cracked:

Fun fact: There’s software which can tell a real Pollock painting from an elaborate forgery. How the hell is that possible? Because Pollock’s work contains fractals: infinitely complex, never-ending mathematical patterns that are specific to his work. While everyone thought he was merely dripping paint everywhere randomly like a drunken contractor you hired on Craigslist, he was in fact creating entire worlds.

So how do we know the fractals aren’t there by accident? Well, the later the Pollock painting, the richer and more complex the patterns, and thus the greater its fractal dimension. And there are even more mysteries hiding in his work. It appears that Pollock took advantage of an area of fluid dynamics scientists have only recently thought to study. This phenomenon is called “coiling,” and you’ve experienced it while dripping honey, except no one gave you millions of dollars afterward. It’s when thick fluid falls onto itself in the form of coils, similarly to rope, and creates patterns that can be described by a mathematical equation.

Anyway, in order to control the coiling, Pollock used a rod to drip the paint onto the canvas instead of pouring it straight from the can or using a brush. By mixing paints of various densities and moving his arm at different speeds, he was able to control the patterns that would show up in the final painting. Dude was doing high math and making it look like a stoner playing with finger paint.

6 ‘Lazy’ Pieces Of Art That Took An Insane Amount Of Work

whitehouse:

True bromance. Today, President Obama joined Prime Minister Justin Trudeau to speak at the Canadian Parliament about the deep and abiding friendship between Canada and the United States.

aph-romania:

reallymisscoffee:

dansknapp:

stultiloquentia:

doctormemelordmd:

fangirling-so-hard-rn:

Crows are scary
They

• use tools
• Can be taught to speak (like parrots)
• Have huge brains for birds
• like seriously their brain-to-body size ratio is equal to that of a chimpanzee
• They vocalize anger, sadness, or happiness in response to things
• they are scary smart at solving puzzles
• some crows stay with their mates until one of them dies
• they can remember faces
• SIDENOTE HERE BECAUSE HOLY SHIT.  They did an experiment where these guys wore masks and some of them fucked with crows.  Pretty soon the crows recognized the masks = douchebag.  But the nice guys with masks they left alone.  THEN, OH WE’RE NOT DONE, NO SIR crows that WEREN’T EVEN IN THE EXPERIMENT AND NEVER SAW THE MASK BEFORE knew about mask-dudes and attacked them on sight.  THEY PASSED ON THE FUCKING INFORMATION TO THEIR CROW BUDDIES.
• They remember places where crows were killed by farmers and change their migration patterns.

Guys I’m really scared of crows now.
(q) 

Yeah but have you seen this 

A colleague of my dad’s lives next to a lake, and looked out the window one morning to see a duck trapped in the ice. A crow swooped down. “Oh hell,” she thought, expecting carnage, because crows are opportunists. But the crow chipped at the ice with its beak until the duck was free.

Idk of this counts but a few crows saved me from a magpie swooping attack once ,they’re bros who can tell when magpies are being unreasonable and need to chill

I love crows so damn much. When I was fifteen, I hit a pretty serious bout of depression, to the point I was in my room for months. Well, a family of crows made a nest in a tree outside my window. There were two parents and two chicks. One chick was healthy and strong. One was weak, and had a caw like something being strained. It sounded more like a rooster crowing and so my parents jokingly named him ‘Buck’.Well… months passed and Buck’s sibling was taught to fly. His parents focused on the sibling because the sibling was strong. The father stayed behind to try and teach Buck, but I saw him try to fly, fail, and crash to the floor. His father helped him back up into the tree.

Every day, I would watch Buck from my window until one day I opened it and started talking to him. He was small and gangly and he couldn’t caw right. His feathers were all over the place and I felt a kinship. So I made a deal with him. I told him that if he could do it, if he could fly, then I could find the strength to get up. Well… near the end of the season, after talking with him every day, I finally saw him get out of the nest. He went to the edge of his branch, braced himself, and jumped… and just before he hit the ground, he soared back up into the sky. I cheered harder than I ever had before.

That winter, Buck left the area. I was crestfallen. I felt like I’d lost a friend. But I was so damn proud of him. 

Cut to the next spring? I’m walking up the driveway one day when suddenly I hear a sound… a broken caw. I look up, and Buck is sitting in a tree above my head. He stared at me and puffed his feathers, then hopped down in front of me and cawed again. I was so damn thrilled, and I told him how proud I was of him. He ruffled his feathers and then soared off into his old tree. 

That summer? I heard two broken caws. One from Buck… and one from his chick.

Cut to ten years later? We have a family of crows who all have a very distinct caw and they come here and spend every spring, summer, and fall on our property. Buck still greets me every spring.

that last reply made me wanna cry. that’s so beautiful.

faunwood:

novacaineandabelle:

dazed-unfazed:

crilbyte:

Oh shit. No.
Shit.
Thank you

Just gonna reblog this out of gratitude because I actually did forget…

Fffffffff let me get right on that. 

and then reblog for the next forgetful son of a bitch

I’m so great full for everyone that is reblogging this. I totally forgot to take mine

theycantalk:

seagull logic

signed prints // facebook

robertcmmacgregor:

RBG!!!