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faces-of-7th-art · 5 years ago

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#Catherine Deneuve Portrait

Cannes 1984

Contax RTS Carl Zeiss T* Tessar 200mm f/3,5 Agfapan 100

Catherine Fabienne Dorléac (born 22 October 1943), known professionally as Catherine Deneuve , is a French actress as well as an occasional singer, model and producer, considered one of the best European actresses and the greatest French actress of all time.. She gained recognition for her portrayal of icy, aloof and mysterious beauties for various directors, including Luis Buñuel, François Truffaut and Roman Polanski. In 1985, she succeeded Mireille Mathieu as the official face of Marianne, France's national symbol of liberty. A 14-time César Award nominee, she won for her performances in Truffaut's The Last Metro (1980), for which she also won the David di Donatello for Best Foreign Actress, and Régis Wargnier's Indochine (1992).

Deneuve made her film debut in 1957 and first came to prominence in Jacques Demy's 1964 musical The Umbrellas of Cherbourg. She went on to star in such films as Repulsion (1965), Donkey Skin (1970), Belle de Jour (1967), Tristana (1970) and The Young Girls of Rochefort (1967) opposite her sister, the actress Françoise Dorléac. She was nominated for the BAFTA Award for Best Actress for Belle de Jour, and the Academy Award for Best Actress for Indochine. She also won the 1998 Volpi Cup for Best Actress at the Venice Film Festival for Place Vendôme. Other notable English-language films include The April Fools (1969), Hustle (1975), The Hunger (1983) and Dancer in the Dark (2000).

Deneuve was born Catherine Fabienne Dorléac in Paris, the daughter of French stage actors Maurice Dorléac (1901–1979) and Renée Simonot (b. 1911). Deneuve has two sisters, Françoise Dorléac (1942–1967) and Sylvie Dorléac (born 14 December 1946), as well as a maternal half-sister, Danielle, whom their mother had out of wedlock in 1937 with Aimé Clariond, but who was later adopted by Maurice and took his surname. Deneuve was her mother's maiden name, which she chose for her stage name, in order to differentiate herself from her sisters. Deneuve attended Catholic schools .

Deneuve made her film debut with a small role in André Hunebelle's Les Collégiennes (1957) with her younger sister Sylvie Dorléac who, like their older half-sister Danielle, was an occasional child actress. She subsequently appeared in several films for director Roger Vadim as well as in L'Homme à femmes (1960), which caught the eye of Jacques Demy, who cast Deneuve in his 1964 musical Les Parapluies de Cherbourg, the film that brought her to stardom. Deneuve played the cold but erotic persona, for which she would be nicknamed the "ice maiden", in Roman Polanski's horror classic Repulsion (1965), reinforcing it in Luis Buñuel's Belle de Jour (1967), and reaching a peak in Tristana (1970).Her work for Buñuel would be her most famous .

Further prominent films from this early time in her career included Jean-Paul Rappeneau's A Matter of Resistance (1966), Demy's musical Les Demoiselles de Rochefort (1967) and François Truffaut's romantic thriller Mississippi Mermaid (1969). Deneuve remained active in European films during the 1960s and 1970s, though she limited her appearances in American films of the period to The April Fools (1969), a romantic comedy with Jack Lemmon, and Hustle (1975), a crime drama with Burt Reynolds. Her starring roles at the time were featured in such films as A Slightly Pregnant Man (1973) with Marcello Mastroianni and Le Sauvage (1975) with Yves Montand.

In the 1980s, Deneuve's films included François Truffaut's Le Dernier métro (1980), for which she won the César Award for Best Actress, and Tony Scott's The Hunger (1983) as a bisexual vampire, co-starring with David Bowie and Susan Sarandon, a role which brought her a significant lesbian and cult following, mostly among the gothic subculture. She made her debut film as a producer in 1988, Drôle d'endroit pour une rencontre, alongside frequent co-star Gerard Depardieu.

In the early 1990s, Deneuve's more significant roles included 1992's Indochine opposite Vincent Perez, for which she was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress and won a second César Award for Best Actress; and André Téchiné's two movies, Ma saison préférée (1993) and Les Voleurs (1996). In 1997, Deneuve was the protagonist in the music video for the song N'Oubliez Jamais sung by Joe Cocker. In 1998 she won acclaim and the Volpi Cup at the Venice Film Festival for her performance in Place Vendôme. In the late 1990s, Deneuve continued to appear in a large number of films such as 1999's five films Est-Ouest, Le temps retrouvé, Pola X, Belle maman, and Le Vent de la nuit.

In 2000, Deneuve's part in Lars von Trier's musical drama Dancer in the Dark alongside Icelandic singer Björk was subject to considerable critical scrutiny. The film was selected for the Palme d'Or at the Cannes Film Festival. She made another foray into Hollywood the following year, starring in The Musketeer (2001) for Peter Hyams. In 2002, she shared the Silver Bear Award for Best Ensemble Cast at the Berlin International Film Festival for her performance in 8 Women. In 2005, Deneuve published her diary A l'ombre de moi-meme ("In My Own Shadow", published in English as Close Up and Personal: The Private Diaries of Catherine Deneuve); in it she writes about her experiences shooting the films Indochine and Dancer in the Dark. She also provided the voice role of Marjane Satrapi's mother in Satrapi's animated autobiographical film Persepolis (2007), based on the graphic novel of the same name. In 2008, she appeared in her 100th film, Un conte de Noël.

Deneuve's recent work includes Potiche (2010) with frequent co-star Depardieu, Beloved (2011), alongside former co-stars Ludivine Sagnier and Chiara Mastroianni, the popular French adventure comedy Asterix and Obelix: God Save Britannia (2012) with Gerard Depardieu and Valérie Lemercier, screenwriter and director Emmanuelle Bercot's On My Way (2013), Palme D'or winning writer/director Pierre Salvadori's comedy drama In the Courtyard (2014), and André Téchiné's drama In the Name of My Daughter (2014). In 2017, she co-starred alongside Catherine Frot, in writer/director Martin Provost's French drama The Midwife, which has been acquired by Music Box Films for a summer 2017 distribution in the United States.

Deneuve appeared nude in two Playboy pictorials in 1963 and 1965. Her image was used to represent Marianne, the national symbol of France, from 1985 to 1989.[citation needed] As the face of Chanel No. 5 in the late 1970s, she caused sales of the perfume to soar in the United States – so much so that the American press, captivated by her charm, nominated her as the world's most elegant woman. In 1983, American Home Products retained her to represent their cosmetics line and hired world-renowned photographer Richard Avedon to promote its line of Youth Garde cosmetics, for which she famously proclaimed, "Look closely. Next year I will be 40."

She is considered the muse of designer Yves Saint Laurent; he dressed her in the films, Belle de Jour, La Chamade, La sirène du Mississipi, Un flic, Liza and The Hunger. In 1992, she became a model for his skincare line. In 2001, she was chosen as the new face of L'Oréal Paris. In 2006, Deneuve became the third inspiration for the M•A•C Beauty Icon series and collaborated on the colour collection that became available at M•A•C locations worldwide in February that year. Deneuve began appearing in the new Louis Vuitton luggage advertisements in 2007. Deneuve was listed as one of the fifty best-dressed over 50s by the Guardian in March 2013. In July 2017, Deneuve appeared in a video campaign for Louis Vuitton entitled Connected Journeys, celebrating the launch of the brand's Tambour Horizon smartwatch, which also featured celebrities, including Jennifer Connelly, Bae Doona, Jaden Smith and Miranda Kerr.

