spectrumefficiency

Jun 3

somewhereinthisuniverse:

These mesmerizing sculptures are the work of William Ricketts, a rare Australian born in 1898 who was in awe of the connection the Aborigine people have with the land. Hidden deep within a lush Australian rainforest are a set of mystical Aborigine sculptures seemingly merged into the natural surroundings. Moss covered torsos of men, women and children protrude from tree trunks and boulders. Some reach heavenward with widespread wings, others envelop each other protectively – all are symbols of the relationship the indigenous Australian Aborigines have with nature.

wow, these are beautiful :)

(via rainzart)

Jun 2

Pie-ARTS: The Last Masterpieces of Alexander McQueen

thecuttingclass:

Alexander McQueen, AW10.

For many who knew or worked with Alexander McQueen, or for those many people who admired the work of Alexander McQueen, the pieces from his final collection must carry with them an incredible sense of sadness and…

(via anatemnein)

May 30

heathyr:

rebloggable for those who asked~

HOW

May 29

lostsplendor:

Winter Cape by (via FM908)

Well, yeah, if by winter you mean -2 on a cold night.

(via heysammy)

May 27

mishasminions:

lol i suck at art

wow welcome to the club idek what i was thinking

delete later

just an in-class doodle

lol I don’t even know what I was trying to do here, I’ll delete it later

wow you guys suck

WHATEVER. YOU GUYS ARE AMATEURS. FUCKING PRIMITIVES. THOSE ARE GARBAGE. THE ONLY VALID ART THESE DAYS IS ANIMATION. AND I’M A FUCKING EXPERT. MY WORK IS FAR MORE SUPERIOR THAN YOURS

May 24

mishasminions:

CAN WE PLEASE ACKNOWLEDGE HOW CAS IS THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE OF WHAT HE USED TO BE WHEN HE STARTED OUT. HE USED TO BE A SOLDIER; DESIGNED TO PROTECT, FOLLOW ORDERS, AND KILL IF NEED BE. HE USED TO BE FIRM AND UNFEELING. HE BURNED PEOPLE’S EYES OUT. DEMONS WOULD RUN AND HIDE. HE EVEN SCARED DEAN A LITTLE. OH GOD. HERE IS THE ANGEL WHO THREATENED TO THROW DEAN BACK IN HELL. HERE IS THE ANGEL WHO RAISED PEOPLE FROM PERDITION. HERE IS THE ANGEL WHO PLAYED GOD. HERE IS THE ANGEL WHO WANTED TO STEP ON A FISH.

NOW LOOK AT HIM. HE DOESN’T WANT TO FIGHT. HE’S AN ACTIVE MEMBER OF PETA. HE’LL PROBABLY THROW A BAG OF FLOUR AT LINDSAY LOHAN IF HE SEES HER WEARING FUR. HE’S ALL GUNG-HO ABOUT HOW BEAUTIFUL EVERYTHING IS. HE’S FROLICKING IN MEADOWS. HE’S FOLLOWING BEES. HE’S COLLECTING HONEY. HE COMFORTS PIGS BEFORE HE SLAUGHTERS THEM FOR HAM. HE MAKES SANDWICHES. HE WANTS A CAT. HE WANTS TO FREE ALL OF THE MONKEYS BECAUSE WHO THE FUCK NEEDS LIPSTICK?! CERTAINLY NOT DEAN—I MEAN, THAT’S JUST HOW HIS VOLUPTUOUS LIPS GO. BUT ANYWAY, LOOK AT THIS ANGEL! HE CAN’T EVEN HURT A FLY—UNLESS OF COURSE HE COMFORTS IT FIRST BECAUSE DEAN AND SAM NEED TO EAT IT. LOOK AT CAS! HE’S SO FUCKING HIGH ON LIFE! THAT FUCKING HIPPIE. LOOK AT HIM!

OH AND ALSO, I LOVE HOW DEAN TAKES A FEW DEEP BREATHS BEFORE TALKING TO CAS. IT’S LIKE HE’S GOING FOR A SWIM.

A SWIM IN THE SEA OF LOVE. (Oh yes, I went there)

May 23

escargod:

right, so this is like, a small and very messy slice of my influences in the past year and beyond. some of these artists are my best friends. some of them i’ve been quietly learning from for years. some are professionals, some are hobbyists. what they all have in common, for me, is a profound kind of honesty and expression that resounds no matter the medium or technique used. i could write essays about all of these (and in some cases i already have). they’re all my favourites. i take their leads on everything i do.

credit from left to right, top to bottom—

BritishMuffin, Soltian, Ai, Ray, SaruMuffin, Jengabean, Worrynet, Raven Molisee, Ravenno, Blakravell, Amanda Tolleson, Discarded, Lester, Ammo, my sister, Jeremy Engleman, Wyna Hiros, Dan Kim, Not2Late, De Es Schwertberger, Vestergaard, ShovelDuct, Euclase, Jay, Velvetnemo, Muura, Barracuda, Hime1999, Slinkymalinky, Alison Watt, Sawayaka, Christin Zakh.

