Observed

Standing to the left of the matron, on a corner, gazing directly at the branches, two shapes out of focus. The matron—short, light hair with large, expressive eyes, gazes through the bramble to a figure, smaller, more youthful, but with the same features. A true mirroring. 

A locked door, a locket, the thumping of a distant prophecy, and—even more removed—a familiar tune, signaling moonlight streaming through a hut. 

Blonde Leslie killing the bar dance.

dreamslender-exquisite:

Sketchbook: Alice Estee, Mr. Tuttle, & Romola Martin, Punchdrunk’s The Drowned Man.*
* These were done very quickly and without reference, just based on my shoddy memory, so I’m aware they are horribly inaccurate. It’s supposed to be fun, don’t hurt me.

Fantastic!

dreamslender-exquisite:

Sketchbook: Alice Estee, Mr. Tuttle, & Romola Martin, Punchdrunk’s The Drowned Man.*

* These were done very quickly and without reference, just based on my shoddy memory, so I’m aware they are horribly inaccurate. It’s supposed to be fun, don’t hurt me.

Fantastic!

200degreemrfahrenheit:

Series of paintings discovered in an abandon mental asylum in Italy.

(via lelandmadisonstanford)

newyorker:

“Doing fashion illustrations is part of my work, but for me it’s all about women,” Lorenzo Mattotti, the artist behind this week’s cover, says. Read more about his inspiration and look through a selection of his work.

The highlight of last night?

Lily’s Sexy Witch cackle

Impromptu late night show second week in a row… A terrible habit is forming

vintagegal:

Psycho opened in New York City at the DeMille Theater (and the Baronet) on Thursday June 16th 1960

vintagegal:

Psycho opened in New York City at the DeMille Theater (and the Baronet) on Thursday June 16th 1960

arfman:

"Her power was in her lips. Some say it was magic, but others say it was poison. You know which one it is, though, don’t you… Jezebel!"

The Matron Mourns

An impulsive Saturday late show. I start on the fifth floor, wanting to enjoy the stillness at the top of the show. The matron sits in her hut, pensive, tearful. She sits and sits, as the wind gets stronger, thunder rolls in, and music echoes throughout the woods.

The music swells, a light cue.  The matron stands at the window, looking out into the bushes, out at…nothing. No nurse appears from the shadows. The matron slowly exits her hut and proceeds to do the mirror dance on her own. The movements smaller, more hesitant—a memory long passed. 

As the loop goes on, the matron continues to walk in the nurse’s steps. A long pause at the desk. Walking to the bathtub, gently closing the drawer. Standing at the table, by the window. All as if feeling the presence of the nurse, remembering. 

Finally, Lady Macbeth breaks the silence, her screams echoing from the next room. No longer is the matron alone. She helps Lady M get undressed and bring the clothes downstairs, laying them out carefully. 

Back up the stairs and into the hut once more. Alone, silent—a ghost of the fifth floor, going through the motions.

strandbooks:

More from Crossing the Mangrove by Maryse Condé.