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She splays the treasures she has found all around her,

The china plate, the fan, the chest and fresh flowers.

And a book, whose meaning escapes her,

Except for the page with all of the pictures

Of the places she yearns to go.

The people in the pictures all have ballgowns,

With lace corsets and crystals that catch every inch of light.

She runs her hand along her waist,

Feeling rough wool under her fingertips.

She should be wearing silk. She should be dancing on marble floors.

But she isn’t.

Instead she if sprawled on the floor.

Looking at the ceiling.

Thinking of what is

And what could never be.

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The divorce was really hard but I respect Diego’s decision

Seperating had led me to different emotions.

Inside me I feel like theres is two different personalities that completes me.

I carried around my neck the amulet of Diego when he was a child.

My wedding dress, the Frida that was wearing  he abandoned.

My heart is broken but the other one makes me feel whole.

I cut my veins with surgical pincers.

I know I am danger to death but that doesn’t matter.

I am all left all alone.

I am my only companion.

We are so different

My heart is pumping faster and faster

But I guess my heart broke in pieces it stop sooner or later

Watch the blood draining on my dress

And my heart stops and left a slow sound of an echo.

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as High as I by Lurrrz C (Lars, a.k.a. MC White Chocolate)

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as High as I by Lurrrz C (Lars, a.k.a. MC White Chocolate)

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All things immaterial manifest themselves.

I can see them, the shapes they take, and

They shake, make vibrations before the images break.

Of sounds once heard they sing, I hear,

Though some shriek; waves again.

Some smell of shorn grass, and sweet sweat,

and others still possess a different reek.

Oh, she leaked just to hear me speak,

And down we legends would lay, relinquish ourselves

To the stuff of dreams, each one unique.

And dreaming, bodies spent, we fall into repose;

And in repose, tangled in limb and breath

Fall into dreaming. And all things immaterial manifest themselves.

The present is teeming with pasts and futures, and

romantic visions of both of those.

But you know how reality goes, yeah

I know how reality goes.

Scorpio and taurus and pisces, oh my,

You’d almost have to be as high as I

To feel the world is just the sky,

But man, there’s always some mountain to climb.

Some hill to scale, what the fuck,

Let’s fall in love with a whale,

Ace every test and in the end still fail.

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On The Border of The United States & Mexico - Frida Kahlo - Austin Klaiss

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On The Border of The United States & Mexico - Frida Kahlo - Austin Klaiss

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I wonder what is better: old or new?

I wonder what would have happened, had I moved in my youth

But now I am stuck, already taught in some ways

And still wanting to learn in others.

Mexico, where family

And tradition

And security

Come first.

America, where money

And luxury

And profit

Come first.

How does a person choose what is more important,

their family’s wellbeing or their own wellbeing?

Staying means being with the family, and family makes me feel well
But leaving means that the family can live better.

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It’s a dark night at the restaurant.

Nothing to see outside but the reflection of lights in a window.

The lonely women sits and drinks her tea.

Lost in her emotions, looking for a saviour.

All she wants is someone to love her.

But she can’t let go of the past.

She reminisces the good times they shared.

The long days spent.

Expensive, but joyful and worth it.

It eats at her heart like a bug.

Only for her to hear the chime of a bell.

Then the slam of the entrance door.

In, he enters, returning for his love.

She acknowledges his presence and is taken back.

But she knows why he’s there and returns to what feels like home.

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A young man, trapped

Trying to break away from his dark past

The desperate need for someone to hear him

Using his hands and his eyes to reach out

But, that isn't enough

So he uses his writing to describe

A feeling he so desperately awaits to disappear

wanting to break through the paper

Never being heard is his fear

Trying to look past all his flaws

His mouth is closed

But, his eyes are what speaks

Sometimes his words mean nothing

when his silence means everything

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The stars dance, leaping about the sky

swirling, shimmering,

leaving the town entranced.

The artist glances at the town,

painting furiously.

He looks to his art, and sees a black swirl.

He pauses, bewildered,

searching his memory for a reason.

