Passing Through Space
Jeremy Enecio‘s dimly lit paintings and illustrations take viewers into a ritualistic space that doesn’t seem to belong to any specific cultural setting. Placid, empty-eyed characters appear statue-like; their actions, however simple, appear secretive and significant. The spaces they find themselves in glow with color-saturated light as they enact these inexplicable behaviors. Enecio chooses to cultivate suspense, allowing us to fill in these people’s stories with our own imaginations. Enecio has three new works up in “Vanguard” group show currently on view at Thinkspace in Culver City. Take a look at more of Enecio’s latest work below.
MORE: http://hifructose.com/2013/05/10/new-occult-paintings-from-jeremy-enecio/
(Source: theartofanimation, via hifructosemag)
(Source: riangosling)
I really need some followers I feel like a total loser on tumblr. Ill follow back and we can get to be great friends
(Source: amarling)
Miss kitts everybody
(Source: gregrutter, via lekteris)
He was growing into middle age... and was living then in a bungalow on Woodland Avenue. He installed himself in a rocking chair... and smoked a cigar down in the evenings... as his wife wiped her pink hands on an apron... and reported happily on their two children. His children knew his legs... the sting of his mustache against their cheeks. They didn't know how their father made his living or why they so often moved. They didn't even know their father's name. He was listed in the city directory as Thomas Howard. And he went everywhere unrecognized... and lunched with Kansas City shopkeepers and merchants... calling himself a cattleman or a commodities investor... someone rich and leisured who had the common touch. He had two incompletely healed bullet holes in his chest... and another in his thigh. He was missing the nub of his left middle finger... and was cautious, lest that mutilation be seen. He also had a condition that was referred to as "granulated eyelids"... and it caused him to blink more than usual... as if he found creation slightly more than he could accept. Rooms seemed hotter when he was in them. Rains fell straighter. Clocks slowed. Sounds were amplified. He considered himself a Southern loyalist and guerrilla... in a Civil War that never ended. He regretted neither his robberies, nor the 17 murders that he laid claim to. He had seen another summer under in Kansas City, Missouri... and on September 5th in the year 1881... he was 34 years old.
-Monologue on the outlaw, Jesse James
