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dust and drag
Nº. 1 of  258

dust and drag

introspective images for consumption
my photography
my last.fm

starlitewalker:

endofalldoubt:

Persona. Two cameramen panning over the directors chair; empty, with only his name left – Ingmar Bergman –  then over to the actress, in bed, staring into the camera.

this is really cool

(via torncurtain)

tobeshelved:

dailydot:

The New Yorker is opening its archive for everyone to read
Get ready to do some major binge-reading.

!!!!!

tobeshelved:

dailydot:

The New Yorker is opening its archive for everyone to read

Get ready to do some major binge-reading.

!!!!!

yagazieemezi:

‘I started the shop in 1979,’ Vall explains. ‘Thirty five years ago.’ A short man with cropped grey hair, he seems much younger. Vall was born in Nema, far in the east of the country. ‘At that time, it took six days to travel to the capital,’ he says. Like so many others fleeing the drought and hardships of the countryside, Vall settled in Nouakchott. With a steady supply of music from Mali and Senegal, he built the Saphire D’Or.

‘I picked the name after the most beautiful thing, which is gold, naturally.’ Deejaying at soirées throughout the capital, Vall lists a number of the hotels and nightclubs where the Mauritanian youth partied late into the night: the Chinguetti, the Palmeri, the Maision de Jeune. Most of them no longer exist, torn down, paved over, and replaced.

Over the years, as vinyl faded into obscurity and Nouakchott’s old residents cast out their record collections, Vall was here to absorb them. ‘All the vinyl records that were in Mauritania, I pretty much have them here,’ he laughs. He began to sell dubbed cassettes. Customers could come in, browse the records and make their choice.

Keep reading

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Dedicated to the Cultural Preservation of the African Aesthetic

(via oldfilmsflicker)

toshiro-mifune:

Toshirō Mifune

toshiro-mifune:

Toshirō Mifune

(via haroldlloyds)

I’ve always felt that true militants are like cleaning women, performing a thankless, daily, necessary task. But you, you’re like Ursula Andress. You make a four-minute appearance, just enough time for the cameras to flash, for you to make two or three startling pronouncements, then you disappear, shrouded in appealing mystery.

—Francois Truffaut responding to Jean-Luc Godard’s criticism of Day for Night (via sukforhonesty)

(via bbook)

"During her last year of life, Maya, Teiji (her young third husband), Adolfas, and I saw each other at least once a week. It seems strange, but I do not remember any ‘memorable,’ ‘intellectual’ discussions together. It was all talk about what had to be done for the next event, or else about what we had seen, or our friends, or memories of Europe—and Adolfas and I used to go home all excited and not be able to sleep half the night. And then we would wake up and forget it all and another day would begin…

"Now, looking back in my memory, remembering it all in glimpses, in single frames, I see Maya’s face, always very intense, never making small talk. There was always a very special subtle laugh behind that intensity, which would come out in brief spurts. Those who didn’t see this lighter side usually were a little bit frightened by Maya. The intensity is reflected in all of Maya’s faces, in her films. The exception perhaps is one of her most frequently reproduced images: Maya as a face from Botticelli. Curiously, though, that image was filmed and ‘directed’ by Sasha Hammid, and I think it represents his dream of Maya: he threw her back to the Renaissance. All the other faces of Maya are rich with the reverberations of twentieth-century modern art." — Jonas Mekas on Maya Deren

(Source: strangewood, via directors-gone-wild)

somedevil:

David Bowie with his 1976 painting of Iggy Pop, Portrait of J.O. 

somedevil:

David Bowie with his 1976 painting of Iggy Pop, Portrait of J.O. 

(Source: bowiepills, via jewahl)

nevver:

Book posters, Gunter Rambow

Nº. 1 of  258