Morning - Mikhail Vrubel, 1897
The notorious character type who bobbed her hair, smoke cigarettes, drank gin, sported short skirts, and passed her evenings in steamy jazz clubs, where she danced in a shockingly immodest fashion with a revolving cast of male suitors.”
“The New Woman of the 1920s boldly asserted her right to dance, drink, smoke, and date— to work her own property, to live free of the strictures that governed her mother’s generation. (…) She flouted Victorian-era conventions and scandalized her parents. In many ways, she controlled her own destiny”
Li Wei always wanted to become an artist. He studied at a private arts school, but had to work at odd jobs to support himself later on. While he was then able to work securely as an artist using paint, Li realized that performance art was the only way that he could truly express himself. Thus began his foray into his “action shots”.
When Li began his performance art series around 2000, they were simply that: performance art. The photographs only came in when Li wanted pictures to document his performances. When Li began his “Falls Into…” series, (depicting the artist literally falling into walls, cars, roads, etc.), photography became an integral part of his works.
In order to pull off these amazing shots, Li uses anything from mirrors to heavy-duty rope to rented-out cranes. These elements are then edited out to give a sense of impossibility to his pictures. While the editing process might fall under the Photoshop category, it’s important to note that 99% of his images are done on the scene and the final 1% is just retouching.
- 1) Screenshot your desktop
- 3) Screenshot your blog
- 4) Screenshot your post count
- 5) Screenshot your liked count
- 6) Screenshot your followers
- 7) Screenshot your dash
- 8) Screenshot your favorite blog
- 9) Screenshot your message count
- 10) Screenshot your saved url's
- 11) Screenshot [insert whatever]
i’m still in the process of realizing that i am
across the country
gone from the last two days of my ‘normal’ junior schedule
attending my grandma’s funeral
or actually, i already have. i’ve already gone now. it’s over, and has been for awhile.
loss is strange for me, as a hole somewhere deep inside of me, seems to grow wider and wider, larger and larger, but there are no tears or visible storms of grief.
there’s just a hole somewhere deep inside, hollowing me out from within.