In 1986, Deneuve introduced her own perfume, Deneuve. She is also a designer of glasses, shoes, jewelry and greeting cards

Deneuve speaks fluent French, Italian and English and has some knowledge of Spanish, though she does not speak the language fluently. Her hobbies and passions include gardening, drawing, photography, reading, music, cinema, fashion, antiques and decoration.

Deneuve has been married once, to photographer David Bailey from 1965 to 1972. She has lived with director Roger Vadim, actor Marcello Mastroianni,cinematographer Hugh Johnson, Spanish model and current television presenter Carlos Lozano, and Canal+ tycoon Pierre Lescure.

Deneuve has two children: actor Christian Vadim, from her relationship with Roger Vadim, and actress Chiara Mastroianni, from her relationship with Marcello Mastroianni. She has five grandchildren.

Deneuve is close friends with the artist Nall and owns some of his works.

On 6 November 2019, BBC News reported that Deneuve suffered a mild stroke and was recuperating in a Paris hospital. Despite the health scare, there was no damage to her motor functions. Five weeks later, she was released from the hospital and spent the remainder of 2019 recuperating at her Paris home.

#catherine deneuve #portrait #portrait photography #famous actress #celebrity #black and white #beauty #french cinema #film star #movies star #beautiful #attractive #analog camera #film #cannes #film festival

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flourchildwrites · 5 years ago

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Exposure

When the camera flashes at Plus Ultra cover shoots, chances are that star photographer Shouto Todoroki is behind it. Though he has worked with many models, none are as captivating as Momo Yaoyorozu, the person rumored to be his muse. Time and time again, their career paths have crossed; industry insiders whisper that there is more between Shouto and Momo than a camera lens. When a difficult photo shoot leaves Shouto drained, he lets one of his many secrets slip. In the aftermath, who knows what truths may come to light.

For @ionica01

Art Commission by @asyaswallow

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia

Relationship/Pairing: Todoroki Shouto/Yaoyorozu Momo

Characters: Todoroki Shouto, Yaoyorozu Momo, Denki Kaminari, Nemuri Kayama (Midnight), Mei Hatsume

Genre: Alternate Universe - Photographers and Models

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Word Count: 2,787 words

Read on AO3

If there’s one thing Shouto Todoroki is passionate about, it is the light.

Denki Kaminari, Plus Ultra magazine’s long-suffering photography assistant, busies himself about the set, fiddling with diffusers and reflectors. With a light meter glued to the palm of his hand, he executes the concept detailed by their team’s advance planning, double and triple-checking each line item — a luxurious settee, soft light, upbeat mood music.

Everything is perfect. Too perfect.

Kaminari turns to find Midnight, the photo shoot’s hard-edged creative director, nursing her third cup of coffee. Despite the caffeine, she is unmoved by the synthesized pop music blasting through the speakers, and Denki is certain she is second-guessing every last detail.

“Just great,” she huffs. “Makeup is running long, and Todoroki is late.”

He shrugs the padded shoulders of his silver-studded leather jacket, gazing at the space opposite the light-drenched set. Beyond the racks of colorful clothing Hagakure mulls through, he can hear laughter. One voice is bright and clear as a bell, and the other is husky but heavenly.

The doors of the studio creep open to reveal a mop of white and scarlet hair shoved into a slouchy beanie. Balancing his camera bag on his shoulder, Shouto softly closes the studio door. His entrance is, as always, unassuming, but when a pair of mismatched eyes glance upward, worry lines betray his discontent. The subtle folds exaggerate Todoroki’s red scar, unusually flat but discolored by yellow and peach tones that create the illusion of texture.

“Where is she?” he asks, without pleasantries or preamble.

Kaminari doesn’t have to ask who Todoroki is referring to. The rumor mill is convinced that lighting isn’t the only thing the photographer is passionate about.

“Still in makeup,” Midnight responds. “Jirou is an artist. Apparently, we shouldn’t rush her.”

Shouto seems to breathe a sigh of relief and fixes his co-workers with a stern expression. He has plenty of those to spare, and they always equal more work.

“Good. I just read the transcript for the One-For-All feature, and I think we need to go in another direction with this shoot. There’s too much light in here. It doesn't suit the serious turn Hatsume’s piece took.”

“Thank the Gods! Someone said it,” Midnight exclaims, already changing the music. She is only too happy to beckon Hagakure over, hurriedly subbing jewel-toned businesswear for oversized sweaters.

As he calls off the extra soft light umbrellas, Kaminari marvels that in five years of working together, this is the first time there’s ever been ‘too much light.’

He could laugh. Or cry. Possibly both.

But for Momo Yaoyorozu, Shouto has been known to bend all the rules.

…

[Excerpt of Mei Hatsume’s interview with Momo Yaoyorozu]

MH: Mei Hatsume reporting for Plus Ultra Magazine. Your source for all things fashion, lifestyle and fitness! Today, I’m with model turned industry activist Momo Yaoyorozu to talk about the One-For-All foundation! Can you tell us a little bit about what One-For-All means to you?

MY: Yes, of course, Mei. I’m so happy to be here. I’ve been modeling since I was 16, but when I turned 20, two big things happened in my life.

MH: That was the year renowned fitness model All Might went public with his Crohn’s disease diagnosis. Wasn’t it?

MY: Yes, and it was All Might’s retirement speech that inspired me to take a hard look at the demands modeling was taking on my body. I really wanted to keep smiling like he said, but I found it hard to do that when my agency was pressuring me to maintain my thigh gap. Some people can achieve that look without resorting to extreme measures; however, I learned that I was not one of them. Still, I wanted to keep modeling if only to prove that health and beauty come in all shapes, colors, sizes and levels of ability.

MH: So, you broke away from your agency, went independent and started the One-For-All foundation with a small group of like-minded professionals?

MY: You make it sound so easy! But yes. With All Might’s support, a few independent models and I got together and did a promotional photo shoot for Instagram. Those models — Izuku Midoriya, Ochaco Uraraka, Tensei Iida and Shino Sosaki — were instrumental in One-For-All’s early success. And, of course, Shouto Todoroki. We wouldn’t have gotten far without him on that promotional shoot.

MH: So, you’ve been working with Todoroki for a long time?

MY: Yes, and it’s relationships like these that first secured One-For-All’s footholds in the modeling industry. Our outreach and mentorship programs encourage struggling models to come forward, and we encourage corporations to consider diversity in their casting. Industry allies, like Todoroki, are vital in our endeavors.

MH: So, it’s strictly platonic between you two then? Some say that you’re his muse.

MY: We have a healthy, professional relationship. But, getting back to One-For-All’s outreach programs…

…

By the time Midnight and Todoroki are done with the set, it exudes a different aura. Gone is the lux settee, replaced by a simple stool set against a black paper backdrop. Shouto decides to use hard light for the shoot — a gutsy decision that suits Yaoyorozu’s cause. The ghost of a smile flits across his lips when he sees her fresh from hair, makeup and wardrobe.

She does not look like a primped and polished piece of candy, nor a rich girl standing in the expensive shoes her parents purchased.

Momo Yaoyorozu has come into her own.

