Designer - Maker - Questioner - Experimenter - Searcher
Background Illustrations provided by: http://edison.rutgers.edu/
Reblogged from tylerknott  245 notes
tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #881 by Tyler Knott Gregson
*Pre-Order my book, Chasers of the Light, and donate $2 to @TWLOHA and get a free book plate signed by me :)  Click the link in my bio, or go here:  tylerknott.com/chasers*
Text for Tired Eyes

An Open Letter to the Boy I Was(and the child I do not have)I can see you there, staring out with a mixture of wonderand fascination.  I see the light behind your eyes, shiningthrough and illuminating the color with the intensity of youth.I know your face because it once was mine.  Your eyesare my eyes before the wrinkles of laughter and the linesthat tears have slowly eroded on the sides of them.   This is an open letter to the boy I was.When the stamp comes that can carry these pagesbackwards through the timeline of my life, stretched like clothingon the line, I will send it.  This is a letter to be readby those shining eyes, or to those innocent earsif the tears start early and threaten a smear to the inkseeping into the paper.  Here are the rules I was never givenand the shortcuts I never got to take.  Here are the secretsand the lessons you will learn when you are here and onceagain writing this letter to yourself, just waiting for that stamp.

tylerknott:

Typewriter Series #881 by Tyler Knott Gregson

*Pre-Order my book, Chasers of the Light, and donate $2 to @TWLOHA and get a free book plate signed by me :)  Click the link in my bio, or go here:  tylerknott.com/chasers*

Text for Tired Eyes

An Open Letter to the Boy I Was
(and the child I do not have)


I can see you there, staring out with a mixture of wonder
and fascination.  I see the light behind your eyes, shining
through and illuminating the color with the intensity of youth.
I know your face because it once was mine.  Your eyes
are my eyes before the wrinkles of laughter and the lines
that tears have slowly eroded on the sides of them.   

This is an open letter to the boy I was.
When the stamp comes that can carry these pages
backwards through the timeline of my life, stretched like clothing
on the line, I will send it.  This is a letter to be read
by those shining eyes, or to those innocent ears
if the tears start early and threaten a smear to the ink
seeping into the paper.  Here are the rules I was never given
and the shortcuts I never got to take.  Here are the secrets
and the lessons you will learn when you are here and once
again writing this letter to yourself, just waiting for that stamp.

Reblogged from darksilenceinsuburbia  543 notes

darksilenceinsuburbia:

Katharina Roters

From Hungarian Cubes

In Hungarian Cubes, Roters documents those countryside row houses during Kádár’s reign, after residents started freewheeling with colors and shapes to make it so no two houses looked like. Roters noticed the painted “Magyar Kocka”, or Hungarian Cube, houses in 2003 after moving from Germany to a small Hungarian town. Some of the homes have trompe l’oeil paintings around the window, like facsimiles of shutters or trimming. Others look like abstracted images of sun rays, or harvested crops.

“Today you can buy a car you like, you can do everything you like. In this uniform world where people were not allowed to have some individuality, you had to wait for the same car as your neighbor,” Roters says. “The facade is what I can show to the outside to the world. This was a free space at this time where the people can show and express their individuality.”

Roters has spent years photographing the Magyar Kocka houses. She’s met some of the original owners, but also is watching as the Cube houses undergo renovations and new paint jobs. “The intellectual elite in Hungary they hate the kind of housing and the period and the ornamental decoration,” Roters says. InHungarian Cubes, she writes: “In the eyes of the rural population, these houses are simply no longer up-to-date and are therefore…these witnesses to a way of life are slowly but surely disappearing.” The houses are a relic of some rare individualism during a time of homogeneous, community-centric thinking. (by Margaret Rhodes)

Hungarian Cubes is available here, through Park Books.