. (by joannablu kitchener)
— Anne Sexton, “Letter Written on a Ferry While Crossing Long Island Sound,” from All My Pretty Ones
Scenes from 1938 Carnival of Swing concert on Randall’s Island, NY. It is considered the first outdoor jazz festival.
— Augusten Burroughs, This Is How: Proven Aid in Overcoming Shyness, Molestation, Fatness, Spinsterhood, Grief, Disease, Lushery, Decrepitude & More. For Young and Old Alike. (via journalofanobody)
Deux jours, une nuit (Two Days, One Night) dir. Jean-Pierre & Luc Dardenne, 2014
Marion Cotillard, photographed by Dancian for Marie Claire France, June 2014.
French Poster for Cléo from 5 to 7 (Agnès Varda, 1962)
Paul Klee was born in Münchenbuchsee, Switzerland, on December 18, 1879. Klee participated in and was influenced by a range of artistic movements, including surrealism, cubism and expressionism. He taught art in Germany until 1933, when the National Socialists declared his work indecent. The Klee family fled to Switzerland, where Paul Klee died on June 29, 1940.
”A single day is enough to make us a little larger or, another time, a little smaller.”
― Paul Klee
Body of a Courtesan in 9 stages of Decomposition, c. 1870.
— Haruki Murakami (via sailorduncan)
A new American dream has gradually replaced the old one. Instead of leisure, or thrift, consumption has become a patriotic duty. Corporations can justify anything—from environmental destruction to prison construction—for the sake of inventing more work to do. A liberal arts education, originally meant to prepare people to use their free time wisely, has been repackaged as an expensive and inefficient job-training program. We have stopped imagining, as Keynes thought it so reasonable to do, that our grandchildren might have it easier than ourselves. We hope that they’ll have jobs, maybe even jobs that they like.
The new dream of overwork has taken hold with remarkable tenacity. Hardly anyone talks about expecting or even deserving shorter workdays anymore; the best we can hope for is the perfect job, one that also happens to be our passion. In the dogged, lonely pursuit of it, we don’t bother organizing with our co-workers. We’re made to think so badly of ourselves as to assume that if we had more free time, we’d squander it.