![nightmarebrunette:
I came across this picture reproduced in an old New Yorker. In print, the color was far richer and the shading on the jaw of the mane-less horse was perfect. (There’s a slightly better shot here.)
Judith Thurman writes, of the Neanderthals ceding their land to Homo Sapiens: “[T]he arts of the newcomers must have impressed them. Later Neanderthal campsites have yielded some rings and awls carved from ivory […] nothing of the like predates the arrival of Homo Sapiens. The pathos of their workmanship—the attempt to copy something novel and marvelous by the dimming light of their existence—nearly makes you weep. And here, perhaps, the cruel notion that we call fashion, a coded expression of rivalry and desire, was born.”
Rivalry and desire. Writing this perfect and art this astounding can arouse the same dynamic, and it’s a bit heartbreaking and exhilarating regardless of the source. Sometimes I feel terribly unimaginative for exclusively posting on the erotic when the thought of an aspirational Neanderthal can be just as powerful, yet far less obvious. But it’s all about the same thing, isn’t it? Sex, art, the sharing of either, or both? It’s the attempt to bring yourself or others into a moment of beauty, however crude or temporary that beauty may be.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/WSbu0UZSbckxoy92jsbKGUgz_500.jpg)
I came across this picture reproduced in an old New Yorker. In print, the color was far richer and the shading on the jaw of the mane-less horse was perfect. (There’s a slightly better shot here.)
Judith Thurman writes, of the Neanderthals ceding their land to Homo Sapiens: “[T]he arts of the newcomers must have impressed them. Later Neanderthal campsites have yielded some rings and awls carved from ivory […] nothing of the like predates the arrival of Homo Sapiens. The pathos of their workmanship—the attempt to copy something novel and marvelous by the dimming light of their existence—nearly makes you weep. And here, perhaps, the cruel notion that we call fashion, a coded expression of rivalry and desire, was born.”
Rivalry and desire. Writing this perfect and art this astounding can arouse the same dynamic, and it’s a bit heartbreaking and exhilarating regardless of the source. Sometimes I feel terribly unimaginative for exclusively posting on the erotic when the thought of an aspirational Neanderthal can be just as powerful, yet far less obvious. But it’s all about the same thing, isn’t it? Sex, art, the sharing of either, or both? It’s the attempt to bring yourself or others into a moment of beauty, however crude or temporary that beauty may be.