He wonders, why?

Why in the front, an object of attention?

He screams in frustration, he’s ruined the canvas

He takes his brush and flings it to his paint board,

not caring where it lands. He tosses it at the canvas,

sweeping strokes, hasty and unbidden,

layers upon layers, gazing to the sky to distract his foul acts,

He looks to the canvas, and steps back in amazement.

He sees the blackness still, but the sky,

the wonderful sky,

now ablaze with color, swirling patterns,

and he wonders again,

What beauty to come of anger?

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She sits there all alone

Her thoughts drifting towards doubt

Is he ever coming

Her eyes become blissful waterfalls

Her cup swirls with darkness

Just as the fruit her hopes begin to die

As light comes again so does hope

Maybe he will come back

or maybe his life was taken

taken by the madness

As the street runs red

His life looks towards the light

I"m sorry he says softly

As his soul leaves so does a part of her

The part that yearns for his touch again

A part that will leave a hole

Never to be filled again

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Bright yellow lights like fireflies

light up the dark skies

As a young couple come in sight

Surrounded by mist and colors

bright blues and dark browns

They walk hand in hand

on the stone ground

A hushed sound comes alive

drizzle falls onto the walkway

leaving everything a glow

drops of rain fall

over their head

while the couple walks away into the fog
As leaves fall down on their autumn walk

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A span, stretching wider than the pacific when the tides are tremendous

Velvet touching velvet, but hand not touching hand

She yearns to invade, pled with them

“Hold each other, closer than a photo and its caption”

What then, when the picture comes out negative?

Shriek at her for not devoting affection

Why couldn’t he whisk the lock out of her amber gaze?

Make her unable to recall the title of the movie, but only the desire in his eyes

When he grazes her spine, and kisses her head

She wishes they knew how lucky they were, simply, in presence of each

She wishes they knew that hours are limited

She wishes he knew how privileged he was

She wishes she knew how lucky she was to have a husband,

Alive

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"Room in New York, 1932" -Edward Hopper by Emily Meister

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"Room in New York, 1932" -Edward Hopper by Emily Meister

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He’d said they’d go out tonight

But they were still at home

The lights shone, the window ajar

And the man was sitting in his chair

She waited quietly

Perched on the piano bench

Bedecked in red, like a cardinal.

Bored, she tapped her finger on a key

Black, then white, then black again

Humming a muted opus

waiting for the man to finish.

he had spied the headline

And promptly pounced upon it

Something about the stocks she thought,

Really without knowing.

He was not the flittering type

He was a provider, a do-er

And she believed still a lover

Maybe he just forgot sometimes

Like the sun forgetting to shine on a stormy day

She guessed the sun was always there,

Even in the rain.

Then he glanced up at her

Ruffled his hair and sighed

He was only focused on her

And how he would provide

He smiled and stood, offering her his arm

And they walked out the door

And up the promenade

For they were going out tonight,
And the man wasn’t one to stray.

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Hopper excelled in painting, discreetly and from without, people who are outsiders to one another. You imagine him staring from the Second Avenue El as it rattled past the lit brownstone windows, storing the enigmatic snapshots of home and business for later use. These are reconstructed scenes, emotion recollected in tranquility.

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A girl sits on the floor

Surrounded by all she owns.

A dog sleeps beside her

Reminding her of the innocence she holds.

She glances outside, at the children playing.

Why can’t she join them?

With a solemn look, she observes that which she holds dear.

Photos of her father, and the life she had.

The meager azure-colored box that she keeps her pendent in,

The color fading from its porcelain sides.

Tears began striding down her cheek

Her eyes grew puffy and red.

What made her life so hard? What did she do for this?

As if on cue, a voice of malice bellowed from the hall.
If only her happy ending, could come true.

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1.The darkness hasn’t reached everyone

2.yet.

3.But the darkness has approached.

4.The darkness will eventually get

5.everyone.

6.The darkness is real, not a joke.

7.Out of the darkness, comes smoke.

