Introduction
"OCEAN"
Not long ago I saw the sea once again and trod upon the bridges of
ships; my memories of it are as lively as if it had all happened
yesterday. If you are able, however, be as calm as I am as you read what
is to follow (for already I regret offering it to you) and do not blush
for the human heart.
O octopus of the silky glance! You whose soul is inseparable from mine;
you, the most beautiful creature upon the terrestrial globe; you,
chieftain of a seraglio of four hundred sucking-cups; you, in whom are
nobly enthroned as though in their natural habitat, by a common
agreement and with an indestructible bond, the divine graces and the
sweet virtue of communication: why are you not with me, your belly of
quicksilver pressed to my breast of aluminum, the two of us sitting here
together upon a rock by the shore as we contemplate the spectacle I
adore!
Ancient ocean, crystal-waved, you resemble somewhat those bluish marks
that one sees upon the battered backs of cabin-boys; you are a vast
bruise inflicted upon the body of earth: I love this comparison. At the
first sight of you a long breath of sadness that might be the murmur of
your own bland zephyr passes over the deeply moved soul, leaving
ineffaceable scars, and you recall to the memories of those who love
you, though they are not always aware of it, the crude origins of man
when first he made the acquaintance of the sorrow that has never
deserted him. I salute you, ancient ocean!
Ancient ocean, your harmonious sphere, rejoicing the grave countenance
of geometry, reminds me too much of man's little eyes, in paltriness
resembling those of the boar and those of the nightbird in the circular
perfection of their contour. Yet man has thought himself beautiful
throughout the centuries. As for me, I presume that he believes in his
beauty only from pride, but that he is not really beautiful and that he
suspects this, for why does he contemplate the countenance of his
fellow-man with so much scorn? I salute you, ancient ocean!
Ancient ocean, you are the symbol of identity: always equal to yourself.
Essentially you never change, and if your waves are somewhere lashed
into fury, elsewhere they are stilled in the most complete peace. You
are not like men, who linger in the street to watch two bulldogs tearing
at each other's throats but who hurry on when a funeral passes; who in
the morning may be reasonable and in the evening evil-tempered; who
laugh today and weep tomorrow. I salute you, ancient ocean!
Ocean, Life, and Cruelty
Three excerpts from "Les Chants de Maldoror" by Lautreamont (1846-1870)
Not long ago I saw the sea once again and trod upon the bridges of
ships; my memories of it are as lively as if it had all happened
yesterday. If you are able, however, be as calm as I am as you read what
is to follow (for already I regret offering it to you) and do not blush
for the human heart.
O octopus of the silky glance! You whose soul is inseparable from mine;
you, the most beautiful creature upon the terrestrial globe; you,
chieftain of a seraglio of four hundred sucking-cups; you, in whom are
nobly enthroned as though in their natural habitat, by a common
agreement and with an indestructible bond, the divine graces and the
sweet virtue of communication: why are you not with me, your belly of
quicksilver pressed to my breast of aluminum, the two of us sitting here
together upon a rock by the shore as we contemplate the spectacle I
adore!
Ancient ocean, crystal-waved, you resemble somewhat those bluish marks
that one sees upon the battered backs of cabin-boys; you are a vast
bruise inflicted upon the body of earth: I love this comparison. At the
first sight of you a long breath of sadness that might be the murmur of
your own bland zephyr passes over the deeply moved soul, leaving
ineffaceable scars, and you recall to the memories of those who love
you, though they are not always aware of it, the crude origins of man
when first he made the acquaintance of the sorrow that has never
deserted him. I salute you, ancient ocean!
Ancient ocean, your harmonious sphere, rejoicing the grave countenance
of geometry, reminds me too much of man's little eyes, in paltriness
resembling those of the boar and those of the nightbird in the circular
perfection of their contour. Yet man has thought himself beautiful
throughout the centuries. As for me, I presume that he believes in his
beauty only from pride, but that he is not really beautiful and that he
suspects this, for why does he contemplate the countenance of his
fellow-man with so much scorn? I salute you, ancient ocean!
Ancient ocean, you are the symbol of identity: always equal to yourself.
Essentially you never change, and if your waves are somewhere lashed
into fury, elsewhere they are stilled in the most complete peace. You
are not like men, who linger in the street to watch two bulldogs tearing
at each other's throats but who hurry on when a funeral passes; who in
the morning may be reasonable and in the evening evil-tempered; who
laugh today and weep tomorrow. I salute you, ancient ocean!
Ocean, Life, and Cruelty
Three excerpts from "Les Chants de Maldoror" by Lautreamont (1846-1870)
Join Now
SuicideGirls… became famous for embracing beauty in every shape and form — meaning bodies covered in tattoos, having bright-colored hair, and being outside of traditional beauty norms were celebrated. The name comes from the idea that women who commit “social suicide” by being different come together.
A nation wide art-sleaze phenomenon.
It’s like a punk rock Vogue…with artful nude photos of women.
Fifteen years ago, a small-but-passionate community that celebrated beauty in alternative, pinup-style photography was born. It was called SuicideGirls.
They’re the girls next door - but more colorful and with better record collections.
SuicideGirls respond… in the best way possible.
The meeting place for people interested in alternative lifestyles.
SuicideGirls is as much about community as it is about naked photos of tattooed women.
SuicideGirls is redefining concepts of beauty across the globe.
