“Find a beautiful piece of art. If you fall in love with Van Gogh or Matisse or John Oliver Killens, or if you fall love with the music of Coltrane, the music of Aretha Franklin, or the music of Chopin - find some beautiful art and admire it, and realize that that was created by human beings just like you, no more human, no less.”

— Maya Angelou (via drawinds)

(via drawinds)

typeswamp:


Day 529 “Singing Like The Sun (GIF)” by Matt Chinworth (follow his tumblr TypeSWAMP where he creates a new design every single day)
My brother is writing some stuff over at Draw Distance. I’m helping him with the illustrations.

Singing like the sun. Singing like the moon and a thousand lights and stars and fire stars. Tried to keep them silent but I couldn’t keep the shouts and praise in. They just kept coming like the distant night - there’s no stopping it and you enjoy it and it’s forever your friend, the singing. It rolls over you like a big roller and flattens your mind and skull inside your head like a watermelon that reforms after the roller passes. The little singing stars put the pieces back together - the watermelon pieces, which are your head. No surprises here. Your head becomes a medium star like a large-scale onion. No suprises here. It starts singing too. It might grow up to be fierce like the old stars but it will mostly stay mild and glow like a dim light in an old mine shaft, an incandescent. It would kinda be a thin bright line like that. But little stars are best at stringing together little light string bits after they’ve fallen apart from the rolling sing-wave. They were made for it, by the the big stars. They birthed them out straight to the stitching field to patch up your stringy light-head. No suprises here. Let them come over you. It kinda hurts but it’s mostly for the better, the reforming.

typeswamp:

Day 529 “Singing Like The Sun (GIF)” by Matt Chinworth (follow his tumblr TypeSWAMP where he creates a new design every single day)

My brother is writing some stuff over at Draw Distance. I’m helping him with the illustrations.

Singing
like the sun. Singing like the moon and a thousand lights and stars and fire stars.
Tried to keep them silent but I couldn’t keep the shouts and praise in. They just kept coming like the distant night - there’s no stopping it and you enjoy it and it’s forever your friend, the singing. It rolls over you like a big roller and flattens your mind and skull inside your head like a watermelon that reforms after the roller passes. The little singing stars put the pieces back together - the watermelon pieces, which are your head. No surprises here. Your head becomes a medium star like a large-scale onion. No suprises here. It starts singing too.
It might grow up to be fierce like the old stars but it will mostly stay mild and glow like a dim light in an old mine shaft, an incandescent. It would kinda be a thin bright line like that. But little stars are best at stringing together little light string bits after they’ve fallen apart from the rolling sing-wave. They were made for it, by the the big stars. They birthed them out straight to the stitching field to patch up your stringy light-head. No suprises here.
Let them come over you. It kinda hurts but it’s mostly for the better, the reforming.