Sunday, June 30, 2019

Saturday, June 29, 2019

Friday, June 28, 2019

The Eternal Life, 1934, Tetjus Otto Tugel. Germany (1892 - 1973) - Drawing by Pencil -




From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.

- Edvard Munck






Monday, June 03, 2019

Vincent ...


"What am I in the eyes of most people? A good for nothing, an eccentric and disagreeable man, somebody who has no position in society and never will have. Very well, even if that were true, I should want to show by my work what there is in the heart of such an eccentric man, of such a nobody."

— Vincent van Gogh



Via my Tumblr (a man with a past




The eye, Henry de Waroquier (1881 - 1970) - Color Lithograph on Paper -





Around the Thousand and One Nights, 1948-1950, Marc Chagall (1887 - 1985) - Pen and Brush and India ink and Gouache on Paper -






Unknown Portrait, Jean Hugo (1894 - 1984)

Deux hommes / Two Men, Jean Cocteau (1889 - 1963) - Pen and Black ink on Paper -





Potápajúca sa loď / Diving boat, 1930, Albert Bertalan (1899 - 1957) - Oil on Canvas -




La fontaine aux agenouillés, 1905 - 1906, George Minne. Belgian Sculptor (1866 - 1941)

Wednesday, May 29, 2019

Artist & Model, 1976, Benjamin Canas. El Salvador (1933 - 1987) - Oil on Board -




(Ditail)


la Crítica / The Critic, Julio Ruelas. (1870 - 1907) - Engraving -





Flower of Dreams, ca 1917, Stanislav Szukalski. (1893 - 1987) - Original Drawing -






"An idealist in his loneliness put his head into the vise which holds him in place, while the roots of his flower-deal enter his brain and devour his blood.. The stem of this curious flower anxiously gives out its bloom… This is the laboratory of the idealist. The bubble of blood in the blossom is the trans-birth of his hapless love."


 - Stanislav Szukalski




A Submerged Town, 1954, Stanislav Szukalski. (1893 - 1987) - Original conte crayon drawing -





"Thirst brought him to this waterhole in the parched desert. While drinking the water he suddenly beheld a town on the bottom of this scoopful of water, burying his face in it to see more, almost forgetting to breathe, and hating to return to this world...this scorched, lifeless, friendless, empty desert." 

- Stanislav Szukalski