Sharp contours accentuate her perfect bone structure offset by an oversized sweater and a pair of leggings with ‘#DETERMINED’ written in white letters down the side of her left leg. But Shouto’s favorite part of the ensemble is Momo’s no-nonsense boots. The silver lace hooks subtly catch the light as she strides toward him. Thick, low-heeled soles sound against the ground, punctuating her footfalls.

He swallows thickly.

Hatsume had called Momo his muse; this is closer to the truth than Shouto is willing to admit, even to himself.

“Woah,” Momo says brightly. “This looks so serious. Are you sure I can pull this off?”

Words spring from Todoroki’s mouth before he can catch them.

“You deserve to be taken seriously. One-For-All, I mean. It deserves the spotlight, no frills or clutter.”

Momo takes her place on set and poses, shifting to meet Shouto’s demands as he issues them. She doesn’t mind the commanding note in his voice and never shies away when he doesn’t automatically praise her. After everything they have been through together, Shouto hopes she knows her worth.

“Stay with me, Momo,” Shouto says, and at the unexpected sound of her first name, she looks surprised. Her sweater slips from her shoulder as Momo’s dark eyes flash, siphoning a piece of Shouto’s soul on to the film.

The flutter of the lens is the loudest sound in the room, and over it, Shouto can hear his pulse racing. He doesn’t know how Momo does this to him, time and time again, but he knows that when he looks at her the rest of the world melts away.

In the future, Shouto decides to try harder to keep things, as Hatsume had said, ‘strictly platonic,’ but just this once (and always once more) he’ll let his admiration slip through the cracks of his professional veneer.

“You’re amazing, Momo.”

He tells himself that he only says it because it’s true.

…

The pictures are stunning. Even Shouto’s mother, a former model, calls to fawn over his work. But this success is quickly brushed aside. By the lunchtime rolls around, it’s just another Tuesday at Plus Ultra’s headquarters, and a heated photo shoot featuring the most explosive mixed martial artist in Japan has left Todoroki feeling drained.

He’s never heard the word ‘bastard’ so much in his life. Considering the man who raised him, Shouto thinks this is something noteworthy. As a small distraction, he opens a folder on his laptop and scrolls through the pictures. Each image brings a small smile to his face

Todoroki receives an email. Momo Yaoyorozu’s name catches his eye. For this reason alone, he closes the folder and scans the friendly message.

She thanks him (because, of course, she does) and credits the captivating black and white images to his insightful talent rather than her ethereal beauty. A small favor, she asks, in furtherance of One-For-All’s objectives. Momo wants to post the un-photoshopped images on her Instagram — just to prove to fans that she isn’t as perfect as Shouto knows she is.

He shouldn’t grant her this request so easily, but Todoroki is too smitten to deny her. Instead of asking permission, he resolves to smooth everything over with the legal department later (preferably at the same time they discuss Katsuki Bakugo’s temper). He drafts a polite response and clicks on recent places. Shouto highlights the last few folders and selects them thoughtlessly, trusting that the last work-related pictures he viewed were from Momo’s photo shoot.

Todoroki is rather taken with the one where he caught her off guard, the bare skin of her left shoulder exposed in the harsh light. And all because he used her first name.

Still consumed by the reverie, he presses send and shuts his laptop, preparing to leave the break room. Shouto is halfway down the hall when he realizes his mistake.

His email notification sounds, confirming she’s seen it.

“Shit!”

…

The Momo Yaoyorozu plastered across Plus Ultra’s cover isn’t the one who tumbles out of bed that morning. Her hair is hopelessly mussed, and traces of yesterday’s mascara darken the crescent-shaped area underneath her eyes. She keeps her phone on airplane mode while completing her daily weightlifting regime and runs an extra lap to calm her nerves. There’s a courtesy copy of the magazine sitting in the mailbox of her posh penthouse, but she descends the luxury highrise to buy one from the nearest street vendor for reasons she can’t explain.

Momo grabs the issue without looking at the cover and tells the vendor to keep the change. She scurries back to her penthouse and rides the elevator up as nervousness coils inside her belly. Seated on her gray sectional, surrounded by books and the aroma of tea, she finally switches her phone off airplane mode and removes the magazine from its paper sleeve.

Notifications come streaming in as she stares at her own likeness. The #DETERMINED down the side of her leggings echoes everything the straightforward headline implies: Yaomomo Rising.

Her first call is to her best friend, Kyoka Jirou, who tells her that the overall feedback is positive. She and One-For-All are trending across several social media platforms. Her second call would be to Shouto Todoroki, but Momo changes her mind and decides to email him instead.

Their relationship was once clearly defined. Now, after his help kick-starting One-For-All and countless shoots, the lines are blurred.

Todoroki’s reply is quick, helpful and courteous. The third attachment… Well, that’s unexpected.

Momo writes a response, biting her bottom lip as she types.

Cute. I didn’t know you were into cats.

…

When the front desk buzzes to let Momo know Shouto Todoroki is downstairs, she’s perplexed, to say the least. Nevertheless, she finds herself shoving stray books behind decorative pillows and throwing a blanket over her sectional to hide a stain. By the time he knocks on her door, there’s an elegant splay of couture fashion magazines on the coffee table and a small library’s worth of literature hidden in her couch cushions. A few dirty tea mugs sit idly in her kitchen sink.

“Todoroki!” she greets, uncomfortably aware that he hasn’t seen her without full hair, makeup and wardrobe assistance in quite some time. “Come in. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

He gets right to the point, barely waiting for Momo to close the door.

“I sent you the wrong folder,” he says. “That last one was private, and I apologize if it made you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” Momo crosses her lavish entryway and takes a seat on her sectional, motioning for her guest to join her. “Though I will admit, you have a lot of cat photos — over 200. Did you take some of them yourself?”

The levity in Momo’s voice is genuine; she hopes he can tell her question is good-natured. Shouto follows her, and Momo won’t deny that the space between them, though reasonable, simmers with something that isn’t ‘strictly platonic.’

Does she dare act on these feelings or bury them like her books?

“Yeah. I started taking pictures of my pet cat, Coco when I was a kid. My father wanted me to be a model, but I was more interested in photography. Mom took me to all her shoots and told father I was watching her work. Actually, I was annoying the hell out of her photographer friends and practicing photography with Coco. The photos I took seemed to make her happy.”

Shouto smiles at the memory. Momo wants to comfort him, to match the vulnerability he’s shown. Instead, she patiently listens, absentmindedly inching closer.

Momo’s heart swells as he touches the edges of his scar.

“After my accident, mom went away for treatment, but I kept taking photos and sending them to her. We still keep it up. That’s not too weird, is it? It sounds strange, I know, but like, if you could just not tell anyone I have 263 cat photos, I’d really appreciate it.”

Momo nods her head and finds herself brave.

“No, I won’t tell, and uh… I collect nesting dolls,” she admits, apropos of nothing. “If it helps to know something about me.”

“Nesting dolls?” Shouto asks. He wears a mischievous smile, glancing around her penthouse. “Of all the things you could collect, why nesting dolls? Doesn’t feel like your aesthetic.”

And there it is again, that heavy feeling on her chest. A voice hisses in her ear saying that she’ll let everyone down.

“My aesthetic,” Momo wonders aloud. She falls back against the sectional.

