the pop’s pictures.

These are adorable. Wedding photographer Jason Lee decided to turn the camera from the brides and grooms to his two daughters, and apparently the girls aren’t quite old enough yet to refuse all parental requests.  The photos are creative, the girls are so cute (and compliant!), and I’m a sucker for sweet Dad/Daughter stuff.

Hope the girls are getting a few extra bucks in their weekly allowance for being such ready models.

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the paintings in your closet.

Every morning in high school, after dragging myself out of bed at 6:20, I would slowly trudge to my dressing room and promptly collapse down on the carpet to stare blearily at my clothes, hoping some creative outfit inspiration would strike. These days, 6:20 counts as sleeping in, and I don’t put as much thought into my clothes as I probably should. Both then and now, I could probably get a bit of inspiration from Thread and Canvas.  The site takes famous paintings and comes up with sartorial getups that echo the aesthetic. Here are a couple of my favorite paintings in clothes form. 

The blogger also puts from where each piece of clothing comes, so if you’ve just got to have that Degas skirt, she can hook ya up.

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the city escape.

For the most part, I believe in moderation (exceptions include icing on a cupcake– the more the better, exercise– give me something high intensity or I’d rather not put on workout clothes). Given this middle of the road approach, I know that the life pictured on the blog below is not for me. I’m not one of those (practically omnipresent these days) people who wants to have a vegetable garden and feel the soil between his/her toes. I feel no compunction to have a herd of various animals. I mean, Whole Foods is one of my happy places. Still, I’m not a confirmed city person either– the traffic and honking horns and sprawl exhaust me. I’ve never looked at a skyline at night and thought, “That’s beautiful,” though I know many people have and do. My lovely friend Erin sent me this little poem a few weeks ago, and while I feel melodramatic saying I identify, it does sum up the feeling on the drearier days.

In a Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd;

Petals on a wet, black bough.

On those days, teleporting somewhere like the places on Cabin Porn sounds phenomenal. The site collects pictures of secluded rustic homes all around the world. Take a look!

Most of the photos have captions. The one for the picture above is “The farmer ‘next door’ supplies us with fresh milk, eggs, cottage cheese, butter, hams, strawberries, chanterelles, blueberries, green onions… His daughter bakes cakes on Saturdays. If we’re around, she bakes one extra for us.”

Country life sounds nice. Maybe I could give up the close proximity to Target…

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the lost and found love.

Few things are more heartbreakingly hopeful to me than the Missed Connections sections of newspapers. I remember the first time I came across the pages in a local paper, and even though I hadn’t struggled my way through Statistics yet, I knew the odds of the intended person reading the postings on the particular day, recognizing himself/herself as the one described based on the strength of a mutually remembered nod or jostle on the subway, and making the moves to encourage a romantic connection were, as best, minute. Still, while the probability of a positive outcome seemed depressingly low, the optimism and the belief in the “what if” makes them so sweetly endearing to me.

Brooklyn-based illustrator Sophie Blackwell feels the same. Formerly a children’s book illustrator, Blackwell now blogs (and recently published a book) with her drawings of the Craigslist Missed Connections. It’s a neat hybrid of media forms (old media in the form of the drawings, new in the social media aspect), and her pictures brings such charm and humanity to these shots in the dark. Take a look.

 

Like them? Read the Missed Connections blog here, buy Sophie Blackwell’s book here,  or buy a print you like on Etsy here.

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the nipped and tucked paintings.

I logged many hours in art museums as a child.  I deserve no credit for having taste or maturity beyond my years– the vast majority of the time was spent under foot-stomping, sigh-heaving, glare-shooting duress. My curious and culturally-inclined parents experience an inescapable, gravitational pull towards each historic and educational thing ever discovered, and anytime our family went anywhere, there was not a single doubt that our days would be spent walking (at a glacial pace) through marble floored museums, silently staring at pictures on the wall. Actually, it was only silent if we weren’t on the longest guided tour offered, in which case I would hear my dad’s voice as much as the poor docent’s as he peppered him/her with question after question (love you, Dad! Also, to be clear, he did not burn our house down intentionally– it was a goof).

