I remember, I was at Cal Arts and I wasn’t a good life-drawer; I struggled with that realistic style of drawing. And one day I was sitting in Farmer’s Market sketching, and it was this weird, mind-blowing experience. I said, ‘Goddamit, I don’t care if I can’t draw, I’m just gonna draw how I feel about it.’ All of a sudden I had my own personal breakthrough, and then I could draw, and satisfied myself. I’ve had very few experiences like that, and I’ll never forget it.Happy Birthday, Tim Burton (August 25, 1958)
Chungking Express (1994) dir. Wong Kar Wai
We are not so different.
I love this, we are all just occupying different forms
this is the coolest f*cking thing
this is so important
"My greatest misfortune would be to marry into a family who would carry me as their shame as I have been required to carry my own mother. Her apparent crime to be born negro and mine to be the evidence. Since I wish to deny her no more than I wish to deny myself you will pardon me for wanting a husband who feels ‘forgiveness’ of my bloodline is both unnecessary and without grace."
"Imagine; I used to have really long blonde hair, always wearing heels, lots of make-up. I had been someone who was highly feminised and had chosen to look that way, partly because I was 6ft 3in but also I was into that aesthetic. I knew it had to be stripped away. I knew this would be an important part, not just for my work but in terms of my own development, because I would be confronting elements of myself that I didn’t want to confront (…) To see yourself displayed as unattractive, large, masculine, it’s quite tough… But I know it’s just perspective. A social conditioning that causes us to view these traits in a woman in a negative way." — Gwendoline Christie
Goodnight, oh captain my captain.
When your classmates wrinkled their noses at the scent of your lunch still lingering on your clothes,
Even though their ancestors had conquered half the world in search of the spices you ate.
How they jeered at your mother’s bindi, making crude jokes about how ridiculous it looked on her,
And after ten years, how they all wore the exact same ornament on their own foreheads to keep up with the current trends.
When they repeatedly stumbled over the sharp letters which formed your name, forcing you to repeat yourself several times before giving up;
Only to have those very letters tattooed on their own flesh, in a language they do not comprehend.
Your culture belongs to you,
Not to them.
— Muneeb Hasan [08.10.14] (via muneebb)