— Effy Stonem, Skins (via larmoyante)
When it comes to the significant authors who indebted the world of film, there are important directors. There are very important directors. And then there’s Krzysztof Kieślowski. The man who gave us The Decalogue, A Short Film About Killing, The Double Life of Véronique, and the Three Colors trilogy is widely hailed as one the pivotal figures of European cinema. Many years ago, Kieślowski changed our stupid little lives. By opening our minds and hearts to him, we experienced a shift in the way we watched—and felt!—films. For that we remain forever thankful. Kieślowski is film magic. Kieślowski is love for the cinema. Kieślowski is the cinema. If you find it hard to believe coming from us, listen to a voice with far more authority: the great Kubrick once said The Decalogue was the best thing he’d seen in years, even wishing he had made it himself. What we’ve prepared for you might be considered just a small window into the mind of this true artist, but it functions as a rabbit hole that leads into the nuanced, rich and staggeringly beautiful world of the Polish maestro. Hop in. You’ll thank us later.
Scrapbook by William Burroughs and Brion Gysin, from Paperwork: A Brief History of Artists’ Scrapbooks (ltd edition book, 500 copies).
This is honestly the best poster I have found in a while supporting breast cancer awareness. I am honestly so sick of seeing, “set the tatas free” and “save the boobies”. There is no reason in hell a life threatening, life ruining disease should be sexualized. “Don’t wear a bra day,” go fuck yourselves. You’re not saving a pair of tits, you’re saving the entire package: mind, body, and soul included. Women are not just a pair of breasts.
Please, I don’t want you to go, though are not content here with me, and you feel you must go.
Etro Spring/Summer 1999 campaign photographed by unknown.
Bruce Willis and Maria De Medeiros in Quentin Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction
Teorema -1968- Pier Paolo Pasolini
December 8, 1861 — January 21, 1938
"The camera I was using in the beginning, a rudimentary affair in which the film would tear or would often refuse to move, produced an unexpected effect one day when I was photographing very prosaically the Place de l’Opera. It took a minute to release the film and get the camera going again. During this minute the people, buses vehicles had of course moved. Projecting the film, having joined the break, I suddenly saw a Madeleine-Bastille omnibus change into a hearse and men into women. The trick of substitution, called the trick of stop-action was discovered…"