“Sometimes, I’m afraid that I don’t have one. I’m just this blank canvas for other people to dress and paint. I wonder what shows up in the photographs. Is it me or some fiction? And if people could see the real me, the one at the very center of all those layers, would they still like me — RBF and all?”

“Bakugo has resting bitch face,” Shouto scoffs. “You do not.”

“Yes, I do! When I don’t force myself to smile, I look pissed off.”

To make her point, Momo forces her lips to settle in a thin line, but her eyebrows keep their approachable arch. She glances sideways at Todoroki just to make a point that’s lost to the friction of the moment.

“See?”

The model giggles infectiously. She can’t even convince herself.

But instead of laughing in turn, Shouto’s grin turns serious. Momo might be imagining things, but the look he gives her sends her pulse into overdrive. His mismatched eyes are mesmerizing, and Momo is bewitched by his tenderness.

“I see someone who could have fit in but chose to stand out. The rest of it — the clothes and makeup — is window dressing. But you, Momo, you’re magic hour. You make everything around you beautiful.”

The sun sits low on the horizon. Its effulgent rays stream through the tall windows and paint her bland walls in vibrant shades of ruby-red and orange. But Momo doesn’t care about the spectacular view. Her eyes are locked with Shouto’s in the hopes that he will close the gap once and for all, taking them from colleagues to friends to something else.

Something more.

Tentatively, he brushes a loose strand of raven hair behind her ear. It’s something he’s done a million times during shoots, but in the privacy of her home, it’s different, the space between them charged by an electric resonance. Momo leans into the contact and reaches out to caress his face.

And when he finally embraces her, they melt. Their first kiss starts slow and pleasant, a quiet comfort. But soon, Momo’s fingers find purchase in silky strands of white and scarlet as his hands slide possessively around her waist. Shouto’s lips press into the curve of her neck, and Momo is utterly taken, her senses stolen by the unexpected softness of Shouto Todoroki.

There’s a part of Momo that believes she should have seen this coming, from the moment she first set eyes on Shouto when they were both green in the industry’s callous grasp. But she discards the theory, allowing their bodies to speak in a language that needs no translation. Neither early nor late, Momo decides that she discovered their quirky bond, precisely when she was ready to see it.

A/N: Hi, Lo. *waves enthusiastically* I really hope you like your gift for the fic exchange! It was such a pleasure to write for you, and I got carried away and got some art. Special thanks to @ruikosakuragi for the beta. She, like her writing, is the best. As always, I really appreciate your kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions, comments, likes and reblogs. Y'all give me life. Also, don't be a stranger and check out my tumblr.

#bnha #todomomo #todoroki shouto #momo yaoyorozu #kaminari denki #midnight #hatsume mei #alternate universe models #alternate universe photographers #friend to lovers #photo shoots #interviews #secret #confessions #todomomo holidays fic exchange 2019

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rebeccalouisaferguson · 5 years ago

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Rebecca Ferguson interviewed by Perrine Quennesson for Cinema Teaser (October 2019)

The Swedish actress spotted in Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation discusses her involvement in the sequel of The Shining, Doctor Sleep (in theatres October 30/critic under embargo), her relationship to genre cinema and her dream of French nationality.

What is your relationship to The Shining movie?

I always preferred the books of Stephen King to adaptations. But, to be quite frank, I never read ‘The Shining’, however, I read a lot of others. I saw the Stanley Kubrick movie while I was surely too young to fully appreciate it. I saw it again later, because it was a feature film that had to be seen, and maybe because I was more mature, I knew how to love it more and now I am very fond of what was created by Kubrick. Moreover, it is very hard to emancipate from such a work while remaining in continuity. But I think Mike Flanagan has really succeeded with Doctor Sleep.

The Shining takes its time to create a terrifying atmosphere of suffocating unease. We are far from certain current horror productions. Is this the direction that Mike Flanagan took also?

Totally, but I think that’s what he did with most of his films. There is always an underlying threat. And with Mike’s, it comes regularly from the past. I saw all his movies and series before working with him, and it’s often a question of a wounded being whose past resurfaced creating a tightness at home that brings the tension. And it's not so much the action that counts for Mike as the character's fight against his loneliness, his fear and the strength of his survival instinct. It’s brilliant and it also shows the importance of every element of a movie whether it’s the photography, calibration or music, because it is with this ensemble that we create the atmosphere. And Kubrick had already done it well in The Shining.

You said that before working with Mike Flanagan, you had seen all his work. But were you familiar with his work before meeting him?

Not really. I knew what he had done but since he is a horror film director and that I am not, at first glance, really interested in this genre, I had never been attracted to his work. But that’s interesting when you start a new project. Previously, never in my life would I have said ‘Go watch a horror movie a Friday night with a packet of popcorn or chocolate ’.

But while doing my research, watching his films, I realised that horror was much more than jumpscares. I understood from Mike's work that there was a lot more nuance and depth and that it deals with strong topics such as grief, fear or mourning. Better, I sometimes surprise my husband at night saying 'What if we watch a horror movie?' and it makes him laugh. I like this feeling in my belly, it’s a bit like watching someone sing really badly in X Factor. It’s terrible, we feel bad for them but we cannot stop looking and laugh to dispel the discomfort. There is only one movie of Mike’s that I did not manage to see until the end, and it was Gerald’s Game, which is also an adaptation of Stephen King, I was too uncomfortable.

You come from Sweden, but for a few years now you have made a name for yourself in American cinema, especially thanks to Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation.

I never see what I do geographically. I do not say 'Well, I want to do American cinema'. By the way, I’ve never shot in Los Angeles, I shot a bit in New York but most of the time, filming is in Europe, London, Budapest, Sweden, South Africa. The production may be American, but filming is borderless.

There is no difference between American and European cinema according to you?

Let’s say it’s not so simple. There are tons of American directors who make independent movies and if you did not know anything about their nationality, you might think they are European. We love to generalise but it’s not so true. Look at Margot Robbie in I, Tonya; the production is 100% American, on an American subject, but honestly, if it had come from Europe, it would not have surprised me. I hate the idea of saying 'Oh my god, I come from Europe so my dream is to succeed in the United States’ because that’s absolutely not the case. The cinema, in my opinion, is much more than that, it is a place of diversity. I would love to shoot everywhere, France, Greece, Hungary, Chicago, Los Angeles, whatever. Look at my friends Joachim Rønning and Espen Sandberg who did Kon-Tiki and also Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Men Tell No Tales. The production is American but they are Norwegians, so where is the film from? And it’s also a question of team. For example, I just did Dune. The film is made by a Quebecker, Denis Villeneuve, and includes a Franco-American actor Timothée Chalamet, another, Spanish, Javier Bardem and a Swede, me. The film is produced by Warner Bros. The interest is therefore the mixture of cultures, each bringing a little of it. I am ready to fight for this idea.

So you would be ready to shoot in France?

But yes, so much! By the way, I would have loved to be French. I love the musicality of french and your special way of not having to give a fuck. It is effortless for you, it does not mean that you are not humble or nice, it simply means that we do not need to make tons [of smalltalk], which unfortunately many people do. My aunt is French, I often come to Paris and I am terribly disappointed not to speak your language. But when I say a French word, it gives me an immediate sensation of pleasure all over my body. When I was small, I told my mother that there had a problem at my birth. I was not born in the right nationality.

