrylic, collage and xerox transfers on paper
6 ft. × 4.5 ft.

you gotta have art

(Source: naylandblake)

thisis24cc:

-by Steven Padnick
previous link

California crafting.

thisis24cc:

-by Steven Padnick

previous link

California crafting.

studiowithoutwalls:

#Daisies #blooms #summer #flowers  (at Newport, Rhode Island)

studiowithoutwalls:

#Daisies #blooms #summer #flowers (at Newport, Rhode Island)

mitzi—may:

inkandash:

fancyfranzy:

gildatheplant:

bobbyandjackieandjack:

You see that?  The motherfucking QUEEN OF ENGLAND is taking a selfie.  NONE OF Y’ALL BITCHES HAVE A LEG TO STAND ON AGAINST SELFIES ANYMORE OKAY

Her cellphone case has corgis booping noses. That’s frickin adorable.

Why do I find this picture so funny?

WILLIAM STOP MAKING BUNNY EARS ON GRANDMA THIS INSTANT …

This is a photo by Alison Jackson, a photographer who works with celebrity lookalikes. If you see a photo oh a celebrity doing something you wouldn’t expect from them, it’s probably an Alison Jackson piece.

mitzi—may:

inkandash:

fancyfranzy:

gildatheplant:

bobbyandjackieandjack:

You see that?  The motherfucking QUEEN OF ENGLAND is taking a selfie.  NONE OF Y’ALL BITCHES HAVE A LEG TO STAND ON AGAINST SELFIES ANYMORE OKAY

Her cellphone case has corgis booping noses. That’s frickin adorable.

Why do I find this picture so funny?

WILLIAM STOP MAKING BUNNY EARS ON GRANDMA THIS INSTANT …

This is a photo by Alison Jackson, a photographer who works with celebrity lookalikes. If you see a photo oh a celebrity doing something you wouldn’t expect from them, it’s probably an Alison Jackson piece.

(Source: mikerowavables)

brownroundboi:

bklynboihood:

HOMEBOIS DON’T WRITE
homebois we don’t write enough love poems.we re-name ourselves izzie from Isabella,casey from Cassandra, kay from Kathleen.we run out of ink for our stories cuz we’ve beenrunning through doors of male and female, never satisfied.           we stunnin’ baggy jeans and bright colors over the sirens,we stop cars and walk with stride that makes the concrete self-consciousabout it’s own stability.hitting pavement at the tip-toes of summer,there you go talkin’ about how you  “need a woman pregnant and barefoot.”as I shutter asking,           are you gonna find a stiletto ready to stab youif the knight sticks don’t come get you first?asking- are you gonna be that bullet that is a mouth?asking- are you gonna be that missile that blasts your woman until she misses you,even when you will both be in the same bed?if we make ourselves harder than bone,            make us a legacy that is beyond all this.cuz I’ve been running through doors of male and female,never satisfied.that makes you nervous doesn’t it?are you worried, your palms sweatybecause I am NOT that kind of a manAGstudbutchboiwarrior           and that might make you obsolete, that means this whole systemneeds a revision. that means, we have to ask ourselves dailyare you are doing your homework?homebois, we don’t write enough love poems toourselves. spell out our soft syllables unapologetically, lettingthe ferocity in us extend us a strength beyond stiff jaw and cold silence,the stuff of abandoned buildings.let us unfold the photos with us dipped in lace and dresses and laugh.let the most tender cipher surround us not be our mother’s tears for the lossof a daughter.let us hold our breaths for the sakia gunns and the fong lee’s, as itcould easily be our sweat on this sidewalk.let us adore the swiftness of kisses in moonlight rather than thepummeling cusses of strangers scared of difference.let the tensile ace bandage be a testament across this chest, waving like prophetsof a gender war.let every poor black brown and yellow butch see her way intoa paintbrush, a camera, an uprock, a computer, and not into the hips ofhand grenades chucked on someone else’s homeland.to every person who squirms in the bathrooms, classrooms, and on stagesnext to me, let them know that this moment is a clue of your queerness.let them know my titas are at casinos burning this American dream away toolet them know my kuyas christen their kid’s foreheads and give me daps with the same hands.let them know that each time they make fun of us, they could be in a feather boa,singing prince, showing their wives some force that will drive them toward and not away.let their children run up and down the city  as the confident queer kids, who getscholarships to college for a GSA or for promoting safety at school,you being the backward parent they divulge to teachers they are ashamed of.let me not reveal my monster each time I hear “I’ll fuck you straight.”let my fingers not be readied trigger, grabbing sharp objects for stabbing back,to turn them into the  bloodiest meat they make of mewith their pyramid of power.let me walk away without harm, disbanding my razor-edgethat could cut their lifelines, slice steel song into their temples,shear off their pride as soon as they start to unzip their pants.let us know we can do thisand make it clear:we choose not to.universe, if we can make ourselves harder than bone,  harder than stone,           make us a legacy that is beyond all this.



