stop taunting me, double-back drop bends.
(Source: worrypower)
a thing i cannot name
i am amused by some things.
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2012-05-28
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2012-05-26
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]if you see me driving around town, odds are good this is what i am rocking out to.
or filthy dirty house music. but probably this.
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2012-05-25
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Andrew Gn, Fall 2012.
(Source: bergdorfgoodman)
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2012-05-24
mylar paper- extremely good for planning out neon patterns.
corporate intern devon is no longer dead inside.
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art deco lines-
it’s safe to say they’re going to make an appearance in my work.
(Source: lifeandlamentations)
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2012-05-23
how ya like me now?
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2012-05-22
OH MY FUCKING GOD
(Source: youtube.com)
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Majestics - Kim Holtermand
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THESE WERE THE BEST FLAVORS
(via fuckyeah1990s)
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(Source: wishfulactions)
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2012-05-21
I am so glad my internet is fast enough to handle 1080p.
I kind of want to live in a Woodkid video.
(Source: youtube.com)
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ROADSHOW II by CHRISTOPHER LANGE
One of the professors at school (specifically, the head of neon, if you couldn’t tell) had his class build a large wooden framework to mount atop his car, showing off a bunch of their work from the semester.
Now, this professor and I are fairly close (he gave me my Nikon F3/T), and when he took the car out for a spin, I asked him if he would be down to let Devon and I hitch a ride. He amicably agreed, and asked me where I would like to be picked up. The bar on Main St. was decided upon, and an hour and a half later, I left the bar, and to the amazement of all the bros, biddies, and frat kids, got into this moving carnival.
We picked Devon up by the art building, and drove around the entire village, shouting and flashing the neon at various other cars and passersby. After buzzing the president of the school’s house with our strobing neonmobile, we drove down the grassy hill that is most certainly not intended for use by cars.
He’s a cool guy, our teacher.
UNDERCOVER BROTHER
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2012-05-20
The lights were at full power, and I had the six-seven set to eight-and-a-half at a thirtieth. The glow of the single umbrella cast luminous warm tones over the room, not leading on to the staccato explosions that were to occur.
I took a pull from the IPA on the desk, and brought the finder to my eye.
A burst of light canvased her face as the mirror went up, and the shutter curtains thundered across the film gate. Lowering the camera as I reset the shutter, I continued looking at her. Her expression remained the same as when I had taken the photograph, with one exception, as a smirk began to creep across her lips.
I raised the camera again.
he did more than just drink that IPA between shots…
