Photographer Levi Bettweiser is the man behind the Rescued Film Project, an effort to find and rescue old and undeveloped rolls of film from the far corners of the world.
Have you ever hurt so much you couldn’t go on till you had an answer?
Sometimes the thing you love most in life, just may be the thing that ends up killing you.
Daniel Roemer‘s unique and powerful style of directing has lead him to receive such attention as the USA Film’s Top 10 Emerging Director’s list at the age of 20, two-timeProject Greenlight Best Director Finalist, and student Academy Award State finalist by age 22.
He has been characterized as a filmmaker with his finger on the pulse of the world’s youth, as his short films now have screened in over 75 countries worldwide. Partnering with Inspirational Films in Europe, colleges have packed out auditoriums with over three thousand students to screen his films, as well as standing room only theatres in major European cities. [IMDB]
Originally based on a terrible painting he had done in 2010, The Awkward Yeti starred in his own children’s book of the same title in late 2012. Nick released his first volume of cartoons and comics in October 2013 after experiencing a lot of growth on Facebook .
Nick works full time as a Senior Designer, even he earned a bachelor’s degree in psychology. He has always loved drawing, especially cartoons, because he found it’s the best way to explain what I has going on in his head.
In collaboration with Cirque du Soleil, Ze Frank drops a pebble in the pond that is the collective human search for community, connection, and belonging. And in that search, we must all begin with trust.
“Trust is a confusing thing. It seems so simple; but when you try to pin it down it’s elusive.” narrates Ze.
The allegory of trust exists in the steady equilibrium of the practiced arms and braced feet of Cirque du Soleil acrobats, Alya and Gael. As acrobats – and anyone who has seen a Cirque du Soleil production knows – they literally put their lives in someone else’s hands.
Trust is your relationship to the unknown – what you can’t control.
And you can’t control everything.
And it’s not all or none.
It’s a slow and steady practice of learning about the capacity of the world.
And it’s worth it to keep trying.
And it’s not easy.
Tatia Pilieva asks 20 strangers to kiss for the first time.
Born and raised in the Republic of Georgia, Tatia received an MFA from the American Film Institute. She began her career with experimental work in music videos and short films. Tatia’s first feature film, FOREVER, starring Deborah Ann Woll and Luke Grimes was produced by The Art of Elysium.
“Women in my family have been shrinking for decades,” states Lily Myers.
But this is not a declaration of defeat; it is one of defiance. Shrinking Women is provoking, revealing, and altogether beautiful in many ways.
After all, all women were born to build. Happy International Woman’s Day!
Across from me at the kitchen table, my mother smiles over red wine that she drinks out of a measuring glass.
She says she doesn’t deprive herself,
but I’ve learned to find nuance in every movement of her fork.
In every crinkle in her brow as she offers me the uneaten pieces on her plate.
I’ve realized she only eats dinner when I suggest it.
I wonder what she does when I’m not there to do so.
Maybe this is why my house feels bigger each time I return; it’s proportional.
As she shrinks the space around her seems increasingly vast.
She wanes while my father waxes. His stomach has grown round with wine, late nights, oysters, poetry. A new girlfriend who was overweight as a teenager, but my dad reports that now she’s “crazy about fruit.”
It was the same with his parents;
as my grandmother became frail and angular her husband swelled to red round cheeks, round stomach,
and I wonder if my lineage is one of women shrinking,
making space for the entrance of men into their lives,
not knowing how to fill it back up once they leave.
I have been taught accommodation.
My brother never thinks before he speaks.
I have been taught to filter.
“How can anyone have a relationship to food?” he asks, laughing, as I eat the black bean soup I chose for its lack of carbs.
I want to say: we come from difference, Jonas,
you have been taught to grow out,
I have been taught to grow in.
You learned from our father how to emit, how to produce, to roll each thought off your tongue with confidence, you used to lose your voice every other week from shouting so much.
I learned to absorb.
I took lessons from our mother in creating space around myself.
I learned to read the knots in her forehead while the guys went out for oysters,
and I never meant to replicate her, but
spend enough time sitting across from someone and you pick up their habits-
that’s why women in my family have been shrinking for decades.
We all learned it from each other, the way each generation taught the next how to knit,
weaving silence in between the threads
which I can still feel as I walk through this ever-growing house,
picking up all the habits my mother has unwittingly dropped like bits of crumpled paper from her pocket on her countless trips from bedroom to kitchen to bedroom again.
Nights I hear her creep down to eat plain yogurt in the dark, a fugitive stealing calories to which she does not feel entitled.
Deciding how many bites is too many.
How much space she deserves to occupy.
Watching the struggle I either mimic or hate her,
And I don’t want to do either anymore,
but the burden of this house has followed me across the country.
I asked five questions in genetics class today and all of them started with the word “sorry.”
I don’t know the requirements for the sociology major because I spent the entire meeting deciding whether or not I could have another piece of pizza,
a circular obsession I never wanted, but
inheritance is accidental,
still staring at me with wine-soaked lips from across the kitchen table.
