"“All my work lies ahead of me.” When he said this Camus repudiated nothing in his past; he was speaking like Sisyphus, determined to smile at his own doubts and to continue on his way—still the same way. After Oedipus, after Montaigne, he stubbornly repeated “all is well, all is in order, the failure and the hatreds, the triumphs and the defeats.” It was only that he did not advance in quite the same way. The Fall had left behind something less assured in his step, a bitter crease at the corner of his mouth, and a slight trembling in his voice. “One can be sure of nothing, you see.” Neither of what one says, nor of what one writes. There are two ways we can be betrayed. “In order to cease doubting, one must simply cease being.” Supreme irony! We have not finished questioning his work and answering his questions. Camus is as uncertain today as he was yesterday. This, doubtless, is why he has not ceased to exist."

"An Ambiguous World" - Camus: A Collection of Critical Essays Edited by Germaine Bree (via acknowledgetheabsurd)

vincentvangogh-art:

Paul Gauguin’s Armchair, 1888
Vincent van Gogh

vincentvangogh-art:

Paul Gauguin’s Armchair, 1888

Vincent van Gogh

soflawedandrunkandperfectstill:

"Loner? Well, no. I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody called me that, but it’s not a word I would choose to describe myself. It has a darker connotation. A loner in a lot of people’s minds is someone who’s alone because they can’t interact, not that they maybe choose not to. I don’t know why that freaks people out. I mean, why do they care? Why go out of your way to give someone shit for not interacting with you? …Sometimes it seems that the simple fact that I’ve played acoustic music equals that I’m some sort of hermit, a very depressed hermit who can’t do anything but sit on the edge of his bed and look at his shoes writing songs. And it’s not like that at all. I dunno, it’s a strange thing. I can talk to people, but sometimes I don’t want to."Elliott Smith

soflawedandrunkandperfectstill:

"Loner? Well, no. I wouldn’t be surprised if somebody called me that, but it’s not a word I would choose to describe myself. It has a darker connotation. A loner in a lot of people’s minds is someone who’s alone because they can’t interact, not that they maybe choose not to. I don’t know why that freaks people out. I mean, why do they care? Why go out of your way to give someone shit for not interacting with you? …Sometimes it seems that the simple fact that I’ve played acoustic music equals that I’m some sort of hermit, a very depressed hermit who can’t do anything but sit on the edge of his bed and look at his shoes writing songs. And it’s not like that at all. I dunno, it’s a strange thing. I can talk to people, but sometimes I don’t want to."

Elliott Smith

(via elliottsmithob)

vincentvangogh-art:

Paul Gauguin (Man in a Red Beret), 1888
Vincent van Gogh

Van Gogh invited Gauguin to visit him in Arles numerous times, before the painter finally accepted and arrived at “The Yellow House” on 23 October 1888. The two men lived together and worked together, frequently painting side-by-side, just as van Gogh had hoped.
Gauguin stayed for 9 weeks, but it was not a pleasant visit. The two argued frequently. Gauguin was arrogant and domineering, and van Gogh held strong beliefs about his art that often clashed with Gauguin’s ideas.
The two men painted portraits of each other, van Gogh painting the above portrait in Dec. 1888, near the end of Gauguin’s stay.
On the morning of 23 Dec. van Gogh wrote to his brother Theo that “Gauguin was a little out of sorts with the good town of Arles,” and that there were “grave difficulties to overcome here. But these difficulties are rather inside ourselves than outside.”
That night, van Gogh and Gauguin argued and van Gogh cut off part of his left ear and had to be hospitalized. Gauguin notified Theo and then left Arles, never to see van Gogh again.
Van Gogh recovered from his self-inflicted wound, but continued to suffer from delusions throughout the new year. “Sometimes moods of indescribable anguish, sometimes moments when the veil of time and fatality of circumstances seemed to be torn apart for an instant,” he wrote and admitted himself to an asylum in Saint-Remy in April 1889.

vincentvangogh-art:

Paul Gauguin (Man in a Red Beret), 1888

Vincent van Gogh

Van Gogh invited Gauguin to visit him in Arles numerous times, before the painter finally accepted and arrived at “The Yellow House” on 23 October 1888. The two men lived together and worked together, frequently painting side-by-side, just as van Gogh had hoped.

