These nightmarish images feel like scenes from a B-movie, but they’re really photos of a powerful traveling art installation by Colombian artist Rafael Gómezbarros entitled Casa Tomada (“Seized House”). Giant ant sculptures swarm across urban exteriors and gallery walls. As if the idea of monstrous ants wasn’t already freaky, these 2-foot-long specimens feature tree branches for legs and segmented bodies made of joined pairs of fiberglass resin skulls and fabric. These hair-raising urban interventions are meant to draw attention to the uprooting, immigration and forced displacement of peasants and migrant workers in Latin America.

"When placed on the facades of government buildings and blank gallery walls alike, the ants give off a chilling sense of foreboding and encroachment. By placing them in swarms, Gómezbarros makes the insects even more strikingly representative of the peasants displaced by war and strife in Gómezbarros’ native Colombia."

Click here to learn more.

[via Design Taxi and Beautiful/Decay]


"My mother was a typical woman of the Meiji era, Japan’s age of swift modernization, during which women were still expected to make extreme sacrifices so that their fathers, husbands, brothers or sons could advance. Beyond that, she was the wife of a military man. (Years later when I read the historical novelist Shugoro Yamamoto’s An Account of the Duties of Japanese Women, I recognized my mother in these impossibly heroic creatures, and I was deeply moved.) In such a way as to escape my father’s notice, she would listen to all my complaints. Writing about her like this makes it sound as if I am trying to set her up as a model for some moral tale. But this is not the case. She simply had such a gentle soul that she did these things naturally…

"During the war there was a popular song called ‘Father, You Were Strong,’ but I want to say ‘Mother, You Were Strong.’ My mother’s strength lay particularly in her endurance. I remember an amazing example. It happened when she was deep-frying tempura in the kitchen one day. The oil in the pot caught fire. Before it could ignite anything else, she proceeded to pick up the pot with both hands—while her eyebrows and eyelashes were singed to crinkled wisps—walk calmly across the tatami-mat room, properly put on her clogs at the garden door and carry the flaming pot out to the center of the garden to set it down.

"Afterward the doctor arrived, used pincers to peel away the blackened skin and applied medication to her charred hands. I could hardly bear to watch. But my mother’s facial expression never betrayed the slightest tremor. Nearly a month passed before she was able to grasp something in her bandaged hands. Holding them in front of her chest, she never uttered a word about pain; she just sat quietly. No matter how I might try, I could never do the same."

Akira Kurosawa on his mother, Shima Kurosawa.

It seems to me that almost all our sadnesses are moments of tension, which we feel as paralysis because we no longer hear our astonished emotions living. Because we are alone with the unfamiliar presence that has entered us; because everything we trust and are used to is for a moment taken away from us; because we stand in the midst of a transition where we cannot remain standing. That is why the sadness passes: the new presence inside us, the presence that has been added, has entered our heart, has gone into its innermost chamber and is no longer even there, - is already in our bloodstream. And we don’t know what it was. We could easily be made to believe that nothing happened, and yet we have changed, as a house that a guest has entered changes. We can’t say who has come, perhaps we will never know, but many signs indicate that the future enters us in this way in order to be transformed in us, long before it happens. And that is why it is so important to be solitary and attentive when one is sad: because the seemingly uneventful and motionless moment when our future steps into us is so much closer to life than that other loud and accidental point of time when it happens to us as if from outside. The quieter we are, the more patient and open we are in our sadnesses, the more deeply and serenely the new presence can enter us, and the more we can make it our own, the more it becomes our fate; and later on, when it “happens” (that is, steps forth out of us to other people), we will feel related and close to it in our innermost being. And that is necessary. It is necessary - and toward this point our development will move, little by little - that nothing alien happen to us, but only what has long been our own. People have already had to rethink so many concepts of motion; and they will also gradually come to realize that what we call fate does not come into us from the outside, but emerges from us.
Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet (via liquidnight)



Aside from being an admirable musician and songwriter and all-around fantastic punk rocker, Karl and his family are pretty much the best advertisement I’ve ever seen for having kids. Just amazing, inspiring people, and they need your help.

i vividly remember my first look at the itinerary for what was going to be my first-ever tour, with nothing painted blue in 1993. i was out of my mind with excitement for a thousand reasons, but the thing that put me over the top was the fact that we were playing pittsburgh, and i was going to get to see karl hendricks.

twenty years on we’re getting to the age where simple shit like your health can no longer be taken for granted (if it ever could), and i’ve spent the last couple weeks since getting home from the most recent tour looking like if frankenstein was in the arcade fire after being practically scalped to remove a “basal cell carcinoma” from my forehead — the most common and least dangerous kind of skin cancer, but still, skin cancer. anyway not fun exactly, but ultimately not that big a deal. sounds like karl isn’t getting off quite so easy.

as matt says, great songwriter and a good guy. help him and his family out if you can.



In shelters all over the world there are always so very many awesome animals animals in need of adoption. Hungarian photographer and photo-manipulator Sarolta Bán has taken it upon herself to try to help find homes for some of them by starting a project called Help Dogs with Images. Sarolta put out the call on Facebook for photos of animals in need of adoption. She transforms those ordinary images into extraordinary scenes in effort to bring out the animals’ personalities and increase their visibility and appeal.

From the project page

: “Sadly, abandoned dogs have really few chances to appear on a photo that will help them get out of the shelter - a photo that stands out from the crowd and ‘speaks’ to a person. I would really like to help sheltered animals…a good picture is worth a thousand words.”

As a sweet bonus, whoever adopts one of animals whose image Bán has photoshopped receives a print of the image she created.

My Modern Metropolis reports that the project is already working. Four of the first ten dogs whose photos were enhanced by Bàn have since found loving forever homes. This is an ongoing project, so if you know an animal in need of a home, you can upload it to Sarolta’s project page. You can also order a print of one of her project photos and $50 will be donated to the shelter hosting that particular animal. 

Click here to learn more.

[via My Modern Metropolis]

For even more rescue pet love, check out rescuepetsareawesome right here on Tumblr.



Is it too soon to share another awesomely creative piece of furniture? No way! This one-of-a-kind insectoid armoire is called the BUG and it was designed Latvian designer Janis Straupe of True Latvia. Full of customizable shelves, drawers, cubbies and even a few secret compartments, it’s a beautifully functional piece of furniture as well as an amazing work of art.

Click here to learn more about the BUG and its myriad features.

If only Kafka could’ve see this…

[via Yanko Design]



German design studio Korefe created the world’s first completely edible cookbook. Designed as a limited edition series for the art and culinary publishing company Gerstenberg Publishing House, The Real Cookbook is an edible instruction manual made of 100% fresh pasta with a classic lasagna recipe embossed on its pages. The Real Cookbook can be opened, read, and then each page used as a layer for making the very same lasagna described on those pasta pages.

[via designboom]



By Tamara Pearson

As it is prone to do, the private media has invented a new thing. In both English and Spanish they are calling it colectivos, and these collectives are meant to be irrational, cruel, grotesque armed motorbike riders who “enforce” the revolution and are responsible for most of the current violence. The opposition barricaders are the innocent victims of these collectives, who apparently work with the National Guard and have the support of the government.

The private media is using the concept to demonize the real collectives in Venezuela; the social organisations – feminist collectives, community organisations, environment and education collectives, cultural groups, mural painters and so on; which with Chavismo have grown, multiplied, and united around general support for the Bolivarian revolution.