Lily Myers, performed Shrinking Women at the Wesleyan University at the 2013 College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational, where it was awarded Best Love Poem. Her recitation was put up on YouTube and has garnered over 2 million views since April.
Originally from Seattle, the 21-year-old first started writing poetry during her junior year of high school after she “accidentally” took a creative writing class. She ended up loving poetry and with the encouragement of her teacher, started attending open mic nights. Fast-forward four years, Myers has found her calling.
Currently a junior majoring in sociology at Wesleyan University, Myers is a member of the University’s slam team.
Myers is currently abroad for the semester in Buenos Aires.
There’s some controversy surrounding the death of Vincent van Gogh. The painter, who had a history of mental illness and died of an infection related to a gunshot wound at 37 years old, presumably shot himself in the chest. Only a few years ago, two Pulitzer Prize-winning biographers put forth a more controversial theory: that he was shot by a pair of teenagers.
Loving Vincent, a new film from an Oscar-winning animation and film production studio, explores the mystery of the artist’s death through oil paintings done in the style of his work. Every frame of the animation will be a slightly different still painting on canvas, put together so that the image appears to move. With a plot based on the artist’s letters, the entire feature-length film will consist of more than 56,000 oil paintings, completed by dozens of painters, bringing van Gogh’s distinctive style to life.
In his last letter Vincent wrote:
Well, the truth is, we cannot speak other than by our paintings. With a handshake, your Loving Vincent.
All telling the story of one man.
Imagine yourself in a journey that you could never experience before…
Loving Vincent is an investigation delving into the life and controversial death of Vincent Van Gogh, one of the world’s most beloved painters, as told through his paintings and by the characters that inhabit them. The intrigue unfolds through interviews with the characters closest to Vincent and through dramatic reconstructions of the events leading up to his death.
This one goes out to all the lovers, the loved, those who think they are unloved, the dammed, the enlightened… for all of us.
Open Letter To The Last Person I Will Ever Love
On the blackened beaches of the island known as Kona,
the lanterned hands of Pacific hearts
appear in the eyelid of morning –
like a seed in your throat
ready to be swallowed,
they arrive with pockets of white stones
plucked from the tongues of highways
and they spell out the names of the people they have lost;
like giant love letters of the Earth
swirling across the volcanic heart of the ocean,
fury in their fingers
as if they could teach the sky about reflection.
Welcome to The Beginning.
I want you to remember
what you were doing with your hands
when you were capable
of not chasing
and not wanting to be chased.
When you are ready,
This is how we will find each other:
stolen and whipping in the wind
crafting the pebbled bodies of our hearts –
I hope that we are more broken than we could ever imagine
so there are more parts of ourselves to know
than there ever were before,
tumbled and blistered by those who could not see us in the dark,
held like a fist of feathers.
We will understand that you only know people in the ages you meet them in
and we will continue anyway,
arthritis in our eyes –
I do not know how it will feel to be myself when I am old,
I am constantly the wrong age for my body –
I do not know if I will ever learn how to thank you
if I will know how to stop speaking Airport
if I will touch you like linoleum
but I will store all of your birthdays somewhere below my shoulders,
so when you wake with ceiling eyes
you will consider my mouth
pressed against yours –
how it is slower than imagined,
how everything is brimming
like dinner on a stove top.
I hope I never dream of you
so I am constantly discovering
what I have.
Overwhelmed every time you glimmer
like the glare of the sun
in the revolving of a door –
the eagerness of unbuttoning fingers,
the buckling of knuckles,
the crushing nature of hope.
You are everything and nothing like what I have waited for –
familiar as a perennial weed harbored in my stomach,
tumbling through each moment
with the feet of bicycles
to devour every part of this country
like a laugh in the night –
fingers of sparklers
teeth of split chins
restless believer in open spaces,
humming and listening
with the sun in your throat –
you don’t ever say much.
You just stand
like a mesa in the desert,
hopeful as the howling of wind against the garage door.
You are the only voice in the night
I will ever call back to –
stumbling everything I’ve believed
like an ocean of stars,
the silence of a first snow,
this notion of home.
I will love you
the exact way I always
wanted to be loved.
And when I lose you –
as death and the nature of men
have promised me I will –
I will find my way to the Pacific,
to the island known as Kona,
a fist of white stones
and I will write you
like the poem that you are.
Named “Best Female Poet” and “Best Of The Rest” at her first national poetry competition in 2008, Carrie Rudzinski is a full time performance poet who has performed her work across the United States, New Zealand, Australia, and India.
Her work has been published in such collections as Words Dance, Muzzle,OnMag, and Alight. She has released three poetry books: A History Of Silence (2010), The Endless Return Home (2012), and The Shotgun Speaks(2013).
My mum just celebrated her 39th birthday. [She has been celebrating her 39th birthday for as long as I can remember.]
“My mom teaches me about the world, my mom is a cleaner, my mom is a doctor, my mom is an angel.”
More of Matt Bieler’s work here.
And hey, give your mum a call today. Seriously. Call her.