The Prismatarium at the Aquatic Park Bathhouse, “functioning in relation to the field of color much as the Planetarium does for the heavens.” From Jef Poskanzer’s photostream. (via) #
Archive for July, 2009
“All this, and much more, she had accepted, for, after all, living does mean accepting the loss of one joy after another, not even joys in her case, mere possibilities of improvement. She thought of the recurrent waves of pain that for some reason or other she and her husband had had to endure; of the invisible giants hurting her boy in some unimaginable fashion; of the incalculable amount of tenderness contained in the world; of the fate of this tenderness, which is either crushed or wasted, or transformed into madness; of neglected children humming to themselves in unswept corners; of beautiful weeds that cannot hide from the farmer.”
—Vladimir Nabokov #
Bas Jan Ader. (via It’s Nice That) #
No one knows how to make a pencil
My bit of metal—the ferrule—is brass. Think of all the persons who mine zinc and copper and those who have the skills to make shiny sheet brass from these products of nature. Those black rings on my ferrule are black nickel. What is black nickel and how is it applied? The complete story of why the center of my ferrule has no black nickel on it would take pages to explain.
I’d take a few more pages. From Leonard Read’s fantastic I, Pencil. (via) #
My parents in 1978. From Ray O’Brien’s photos on Facebook. #
