Talk about love,
like it’s something more than just a drug-
Toxic levels of mixed chemicals
breaching surfaces of skin.
Hectic red and shades of sin.
-N.M
Talk about love,
like it’s something more than just a drug-
Toxic levels of mixed chemicals
breaching surfaces of skin.
Hectic red and shades of sin.
-N.M
Basel or no Basel, people have hit the streets, with what I like to reference as Trusisms – hence having some truth implied.
The concept of “Trusisms,” originally entered the art scene with Jenny Holzer in the 70s. She made lists of “truths” put forth to the people with art that appeared like advertisments. Thus, she wheat pasted lists of Truisims on walls around New York City, occupied billboards in Times Square, and placed her art on marquees of theatres (see below), and more (she also hit other major cities as well – London, Munich, Oslo, Amsterdam, …).
But now, in the 21st century, people are gratifying their messages on the grounds. Thus, you must now not only look up, but look down.
See examples from Miami’s Wynwood District and New York’s Gallery District in Chelsea of what people are making you contemplate…
Is there always a tomorrow? Is modern art so expensive – yes to some, no to others… And should LOVE be the reason to breathe? Or are there more reasons to breathe besides love… like family, friends, your passions, etc.
Thus take these ideas that are going around the streets that make you question the truths behind these ideas proposed to you… and THINK.
XX,
CHC (@cultureheARTs)
we have nothing left but pages
those which are endless-
latching onto infinity
they go and go and go.
to spell out the savory words
the ones we keep in our mouths
they form out of necessity
out of a need to recount.
its constant
always helpful
sometimes messy and painful
but its the joyous words we aim to trace
the ones which render pleasantries
that leave sweet sounds in our ears
and kind thoughts to spare for later.
Cheers, NYX.
at times these quiet moments invoke curious contemplation
beautiful silences in the romance of the night, its lights
however dim they may be- they are absolutely
pure, sustaining, remaining
the city is my shelter and shall remain so steadily
i keep what magic it lends me
i render it again and again and again
i make it last because it makes me last
nights in silence, in the dead silence
that still, calming anti-sound that i hold so close
Cheers, NYX