Imallover

willkimart:

simonchungartauction:

simonchungartauction:

Another beautiful submission by my super talented friend and teacher Will Kim!! Follow him at http://willkimart.tumblr.com

Although my friend Simon Chung has passed away last friday we are still going to have our art auction to honor him and help his family~ It’s been hard to see him go but I know he is in a far better place* Please check out all the artwork on
http://simonchungartauction.tumblr.com/
and everyone is welcome to come to the event!! : D

2 days ago, our beloved friend Simon passed away after battling a rare blood cancer for a number of years. This auction at animation guild in Burbank was planned before he passed, to help him and his family with the financial need. Even though he is not with us anymore, his spirit is and the auction will still happen. This piece is what I have donated. Please follow the blog and come to the Animation Guild in Burbank if you can.

willkimart:

simonchungartauction:

simonchungartauction:

Another beautiful submission by my super talented friend and teacher Will Kim!! Follow him at http://willkimart.tumblr.com

Although my friend Simon Chung has passed away last friday we are still going to have our art auction to honor him and help his family~ It’s been hard to see him go but I know he is in a far better place* Please check out all the artwork on
http://simonchungartauction.tumblr.com/
and everyone is welcome to come to the event!! : D

2 days ago, our beloved friend Simon passed away after battling a rare blood cancer for a number of years. This auction at animation guild in Burbank was planned before he passed, to help him and his family with the financial need. Even though he is not with us anymore, his spirit is and the auction will still happen. This piece is what I have donated. Please follow the blog and come to the Animation Guild in Burbank if you can.

(via darksilenceinsuburbia)

artchipel:

Curator’s Monday 155 - Artist on Tumblr

Alyssa Monks | on Tumblr (b.1977, USA)

Brooklyn-based artist Alyssa Monks is a figurative painter, blurring the line between abstraction and realism. “Using filters such as glass, vinyl, water, and steam, I distort the body in shallow painted spaces. These filters allow for large areas of abstract design - islands of color with activated surfaces - while bits of the human form peak through. In a contemporary take on the traditional bathing women, my subjects are pushing against the glass “window”, distorting their own body, aware of and commanding the proverbial male gaze. Thick paint strokes in delicate color relationships are pushed and pulled to imitate glass, steam, water and flesh from a distance. However, up close, the delicious physical properties of oil paint are apparent. Thus sustaining the moment when abstract paint strokes become something else. When I began painting the human body, I was obsessed with it and needed to create as much realism as possible. I chased realism until it began to unravel and deconstruct itself, I am exploring the possibility and potential where representational painting and abstraction meet - if both can coexist in the same moment.” Monks’s paintings have been the subject of numerous solo and group exhibitions, and her work is represented in public and private collections.

© All images courtesy of the artist

[more Alyssa Monks | Curator’s Monday with artforadults]

(via darksilenceinsuburbia)

darksilenceinsuburbia:


O Captain! My Captain!

BY WALT WHITMAN


O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the bleeding drops of red,
                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
                         Here Captain! dear father!
                            The arm beneath your head!
                               It is some dream that on the deck,
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                            But I with mournful tread,
                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.

darksilenceinsuburbia:

O Captain! My Captain!

BY WALT WHITMAN

O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
                         But O heart! heart! heart!
                            O the bleeding drops of red,
                               Where on the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
                         Here Captain! dear father!
                            The arm beneath your head!
                               It is some dream that on the deck,
                                 You’ve fallen cold and dead.

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
                         Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
                            But I with mournful tread,
                               Walk the deck my Captain lies,
                                  Fallen cold and dead.