#rebecca ferguson #rfergusonedit #doctor sleep #mike flanagan #stephen king #interview #doctor sleep interview #disclaimer: i had to translate this myself with limited french and google translate #so there might be some slight errors mostly with the last answer #i got the vibe of it but not exactly what she said #been edited slightly for clarity #but other than that mostly untouched #lorenzo agius shoot

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charile0 · 29 days ago

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Capturing the Rhythm: Music, Dance, and Performance Photography

Music photography dance combines the beauty of movement with the power of music, capturing dynamic, expressive moments. Dance music photographers excel at highlighting the energy and emotion of performances, preserving every graceful movement. In the UK, orchestras photography and professional orchestras photographers focus on showcasing the majesty of classical music performances, while small music ensembles UK photography captures the intimate essence of smaller groups. Famous jazz photographers know how to immortalize the passion of live jazz, while a jazz photographer or photographer of jazz musicians brings out the soul of every performance

#- Music Photography Dance #- Dance Music Photographers #- Orchestras Photography UK #- Professional Orchestras Photographer UK #- Small Music Ensembles UK Photography #- Famous Jazz Photographers #- Jazz Photographer #- Photographer Jazz Musician #- Performance Photography #- Music Performance Photography #- Classical Music Photography #- Music Photographer UK #- Live Music Photography #- Jazz Music Photography #- Dance Performance Photography

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daleisgreat · 4 years ago

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Scott Pilgrim vs. The World

A movie podcast I listen to, The Big Picture, did a recent episode on the 10th anniversary of 2010’s Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (trailer). Coincidentally enough, that film remains in my backlog box all these years later, so I made sure to re-watch it before giving that podcast a listen. For those unfamiliar with this film, it is based on a series of six graphic novels of the same name by Bryan Lee O’Malley released between 2004 and 2010. The basic gist is that Scott Pilgrim (Michael Cera) falls for newcomer to town, Ramona Flowers (Mary Elizabeth Winstead). In order to win her over Pilgrim has to defeat Ramona’s “Seven Evil Ex’s.” Scott spends the rest of the film exploring Ramona’s mysterious past and dueling her ex’s while practicing with his band, Sex Bo-Bomb, as they progress through a battle of the bands tournament. Sex Bo-Bomb is one slick act! Stephen Stills (Mark Webber) is the doom-and-gloom frontman of the band. Kim Pine (Alison Pill) is a 2010 take on Daria and effectively nails her vintage expressionless glares and blunt quips. Young Neil (Johnny Simmons) is the affable, DS-loving, always ready alternate for Sex Bo-Bomb. Their #1 fan and also other girlfriend of Scott Pilgrim is one Knives Chau (Ellen Wong). Knive’s arc is probably my favorite of this ensemble cast as her journey from adoring fan and girlfriend to her final destination is a fascinating quest to see develop and a faithful translation from the books.

I first heard of the books on the videogame podcast, Team Fremont Live where they reviewed the first book and their breakdown of it caught my attention when they dissected all the nonstop videogame references that are peppered regularly throughout it. The film captures that imagery to a T where it feels like Pilgrim is living in a real life videogame. In this world suspending disbelief is required because it is jam-packed with extraordinarily choreographed battle scenes, makes anyone capable of instantly pulling off bombastic martial arts moves in the blink of an eye without any training whatsoever, and quirky little animations of objects like Mario Bros.-esque coins and pixelated items inserted throughout that any videogame fan will pick up on. The fighting game fan in me popped a little each time a thunderous “KO” blared out each time Pilgrim emerged victorious after an evil ex duel. As a lifelong fan of videogames, it was fun picking up on all the references and Easter eggs in the background throughout. Scott Pilgrim vs. the World hit at an interesting time where Michael Cera was the only established star at this point in 2010 and was riding the last wave of critical success coming off of Arrested Development, Superbad and Juno. Brandon Routh is noteworthy appearing here as one of the evil ex’s after flaming out in his single appearance in a Superman film. However, a few other stars are here right before they exploded into bigger success like the aforementioned Mary Elizabeth Winstead. Chris Evan is here as another evil-ex shortly after his two Fantastic Four films, but a year before donning the Captain America costume for the first time. Anna Kendrick is here in a small role as Scott’s sister Stacey while in the midst of her initial Twighlight run. Finally, Brie Larson is here as Scott’s evil-ex, Envy Adams and she is the lead for her band, Clash at Demonhead in my personal favorite musical performance of the film as they belt out “Black Sheep.”

It is worth repeating that I highly recommend suspending all disbelief going into Scott Pilgrim vs. the World and simply roll with it. The battle scenes are a hoot to take in and feature a ton of CG that holds up well ten years later. It is also worth pointing out this film is part absurd videogame battles, part early 20s love triangle drama and to a lesser extent part musical with several performances from Sex Bo-Bomb and other bands throughout the film. Director Edgar Wright tracked down a few bands to play the tracks for some of the featured bands in the film such as Beck performing the handful of Sex Bo-Bomb songs in addition to a slew of other tracks from artists like The Rolling Stones and Blood Red Shoes that perfectly supplement the outlandish tone of the film. It is not too often on here I recommend hunting down the soundtracks for a film, but the soundtrack for Scott Pilgrim vs. the World I wholeheartedly recommend! I think the Scott Pilgrim vs. the World BluRay may have set the record for amount of extra features for a single film in the near seven years of movies I have covered on this blog. A rough tally on my notes gives an approximate sum of nearly five hours of bonuses, and then four feature length commentary tracks on top of that! I will not detail every bonus, but will give some highlights of the ones that stood out for me. There is just under a half hour of deleted scenes with or without commentary from Edgar Wright. Most of them are extended scenes from the first act to trim out excess background info, but an alternate ending is what stood out the most that Wright explained he changed because it did not go over that well in test screenings. I can always appreciate a good blooper reel, and an excellent 10 minute reel is compiled here that I would rate right up with the stellar ones in the Marvel films.

There are three features grouped together in the ‘Docs’ section of the extras tallying up to a little over an hour. If you only had time for one of the five hours of bonuses I would go there because that has the core making of documentary which breaks down collaborating with Bryan Lee ‘O Malley, nailing the casting, detailing the extensive stunt training and interviews several of the bands about being featured in the soundtrack. Speaking of the soundtrack, there are four music videos included. Definitely check out the four minute animated short, Scott Pilgrim vs. Animation that is essentially a prequel to the film that dives into Scott and Kim’s former relationship. There are 12 ‘Video Blogs’ totaling 45 minutes that are raw on set interviews with the cast and crew between takes that sees the crew up to all kinds of mischief to kill downtime. This BluRay easily has the largest photo gallery of any home video I have covered with several hundred photos. One gallery is labeled ‘storyboards’ but each storyboard panel is nearly identical to the excellent quality of the art in Bryan Lee O’Malley books so that is essentially a free comic book adaptation of the movie buried in the extras! I experienced all four of the commentary tracks in one re-watch of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World via jumping around to a different commentary about every five minutes. Edgar Wright is on two of them, one with Bryan Lee ‘O Malley and writer Michael Bocall and the other with photography director Bill Pope. The other two commentaries are split among nine cast members, with Michael Cera and the rest of the leading cast on one and the ancillary cast members on the other cast commentary track. Wright has tons of nonstop insight and production facts on his tracks, and the cast tracks are have a lot of fun anecdotes such as Cera failing at trying to get additional people on the commentary via phone call. On top of the commentary I had on during my re-watch was also a factoid subtitle track to really take in the extra features. Despite going on now for three paragraphs about the bonus features, I think I only touched on about half of what is available, and it is truly astonishing to see how much they crammed into one BluRay disc.

