Young In The Face
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"Images, of course, take on new meanings depending upon the contexts in which they are displayed. In the case of Rolling Stone, placing its red logo over the bombing suspect’s hair can read like an endorsement, especially now that the photograph has been cropped to make him seem both more important and assertive, and the lighting on his face is rendered with greater nuance."

— Fred Ritchin writes for LightBox on the photographic branding and rhetoric of the modern villain following the Boston bombings (via timelightbox)

"We live in an age of fiction because of the narratives that started the Iraq war, because of the secret tribunals, the secret renditions, the secret flights, the secret prisoners, because of all these secrets and false assumptions. We live in a world where light and shadows are blurred in a sort of permanent eclipse of conscience and truth. We are, platonically speaking, in the cave, and shadows are our only reality. We are like the proverbial frogs you put in a pan of water who never jump out to save themselves when the pan is heated up, because the change of temperature is so gradual that from one moment to the other it is barely noticeable. In that context, where the evidences of daily experience are not sufficient to decisively conclude a course of rational action and survival, it seems that the only remaining course is imagination. In a sense, there is a strategic need for fiction as a way out of the historical conundrum and fragmented reality. It’s a bit like the last scene in Orson Welles’ The Lady from Shanghai; I am surrounded by mirrors, which of those images is reality? So I need to sift through this ONEWORLD and, since I know in any case that nothing is either pure fiction or pure nonfiction and that personal and collective history-memory always puts an imprint on any form of storytelling, who is to say that one is more or less true and valid than the other?"

— Gilles Peress

FATHER
"“Every day we slaughter our finest impulses. That is why we get a heartache when we read those lines written by the hand of a master and recognize them as our own, as the tender shoots which we stifled because we lacked the faith to believe in our own powers, our own criterion of truth and beauty. Every man, when he gets quiet, when he becomes desperately honest with himself, is capable of uttering profound truths. We all derive from the same source. there is no mystery about the origin of things. We are all part of creation, all kings, all poets, all musicians; we have only to open up, only to discover what is already there.”
― Henry Miller"

— (via workman)

(Source: journalofanobody, via epiplecticpencil)