I'm Actually Trying This Time.

Photo

February 19, 2013

133,909 notes

un-gendered:

fancybidet:

andrewfishman:

Marina Abramović, “Rhythm 0,” 1974
Marina Abramović is best known for her performance pieces, in which she tries to explore what is possible for an artist to do in the name of art. Her best known piece was the recent “The Artist Is Present,” in which she sat motionless for 736.5 hours over the course of three months, inviting visitors to sit opposite her and make eye contact for as long as they wanted. So many people began spontaneously crying across from her that blogs and Facebook groups were set up for those people.
Her bravest piece, however, is my favorite. This piece was primarily a trust exercise, in which she told viewers she would not move for six hours no matter what they did to her. She placed 72 objects one could use in pleasing or destructive ways, ranging from flowers and a feather boa to a knife and a loaded pistol, on a table near her and invited the viewers to use them on her however they wanted.
Initially, Abramović said, viewers were peaceful and timid, but it escalated to violence quickly. “The experience I learned was that … if you leave decision to the public, you can be killed… I felt really violated: they cut my clothes, stuck rose thorns in my stomach, one person aimed the gun at my head, and another took it away. It created an aggressive atmosphere. After exactly 6 hours, as planned, I stood up and started walking toward the public. Everyone ran away, escaping an actual confrontation.”
This piece revealed something terrible about humanity, similar to what Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford Prison Experiment or Stanley Milgram’s Obedience Experiment, both of which also proved how readily people will harm one another under unusual circumstances.
This performance showed just how easy it is to dehumanize a person who doesn’t fight back, and is particularly powerful because it defies what we think we know about ourselves. I’m certain the no one reading this believes the people around him/her capable of doing such things to another human being, but this performance proves otherwise.

That’s why having a voice is so important. Too many of us are voiceless in a society we are born into.

fancybidet:

andrewfishman:

Marina Abramović, “Rhythm 0,” 1974

Marina Abramović is best known for her performance pieces, in which she tries to explore what is possible for an artist to do in the name of art. Her best known piece was the recent “The Artist Is Present,” in which she sat motionless for 736.5 hours over the course of three months, inviting visitors to sit opposite her and make eye contact for as long as they wanted. So many people began spontaneously crying across from her that blogs and Facebook groups were set up for those people.

Her bravest piece, however, is my favorite. This piece was primarily a trust exercise, in which she told viewers she would not move for six hours no matter what they did to her. She placed 72 objects one could use in pleasing or destructive ways, ranging from flowers and a feather boa to a knife and a loaded pistol, on a table near her and invited the viewers to use them on her however they wanted.

Initially, Abramović said, viewers were peaceful and timid, but it escalated to violence quickly. “The experience I learned was that … if you leave decision to the public, you can be killed… I felt really violated: they cut my clothes, stuck rose thorns in my stomach, one person aimed the gun at my head, and another took it away. It created an aggressive atmosphere. After exactly 6 hours, as planned, I stood up and started walking toward the public. Everyone ran away, escaping an actual confrontation.”

This piece revealed something terrible about humanity, similar to what Philip Zimbardo’s Stanford Prison Experiment or Stanley Milgram’s Obedience Experiment, both of which also proved how readily people will harm one another under unusual circumstances.

This performance showed just how easy it is to dehumanize a person who doesn’t fight back, and is particularly powerful because it defies what we think we know about ourselves. I’m certain the no one reading this believes the people around him/her capable of doing such things to another human being, but this performance proves otherwise.

That’s why having a voice is so important. Too many of us are voiceless in a society we are born into.

(via kipen)

Photoset

February 16, 2013

150,166 notes

(Source: ahmerde, via lesbianaradias)

Photoset

February 10, 2013

8,829 notes

audeamusly:

The recent unprecedented video footage of a giant squid filmed in its deep ocean habitat has renewed interest in the enormous — and yet still mysterious — species. It’s believed that giant squid (genus Architeuthis) can grow up to 55 feet long. The individual captured on video via a small submarine located in the North Pacific Ocean was about 30 feet long and silver and gold in color, marine biologist Edie Widder, who helped to shoot the footage, said. Her colleague Tsunemi Kubodera added that the squid was missing its two longest tentacles. Cephalopod experts are intrigued by the world record footage.

[x]

(via savinghaggis)

Photoset

February 10, 2013

8,774 notes

(Source: quentintarantinos, via anneaudrey)

Video

February 10, 2013

78,439 notes

onthewing:

[tw: cissexism, sexual harassment, implied rape]

You wanna be Peter Pan.
You wanna be that fairy-dusted disaster that conquers Hook and slays pirates because that’s what strong boys do.
But they gave you a dress, and a name to match, and a lot of pink stuff you’d never play with.

You loved action figures just as much as dolls (yeah, you love dolls, don’t lie).

You don’t walk like a lady though.

You flunked ballet class.

“You can’t go, it’s boys only.”
“Don’t wear swimming trunks, wear a bathing suit.”
“You’re too old to be a tomboy! GROW UP.”

You can’t fly. You never will.

Even days when you’re wearing the perfect clothes
people will stare and say, “Is that a girl or a boy?”
And you smile to yourself because today,
maybe you might just pass,
but then you see their eyes register no facial hair,
no knot in your throat, no bulge in your pants, they say it again.

Louder.

Tauntingly.

“IS THAT A GIRL OR A BOY?”

This time they know and they just wanna see you squirm
and you do and they snicker and give you that look that says, “You aren’t human here.”

You’re stuck with the body you’ve got and the gender you don’t
There’s no fairy dust
No flying away
No childhood dreams
So you’re doing the best you can.

You rock your indecisive parts proudly,
but there are days when you can be shattered by a quick tongue.
Days when men argue about the lines of your body, and then one says, “It’s got tits.”

IT

because you’re not worthy of any other title.

Days when girls will hate you for what you are
whatever you are
you aren’t human here.
But I’ve got tits.

So on that day when he said to me,
“I don’t care if you’re gay, I’d still fuck the shit out of you,”
I should’ve been willing, right?

But I wasn’t.

So I walked faster trying to escape his leering face,
the look of malice in his eyes that I’ve seen in so many other men
“I’ll fuck you straight, girl.”

I don’t know how much of a girl
I am but at that moment I wished I had the knuckle strength of men.

But I don’t, so I left my pride in this throat,
I would try to glue myself back together for tomorrow
because there are always gonna be days like this.

Days when you have to carry your somber heart like a coffin,
days when you pass until you slip and let your words fall from your mouth carried by a feminine voice and they know again.

Know that you’re not a him, or a her, but something in between, not human to them.

What an abomination. What a monster.

Why can’t you be normal with your dress, your boyfriend, your virginity?
They wanna paint you the color of smashed hymens.
They want you to know that naked, you will always be soft like a woman;
naked, you will always have the parts of a woman,
you, IT, your telltale breasts
you will NEVER be one of those strong boys.
you are far from Peter Pan but learn to hold your back like a flagpole,
it’s all you’ve got out there.
there’s no Neverland.

poetry makes me cry