A tattoo is an indelible mark, a permanent etching of a memory or a belief onto the body. We apply this concept to stuffed animals, which are often deeply intertwined with our personal histories. Through interviews with the owners, we uncover the unique stories and memories associated with each toy-where it came from, what it has witnessed. A tattoo artist then translates these narratives into a custom embroidery design.
Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging. At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.
I have to start with Bill Belichick. I promise I won't linger on that washed-up piece of driftwood for very long, but he serves as a useful, if minor, example. Here is Bill Belichick's official website. It's a terrible website. The design is so old that I half expected a pop-up alert telling me that I needed to download Flash. And the copy is so weak (example: "In 2000, Belichick led the Patriots to 20 winning seasons") that Belichick's weird-ass girlfriend probably wrote it herself.
His background offers the biggest clue to how he created his kitschy universe of pastel pastries and gloopy cherry pies. He came to art via illustration and animation, becoming an apprentice at Walt Disney Studios before going on to work as a cartoonist and motion picture animator. When you paint for a huge, mainstream audience, you get a firm grasp on directness and legibility, on how to get your ideas across immediately, like a cream pie to the face.
Every August, the US Open rolls into Queens with its ever-expanding rituals of consumption. Fans don't just buy in, they perform it: the $23 Honey Deuce held aloft for Instagram, the $40 lobster roll posted before the first serve, the $100 caviar-topped chicken nuggets bought as much for the flex as the flavor. The tennis has never been the cheapest day out, but lately the sticker shock feel less like a barrier than the point.
I've been telling Mabel she'll be four soon for about a month. I bought her present similarly early, though I am unsure whether to wrap it. When the Amazon guy delivers a gift from my sister on the day, he wishes Mabel happy birthday through the gate. As I sing the opening bars, the build-up has clearly worked: she jumps up with excitement and licks my knees.
If you saw Martin Parr and didn't know who he was, you would barely notice him. He is Mr Invisible and Mr Normal rolled into one, in his sensible jumper probably from Marks & Spencer and sensible socks and sandals. He has a neat side parting and neatly cut hair. He has a mild and conventional manner and a mild and conventional appearance. There is something of the naff birdwatcher about him. But do not be fooled.
"I can't sit home any longer" reflects the concern of individuals like Todd Katzman about the Trump administration's policies that marginalize LGBTQ communities, immigrants and others.
