nunnery:

“I came upon twin fawns in the display case of a mom and pop toy and science store in kansas city, missouri. it took me two years to win the trust of the shop owner and save the money to buy them. a taxidermist spotted a dead deer by the side of the road. he stopped to properly dispose of the body and realized she was pregnant. he opened her and found near full-term twin fawns, he removed and preserved them. Deer rarely have twins and the taxidermist retained the uterine gesture of their bodies. i built them a vitrine with a light blue base. their prematurity exaggerates the delicacy of an incredibly sweet thing. the points of their hooves, the length of their lashes, the spots of their hides, nose to small nose in an ur-cartoonish realism … viewers’ eyes trick them into believing the fawns are breathing. the tragedy of beauty is its transience. The twins live forever in their own demise. they are sleeping beauties. they have been muses since i first saw them.We dress death in lilies and bronze the names of our dead sons on walls. we erect altars of toys and hold candlelight vigils to express hope. my twin fawns sleep endlessly on their baby blue block in my studio. the twins never opened their eyes yet their wondrous fatality evokes an acceptable alternative to death.”
-Peregrine Honig

nunnery:

“I came upon twin fawns in the display case of a mom and pop toy and science store in kansas city, missouri. it took me two years to win the trust of the shop owner and save the money to buy them. a taxidermist spotted a dead deer by the side of the road. he stopped to properly dispose of the body and realized she was pregnant. he opened her and found near full-term twin fawns, he removed and preserved them. 

Deer rarely have twins and the taxidermist retained the uterine gesture of their bodies. i built them a vitrine with a light blue base. their prematurity exaggerates the delicacy of an incredibly sweet thing. the points of their hooves, the length of their lashes, the spots of their hides, nose to small nose in an ur-cartoonish realism … viewers’ eyes trick them into believing the fawns are breathing. the tragedy of beauty is its transience. 

The twins live forever in their own demise. they are sleeping beauties. they have been muses since i first saw them.

We dress death in lilies and bronze the names of our dead sons on walls. we erect altars of toys and hold candlelight vigils to express hope. my twin fawns sleep endlessly on their baby blue block in my studio. the twins never opened their eyes yet their wondrous fatality evokes an acceptable alternative to death.”

-Peregrine Honig

(via nyctaeus)

nyctaeus:

EJ Major - ‘Love is…Last Tango in Paris’

"The work is a book made up of 450 returned postcards from over 7000 hand-delivered to households throughout the UK between 2004 and 2006. Printed on the front of each card was a screenshot taken from each second of the 1972 Bernardo Bertolucci film Last Tango in Paris, including the mesmerising scenes of Maria Schneider walking the streets of Paris and her and Marlon Brando in the unfurnished apartment. On the back of the card was the artist’s freepost address and “love is…” inviting recipients to respond and return the postcard as part of an enquiry, into love. Ambiguous on many levels, Bertolucci’s film deals with love in anti-cliché ways – fiercely sexual, violently passionate times and vicious at times – and the prompt “love is…” remains open-ended. Whilst only 6% of the cards were sent back the results varied from the more predictable to the unexpected, some outpours and some sad, angry and even funny. “One person just Tipp-Exed out the ‘love is…’ and returned the card, a subtle but quite unsettling response,” explains Major.”

(via ap3rture)