8.People flee the streets in fear.

9.Except for 4 people,

10.they sit in the clear.

11.The darkness has arrived

12.but the 4 still stay.

13.No fear in their mind,

14.`unlike the rest of mankind.

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Edward Hopper said that Nighthawks was inspired by "a restaurant on New York's Greenwich Avenue where two streets meet," but the image-with its carefully constructed composition and lack of narrative-has a timeless, universal quality that transcends its particular locale. One of the best-known images of twentieth-century art, the painting depicts an all-night diner in which three customers, all lost in their own thoughts, have congregated. Hopper's understanding of the expressive possibilities of light playing on simplified shapes gives the painting its beauty. Fluorescent lights had just come into use in the early 1940s, and the all-night diner emits an eerie glow, like a beacon on the dark street corner. Hopper eliminated any reference to an entrance, and the viewer, drawn to the light, is shut out from the scene by a seamless wedge of glass. The four anonymous and uncommunicative night owls seem as separate and remote from the viewer as they are from one another. (The red-haired woman was actually modeled by the artist's wife, Jo.) Hopper denied that he purposefully infused this or any other of his paintings with symbols of human isolation and urban emptiness, but he acknowledged that in Nighthawks "unconsciously, probably, I was painting the loneliness of a large city."

- Entry, Essential Guide, 2013, p. 58.
Exhibition, Publication and Ownership Histories
Exhibition History

Art Institute of Chicago, The Fifty-third Annual Exhibition of American Paintings and Sculpture, Oct. 29-Dec. 10, 1942, cat. 132.

Indianapolis, 1943.

Art Institute of Chicago, The Fifty-fourth Annual Exhibition of American Paintings and Sculpture, Oct. 28-Dec. 12, 1943, no. 15.

New York City, Whitney Museum of American Art, Edward Hopper: Retrospective Exhibition, Feb. 11-Mar. 26, 1950, cat. 61, plate 28; traveled to Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, Apr. 13-May 14, 1950, Detroit Institute of Arts, June 4-July 2, 1950.

New York City, Wildenstein, Loan Exhibition of Seventy Twentieth Century American Paintings, Feb. 21-Mar. 22, 1952, cat. 54.

Venice, Esposiazione Biennale Internazionale d'Arte, June 14-Oct. 19, 1952, cat. 26.

Lake Forest College, Illinois.

New York, Whitney Museum of American Art, Edward Hopper, Sept. 29-Nov. 29, 1964, cat. 43; traveled to Art Institute of Chicago, Dec. 18-Jan. 31, 1965.

Cleveland Museum of Art, Ohio, Fifty Years of Modern Art, June 14-July 31, 1966, cat. 81.

New York City, Whitney Museum of American Art, Edward Hopper: The Art and the Artist, Sept. 23, 1980-Jan. 18, 1981, cat. 386; traveled to London, Hayward Gallery, Feb. 11-Mar. 29, 1981 (separate Catalogue, no 96, p. 47), Amsterdam, Stedelijk Museum, Apr. 22-June 17, 1981, Düsseldorf, Städtische Kunsthalle, July 10-Sept. 6, 1981, Art Institute of Chicago, Oct. 3-Nov. 29, 1981, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, Dec.16, 1981-Feb. 14, 1982.

Essen, Germany, Museum Folkwang, Edward Hopper und die Fotografie: die Warheit des Sichtbaren (Edward Hopper and Photography: The Truth of the Real), June 28-Sept. 27, 1992, p. 63, ill.

London, Tate Modern, Edward Hopper, May 27-Sept. 5, 2004; traveled to Cologne, Museum Ludwig, Oct. 9, 2004-Jan. 9, 2005.

New York, Whitney Museum of American Art, October 3-December 31, 2006.

Boston, Museum of Fine Arts, Edward Hopper, May 6-August 19, 2007; traveled to Washington DC, National Gallery of Art, September 16, 2007-January 21, 2008; Art Institute of Chicago, February 16-May 11, 2008.

