A visual journal of my
photography, artistic creations,
art crap, news, thoughts,
inspirations and influences
as a visual artist.
Representing ZNC, PHBKLK
Lives and works in Singapore.
Photos by me unless otherwise cited.
©2006-2013 Atomic.k All rights reserved.
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Got a tattoo of a diagram that my Grandpa drew for me as a kid. I was asking about the numbers on a globe and he showed me how longitude and latitude work and how to locate my home on the surface of the Earth.
Edit: This kinda blew up on Reddit and Imgur. Sweet!
Justin Bartels - Impression (2012)
I can’t not reblog this.
This is the best thing on the Internet. We undress everyday and it shows us how confined we are. Those imprints show how uncomfortable we are throughout each day just to impress other people. We create prisons in our own clothes. We are a prisoner in a socially constructed idea of what is beautiful.
yes its back
Everything the same, including sunlight, because it would be hard on a young girl to go so quickly from bright light to utter darkness
Gradually, he thought, he’d introduce the night first as the shadows of fluttering leaves. Then moon, then stars. Then no moon, no stars. Let Persephone get used to it slowly. In the end, he thought, she’d find it comforting
A replica of earth except there was love here. Doesn’t everyone want love?
He waited many years, building a world, watching Persephone in the meadow. Persephone, a smeller, a taster. If you have one appetite, he thought, you have them all.
Doesn’t everyone want to feel in the night the beloved body, compass, polestar, to hear the quiet breathing that says I am alive, that means also you are alive, because you hear me, you are here with me. And when one turns, the other turns—
That’s what he felt, the lord of darkness, looking at the world he had constructed for Persephone. It never crossed his mind that there’d be no more smelling here, certainly no more eating.
Guilt? Terror? The fear of love? These things he couldn’t imagine; no lover ever imagines them.
He dreams, he wonders what to call this place. First he thinks: The New Hell. Then: The Garden. In the end, he decides to name it Persephone’s Girlhood.
A soft light rising above the level meadow, behind the bed. He takes her in his arms. He wants to say I love you, nothing can hurt you
but he thinks this is a lie, so he says in the end you’re dead, nothing can hurt you which seems to him a more promising beginning, more true.
“A Myth of Devotion,” Louise Glück (via mirroir)
There’s something cold and blank behind her smile
She’s standing on an overpass
In her miracle mile
“You were from a perfect world
A world that threw me away today
Today to run away”
A pill to make you numb
A pill to make you dumb
A pill to make you anybody else
But all the drugs in this world
Won’t save her from herself
Her mouth was an empty cut
And she was waiting to fall
Just bleeding like a polaroid that
Lost all her dolls