cotonblanc:

Loose Powder by Jil Sander

BLESS beauty-product
Make Up Pictures

Eye Shadows, March 2003
Project initiated by Louis-René Bezier

Coloured eye shadows are embedded into postcards: white lines along a road, sand on the beach, leaves. As an element of the landscape, the make up becomes decorative. The postcard can be placed on a bathroom wall allowing the make-up to be applied from this vertical position.

BLESS
celebrating 10 years of themelessness
Nº 00 — Nº 29

Enter the Void

(Source: syphon)

itwonlast:

Charles and Ray Eames were fascinated by elephants. Many images of these gentle giants are found in Charles’ photographic documentations of Indian culture and the circus world. Designed in 1945, the Plywood Elephant is a kids’ chair doubling as sculptural object. Only two prototypes were produced, both of which were subsequently displayed in an exhibition at the New York Museum of Modern Art. Today only one known model remains in the possession of the Eames Family. A limited anniversary edition of the elepant was produced by Vitra in 2007 to commemorate Charles Eames’ 100th birthday.

(Source: Flickr / andreybold)

youmightfindyourself:

The Top 1%: What Jobs Do They Have?

diane arbus: an aperture monograph

undrcovr:

There’ve been a couple of times that I’ve had an experience that’s absolutely like a photograph to me even though it’s totally non-visual. I don’t know if I can describe it. There was one that was sensational. I had gone to a dance for handicapped people. I didn’t have my camera. At first I’d come in and I was incredibly bored. I was sort of holding myself very in and really dreading the whole evening. I couldn’t photograph and there wasn’t even much I wanted to photograph. There were all different kinds of handicapped people. In fact, one woman told me this terrific thing which was that the cerebral palsies don’t like the polios and they both dislike the retardeds. Anyway, after a while somebody asked me to dance and then I danced with a number of people. I began to have an absolutely sensational time. I can’t really explain it. One sort of unpleasant aspect of it was that it was a little bit like being Jean Shrimpton all of the sudden. I mean you had this feeling that you were totally sensational suddenly because of the circumstances. Something had shifted and suddenly you were a remarkable creature. But the other thing was that my whole relation to people changed and I really had the most marvelous time.

Then the woman who had brought me pointed out this man. She said, “Look at that man. He’s dying to dance with somebody but he’s afraid.” He was a sixty year old man and he was retarded and visually he was not interesting to me at all because there was nothing about him that looked strange. He just looked like any sixty year old man. He just looked sort of ordinary. We started to dance and he was very shy. In fact there was something about him that was left over from being eleven. I asked him where he lived and he told me he lived in Coney Island with his father who was eighty and I asked him if he worked and he said in the summer he sold Good Humors. And then he said this incredible sentence. It was something like, “I used to worry about”—it was very slow—“I used to worry about being like this. Not knowing more. But now”—and his eyes kind of lit up—“now I don’t worry anymore.” Well, it was just totally a knockout for me.