A part of me thought going into this that Scott Pilgrim vs. the World would not hold up after 10 years. I would chalk that up to thinking I may have got easily won over with all the hype from being vastly into the books back then and being too caught up into the build to the film’s initial release. I can put those reservations to rest thankfully as I immensely enjoyed this ode to videogame fandom as much as I first did in 2010. Throw in a plethora of extra features to last all year to make Scott Pilgrim vs. the World one of my highest recommendations yet! If you want even more commentary from me about this film than below I have embedded the podcast I originally recorded 10 years ago shortly after seeing the film on its opening weekend. I bring on a couple other special guest hosts that are also ardent Scott Pilgrim fans and we review the film, soundtrack, the books and the videogame. Enjoy!

youtube

I brought on a couple other Scott Pilgrim experts on as guest hosts on my podcast to review the film, books, videogame and soundtrack shortly after they all released 10 years ago. Check it out in the embed above for more Scott Pilgrim goodness or click or press here to queue it up for later. Other Random Backlog Movie Blogs 3 12 Angry Men (1957) 12 Rounds 3: Lockdown 21 Jump Street The Accountant Angry Video Game Nerd: The Movie Atari: Game Over The Avengers: Age of Ultron The Avengers: Infinity War Batman: The Dark Knight Rises Batman: The Killing Joke Batman: Mask of the Phantasm Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice Bounty Hunters Cabin in the Woods Captain America: Civil War Captain America: The First Avenger Captain America: The Winter Soldier Christmas Eve Clash of the Titans (1981) Clint Eastwood 11-pack Special The Condemned 2 Countdown Creed I & II Deck the Halls Detroit Rock City Die Hard Dredd The Eliminators The Equalizer Dirty Work Faster Fast and Furious I-VIII Field of Dreams Fight Club The Fighter For Love of the Game Good Will Hunting Gravity Grunt: The Wrestling Movie Guardians of the Galaxy Guardians of the Galaxy Vol 2 Hell Comes to Frogtown Hercules: Reborn Hitman I Like to Hurt People Indiana Jones 1-4 Ink The Interrogation Interstellar Jay and Silent Bob Reboot Jobs Joy Ride 1-3 Last Action Hero Major League Man of Steel Man on the Moon Man vs Snake Marine 3-6 Merry Friggin Christmas Metallica: Some Kind of Monster Mortal Kombat Mortal Kombat Legends: Scorpions Revenge National Treasure National Treasure: Book of Secrets Not for Resale Pulp Fiction The Replacements Reservoir Dogs Rocky I-VIII Running Films Part 1 Running Films Part 2 San Andreas ScoobyDoo Wrestlemania Mystery The Secret Life of Walter Mitty Shoot em Up Slacker Skyscraper Small Town Santa Steve Jobs Source Code Star Trek I-XIII Sully Take Me Home Tonight TMNT The Tooth Fairy 1 & 2 UHF Veronica Mars Vision Quest The War Wild The Wizard Wonder Woman The Wrestler (2008) X-Men: Apocalypse X-Men: Days of Future Past

#random movie #scott pilgram vs the world #edgar wright #michael cera #brie larson #Brandon Routh #Anna Kendrick #mary elizabeth winstead #ellen wong #mark webber #bryan lee o'malley #allison pill #Chris Evans #videogames

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mattagarr · 4 years ago

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Making Glimmers in Atlanta

On May 12th, my good friend Maggie Schneider messaged me on Instagram and asked me for my rates and told me she had a project she wanted me to work on.

She told me all about “glimmers”, her new idea for a band that would be taking over the music that she had previously produced as a solo artist. Her new endeavors would all be as an ensemble, and not as a solo artist, and needed to get a bunch of promo shots for the band and be able to use them for all of the new branding and social media plans she had.

I was delighted. Maggie had been one of my favorite Atlanta artists to watch develop and grow into a fan favorite, and I was friends with a few of the people that performed with her, and seeing it grow into a bigger vision and plan was so exciting for me.

I have a background in marketing and working with bands to create promotional photography in the past, but it had been a while since I had to help really execute a creative vision and convert it into imagery. Since COVID-19 has really ravaged Georgia, I met with the band over Zoom to plan the creative. Maggie had made an inspiration board with the band to show me what they were hoping to do, and we talked about how to execute it, who would need to bring what materials, where we could shoot, and what to wear.

After having been cooped up in the house for a few months, it felt good to finally have something music-related to be able to work on.

We met at the location, I wore PPE, gloves, and brought a bunch of hand sanitizer with me, which was not too fun in the summer heat - but we do what we have to to make sure our communities stay safe!

We spent about 4 hours building sets, clipping bushes with craft scissors, and taping together pipes and lights to make the outdoor set. It was truly a DIY set. We were fighting with natural light the whole day, wrestling with the heat and trying to dab dry with towels to make sure we didn’t have any other kinds of “glimmers” in the shots, and trying to stay hydrated for a very long and humid afternoon. But, with a small budget and a big dream, we were able to make some really great photos.

I hadn’t had much time to talk to the rest of the band before the shoot, so this was really my first time meeting the other performers. Jeremy, the drummer, and I met when I first moved to Georgia, and he was the one who introduced me to Maggie in the first place - but the rest of the band (Alex, Alex, and Ari) were more or less strangers to me. After getting to know them, I was even more excited for the future of the band.

Once the COVID-19 pandemic is settled and we have a vaccine and the venues across the nation open back up, one of the first things I’m excited to do is go and see glimmers live.

Watch Maggie and I chat on the Masquerade’s new web series, Mugs with Mags, on Instagram.

Glimmers on Facebook

Glimmers on Instagram

Read more at https://www.mattagarr.com/blog/making-glimmers-in-atlanta

#blog #mattagarr

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et-in-cinerem-reverteris · 5 years ago

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Class of 1953 - Chapters 4/4.5 - Louder Than Bombs/Rubber Ring

“Phil, I think you are the strangest person that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Hey, you’re equally weird,” he teases.

“I know. That’s why I think you’re so wonderful.”

I’m back with my 1950s historical Oxford university AU fic-cum-novella-thing. Sorry I haven’t been posting the chapters to Tumblr! Here are chapters 4 and 4.5 - soon I will be posting chapter 5 (possibly the last chapter!)

Click me to read on Ao3!

Or keep reading under the cut...

Chapter 4 - Louder Than Bombs

The passing of time, and all of its sickening crimes, is making Phil nervous again.

Sitting sideways at the top of his bed with his feet swinging off the edge like a bored schoolboy, he idly fumbles with the pages of an open book as he stares into space, waiting.

Last Sunday he had promised Dan that he could use his room as a space to get homework done. Tonight, the gravity of the situation has only just begun to dawn on him. He imagines the scene with a quickened heartbeat; Dan sitting only a foot away, using his chair, working at his desk and writing with his pens, Dan pacing around his room, scrutinising his photographs, flicking through his records and reading the titles of his books. Phil doesn’t know how to prepare himself. Meeting up in public is one thing, but a private visit to his room feels like quite another.