A 2009 Campus Pride Hot List artist, 2013 Trans Justice Funding Project Panelist, and 2013 Trans 100 Honoree, Kay Ulanday Barrett is a poet, performer, educator, and martial artist navigating life as a disabled pin@y amerikan transgender queer in the U.S. with struggle, resistance, and laughter. Please see his online swerve at: kaybarrett.net and on twitter @kulandaybarrett.

This poem is for my QTPOC homebois. Every one of you. We’ve got to protect each other.We’ve got to undo the bullshit in ourselves. We’ve got to stop competing.We’ve got to undo our bullshitAnd uplift our brilliance.

brownroundboi:

bklynboihood:

HOMEBOIS DON’T WRITE

homebois we don’t write enough love poems.
we re-name ourselves izzie from Isabella,
casey from Cassandra, kay from Kathleen.

we run out of ink for our stories cuz we’ve been
running through doors of male and female, never satisfied.
           
we stunnin’ baggy jeans and bright colors over the sirens,
we stop cars and walk with stride that makes the concrete self-conscious
about it’s own stability.

hitting pavement at the tip-toes of summer,
there you go talkin’ about how you  
“need a woman pregnant and barefoot.”

as I shutter asking,
           are you gonna find a stiletto ready to stab you
if the knight sticks don’t come get you first?

asking- are you gonna be that bullet that is a mouth?
asking- are you gonna be that missile that blasts your woman until she misses you,
even when you will both be in the same bed?

if we make ourselves harder than bone,
            make us a legacy that is beyond all this.

cuz I’ve been running through doors of male and female,
never satisfied.

that makes you nervous doesn’t it?
are you worried, your palms sweaty

because I am NOT that kind of a man

AG
stud
butch
boi
warrior

           and that might make you obsolete, that means this whole system
needs a revision. that means, we have to ask ourselves daily

are you are doing your homework?

homebois, we don’t write enough love poems to
ourselves. spell out our soft syllables unapologetically, letting
the ferocity in us extend us a strength beyond stiff jaw and cold silence,
the stuff of abandoned buildings.

let us unfold the photos with us dipped in lace and dresses and laugh.
let the most tender cipher surround us not be our mother’s tears for the loss
of a daughter.

let us hold our breaths for the sakia gunns and the fong lee’s, as it
could easily be our sweat on this sidewalk.
let us adore the swiftness of kisses in moonlight rather than the
pummeling cusses of strangers scared of difference.
let the tensile ace bandage be a testament across this chest, waving like prophets
of a gender war.

let every poor black brown and yellow butch see her way into
a paintbrush, a camera, an uprock, a computer, and not into the hips of
hand grenades chucked on someone else’s homeland.
to every person who squirms in the bathrooms, classrooms, and on stages
next to me, let them know that this moment is a clue of your queerness.
let them know my titas are at casinos burning this American dream away too

let them know my kuyas christen their kid’s foreheads and give me daps with the same hands.
let them know that each time they make fun of us, they could be in a feather boa,
singing prince, showing their wives some force that will drive them toward and not away.
let their children run up and down the city  as the confident queer kids, who get
scholarships to college for a GSA or for promoting safety at school,
you being the backward parent they divulge to teachers they are ashamed of.

let me not reveal my monster each time I hear “I’ll fuck you straight.”
let my fingers not be readied trigger, grabbing sharp objects for stabbing back,
to turn them into the  bloodiest meat they make of me
with their pyramid of power.

let me walk away without harm, disbanding my razor-edge
that could cut their lifelines, slice steel song into their temples,
shear off their pride as soon as they start to unzip their pants.

let us know we can do this
and make it clear:
we choose not to.

universe, if we can make ourselves harder than bone,  harder than stone,
           make us a legacy that is beyond all this.


A 2009 Campus Pride Hot List artist, 2013 Trans Justice Funding Project Panelist, and 2013 Trans 100 Honoree, Kay Ulanday Barrett is a poet, performer, educator, and martial artist navigating life as a disabled pin@y amerikan transgender queer in the U.S. with struggle, resistance, and laughter. Please see his online swerve at: kaybarrett.net and on twitter @kulandaybarrett.

This poem is for my QTPOC homebois.
Every one of you.
We’ve got to protect each other.
We’ve got to undo the bullshit in ourselves.
We’ve got to stop competing.
We’ve got to undo our bullshit
And uplift our brilliance.

fashionsfromhistory:

"1867 Doll" from the Gratitude Train

Jacques Fath

1949

MET