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The Enduring Enigma of Collage

Feb 22, 2013

February 21, 2013/by techgnotic (https://www.deviantart.com/techgnotic) Watch depthRADIUS By techgnotic (https://www.deviantart.com/techgnotic) Collage is one of those art forms that immediately sets off heated debate about our most fundamental ideas and visceral feelings about the very essence of art itself. Turn of the century troublemakers Georges Braque and Pablo Picasso began enhancing their paintings with glued on bits of cut out fabric and other materials, thus neatly blurring the line between the art categories of painting and sculpture. They shifted the emphasis or “meaning” of their painted images beyond an attempted interpretation of the painted “text” to thinking about

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Recipe for Bad Poetry by sammehsweet, literature

Let Smiling Dogs Lie by Halohid, literature

Literature

Let Smiling Dogs Lie

Molly had a permanent smile fixed to her face. It was just part of who she was. Sometimes this angered Rachael. She could be crying on Molly's shoulder and her companion would still be beaming away like an idiot. Rachael was always scornful when books talked about dogs knowing how their owners were feeling. 'Molly never has a fucking clue! She's just in a constant state of 'Happy'! She's the least empathic animal on the planet. I swear, her internal monologue is just 'I'm a dog! I'm a dog! I'm a dog!' on loop.' Once Rachael had h

downpour. by Midnight-Day, literature

Literature

downpour.

Drip, drip. Mother always said that raindrops were the tears of the people of the heavens, crying because someone great had died. "Shouldn't it always be raining, then?" I had asked when I first heard this. "No, only when someone great has died. They might not have known they were great, society might not have known they were great, but the tears still flow," she patiently explained to me. "Did it rain when Ben-jay-mine Franklin died?" I questioned. "Yes, it rained when Ben-jay-mine Franklin died," Mother answered. I waited a moment, then ventured again, "Did it rain when Thomas Ed-son died?" "Yes, it rained when Thomas Ed-son died."

intoxication by Pretty-As-A-Picture, literature

Literature

intoxication

i see naked bodies in the gutter as i walk queen street at 3 am. they make love, awkward but warm in the concrete curve. i don't place their clothes. i think it is wonderful though. the heat, the heat. my entire body is rolling from heavy to light, like the shore. my head is humming and my limbs ache dull. there is a sickness in my stomach or in my throat. i think that maybe my stomach is wanting to force itself out my throat- but i won't have that. i walk further. there are no straight lines to follow but i picture them in my mind and still cannot walk across them. i trip, tumble on the edge of the pavement and no one sees. the alcohol pul

For Your Consideration by pullingcandy, literature

Literature

For Your Consideration

Consider this: We're going to go on a date, nothing fancy. Perhaps a burger and movie. Afterwards, I will let you walk me home, or vice-versa. There will be no touching, we will remain as pure as driven snow for this night, this glorious evening which will consist of red checker table cloths, Italian food (we nixed the burger idea, or we will at any rate. Linguini with mushrooms and white wine sauce is a little more elegant, wouldn't you say? Lady and the Tramp, they knew where it was at - we'll just push it up a notch) and coffee, followed by an action movie, any action movie, any movie will do. Consider that. Rewind: We met in a cloudy b

Tuesday Afternoon by ementhal, literature

Literature

Tuesday Afternoon

GOD: Next, please. MAN: Yes, hello again. GOD: I'm sorry, my memory fails me. Which one are you? MAN: Well, I was Martin Fry. GOD: I'm sorry, those records are terminated. What's your number? MAN: Eleven thirty-one. GOD: No, no, not your queue number. Your executive number, the eight-digits. MAN: You expect me to remember that? GOD: Well, it is within the seven plus-minus two limit, which you should achieve if you've reached up to level one. Or, are you the reincarnation? MAN: Yeah, that's right. That's what I wanted to discuss with you. GOD: Did you miss your stop? MAN: No. GOD: I only sent you off a few hours ago.

Don't Talk To Me by henryruss, literature

Literature

Don't Talk To Me

"I'm sorry," I said, and meant it. She nodded, her expression unfathomable. "Me too." There was a long pause. "Just two days ago," I said quietly, avoiding her eyes, "we couldn't even be in the same room without going for each other's throats." She turned away. "Yeah," she admitted. "But look at us now." I continued, "And just two months ago we were the best of friends. But look at us now." This time I looked directly at her, smiling mirthlessly. "But look at us now," she

Flutterings by Gricken, literature

Literature

Flutterings

It hurted. My stomach was hurting for days. Mama said it was probably ulcer or maybe my drinking of so much Coke. But I ate and I ate and never drank Coke, and still my stomach hurted. Even if Mama went to the place where herbal plants grow to get a bunch of leaves so that she could squish them and put them in my drink, my stomach didn't stop hurting. Papa said it was time to call the doctor, so he put on his funny straw hat and went to call the doctor. And when he came back, there was a funny-looking man that followed him into our little house. He had long kinky hair with white stuff in it and when he smiled he had very few teeth. His skin

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