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Murmured Musings

Is that this is a digital palette of a creative, kind and eccentric woman that daydreams too much and draws to little.

"Oh yeah, that was the biggest joke of all. I think that there is a general pattern of “white-ifying” everything. Just because they make Heimdall black in the Thor movies doesn’t really make a counterargument. In fact, the amount of what they call “racebending” that goes on in Hollywood is extraordinary. I mean, I have sat down with agents who will tell me straight up, “Listen, you write about Dominicans in New Jersey. We can make an indie film about this, but nobody in Hollywood wants to see anything but white leads.” And so when I heard that they wanted to cast all white characters in Akira, it just really shows you how little the dream factory of our popular culture has caught up with the diverse reality of our present. I mean, the nation in which we live — and the world in which we live — is so extraordinarily more like a future than the futures that we’re being sold on the screen and on television."

 Junot Díaz

 

(via thartist72)

(Source: Wired, via racebending)



On Discovering A Butterfly

jtotheizzoe:

Happy birthday to lepidopterist and sometimes writer Vladimir Nabokov! Well, he might be a bit more famous for the writing thing, come to think of it, but I’m convinced that science was his true passion.

Celebrate with one of his poems, an ode to taxonomy:

I found it in a legendary land
all rocks and lavender and tufted grass,
where it was settled on some sodden sand
hard by the torrent of a mountain pass.

The features it combines mark it as new
to science shape and shade — the special tinge,
akin to moonlight, tempering its blue,
the dingy underside, the checkered fringe.

My needles have teased out its sculptured sex;
corroded tissues could no longer hide
that priceless mote now dimpling the convex
and limpid teardrop on a lighted slide.

Smoothly a screw is turned; out of the mist
two ambered hooks symmetrically slope,
or scales like battledores of amethyst
cross the charmed circle of the microscope.

I found it and I named it, being versed
in taxonomic Latin; thus became
godfather to an insect and its first
describer — and I want no other fame.

Wide open on its pin (though fast asleep)
and safe from creeping relatives and rust,
in the secluded stronghold where we keep
type specimens it will transcend its dust.

Dark pictures, thrones, the stones that pilgrims kiss,
poems that take a thousand years to die
but ape the immortality of this
red label on a little butterfly.

image

Don’t miss his lovely butterfly sketches, drawn as dedications to his wife Vera.

Thanks to Morgan Jackson for the link.