Rachel Carbonell, Moroccan Medinas
Tourism Logos National Branding Design. Europe
Il y a des gens qui font de l’argent,
d’autres de la neurasthénie,
d’autres des enfants.
Il y a ceux qui font de l’esprit.
Il y a ceux qui font l’amour,
ceux qui font pitié.
Depuis le temps que je cherche à faire quelque chose!
Il n’y a rien à faire: il n’y a rien à faire.
Louis Faurer, Veruschka on a Dock, 1965
Valquiria de Barros Elgueta, Vilarejo
John Richter, Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming
Vincent Gagnon, Big Bisou
Alexei Aven, Untitled
Well, not exactly blind; I knew of her.
I was the needy unknown, worried
about appearance, and what, if anything,
she’d see beneath it. And, desperate
as this sounds, it was I who fixed myself up—
I didn’t mind being middleman
to the man I longed to be. “Yes,” she agreed,
then, “I hope you’re not the jealous type.”
I lied, and she named the time and place,
told me there’d be others, ever and always.
The door was open. And there we all were—
men and women, empty handed
and dressed down—each of us hoping
to please by voice, by tone. In her big chair
she welcomed or frowned, and one man
she gently touched, as if to say, “Don’t
despair, it will be delivered soon.”
Even as I hated him, I took heart.
She was the plainest woman I’d ever seen.
I wanted to make her up, but all arrangements
seemed hers—I found myself unable
to move. “You look lonely,” she said,
"a little lost, the kind of man
who writes deathly poems about himself.
Sensitive, too,” she added, and laughed.
Thus began the evening the Muse,
that life-long tease, first spoke to me.
"If you want to be any good
you must visit me every day,” she said.
And then, “I’m hardly ever home.”
Alasdair Gunn, Europe Equipopulous Map
Abby Lanes, We are tied to the ocean
Pinturicchio, Il matrimonio mistico di santa Caterina, 1580s, detail
Loomis Dean, Sophia Loren, 1957