Can He Sit On Your Dash For A Minute?? He'll Be Very Polite :]

Calligraphic Galleon

Calligrapher:  'Abd al-Qadir Hisari

Illustrated single work

dated A.H. 1180/ A.D. 1766–67

Geography:  Made in Turkey

Culture:  Islamic

Medium: Ink and gold on paper

Dimensions:  H. 19 in. (48.3 cm) W. 17 in. (43.2 cm)

Credit Line:  Louis E. and Theresa S. Seley Purchase Fund for Islamic Art and Rogers Fund, 2003

Accession Number:  2003.241

The hull of this sailing ship comprises the names of the Seven Sleepers and their dog. The tale of the Seven Sleepers, found in pre-Islamic Christian sources, concerns a group of men who sleep for centuries within a cave, protected by God from religious persecution. Both hadith (sayings of the Prophet), and tafsir (commentaries on the Qur'an) suggest that these verses from the Qur'an have protective qualities.

Flanked by two other galleons on the horizon, this carefully drawn imperial calligraphic galleon sits on a row of waves containing aphorisms. The imperial galleon with its wind-filled sails is an example of the sophistication of the Ottoman calligraphic tradition. The distinctive Ottoman imperial insignia (tughra), located on the stern of the square galley, dedicates the drawing to Sultan Mustafa bin Sultan Ahmed III (r. 1757–74) (38.149.1). The prow, deck, hull, and stern of the galleon are a calligram (an image made out of calligraphic phrases). It contains the names of the seven sleepers of Ephesus and their dog Qitmir (35.64.3). The standard on the stern of the boat contains the apotropaic Throne verse (2:255) from the Qur'an. The combination of Qur'anic verse and the names of prophets, saints, and heroes found in the Qur'an endows this calligram with amuletic, auspicious, and talismanic powers. In the sky, like a sun disk, the dated signature of the calligrapher reads: Abdu'l Qadir al-Hisari in Aksehir in A.H. 1180 / 1766 A.D. The frame is composed of Ottoman Turkish poetry venerating the Prophet Muhammad.

hmmm

Pure art *Zizekian snort* Gauhuhahgh idk why I like it so much

For those of you who don’t know, I work at an anarchist co-op coffee shop.

Apparently, all the Chicano/Cholo boys in my neighborhood have caught on the the fact that I sneak food and stuff to all the little punk kids and homeless kids at the coffee shop.

There are three in particular who call me Mom. Not Mami, not Ma, Mom. The rest refer to me as “Miss”.

They’ve decided to always have one of the three of them there with me on my night shifts. (Especially after they witnessed the last bad shift where I had to kick a bunch of tweakers out. Said tweakers lit my fucking bulletin board on fire.)

Tonight, one of the boys actually charged up a crackhead who wouldn’t get out when I told him to leave.

About an hour later, I was emptying bus tubs when that same lovely boy walked in and wetted a wash rag. I asked what he was doing and he told me not to worry. So, I went about my business, doing dishes, bussing the main dining tables, etc.

I’d left a broom in the smoking room and a fresh trash bag in the bathroom for once I was done with the dishes.

When I walked out, everything was spotless and the trash had been replaced. He’d wiped all my tables, swept, mopped, and emptied all the ash trays.

He’d also picked the lock on the bathroom so his friend could take out the trash for me. (Which I’m not sure whether I should scold him for. Haha)

They snuck around and did my closing shift duties to thank me for keeping them warm and fed.

I’m fucking crying.

Gerdt von Bassewitz, Pips der Pilz, Ein Wald und Weihnachtsmarchen. Berlin: Hermann Klemm, 1920. Illustrations by Hans Baluschek.

Dedicated to the Sacred Cedars of the 1000 Paths Forest, the Wind, the Rain, the Seas, the Sun, the Moon, All Life, and the Stars. "To all things we give a special dedication. Fix my body, my soul, and my spirit! I give thanks for this day, this life, this world! And for all things! Don’t chop our world trees to build your church for in those trees is more of worth than all those rice paper sheets and your hollow voices in hallowed seats. I dwell neath the sky on the ground from whence I hear the sound Creation’s echo, reverberates in the swaying of the branches, the croaking of the crow the symphony of the frogs the reveling of the leaves In Spirits midst on that fine fresh wind, Whom the Insider has ceased to know. Out, Out with the secrets, let it not dwell in false rhetoric, but in the ineffable, inexpressible workings of this wide world, beyond the voices of old bones gone to rest." 

rebellion is your obligation to the next 7 generations

József Borsos

Der Emir vom Libanon (Porträt von Edmund Graf Zichy) ]

1843

so 5 minutes after uploading this animation I made today of a rainbow colored cuttlefish, YouTube restricted it……. cos we can’t have the kiddies seeing this RAUNCHY lil cephalopod

sometimes a clown is in your house. sometimes not. depends.

^_^ went to visit... kaleidoscope world !!!