I am Breanna. Nineteen. Feminist. Kinda gay. I plan to be an English professor. Many things intrigue me.

 

fuckyeahsexanddrugs:

likeafieldmouse:

Hidden Mother

"Trying to get a baby or a fussy toddler to sit still for a photograph can feel like a herculean task. Luckily, it only takes a second to get the shot. In the nineteenth century, however, it was a different storyparticularly when it came to tintype portraits, which required a long exposure. 

Photographer Laura Larson’s series, Hidden Mother, presents a survey of nineteenth-century tintype portraits in which the mother of the child was included in the photograph, but obscured. 

In some instances, the mother would hold her child, with a cloth or props hiding her from the lens, or she would be painted over by the photographer after the image had been taken. In other examples, the mother is entirely absent from the frame, save for an arm, holding the child in place. 

The results are both funny and slightly disturbing. The mother appears as an uncanny presence, Larson writes in a statement. Often, she is swathed in fabric, like a ghost.”  

we were so creepy and fucking dumb

jpegheaven:

Allan Wexler.
Coffee Seeks Its Own Level. 1990. If one person alone lifts his cup, coffee overflows the other three cups. All four people need to coordinate their actions and lift simultaneously. Inspired by the principle “water seeks its own level”. I had been working on a series of projects using basic scientific principles learned in high school as a means to explore architectural issues.    

jpegheaven:

Allan Wexler.

Coffee Seeks Its Own Level. 1990. If one person alone lifts his cup, coffee overflows the other three cups. All four people need to coordinate their actions and lift simultaneously. Inspired by the principle “water seeks its own level”. I had been working on a series of projects using basic scientific principles learned in high school as a means to explore architectural issues.    

slimeeeman:

I’m genuinely upset for women who are anti feminism

Unexpressed emotions will never die. They are buried alive and they will come forth, later, in uglier ways.

Sigmund Freud (via onlinecounsellingcollege)

a-local-meth-lab:

earthdad:

When you’re holding hands with someone and they rub your thumb with their thumb is what I live for

literally my favorite thing ever

lord-kitschener:

“what if the aborted baby could have cured cancer???”

oh my god what if the last egg I bled onto a kotex product could have cured cancer??

oh my god how am I not birthing every possible egg I produce, lest one of those resulting babies be the person who cures cancer/AIDS/creates world peace????

what if that baby could have been a musical artist described by pitchfork as “liberace with a metalcore twist”????

how dare i not be pregnant/birthing all the time always?????