Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
with silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”
i must see this movie. i’m reading online about the differences between the cyberpunk and post-cyberpunk movements/genres, and i’m freaking out/must make art of this
louis is the fifth best harmonica player in portland. he’s considering moving to a smaller town.
[photo via marley p]
From the Harvey Milk march and rally in Austin Texas on May 22nd, 2010. Original photo by Carlos Soto.
This event was so inspiring for me… the EAA conference, everything. i’ve been recruited, radicalized, baptized… and now i’m ready to do whatever i can to make sure everyone across our nation and globe is equal.
When I was making this photo, I was thinking about how to visually convey the feeling of growing up in a soft world, perhaps without purpose, just kind of naievete at its best.



