perfectlydreadful:

White People: The Middle East is so barbaric. They’ll cut off a person’s hand just for stealing!

White People when an unarmed black kid is murdered by police in America: Yeah, but he shoplifted some cigarillos, so…

(via tuhree)

glossynympheteyes:

My Love (Moya Lyubov) is a paint-on-glass-animated 2006 short film directed by Aleksandr Petrov and based on Ivan Shmelyov’s 1927 A Love Story (Istoriya Lyubovnaya). It takes place in the 19th century Russia and tells the story of the sixteen-year-old boy Anton who is torn apart by his feelings for a pure and gentle girl and a femme fatale. Watch it here.

Paint-on-glass animation is a technique for making animated films by manipulating slow-drying oil paints on sheets of glass. Aleksandr Petrov is the most well-known practitioner of this technique; he has used it in seven films, all of which have won numerous awards. 

(via pyrousseau)

neutrois:

policymic:

Intimate photos of agender youth challenge society’s gender norms

"I think a lot of people like to see gender as this scale of blue and pink," Emma, a 20-year-old college student, told the magazine. "I never really identified with either side of that, or even in between blue and pink. It’s so much more complicated — my identity varies so much on any given day. Sometimes I tell people I’m gold or something."

Read more | Follow policymic 

I appreciate that it includes a bit from the original article, which clarifies:

"This growing community encompasses people who see themselves as agender (neither male nor female), bi-gender (both genders) and gender-fluid (shifting from male to female)."

(Source: micdotcom, via anxius)

pinmeupagainstthesky:

These, for me, are the two most depressing paintings in western history. They were painted by post-impressionist Henry de Toulouse-Lautrec, a man who, due to inbreeding, was born with a genetic disorder that prevented his legs from growing after they were broken. After being so thoroughly mocked for is appearance, he became an alcoholic, which is what eventually caused his institutionalization and death. His only known romantic relations were with prostitutes.

And then he paints something like this which is so beautiful and tender and sentimental. It seems like the couple in bed really loves each other—cares about each other. Wakes up happy to look at each other. And I see that love and passion and I wonder how lonely he must have been. I wonder how he could paint something like this without it breaking his heart. 

Maybe they say artists should create what they know, not because its unbelievable when they extend themselves beyond their experiences, but because when they pull it off with such elegance, it’s so damn unbearable to look at. I hate thinking of Lautrec, wondering about the lovers he created and knowing it was beyond his experience. Creating something that he knows is beautiful and knows he’ll never really understand. 

(via trashcan-goddess)