OP: Juliette et Justine
Bag: Alice and the Pirates
Headdress: Baby the Stars Shine Bright
Shoes and socks: Innocent World
Wristcuffs: Baby the Stars Shine Bright
That’s right, you are seeing light in slow motion! At this speed you can study the way light interacts and reflects off of surfaces and, as you can see, when it travels past the tomato onto the wall it seems like a ripple in a pond. This technology will even allow you to see around corners, like into a room or even inside the human body.
The gifs make it seem a little bit faster than the actual video so watch the TED talk video with Ramesh Raskar explaining what he calls “Femto-Photography”.
This is astounding.
and notice how you can still see the tomato even after the light have passed it? That is because some of the light is still Inside it, bouncing around. most of it escapes pretty quickly which is why it is still visible, a second later it would be completely dark.
I sure would like an Ayami Kojima artbook.
In other news, this week the commenters on my website taught me that Ancient Grecian cyclopian lore came from people finding Mammoth/elephant skulls and, not knowing what they were, assuming the nasal cavity was an eye socket!
That makes an amazing amount of sense.
For many of these women, the reading experience begins from a place of seething rage. Take Sara Marcus’ initial impression of Jack Kerouac: “I remember putting On the Road down the first time a woman was mentioned. I was just like: ‘Fuck. You.’ I was probably 15 or 16. And over the coming years I realized that it was this canonical work, so I tried to return to it, but every time I was just like, ‘Fuck you.’” Tortorici had a similarly visceral reaction to Charles Bukowski: “I will never forget reading Bukowski’s Post Office and feeling so horrible, the way that the narrator describes the thickness of ugly women’s legs. I think it was the first time I felt like a book that I was trying to identify with rejected me. Though I did absorb it, and of course it made me hate my body or whatever.” Emily Witt turned to masculine texts to access a sexual language that was absent from books about women, but found herself turned off by their take: “many of the great classic coming-of-age novels about the female experience don’t openly discuss sex,” she says in No Regrets. “I read the ones by men instead, until I was like, ‘I cannot read another passage about masturbation. I can’t. It was like a pile of Kleenex.”
This isn’t just about the books. When young women read the hyper-masculine literary canon—what Emily Gould calls the “midcentury misogynists,” staffed with the likes of Roth, Mailer, and Miller—their discomfort is punctuated by the knowledge that their male peers are reading these books, identifying with them, and acting out their perspectives and narratives. These writers are celebrated by the society that we live in, even the one who stabbed his wife. In No Regrets, Elif Bautman talks about reading Henry Miller for the first time because she had a “serious crush” on a guy who said his were “the best books ever,” and that guy’s real-life recommendation exacerbated her distaste for the fictional. When she read Miller, “I felt so alienated by the books, and then thinking about this guy, and it was so hot and summertime … I just wanted to kill myself. … He compared women to soup.”
|—||In No Regrets, women writers talk about what it was like to read literature’s “midcentury misogynists.” (via becauseiamawoman)|
|—||excerpt from a very long piece I’ve been working on for autostraddle about femslash and why there’s so little of it (and why we need to make more of it NOW)|
|—||stage direction from Artaud’s The Jet of Blood (via dolorimeter)|
|—||Jocelyn Hughes (via writewild)|
|—||why are men so weird everywhere always (x)|