Polyamorous bisexual cis femme lady person (she/her/hers and all that jazz). Feminist, naturally. Artist, effortfully. Cancer survivor. Welcome to this thing. Also, in case anyone's interested, my icon is from an illustration by Victorian artist Margaret Rebecca Dickinson.
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Dudes being pals. Birthday gift, fineliners and markers on cotton paper.
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Hi, I'm a poll worker! PLEASE be patient with us, tomorrow is going to be hectic. We are doing our best.
YES, you have a right to vote. YES you can ask for a provisional ballot.
But if there is a problem, please listen. We WANT you to vote. We want to help you. Sometimes you're in the wrong polling location. Where I live, you have to surrender a mail in ballot to vote on the machines. We have a process to follow to make sure voting is done correctly.
Nobody wants to get yelled at. We will be under a microscope, and want to make sure this election is done right.
PLEASE be patient with us.
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The Tricking Treat?
Getting the You:
The Halifax Oytser Festival mascot!
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Published by the National Woman Suffrage Publishing Company in 1917, this little book’s pages are entirely blank. More on it here: https://publicdomainreview.org/collection/why-women-should-not-vote
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happy daylight savings to those who observe
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Mermaid - Malene Reynolds Laugesen
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When I was a TA for the freshman art class in senior year my students really adored me. It was so sweet. I’d had classes that were more ambivalent toward me but these guys were all about me.
I loved working with that teacher too. He was the kind of crunchy art nerd whose own kid didn’t know what candy was, who loved bird watching and wearing tweed. We’d chat while they worked and it was just a three hour pleasure rather than work.
When the class switched from charcoal to gouache a devil medium, the evilest watercolor, the students struggled. We’d have in class painting where they’d spend the whole time trying to mix one color instead of just accepting something as good enough and trying to practice other skills.
So one day I showed up to my shift and announced, “I have stickers. If you get color down for the whole composition, you get a sticker.”
They wanted. The stickers. So bad. Students who had agonized before about keeping lines neat and perfect plowed ahead. The first student to call me over I tsked at. “Putting grey on everything doesn’t count,” I chided, “I asked for colors on each object.”
The classroom worked in furious joy, young adults who had seen my bird and cactus stickers and gone feral. The teacher was flabbergasted. “Why do they want stickers? They could just buy stickers…”
I held up my water bottle and showed him a tiny 3D bubble sticker the program director had brought to my game teams space last week. “You never grow out of wanting to earn a sticker.”
By the end of class everyone had a sticker. There was more visible improvement in the work too, which surprised them since they’d been rushing. “Gouache looks terrible before it looks good. It’s okay to start messy and then refine.” The teacher had said the same thing but looking at their frantic sticker paintings they finally saw the truth of it.
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Beholders - Mia Bergeron , 2024.
American, b. 1979 -
Oil on canvas , 24 x 24 cm.
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‘PACE OF PLAY’ a comic about baseball’s new pitch clock, Ohtani, and Avatar 2.
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i am fixated on this peanuts scene in particular. its so unsettling and dreamlike. lynchian in nature, down to the fucking sound design
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