itt we brainstorm & workshop ideas for LTTP's art installations
| Thriller old irish cottage | 07/31/12 | | Beady-eyed orange sanctuary | 07/31/12 | | Chrome Violent Stage Degenerate | 08/16/16 | | Thriller old irish cottage | 08/16/16 | | Thriller old irish cottage | 07/31/12 | | Mewling Internet-worthy Laser Beams | 07/31/12 | | Thriller old irish cottage | 07/31/12 | | orchid community account | 07/31/12 | | Mewling Internet-worthy Laser Beams | 07/31/12 | | Thriller old irish cottage | 07/31/12 | | Mewling Internet-worthy Laser Beams | 08/02/12 | | spectacular brethren mother | 02/28/15 | | Irate Sable School Cafeteria | 08/16/16 | | Chrome Violent Stage Degenerate | 07/17/22 | | Thriller old irish cottage | 07/31/12 | | Thriller old irish cottage | 08/01/12 | | Mewling Internet-worthy Laser Beams | 10/01/12 | | Domesticated boiling water address | 12/01/12 | | Flirting hairless boistinker temple | 02/28/15 | | Thriller old irish cottage | 08/16/16 | | Mewling Internet-worthy Laser Beams | 08/16/16 | | concupiscible rough-skinned church building roast beef | 08/16/16 | | concupiscible rough-skinned church building roast beef | 08/16/16 | | Thriller old irish cottage | 08/17/16 | | Mewling Internet-worthy Laser Beams | 08/17/16 | | boyish knife | 07/17/22 | | Flirting hairless boistinker temple | 09/27/23 |
Poast new message in this thread
Date: July 31st, 2012 2:03 AM Author: Mewling Internet-worthy Laser Beams
lolol not flame, you literally incepted me. in my to-do list is:
> "we must not allow each other to become enslaved" an installation of photos of actual people in financial distress (mortgages, student loans, credit cards), both black and white, naked and in chains. ask bel to be the first model
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2010155&forum_id=2#21221692) |
Date: October 1st, 2012 3:17 PM Author: Mewling Internet-worthy Laser Beams
Unusually cute feminist who writes pointless blog liberating fatties and cunts from bowel-shaking judgment is seduced by lacrosse playing frat boy son of a Republican bigwig. She finds out he has murdered three black prostitutes and buried the bodies in a remote Virginia wood, but by that time her heart swoons for his hot-cold-hot-cold, dread-inducing relationship acumen, and her vagina struggles against her conscience for dominance. One night he takes her to the spot where the bodies are decomposing and asks if she wants to be tied to a tree. Fear and tingles grip her, and she relents despite her misgivings, overcome with hot lust to fulfill a long-held fantasy of getting “play”-raped against a stately oak. He asks increasingly demanding questions, to which she answers affirmatively, her vagina glowing hotter with each reluctant submission. A French poodle trots into the scene, film noirish, and it triggers a lost memory from her youth, when a niceguy beta with a good job and kitchen skills loved her and promised her a life of domestic contentment and backrubs. A single feminist tear creases her face, now ripped by agony and pleasure as frat boy’s turgid paddle rends her furrow. He is wearing a Zorro mask. She mewls like a cougar in the throes of post-meal delight.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2066465&forum_id=2#21692082)
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2010155&forum_id=2#21692103) |
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Date: December 1st, 2012 1:51 AM Author: Domesticated boiling water address
Months of dangerous sex punctuate a rise in feminist stardom, but she keeps her secret well, suffering the endless indignities of his increasingly deranged intrusions upon her body and claims on her womanhood, going so far as to construct a locket for her to permanently wear as reminder of his love. The spiral of passion imprisons and releases her, until one day he unceremoniously dumps her after she catches him anally boffing her radical feminist co-editor. Now presumably freed of his inexplicable power over her, she makes plans to reveal his crimes, but every time, just when she is about to pull the trigger, she steps away from the brink to collect her thoughts on long eatpraylove straycations, the last one to Morocco, where a swarthy fellow selling exotic wool carpets that cost five cents to manufacture in a Chinese factory accosts her in a dusty alley and introduces her to sexy jihad. From there, she comes down with an extreme case of Stockholm Syndrome and follows him on a pilgrimage to London, where she is initiated into the chain migration family through one-sided arranged marriage. She becomes a zealous Muslim convert, and feels a love and emotional calm she has never felt before, except when memories of that one man sidle into her dreams…
A tall, blonde-haired figure in an extra-tight European blazer slips into the used book shoppe she now runs with her Moroccan sister/aunt/cousin-in-law. He places a dog-eared tome on the counter: “My Secret Garden”. Her fingers tremble and dance along the spine of the book. A nerve shake sends ripples along her flesh. She peers vainly for his eyes under the fedora with the rim pulled down low. All she sees is a studded metal plate covering half his face and a whimsical smirk.
“It’s you?”
The man taps the book cover with a sinewy index finger. She stumbles at the cash register and rings him up. A knife sits gamely in the pence slot. She stares at it for a second, before composing herself.
She gives him the change. He lets his hand linger in hers as the currency empties into his palm. He taps the book again, and walks slowly out the door. She opens the book and finds a marked page. Nestled between the pages is a skeleton key. She collapses to the floor. The iron locket that has pierced her for ten years presses sharply against her pubis. A note flutters from the book and lands in her lap.
“I forgive you.”
She weeps as a powerful orgasm paralyzes her. The key waits for her. She picks it up, caresses it, and throws it into the trash.
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2010155&forum_id=2#22145423) |
Date: August 16th, 2016 1:07 AM Author: Thriller old irish cottage
IT IS a gaudy smear of tangerine - somehow, a tingling, too; the sun is too bright and we can’t take are eyes away. watercolors, but not the peaceful ones: red, evian-moistened, a blackly black, mottled with gravel. pubes. & why & how can we hear that, a drip of honey onto crinkled tinfoil, from across the gallery? what flowers are these and are they of this world? what mineral or milk or flesh do they crave? canvas, somewhere. warm, not hot, iron. there it all goes. petrichor with lilies. many years now. a vcr that can only rewind.
mixed media, 2016.
title: ’soft tofu’
auction price: $1.2 million, sotheby's
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2010155&forum_id=2#31196287) |
Date: August 17th, 2016 1:32 AM Author: Thriller old irish cottage
pacing dragons, too-ripe grapes, fruit flies crushed into a tattered rug.. soaked silks, 9k cinnamon toothpicks, one wooden chopstick, found ceramics
mixed meteor
2o16
(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=2010155&forum_id=2#31204976) |
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