Hit The Switch
Day Old BluesOur team was on rounds today and we were interrupted by the soothing hum of a harmonica coming from an unknown source somewhere among the numerous patient doorways. My attending pauses, looks around, and says “that sounds live.”
I laughed pretty hard.
See how photographers helped craft the public personas of their creative subjects in this stunning collection of rare photographs from the Museum’s collection. “Face to Face: Portraits of Artists” opens June 26.
“Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo with Lucile and Arnold Blanch at Coyoacán,” c. 1930, by Peter A. Juley & Son
Funny that I’d start writing now that I’ve started studying for my standardized board exam for medical school coming up in June–but I think it will actually help me to be a more efficient studier if I come here to vent a bit.
Medical school has taken almost everything but has also given me so much. I can’t tell if things have been replaced, I’m getting older, or the world is upside down. I study for more than I ever imagined and it seems to pay off–except theres no time to enjoy the rewards. Its almost like a twilight zone kind of thing.
Anyways, I got inspired to spill my thoughts for a moment mainly because of this post I read written by a girl from my high school. It was a small blurb about having an identity that can’t be explained. Or at least thats what I took from it.
She writes:
“Is it that I’m the daughter of a Sri Lankan woman and a white man? For the longest time, when asked where I’m from, I would respond, “my mom’s Sri Lankan and my dad’s American.” I explain the identities of my parents so that I don’t have to explain my own. Ammah moved to the United States when she was eight and has been a citizen since a time long before I was born. She, too, is American. So, where does that leave me? Saying, “well, I grew up in Ohio, where my dad lived his whole life and my mom moved when she was eight from Sri Lanka via Sierra Leone, but I’ve only been to Sri Lanka once, and then I moved to Florida and now I live in New York so if you’re asking where home is I’m not sure what to tell you, but I do know that you’re probably just asking about why I’m brown, so yeah, Sri Lanka” seems like a little much. I don’t really know.
When people think of culture, there are certain expectations and touchstones that come to mind—food, music, clothing, language. But I don’t know how much culture is supposed to matter to me. I can’t remember that particular meal at Bethany, but I do remember the annual reunions on Dad’s side of the family. Every time, I’d try deviled eggs at a picnic in a park in Ohio, and I’d remember, year after year, that I don’t like deviled eggs.”
I hope to write as the weeks go on. A girl’s gotta have some way to let it out.
Kedi. Dir. Ceyda Torun. 2016.
been listening to this for the past hour
I wanted to doodle,
and I said to myself; “there are tons of amazing cat faces here” and SO i used some of my favorites as reference for practice warm up doodles!
X O X O X
(Source: sarahseeandersen)
Afrikaanse kameleon - c.1700-1880 - via Memory of the Netherlands
Hey, this post may contain adult content, so we’ve hidden it from public view.
Hey, this post may contain adult content, so we’ve hidden it from public view.
Animaux, les fleurs, les plantes et leur application à l'art décoratif - A. Guérinet - 1890 - via Gallica