He laughs out loud at himself. Private visit? Dan’s only coming to study for Christ’s sake.

Speaking of studying, he has his own work to attend to. Lying on his lap is a copy of Beowulf, deliberately planted there to create the impression of a student deeply engaged in a spot of serious reading. Unfortunately for Phil Beowulf has been unable to capture his imagination, and so instead he has spent the last ten minutes or so staring at the contents of his hastily tidied room. His desk is decluttered, his bed has been made, and all the odd pairs of socks have been picked off the floor and put away in preparation for Dan’s visit.

All is silent bar the low hum of his desk lamp. It’s a quiet Friday evening, and the normally raucous quad now only echoes sporadic bursts of hushed chatter. Tonight’s sky is peppered with clouds that pass the moon at random intervals, periodically obscuring a strange halo that encircles the bright rock in a mysterious reddish glow. The curtains lie wide open, and a streak of moonlight falls on the pinboard opposite his bed. Littered with cinema tickets, clippings from environmental magazines, ripped out pages and uncashed cheques, the most recent addition to the board is a cluster of pictures he took of the photography club on an impromptu walk by the River Cherwell. The top photograph shows Bill squinting at the sun while Mary gives Beth a precarious looking piggyback ride, both of them smiling as John holds his palms up to the toppling ensemble and posing as tourists do next to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Phil remembers how the group of them skimmed stones across the muddy water, competing to see who could get the furthest, until Beth had beat Bill’s expert hand with a fluke stone that skipped so far into the distance that none of them could tell where it had landed. He thinks of that day with a smile. Good times.

*rat-tat-tat*

At last! Springing off his mattress he dashes towards the mirror, spruces up his quiff, takes in a deep breath and opens the door.

“Hallo! Ho-”

Phil is interrupted as Dan comes crashing into the room, stumbling past him and lurching towards the desk as a large pile of books, folders and papers fall from his arms and scatter across the surface in a heap. He releases a long sigh, and then turns around to face his host with a sheepish smile.

“Sorry for bursting in here like that. My arms were starting to get cramped under the weight of all these books, and I had to put them down. Anyway, how are you?”

“I’m fine but err, quick question,” Phil starts. “Why didn’t you just use a bag?”

Dan’s smile fades and his eyes glaze over, mouth opening and closing as his brows furrow in confusion. “Now that you mention it, I um, don’t know why on earth I didn’t think of that.” He throws his hands into the air. “God knows what’s up with me.” Embarrassed, he turns around and begins to organise the jumbled papers.

“What’s all this you’ve got here then?” Phil asks, flopping down onto the bed and leaning his back against the wall as he watches Dan.

“It’s mostly some notes about Schubert. We have to study the last few decades of his life, so I bought a few books from home with me that I thought I’d be able to flick through. And um,” he picks up a piece of paper, “I’ve also got to work towards a portfolio of compositions, so really I’ve got a mountain of stuff to do.”

“Sounds daunting.”

“Mmmm.” He sits down in the chair next to Phil’s desk, adjusting the angle of the lamp as he kicks off his shoes. “So,” he continues, turning around, “what are you up to then?”

Phil nonchalantly waves his book in the air. “Just Beowulf.”

Dan scoffs. “Just Beowulf? Come on, Phil! It’s only one of the most important pieces of English literature of all time!” Shaking his head in disbelief, he turns back around. “‘Just Beowulf’... Jesus.”

After a couple of minutes of silence Phil suddenly realises that Dan has started working. As in actually working. In the past they had both joked about being chronic procrastinators, and so Phil had predicted that the night would end up with them talking about books, politics or musicals instead of doing homework. He’s a bit surprised that Dan was serious about wanting to use his room just to study in, and to be truthful, he’s also a little disappointed.

To make matters worse, as the other boy works away Phil finds himself unable to concentrate on the book in front of him; no matter how hard he tries to focus, all thoughts invariably trace back to his companion. He examines the back of his neck, the collar of his shirt, the knit of his jumper and how it falls on his lanky build. Dan will occasionally sing or hum a tune to himself, scribble something down and then repeat that same harmony with a few added notes, moving the fingers on his right hand as if he were in front of a piano. It’s a peaceful sight, captivatingly peaceful, and his concentration trickles down the drain. To hell with reading anyway.

His thoughts meander back to a familiar daydream; Dan’s life in Wokingham. Phil’s imagination frequently returns to a scene of Dan sitting in a lavish study, playing the piano as golden sun leaks through an open window, balmy air wafting inside on a sweet summer evening. In tonight’s incarnation Phil envisions himself there sitting on the wooden floor, pondering over verses of romantic poetry, reading aloud a particularly pleasant stanza to Dan who would glance up from the piano and give him one of those warm, glowing smiles where his dimples make him look utterly angeli-

It’s a silly dream really, very silly indeed, and Phil feels ashamed for ever having dreamt it. With a glum sense of self-restraint, he turns back to his homework and tries extra-hard to concentrate on it.

An hour or so passes in the little room on staircase nine, and after a while Phil finds himself lulled into the lethargic contentment that only rewards avid readers, and to his amazement he realises that Anglo-Saxon poetry about Danish kings and mythical beasts isn’t as tedious as he had previously dreaded.

Satisfied with his progress, he bookmarks his page and closes the book with a thump. Dan’s neck twitches at the sound, and, as if abruptly reminded of the existence of the outside world, he drops his pen, massages his hands, and stretches his long, slender arms out into the air behind him.

“Right, I’m throwing in the towel or else I shall die of a Schu-verload,” he exhales, leaning backwards and cracking his spine on the back of the chair.

“Schu...verload?”

Dan swivels around to give him a dry scowl. “Schubert-overload, you fool.”

“Oh!” Phil exclaims, and the pair of them erupt into laughter. “Sorry, my brain has just been fried by one-thousand year old poetry. I’m feeling a bit,” he yawns, “a bit sleepy.”

Getting up from his chair and stretching some more, Dan paces over to the window and peers out of it before unhinging the lock and propping it open. Cold air sails through the room, ruffling his curls as he stares out into the dark night.

“Nice view you’ve got from up here.”

“Thanks,” Phil quips, fully aware of the fact that his room faces into a fairly dull courtyard.

“I’m serious. I think it’s grand that you’ve got a view of the chapel. It’s terribly romantic.” He steps away from the window, attention turning to a nearby shelf which houses a small record collection that appears to spark his enthusiasm. “You’ve got some superb albums here. Handel, Tchaikovsky, Chopin…” He looks over to where Phil has propped himself up against his headboard. “I respect those choices.”

“Thanks, although I mainly put them on for background noise. I’m not a major classical geek or anything.”

The other boy guffaws. “Like me?”

“No, not like you,” Phil tuts, and his pretend frown turns into another yawn.

“Busy day?” Dan grins.

“Busy day, busy week, busy month. Hectic month, in fact.”

Nodding in solidarity Dan sits down at the bottom of Phil’s bed and reclines with his back against the wall, closing his eyes with a faint smile still on his face. As the pair of them sit in silence Phil's own eyelids get heavier, and budding in his chest is a drowsy desire to snuggle up into a cosy cocoon and burrow into the bedcovers, falling deeper and deeper into the comfort of his soft, warm sheets...

When he awakes, Dan is staring straight at him.

“Hmmm, what? Did I fall asleep?”

