I Go To seek A Great Perhaps...

Wants/Dreams/Inspirations/Beauty&Me

yagazieemezi:

I have always been attracted to the use of color with mixed prints and patterns so I was very pleased to come across the work of South African artist and illustrator, Marna Hattingh. As a children’s book illustrator, her vibrant characters are often caught in the act of play and fantasy while her intricately detailed backgrounds gives the viewer an eye-full to dive deeper into.

"Hattingh finds inspiration for her artworks, within her South African and wider society, particularly the complexity of our daily lives.  Drawing inspiration from an eclectic range including media, fashion, history and fictional novels, her finely drawn characters jump, dance and spin across timeless, patterned backgrounds. Each painting is extensive worked and contains its own complex narrative; an immediacy that is difficult to ignore.” (SOURCE)

View more of her work HERE.

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Dedicated to the Cultural Preservation of the African Aesthetic

When it is but it aint


Some of us love badly. Sometimes the love is the type of love that implodes. Folds in on itself. Eats its insides. Turns wine to poison. Behaves poorly in restaurants. Drinks. Kisses other people. Comes back to your bed at 4am smelling like everything outside. Asks about your ex. Is jealous of your ex. Thinks everyone a rival. Some of us love others badly, love ourselves worse. Some of us love horrid, love beastly. Love sick love anti light. Sometimes the love can’t go home at night, can’t sleep with itself cannot contain itself, catches fire, destroys the belly, strips buildings, goes missing. Punches. Smashes heirlooms. Tells lies. The best lies. Fucks around. Writes poems, impresses people. Chases lovers into corners. Leaves them longing. Sea sick. Says yes. Means anything but. Tricks the body. Kills the body. Dances wild and walks away, smiling.

mister-wunderkammer:

Albuca is a genus of plants originally from southern and western Africa. Many species produce flowers which release a sweet scent at night, but some are grown for their peculiar spiralling leaves.

(via alittlebitofpcos)

It’s never quite right, the way people look,
the way the music sounds, the way the words are
written.

It’s never quite right, all the things we are
taught, all the loves we chase, all the deaths we
die, all the lives we live,
they are never quite right,
they are hardly close to right
these lives we live
one after the other,
piled there as history,
the waste of the species,
the crushing of the light and the way,

it’s not quite right,
it’s hardly right at all.

—Charles Bukowski, Cut While Shaving (via whyallcaps)

(via thatkindofwoman)