Gauguin stayed for 9 weeks, but it was not a pleasant visit. The two argued frequently. Gauguin was arrogant and domineering, and van Gogh held strong beliefs about his art that often clashed with Gauguin’s ideas.

The two men painted portraits of each other, van Gogh painting the above portrait in Dec. 1888, near the end of Gauguin’s stay.

On the morning of 23 Dec. van Gogh wrote to his brother Theo that “Gauguin was a little out of sorts with the good town of Arles,” and that there were “grave difficulties to overcome here. But these difficulties are rather inside ourselves than outside.”

That night, van Gogh and Gauguin argued and van Gogh cut off part of his left ear and had to be hospitalized. Gauguin notified Theo and then left Arles, never to see van Gogh again.

Van Gogh recovered from his self-inflicted wound, but continued to suffer from delusions throughout the new year. “Sometimes moods of indescribable anguish, sometimes moments when the veil of time and fatality of circumstances seemed to be torn apart for an instant,” he wrote and admitted himself to an asylum in Saint-Remy in April 1889.

4season-s:

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4season-s:

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(via acknowledgetheabsurd)

Tags: albert camus

dailyrothko:

Mark Rothko, untitled mural for end wall

dailyrothko:

Mark Rothko, untitled mural for end wall

Tags: mark rothko

I will tell you what he told mein the years just after the waras we then calledthe second world wardon’t lose your arrogance yet he saidyou can do that when you’re olderlose it too soon and you maymerely replace it with vanityjust one time he suggestedchanging the usual orderof the same words in a line of versewhy point out a thing twicehe suggested I pray to the Museget down on my knees and prayright there in the corner and hesaid he meant it literallyit was in the days before the beardand the drink but he was deepin tides of his own through which he sailedchin sideways and head tilted like a tacking sloophe was far older than the dates allowed formuch older than I was he was in his thirtieshe snapped down his nose with an accentI think he had affected in Englandas for publishing he advised meto paper my wall with rejection slipshis lips and the bones of his long fingers trembledwith the vehemence of his views about poetryhe said the great presencethat permitted everything and transmuted itin poetry was passionpassion was genius and he praised movement and inventionI had hardly begun to readI asked how can you ever be surethat what you write is reallyany good at all and he said you can’tyou can’t you can never be sureyou die without knowingwhether anything you wrote was any goodif you have to be sure don’t write

"Berryman" by W.S. Merwin (born 30 Sept. 1927).
Merwin was a student at Princeton when he showed his poems to the teaching associate, John Berryman, who was already a published poet, and whose first book, The Dispossessed (1948), received mostly negative reviews).


I will tell you what he told me
in the years just after the war
as we then called
the second world war
don’t lose your arrogance yet he said
you can do that when you’re older
lose it too soon and you may
merely replace it with vanity
just one time he suggested
changing the usual order
of the same words in a line of verse
why point out a thing twice
he suggested I pray to the Muse
get down on my knees and pray
right there in the corner and he
said he meant it literally
it was in the days before the beard
and the drink but he was deep
in tides of his own through which he sailed
chin sideways and head tilted like a tacking sloop
he was far older than the dates allowed for
much older than I was he was in his thirties
he snapped down his nose with an accent
I think he had affected in England
as for publishing he advised me
to paper my wall with rejection slips
his lips and the bones of his long fingers trembled
with the vehemence of his views about poetry
he said the great presence
that permitted everything and transmuted it
in poetry was passion
passion was genius and he praised movement and invention
I had hardly begun to read
I asked how can you ever be sure
that what you write is really
any good at all and he said you can’t
you can’t you can never be sure
you die without knowing
whether anything you wrote was any good
if you have to be sure don’t write

"Berryman" by W.S. Merwin (born 30 Sept. 1927).

Merwin was a student at Princeton when he showed his poems to the teaching associate, John Berryman, who was already a published poet, and whose first book, The Dispossessed (1948), received mostly negative reviews).

dailyrothko:

Mark Rothko, (lavender on mulberry)

dailyrothko:

Mark Rothko, (lavender on mulberry)

"I, too, felt ready to start life all over again. It was as if that great rush of anger had washed me clean, emptied me of hope, and, gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars, for the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe. To feel it so like myself, indeed, so brotherly, made me realize that I’d been happy, and that I was happy still."

— Albert Camus,The Stranger (via thebeathotel)