beauty magazine
Small descrition of the client or the project that talks a little about what I did and how I contributed to the project overall. Description can be short or long, either way it should be clear and concise.
agency
creative director
art director + design team
vox media
creative director
melissa san vicente
art director + design team
hannah packer, sarah duvivier
Phaeton
The Glitter on the Snow
We had neither the need to get rid of any depression, nor that to increase our already infinite intoxication;
ourselves and our love and the boundless beauty of the ever
changing landscape, a permanent perfection travelling for its pleasure through inexhaustible possibilities!
Yet almost before the words were out of our mouths, a sly smile crept over Lou’s loveliness and kindled the same subtly secret delight in my heart.
Yet almost before the words were out of our mouths, a sly smile crept over Lou’s loveliness and kindled the same subtly secret delight in my heart.
She offered me a pinch of heroin with the air of
communicating some exquisitely esoteric sacrament
and I accepted it and measured her a similar dose on
my own hand as if some dim delirious desire devoured
us.
We took it not because we needed it; but because the act of consummation was, so to speak, an act of religion.
We took it not because we needed it; but because the act of consummation was, so to speak, an act of religion.
It was the very fact that it was not an act of necessity which made it an act of piety.
In the same way, I cannot say that the dose did us any particular good. It was at once a routine and a ritual.
It was a commemoration like the Protestant communion, and at the same time a consecration like the Catholic. It reminded us that we were heirs to the royal rapture in which we were afloat. But also it refreshed that rapture.
In the same way, I cannot say that the dose did us any particular good. It was at once a routine and a ritual.
It was a commemoration like the Protestant communion, and at the same time a consecration like the Catholic. It reminded us that we were heirs to the royal rapture in which we were afloat. But also it refreshed that rapture.
Short Commons
The Bubble Bursts
Lou and I, my love and I, my wife and I, we were not
merely going there; we had always been there and
should always be. For the name of the island, the
name of the house, the name of Shelley, and the name
of Lou and me, they were all one name—Love.
I noticed, in fact, that our physical selves seemed to be acting as projections of our thought. We were both breathing rapidly and deeply. Our faces were flushed, suffused with the sunlight splendour of our bloods that beat time to the waltz of our love.
“The winged words with which my song would pierce
Into the heights of love’s rare universe
Are chains of lead about its flight of fire,
I pant, I sink, I tremble, I expire.”
I noticed, in fact, that our physical selves seemed to be acting as projections of our thought. We were both breathing rapidly and deeply. Our faces were flushed, suffused with the sunlight splendour of our bloods that beat time to the waltz of our love.
Waltz? No, it was something wilder than a waltz.
The Mazurka, perhaps. No, there was something
still more savage in our souls.
I thought of the furious fandango of the gypsies of Granada, of the fanatical frenzy of the religious Moorish rioters chopping at themselves with little sacred axe till the blood streams down their bodies, crazily crimson in the stabbing sunlight, and making little scabs of mire upon the torrid trampled sand.
I thought of the mcenads and Bacchus; I saw them through the vivid eyes of Euripides and Swinburne. And still unsatisfied, I craved for stranger symbols yet. I became a Witch-Doctor presiding over a cannibal feast, driving the yellow mob of murderers into a fiercer Comus-rout, as the maddening beat of the tom-tom and the sinister scream of the bull-roarer destroy every human quality in the worshippers and make them elemental energies; Valkyrie-vampires surging and shrieking on the summit of the storm.
I thought of the furious fandango of the gypsies of Granada, of the fanatical frenzy of the religious Moorish rioters chopping at themselves with little sacred axe till the blood streams down their bodies, crazily crimson in the stabbing sunlight, and making little scabs of mire upon the torrid trampled sand.
I thought of the mcenads and Bacchus; I saw them through the vivid eyes of Euripides and Swinburne. And still unsatisfied, I craved for stranger symbols yet. I became a Witch-Doctor presiding over a cannibal feast, driving the yellow mob of murderers into a fiercer Comus-rout, as the maddening beat of the tom-tom and the sinister scream of the bull-roarer destroy every human quality in the worshippers and make them elemental energies; Valkyrie-vampires surging and shrieking on the summit of the storm.