art
All about women in the art world; famous female artists and subjects, and artwork with a feminist perspective.
Notes from the Mind Palace
There are people who ask for your truth gently, like they’re cupping water in their hands. They make space for your shaking voice, your half‑formed thoughts, the parts of you that don’t look pretty in daylight. They tell you it’s safe to set things down. They tell you they won’t let anything spill. And for a moment, you believe them. You believe that someone finally sees you without flinching, without judgment, without the instinct to turn your vulnerability into something they can use.
By Syl De'Vil23 days ago in Viva
Notes from the Mind Palace.
I’ve lived enough lives for three people, and somehow I’m still here trying to make sense of the noise in my head. Some days it feels like I’m stitching together scraps from every version of myself. — the military kid standing gate guard in Turkey, the cop who learned too much about people’s worst moments, the semi pro football player who hit like a freight train, the gas station attendant who learned everyone's secrets, the 40 year old pool lady and the writer who can’t stop turning her own chaos into stories, the sister who loves too hard, the friend who carries everyone else’s weight even when her own knees are buckling. And somewhere in the middle of all that, I’m still just me — loud music blasting, brain vibrating, fingers typing like I’m trying to outrun my own thoughts. Half the time I’m rambling, the other half I’m building something out of the rambling. It’s messy. It’s real. It’s mine.
By Syl De'Vil25 days ago in Viva
Notes from the Mind Palace.
There’s a strange transformation that happens when your kids become adults. You think you’re finally done with the chaos — the sticky hands, the mystery stains, the “is it POOP or chocolate?” or "why is this wet" moments. You think adulthood means peace, quiet, stability.
By Syl De'Vil25 days ago in Viva
Notes from the Mind Palace.
I am a hopeless romantic. Not the soft,pink and glittery, “I love long walks on the beach” kind. I’m the kind who believes in soul-recognition — in that moment when you lock eyes with someone and something ancient inside you whispers, Oh. Him. I’m the kind who dreams of a man with steady hands and a voice that feels like home. The kind who wants to be carried, protected, adored, treated like a queen even though I’m built like a demon who learned to survive by clawing her way out of every hell pit alone.
By Syl De'Vil25 days ago in Viva
Notes from the Mind Palace.
There’s a special kind of stupid that happens when your brain decides someone is the sun. Not because they are the sun, but because your neurons have staged a coup and declared, “This person? Yeah, we’re gonna obsess over them like a skunk who found an un‑locked trash can.”
By Syl De'Vil26 days ago in Viva
Notes from the Mind Palace.
There’s a point where you stop pretending that certain people are good for your nervous system. You stop giving them the benefit of the doubt. You stop waiting for them to show up differently. You stop handing out access like it costs you nothing. Today was that point.
By Syl De'Vil28 days ago in Viva
Notes from the Mind Palace.
And then there’s Justin — the quiet, absurd, infuriating, hilarious, unexpectedly reliable force in my life. He laughs at the most ridiculous things. He can piss me off in five seconds flat and have me laughing ten seconds later. He’s wonderful with our daughter, and he’s good with the boys too — even taking one of them overnight sometimes on his last night with Cyndle before he brings her home.
By Syl De'Vilabout a month ago in Viva
Dear Women: Stop Feeding the Machine
The entire world has been shaped by a bro-code patriarchy. Look at history: centuries of unhinged, psychotic greed, domination, rape, robbery and killing carried out overwhelmingly by men—and systems built by men to protect male power.
By THE HONED CRONE2 months ago in Viva
Thank you, Christopher Nolan. Top Story - July 2026.
I know a bit about Homer's Odyssey : the Cyclops, Circe, Calypso, Charybdis, Scylla, Sirens. I know that Penelope is the patient wife, waiting for her husband to return, undoing her tapestry every night to buy time and Telemachus is the son, yearning for his father to return or to become king, one of the two to escape the limbo in which he finds himself.
By Rachel Deeming3 months ago in Viva