Anyway, my parents aren’t really ones for modern art, so my constant criticism didn’t come in the form of “That big black square? NOT art. I could do that,” but instead, “That’s not even pretty!” or “Yuck, so gloomy,” or “That person is NOT attractive.” Quite frequently, that last judgment was leveled at women– more specifically, at women who, compared to the taut-tummied women I was used to seeing in the media, looked very lumpy with their rippling stomach rolls. Admire the classical female form, I did not (the sociological/psychological implications can be explored at a later date). Perhaps my unappreciative self would have been more interested in these versions that I came across the other day at Photoshopped Masterpieces. The original and the new versions are side by side– take a peek!

Who knew that the works of Botticelli and Titian could be improved with a little lipo? 🙂

*Also in the same vein of paintings and diet/body image etc, an article came out about two years ago about the changing portion sizes of food in depictions of the Last Supper. I thought it was pretty interesting.

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the dessert freak.

Today’s post title refers to me. I confidently believe that I could live off a diet of sweets for the rest of my life and be very, very happy. I have never craved a potato chip or a french fry or a cheese plate in my life. If those foods are around, I eat them, but if they disappeared from my life forever more, no tears would be shed. If dessert went AWOL, I would struggle to get through the day.

I have a print of this painting hanging in my room. I have never deemed anything to be “too sweet” or “too rich.” Those words don’t make sense together in my head.

Considering this confectionery compulsion, imagine my giddy delight when I saw these prints by John Holcomb. Holcomb draws desserts (and some other, less exciting foods) in the shape of states, and I’d like to have each place I’ve ever lived join the Wayne Thiebaud above on my walls.

A darling cherry poptart (Wish it were in one of the better flavors, but I like how it ties in with DC’s cherry blossoms):

Cherry pie for North Carolina:

This is the first time I’ve ever wished to have some tie to Wisconsin. Oreo Cupcakes:

Can I hang these cinnamon rolls with icing up even if I have no aspirations to move to the lovely Garden State?

Find your state and its depiction here— they’re really fun! I’m off to find a cookie.

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the prized.

So, I know beauty is skin deep. L’essential est invisible pour les yeux. The Beast was made to be such because he was ugly on the inside. Charlotte marries Harry! Etc, etc, etc.

Still…I really like pretty things. When someone recommends a TV show to me, my first question is about the physical attractiveness of the cast. I could happily watch a plot-less movie if pretty images just sailed across the screen for 2 hours (Sex and the City 2, for example).

The best, of course, is when something is both beautiful and substantive. I like my thought-provoking to come nicely dressed. That’s how things are served on today’s blog,The Burning House. On the blog, people are invited to send in pictures of what they would grab from their house if they only had a few moments before it went down in flames.

Here is what some people deemed most important:

This girl is really into her white shirt, huh? Real version AND a painted one? And I’m having fun imagining what those old keys unlock…

Maybe the person on the left is a high-powered lawyer who is using the fire as a chance to reinvent herself as a country blues singer. On the right? Some gentleman who will now venture forth into the world to find his dream house like the one he’s hung on his walls all this time– and a woman who has always wanted to wear this white nightgown he’s been saving.

An FBI agent who hasn’t switched over his files to computers yet?

My dad already burned our house down once, so I hope all the bad luck in that realm has been used up, but if I were ever so unfortunate as to find myself having to gather stuff before I stopped, dropped, and rolled out of there, I’d grab my boxes of letters and sentimental/family jewelry. And probably my passport– not because I’d hightail it out of the country immediately, but because I hate red tape, and getting a new one on top of rebuilding a house would be more of a process than I could bear.

Any ideas about what you’d bring?

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