Madrid, Museo Thyssen-Bornemisza, Edward Hopper, June 12-September 16, 2012; traveled to Paris, Galeries nationales d'exposition du Grand Palais, October 5, 2012-January 28, 2013, Paris only.

New York, Whitney Museum of American Art, Edward Hopper Drawings, May 23-October 6, 2013; travels to Dallas Museum of Art, November 17, 2013-February 16, 2014; Minneapolis, Walker Art Center, March 15-June 22, 2014, New York only.

Art Institute of Chicago, Art and Appetite: American Painting, Culture, and Cuisine, November 10, 2013-January 27, 2014; traveled to Fort Worth, Amon Carter Museum of American Art, February 22-May 18, 2014, cat. 28.

Publication History

Gail Levin, "Edward Hopper's Nighthawks, Surrealism, and the War," Art Institute of Chicago Museum Studies 22, 2 (1996), pp. 180-95, fig. 1.

The Art Institute of Chicago: Twentieth-Century Painting and Sculpture, selected by James N. Wood and Teri J. Edelstein (Art Institute of Chicago, 1996), p. 85, ill.

Judith A. Barter et al., "American Modernism at the Art Institute of Chicago, From World War I to 1955," (Art Institute of Chicago/Yale University Press, 2009), cat. 133.

Nina Baym et al., eds., "The Norton Anthology of American Literature," (W. W. Norton & Company, 2012), 8th edition, (ill.).

Arthur Shimamura, "Experiencing Art: In the Brain of the Beholder" (Oxford University Press, 2013), p. 237 (ill.).

Derek Matravers, "Introducing Philosophy of Art: In Eight Case Studies," (Routledge, 2013), (ill.).

Duane Preble Emeritus et al., Prebles' Artforms (Pearson, 2013), 11th ed., p. 428. (ill.).

Robert Burleigh, "Edward Hopper Paints His World," (Henry Holt and Co., 2014), (ill.).

Steven Mintz, "The Prime of Life: A History of Modern Adulthood," (Belknap Press, 2015), (ill.).

Ramsay H. Slugg, "Handbook of Practical Planning for Art Collectors and Their Advisors," (ABA Book Publishing, 2015), (ill.).

Judith A. Barter, ed. "America After the Fall: Painting in the 1930s" exh. cat. (Art Institute of Chicago/Yale University Press, 2016), fig. 3, p. 178.

"Paintings at the Art Institute of Chicago, Highlights of the Collection," (Art Institute of Chicago/Yale University Press, 2017) p. 135.

Ownership History

The artist; consigned to Frank Rehn Galleries, 1942; sold to The Art Institute of Chicago, 1942.

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Edward Hopper said that Nighthawks was inspired by "a restaurant on New York's Greenwich Avenue where two streets meet," but the image-with its carefully constructed composition and lack of narrative-has a timeless, universal quality that transcends its particular locale.

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A collection of huts stood in a ridge way of a river bend. In it, were indians intertwined with one another like red ants.

The sun god opened his eyes, obviously pleased by their sacrificial offerings,and gifted them another morning.

Black hair and dilated eyes fluttered open like spider legs, and each rose for daily chores.

Women picked berries and fruits, and Men hunted prey that were used for clothing, weapons and shoes.

They lived a simple life with their undying devotion to their god of mother nature.

In return she pampered them with clean rivers and fresh fruits

It all changed one summer afternoon, when a cloud appeared  below the horizon.

In it stood a man, when he spoke it was like his tongue had been cut off.

The pupil-ed eyed native understood nothing, and grew more confused, when more came out of the boat

They watched transfixed as each portal-ed out and began to cut down their trees.

All of them were aghast , they have to halt this conundrum.

All their attempts were in vain because any of them who even attempted to defy them had their jugular slit wide open.

They raped their land and stripped her naked of her greens, then left as they came back.

There was nothing left but a murky mist of death.

-xochilt

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1: Her name remains unknown

2: Her life as scattered as the knick-knacks on the floor

3: Why do I deserve all this pain and fury?

