Posts Tagged: angels
Rilke – Duino Elegies
And if I cried, who’d listen to me in those angelic orders? Even if one of them suddenly held me to his heart, I’d vanish in his overwhelming presence. Because beauty’s nothing but the start of terror we can hardly
Rilke – Duino Elegies
And if I cried, who’d listen to me in those angelic orders? Even if one of them suddenly held me to his heart, I’d vanish in his overwhelming presence. Because beauty’s nothing but the start of terror we can hardly
The Angels – Rainer Maria Rilke
They all have tired mouths and bright seamless souls. And a longing (as for sin) sometimes haunts their dream. They are almost all alike; in God’s gardens they keep still, like many, many intervals in his might and melody.
The Angels – Rainer Maria Rilke
They all have tired mouths and bright seamless souls. And a longing (as for sin) sometimes haunts their dream. They are almost all alike; in God’s gardens they keep still, like many, many intervals in his might and melody.
The Archangel Michael
Tadeusz Zielinski 1379 Hans Memling 1466 Jacob Tintoretto (ca 1565) Annibale Carracci (ca 1595) Guido Reni 1635 Luca Giordano 1650 Francesco Maffei 1656 Benjamin West (ca 1780)
The Archangel Michael
Tadeusz Zielinski 1379 Hans Memling 1466 Jacob Tintoretto (ca 1565) Annibale Carracci (ca 1595) Guido Reni 1635 Luca Giordano 1650 Francesco Maffei 1656 Benjamin West (ca 1780)
Pale Composition
Pale Composition – 48′ x 60′ – oil on canvas – January – Decemeber 24, 2012 This painting took me one full year to complete. It is an attempt to create something that touches a limit of what a painting
Pale Composition
Pale Composition – 48′ x 60′ – oil on canvas – January – Decemeber 24, 2012 This painting took me one full year to complete. It is an attempt to create something that touches a limit of what a painting
Rainer Maria Rilke – The Book of Hours
Why am I reaching again for the brushes? When I paint your portrait, God, nothing happens. But I can choose to feel you. At my senses’ horizon you appear hesitantly, like scattered islands. Yet standing here, peering out, I’m all
Rainer Maria Rilke – The Book of Hours
Why am I reaching again for the brushes? When I paint your portrait, God, nothing happens. But I can choose to feel you. At my senses’ horizon you appear hesitantly, like scattered islands. Yet standing here, peering out, I’m all
Sylvia Plath – Magi
Magi The abstracts hover like dull angels: Nothing so vulgar as a nose or an eye Bossing the ethereal blanks of their face-ovals. Their whiteness bears no relation to laundry, Snow, chalk, or suchlike. They’re The real thing, all
Sylvia Plath – Magi
Magi The abstracts hover like dull angels: Nothing so vulgar as a nose or an eye Bossing the ethereal blanks of their face-ovals. Their whiteness bears no relation to laundry, Snow, chalk, or suchlike. They’re The real thing, all
Peter Sloterdijk – Being “With”
Descents into foreign tunnels do not lead you back into the incomparable black monochrome background from which your life began to emerge as a vibrating figure long ago. Seeing in the only darkness that concerns you cannot be practiced on
Peter Sloterdijk – Being “With”
Descents into foreign tunnels do not lead you back into the incomparable black monochrome background from which your life began to emerge as a vibrating figure long ago. Seeing in the only darkness that concerns you cannot be practiced on
view from a burrow 