Listen, Rembrandt, I love you and all, but uh… that hand, man. That hand. Master of Light and Shadow, sure. Master of Anatomy? Fuck no.
And lo, the God Child did turn his gaze upward, his neck craning, turning, rotating – the sound of dry twigs snapping, leathery skin pulled taunt around an unnatural, boney fulcrum — one rotation, two, three. A wheezing, short breath. Then nothing.
That moment when you realize the baby swaddled next to you has most definitely pooped himself. We’ve all been there.
Whoa there, Mary, you might want to stick that Christ Cake back in the proverbial oven. I don’t think he’s quite finished yet.
Dear tiny Jesus in your golden-fleece diapers, with your tiny, little, fat, balled-up fists pawing at the air…
transcendtheabsolute fores-ttrial-blog lauramcphee Untitled, [Two Women Under a Tree], 1910 (Alice Boughton)From Truth Beauty: Pictorialism and the Photograph as Art, 1845-1945, photos from the George Eastman House at the Phillips Collection, 2010. (Gallery here) Source: eastmanhouse.org