→ 18 Jul 14 at 5 pm
Yuliana Mendoza aka Silence Effects is an abstract/ambient photographer based out of La Spezia, Italia.
Check out Dawn of the Planet of the Apes this weekend, and let us know your thoughts!!
Lupita Nyong’o for Vogue US July 2014
'We are the Music Makers and the Dreamers of Dreams'
Photography & styling by Amberly Valentine for Hedonist Magazine, December 2013
Hair: Guiseppe Bulzis
Make-up: Akari Sugino
Models: Shannon Brennan & Irina Roshik
One day I was naked on the windowsill in the white of day, overcast, strange for la
And an Asian man stepped out and saved me from stepping out, maybe
And I thought about the days when I stood on the windowsill of my host family’s tidy loft (a postulant olive branch between the subtly austere father and hoveringly uptight mother)
Surveying the unripened tangerine outsides; the corridored buildings sinking into the jaundice of the earth, but sweetly and murmuringly, the wires of evening scored with drunken male laughter
I thought then that this sweet onion dream would warm me in its layers and carry me into the dark navy night—across the window step—unfettered
I uploaded a picture of my room and self in France in stark white light
And the windowsill, four years later, would graze me with a childhood falsehood, a childhood treasure, and my mother’s milky skin
(I dreamt three days before of soft hands letting go, and I thought it was my mother letting me go, but red polo sleeve and slendered fingers and surfacing veins; me letting myself go)
I was naked on the windowsill and thought I could be a photo still, the sounds the glaring highlight, my ebbing heart a lovely darkroom error
I was naked on the windowsill and he yanked me dropping plunging descending gliding to the bed
I hissed and narrowed my vision with two locks of hair, narrowed into a grey wolf I channel when I must fight with my bones
but I look
at my hands and they are mine and my mother’s soft skin
And he is my father’s warm chest and (once) tender (now) stubborn eyes
And his grasp around mine, our skin in faultless contrast
And I mute into velutinous posture (poise)
His hands are more fluid than mine, larger; we cohere stronger than a cross cradle but weaker than the clasp of marble statues
It is gentle and delicate as I witness faultlessness (perfection) in the nest of “enough”
The other day I sneezed in the shower and he said “bless you” from outside the ivory room.