4: What are all these things and why do they smell like the blooming bosom of

5: a mother

6: too young to know right from wrong

7: too foolish to know that inside her was another poor soul waiting to enter into

8: an undying hell of survival.

9: Fortunate enough to have been raised by ardent caregivers

10: but taunted with the yearning for blood of her own

11: Around her silky long hair

12: her unscatched face

13 :and the innocence in her eyes

14: Red is what becomes of her

15: ridiculed by acceptance

16: this color bleeds out of her

17: out of this

18: out onto

19: The girl on the red carpet

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Felice Casorati - Girl on a Red Carpet [1912]

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1. The border between Mexico and the united states might be a new favorite of mine

2. the picture is a great depiction of what was going on during that time

3. Mexico is in a transitional period in an attempt to catch up with the other nations

4. Whereas America is in the midst of the industrial revolution

5. Old temples have fallen

6. And the skyscrapers are so big they appear to be falling

7. Companies like ford embody America in the early day

8. While Mexico is finding a way to make sure that the rubble doesn’t stay

9. However, the reason this picture stands out to me

10. is because the woman doesn’t seem to be happy

11. She holds a flag of mexico in her left hand

12. and a cigarette in her right.

13. a piece of culture from each

14. that holds a lot of things to teach.

15. She is torn between two places,

16. culture and opportunity.

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1: The sun reflects on the water

2: Like we reflects on or lives

3. The boat is floating with with waves The boat ricochets against poseidon

4: Like we curse in gods name, riveting back and forth asking why?

5: The suns going down

6: The the moon will come out

7: It will light illuminate the night sky

8: With the help from 1000 stars

9: Every undying wish

10: Shoots each star far across the night sky

11: Because we love to wish for things to get better

12: But we all know they don’t

13: They won’t

14: But we still wonder

15: Will the sun come out tomorrow

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A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte (Jessica Hojsan)

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A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte (Jessica Hojsan)

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Taking her to the playground every day has become her favourite part of the day

Children laugh and play in the warm breeze

The soft air plays with the sailboats sitting on the water

And the women hold their sun hats, hoping they won’t fly away.

A monkey chatters and grabs at its leash

Pulling and tugging, excited to play with the children

But the woman won’t allow it; he is not a pet, after all, but a prized possession.

She asks me why she can’t play with the monkey

But then she sees the lady holding flowers and quickly forgets about the monkey

The lady hands her the sun coloured flowers and smiles

And the little girl shoves her small red nose into them

She sneezes and tumbles into the soft grass

Her hat rolls off and down the hill but the lady fishing catches it

My small girl runs over and takes it, but is caught up in what the lady was doing

I call her over and she skips and twirls back into my arms
And we continue on our merry way, another adventure continuing.

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1: As the night time came around

stars were scattered among the sky.

The sky was as clear as a crystal.

You realize you can see hundreds of miles away

5: And by the light of the stars,

they can also see you.

The nearby town, which is illuminated by the moon,

is just over the top of the hill you sit on.

Above the town, you can see the gusts of wind

10: that blow over the buildings, and through your hair.

A night like this only comes around every so often

when the sky is not polluted by the city lights.

As the nights do come around, you relax on top of the hill

where it seems that you are watching over the peaceful town.

15: This spot makes you feel safe because while you are alone on the hill,
The town makes you fall as if you are surrounded by many.

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Our heroes roar

Voices raised too high,

Eyes raised high

The spirit of soccer flows through us.

They are our superstars

To play it all to the end

Throats always yelling out chants of joy

Our Warriors truly rumble

Our hearts stir to the rhythm

While we watch the ball

We widen our souls in the stadium

One world on the pitch

The cries of victory make us sane

The laughter for the goal

One World, One cup we are one as a Family.

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1. Peering back at the middle aged abyss once called “home”.

2. Recollecting everything good, bad, in-between.

3. Remembering and feeling this anger

4. but for some reason suppressing it all in an ethereal manner.