AND THAT’S NOT EVEN HALF OF WHAT SHOULD BE ON THIS THING. *faints*

reblogged for when i have time

May 22

dwooman:

i promised someone a drawing of mike with the drive jacket.
i am a man of my word.

(via peopleofmotorcity)

[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Kamagata Eiichi - Jinsei wa Belt Conveyor no Youni Nagareru

THAT GLORIOUS MOMENT WHEN YOU’RE A MADAO

May 21

: HEY, DID I MISS ANYTHING?

danharmon:

Kids:

A few hours ago, I landed in Los Angeles, turned on my phone, and confirmed what you already know. Sony Pictures Television is replacing me as showrunner on Community, with two seasoned fellows that I’m sure are quite nice - actually, I have it on good authority they’re quite nice, because they once created a show and cast my good friend Jeff Davis on it, so how bad can they be.

Why’d Sony want me gone? I can’t answer that because I’ve been in as much contact with them as you have. They literally haven’t called me since the season four pickup, so their reasons for replacing me are clearly none of my business. Community is their property, I only own ten percent of it, and I kind of don’t want to hear what their complaints are because I’m sure it would hurt my feelings even more now that I’d be listening for free.

I do want to correct a couple points of spin, now that I’m free to do so:

The important one is this quote from Bob Greenblatt in which he says he’s sure I’m going to be involved somehow, something like that. That’s a misquote. I think he meant to say he’s sure cookies are yummy, because he’s never called me once in the entire duration of his employment at NBC. He didn’t call me to say he was starting to work there, he didn’t call me to say I was no longer working there and he definitely didn’t call to ask if I was going to be involved. I’m not saying it’s wrong for him to have bigger fish to fry, I’m just saying, NBC is not a credible source of All News Dan Harmon.

You may have read that I am technically “signed on,” by default, to be an executive consulting something or other - which is a relatively standard protective clause for a creator in my position. Guys like me can’t actually just be shot and left in a ditch by Skynet, we’re still allowed to have a title on the things we create and “help out,” like, I guess sharpening pencils and stuff.

However, if I actually chose to go to the office, I wouldn’t have any power there. Nobody would have to do anything I said, ever. I would be “offering” thoughts on other people’s scripts, not allowed to rewrite them, not allowed to ask anyone else to rewrite them, not allowed to say whether a single joke was funny or go near the edit bay, etc. It’s….not really the way the previous episodes got done. I was what you might call a….hands on producer. Are my….periods giving this enough….pointedness? I’m not saying you can’t make a good version of Community without me, but I am definitely saying that you can’t make my version of it unless I have the option of saying “it has to be like this or I quit” roughly 8 times a day.

The same contract also gives me the same salary and title if I spend all day masturbating and playing Prototype 2. And before you ask yourself what you would do in my situation: buy Prototype 2. It’s fucking great.

Because Prototype 2 is great, and because nobody called me, and then started hiring people to run the show, I had my assistant start packing up my office days ago. I’m sorry. I’m not saying seasons 1, 2 and 3 were my definition of perfect television, I’m just saying that whatever they’re going to do for season 4, they’re aiming to do without my help. So do not believe anyone that tells you on Monday that I quit or diminished my role so I could spend more time with my loved ones, or that I negotiated and we couldn’t come to an agreement, etc. It couldn’t be less true because, just to make this clear, literally nobody called me. Also don’t believe anyone that says I have sex with animals. And if there’s a photo of me doing it with an animal - I’m not saying one exists, I’m just saying, if one surfaces - it’s a fake. Look at the shadow. Why would it be in front of the giraffe if the sun is behind the jeep?

Where was I? Oh yeah. I’m not running Community for season 4. They replaced me. Them’s the facts.

When I was a kid, sometimes I’d run home to Mommy with a bloody nose and say, “Mom, my friends beat me up,” and my Mom would say “well then they’re not worth having as friends, are they?” At the time, I figured she was just trying to put a postive spin on having birthed an unpopular pussy. But this is, after all, the same lady that bought me my first typewriter. Then later, a Commodore 64. And later, a 300 baud modem for it. Through which I met new friends that did like me much, much more.

I’m 39, now. The friends my Mom warned me about are bigger now, and older, bloodying my nose with old world numbers, and old world tactics, like, oh, I don’t know, sending out press releases to TV Guide at 7pm on a Friday.

But my Commodore 64 is mobile now, like yours, and the modems are invisible, and the internet is the air all around us. And the good friends, the real friends, are finding each other, and connecting with each other, and my Mom is turning out to be more right than ever.

Ah, shit, I still haven’t called my fucking Mom.

Mom, Happy Mother’s Day. I got fired.

Yes, Mom. AGAIN.