les-sources-du-nil:

Étienne-Jules Marey (1830-1904)
Jump in Place, Feet Together, circa 1886

les-sources-du-nil:

Étienne-Jules Marey (1830-1904)

Jump in Place, Feet Together, circa 1886




Sans titre (Nu) by Valéry Noel, 2004 

Sans titre (Nu) by Valéry Noel, 2004 




I Had a Flashback of Something That Never Existed / The Return of the Repressed by Louise Bourgeois from the fabric illustrated book Ode à l’oubli, 2002




“Novels institutionalize the ruse of eros. It becomes a narrative texture of sustained incongruence, emotional and cognitive. It permits the reader to stand in triangular relation to the characters in the story and reach into the text after the objects of their desire, sharing their longing but also detached from it, seeing their view of reality but also its mistakenness. It is almost like being in love.” — Anne Carson, Eros the Bittersweet


From Katsumi Omura + Saori Yagi by Katsumi Omura, 1994

(via gacougnol, grigiabot)




John Casado, 2001-2005




Pure violence by Martina Falchetti, Summer, Florence, 2011
Also

Pure violence by Martina Falchetti, Summer, Florence, 2011

Also




Untitled by Nobuyoshi Araki, 1990
Also

Untitled by Nobuyoshi Araki, 1990

Also




“For us, eating and being eaten belong to the terrible secret of love. We love only the person we can eat. The person we hate we ‘can’t swallow.’ That one makes us vomit. Even our friends are inedible. If we were asked to dig into our friend’s flesh we would be disgusted. The person we love we dream only of eating. That is, we slide down that razor’s edge of ambivalence. The story of torment itself is a very beautiful one. Because loving is wanting and being able to eat up and yet to stop at the boundary. And there, at the tiniest beat between springing and stopping, in rushes fear. The spring is already in mid-air. The heart stops. The heart takes off again. Everything in love is oriented towards this absorption. At the same time real love is a don’t-touch, yet still an almost-touching. Tact itself: a phantom touching. Eat me up, my love, or else I’m going to eat you up. Fear of eating, fear of the edible, fear on the part of the one of them who feels loved, desired, who wants to be loved, desired, who desires to be desired, who knows there is no greater proof of love than the other’s appetite, who is dying to be eaten up, who says or doesn’t say, but who signifies: I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow. And yet manage it so as to keep me alive. But I often turn about or compromise, because I know that you won’t eat me up, in the end, and I urge you: bite me. Sign my death with your teeth.” — 

Hélène Cixous, The Love of the Wolf

(via batardemilkyfangs)




regardintemporel:

Vincent Sharp  - Sans titre, vers 1970-1975

regardintemporel:

Vincent Sharp  - Sans titre, vers 1970-1975




João Cutileiro, 1960s-1970s
Also

João Cutileiro, 1960s-1970s

Also




frenchtwist:

From Muses by Yoshihiro Tatsuki, Shunji Okura, Hideki Fujii, 1992Also

frenchtwist:

From Muses by Yoshihiro Tatsuki, Shunji Okura, Hideki Fujii, 1992

Also




“Suddenly, all at once, she knows, knows that he doesn’t understand her, that he never will, that he lacks the power to understand such perverseness. And that he can never move fast enough to catch her.” — Marguerite Duras, The Lover



darksilenceinsuburbia, casadabiqueira:

From the Flowers series
Romualdas Rakauskas, 1970

darksilenceinsuburbiacasadabiqueira:

From the Flowers series

Romualdas Rakauskas, 1970




Nus by Florence Gruere, 2007

Also