5. My torn tan sneakers uncomfortably home my worn down feet.

6. While scoping out the ruins to be

7. I become consciously aware that my weak existence has faded.

8. Has turned into something I know has potential.

9. Has turned into something with a great absence of darkness.

10. Has turned into a life, period.

11. Staring blankly at this past time that I will no longer acknowledge

12. I will promise to myself!

13. To no others

14. to turn this situation around.

15. This suppression will allow me to move forward

16. and undoubtedly allow me to take flight
17. and perhaps gaze into the future.

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Even In darkness you can see me

My branches flow like a dancing fae

I shine bright as day in the darkest night

I light the path for you to follow.

Follow the milky path of floating stars

For an endless night awaits you.

The twinkle in your dreamy eyes stare in awe

Sweet laughter flows from their soul

Whispers of hope fill the air

The cool breeze brushes past in a gentle kiss

Swirls of beautiful blues and gracious greens dance before your very eyes

A dream come reality

Wishful thoughts cloud your mind

As you lay to sleep under the dancing lights

Even in the darkness there is light

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1. Sometimes shes smiles as she walk down the street.

2. For it brings back memories as if they were right beneath her feet.

3. It’s the place where she laughed it’s the place where she cried.

4. No one can ever leave their childhood behind.

5. Sometimes it is a beauty.

6. But it is also a disgust.

7. For some don’t want to remember but know that they must.

8. To face the past and the mistakes they made.

9. Learning from every moment before the memories fade.

10. The bittersweet remembrance of that place.

11. It’s funny how it can become your fate.

12. It whispers like the wind in the back of your mind.

13. And can both help you and hurt you with what you come to find.

14. Sometimes she smiles as I walk down the street

15. It helps things come full circle.  Loose ends to meet.

15. Because you never know the meaning of a moment until is it a memory.

16. Nothing rings truer than the past for she.

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1. The still of dawn encloses her surroundings.

2. She runs into the uncut grass

3. away from the wretched fence that acts as a barrier

4. to her happiness.

5. She leaves without her bags.

6. She leaves without her memories of her past.

7. The darkness.

8. The darkness of what’s inside the barn.

9. The darkness of her bruised body

10. always covered up

11. to not expose him

12. for the monster he is.

13. He’s sleeping now.

14. When he awakes he will be thinking she’s at the local market.

15. He won’t search for her.

16. He won’t track her down like last time.

17. No.

18. Not this time.

19. She wore her bright rose pink dress that he had never seen before.

20. She fell to the ground.

21. She swore her husband shouted her name

22. as he does every morning.

23. The paranoia hitting her.

24. This time she will not answer.

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1 I am your angel, the one who watched after you.

2 From my pointed ears, I heard you used to be happy.

3 Before he left, you’d come home waltzing into your room

4 Scarlet, swished with every twirl.

5 You’d finish with an elegant leap onto the bed.

6 A soft laugh, resembling wind chimes, would escape from your lips.

7 Your eyes closed, reminiscing,

8 Recalling a kiss or perhaps a hug

9 The words, “I love you.” still singing in your ears.

10 I am your divine guardian, the one who surveillanced you.

11 Through my omniscient eyes, I saw that you were unhappy.

12 After he left, you came home and dragged yourself to your room.

13 Ruby now motionless.

14 You’d drop onto your white sheets.

15 A sigh would leave your mouth.

16 Your eyes opened, recollecting.

17 Remembering a shove or maybe a scream.
18 The words, “I hate you.” still throbbing in your ears.

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1. finally on solid ground

2. nothing but big hazy objects insight.

3. can’t see clearly

4. walking down a narrow path

5. light hardly glowing through

6. the thick smoke

7. little by little I wither away

1. as I wander further and further

2. the skies start to clear up

3. the city starts to come out of it shell

4. like a beautiful butterfly

5. the true beauty

6. of all the light of the city on

7. shining down on you majestically

8. people walking everywhere

9. as i approached a very

10. bright and loud atmosphere

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Copy and paste poem in this space.

Click on the link below and add a link of the painting to this padlet.