“Quite possibly. God, I know I’m about to.” Dan’s eyelids flicker downwards as his smile fades. He looks exhausted, really exhausted, and Phil feels like there’s something he should do about it.

“Hey.”

Dan’s shoots up. Phil shuffles across his narrow bed and moves closer to the wall, patting the small space next to him in invitation. The other boy’s eyes widen for a moment before he melts into a soft, sleepy smile, then gets up slowly and gingerly sits on the bed, lies down next to Phil, then shuffles around so that he’s facing...facing him...and then closes his eyes as if it’s nothing.

Phil blinks in confusion. His more logical side knows that sleeping on the same bed as a friend is something that people do without batting an eyelid, but next to Dan it feels different - symbolic, even. Regardless, or perhaps because of that feeling, he shuffles round to face the other man and observes his sleeping face, his pale skin, his dark freckles, his thick brown eyebrows and long brown eyelashes.

Suddenly, the eyelashes open.

“Phil?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me use your room to study in, you doofus,” he teases, words coming out slightly sluggish.

“Mmmm, that’s alright. It’s the least I can do considering how you spoiled me last Saturday. I think I should be the one thanking you.”

Dan shifts slightly, and Phil feels their shins are now pressed up against each other. His soul sings. If he were more awake his heart might be racing in an exhilarated panic, but in his tired state all he can do is feel strangely happy. Happy...and cold.

“Why on earth is it so freezing in here?” he asks, confused and a little dazed, and as he props himself up on his elbow he sees that the window has been left open. “Da-an!”

“What?” he whines through the pillow.

“You didn’t close the window!”

“Close it then.”

Phil groans, flopping back down onto the bed. “I can’t be bothered!”

“Well in that case we’ll just have to huddle together like penguins then,” and with his eyes still closed Dan moves across the bed until their faces are centimetres apart. Now Phil’s heart starts to quicken.

“I can’t, it’s too much.”

Dan’s eyes fly open as Phil gets up from the bed and walks over to the window. Worried that he’s made a deadly mistake he buries his head into the pillow and waits for Phil to order him out of his room, out into the cold, out into the darkness for a long, lonely walk back to his own miserable dormitory.

The window clunks shut, and then the bed becomes a lot heavier. Dan removes his face from the pillow to see Phil gazing down at him.

“I thought…I thought you were about to abandon me.”

“What? Abandon you? Where would I go?” He chuckles. “I was cold, that’s all. I wouldn’t leave you here like that.”

Dan beams up at him with flushed cheeks. “You still cold?”

A smirk lets itself out. “Maybe.”

Dan unfurls his right arm across the width of the bed and lifts his left arm into the air. Phil slowly begins to panic. A hug? Is he pulling him in for a hug? A hug with Dan and his arms wrapped around him holding him lying there together on his bed a-

Okay.

Enough.

Phil looks back at Dan. His stare is dark and strong, profound and meaningful, and it makes him feel safe. He takes the plunge and lowers himself down. Dan pulls him into a hug, arms wrapping around his back and drawing him close to his chest. Phil can hear the low thump of Dan’s heartbeat and smell the warm, musky scent that lingers on his jumper. He places his arms on Dan’s ribcage, fingers fiddling with the cable knit patterns. The pair adjust themselves slightly, moving shoulders, moving heads, moving their legs and intertwining them together, drifting off to the wide, sleepy sea in a boat built for two.

Chapter 4.5 - Rubber Ring

Phil had been asleep.

Phil had been asleep, until somebody had knocked on his door.

Phil had been planning on going back to sleep, until through the still of night he had heard a familiar voice whispering his name.

Shaking the sleep from his bones, Phil opens his curtains, stumbles towards the door, turns the key in the lock and prepares himself for whatever lies waiting for him in the hallway.

“Dan?”

“G’d evening”

“W...what are you doing here?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Fancy a stroll?”

“A stroll? Are you insane?” Phil repeats mockingly, shivering from the cool air in the hallway. “Dan, it’s...” He checks his wrist, and frowns when he sees that it’s naked.

“1 a.m. on a Wednesday night? I know. So, what d’you say?”

Really, he should say no. He really should. It’s one in the morning, it’s a weeknight, he’s got lectures tomorrow and the weather outside is probably cold enough to freeze him to his core within five minutes. He should say no, he really should, but there’s something about roaming the shadowy streets at midnight with Dan that’s far too exciting to turn down.

“Give me thirty seconds and I’ll be right with you.”

Diving back into his room to grab the first items of clothing that he sees, Phil can’t help but feel slightly frenzied. When Dan was in his room last it had ended with the pair of them falling asleep entangled in each other’s arms. Phil hadn’t forgotten that. He had far from forgotten that. Memories of that night had floated through the air ever since, landing on him with the delicate wings of a wistful daydream that left him blushing as it flew away. Now, to both his surprise and his delight, this same boy is knocking on his door and asking for his accompaniment on a ridiculous small-hour escapade.

As he wraps his scarf around his collar, he looks across the room to the moonlit part of his pinboard. One particular piece of paper stands out, and he moves in closer to read it - it’s a quote scribbled onto a scrap of blue paper.

“I looked up at the mass of signs and stars in the night sky and laid myself open for the first time to the benign indifference of the world."

How strange. He’s had that Albert Camus line scribbled onto a piece of paper for years now, and yet never in his life has it seemed so appropriate as it does right this moment. With a peculiar feeling of rebirth he thrusts his feet into the nearest pair of shoes he can find, and opens the door into the corridor.

Dan is leaning against the wall of the hallway. The pose strikes him as familiar, and with a shock of nostalgia Phil is transported back to the night when the two of them first met. He remembers how Dan stood in the doorway to the photography club - arms folded, ankles crossed, sly smirk plastered to his mischievous face. How things have changed between them since then.

Phil locks the door, pockets the key, and when he turns around Dan is staring absentmindedly at the floor with his eyes boring holes into nothingness. Suddenly he blinks, looks up, and his eyes instantly meet Phil’s with a vivid, bittersweet gaze that makes everything else in the world feel like it’s falling away.

It feels like the passing touch of a stranger’s hand on the small of his back at a lavish party. It feels like the shock of a cherry liqueur that stuns the taste buds and leaves behind a decadent, sumptuous and moreish aftertaste. It feels like the sight of a full moon from the balcony of his Grecian holiday home, wind rustling through the leaves as the waves whisper beneath him. Phil’s heart melts... and then he realises.

He just might be in love.

“What are you thinking about?” Dan asks, breaking the silence as his eyelids hang low. Phil looks at those dark, pretty eyelashes on those dark, pretty eyes, rolls his shoulders back, and sighs.

“Mmmm, nothing.”

He turns to walk down the narrow hallway with Dan following close behind. They push through the heavy wooden door at the end of the hallway and descend onto the staircase, making their way down the steps that lead out of the building.

“So tell me then, how did you manage to get up to my room?” Phil inquires. “Did Rapunzel let her hair down over the Fellow’s Garden wall for you to use as a rope to climb up?”

Dan laughs. “No, not quite.”

“Well go on then, how did you do it? Surely the main college door would have been locked?”

“Not tonight apparently, I pushed it, and lo and behold it was open. There wasn’t a porter there either. Poor sod’s probably raiding the college’s wine cellar,” he adds with a chuckle.

“Dan! The porters aren’t drunkards.”

“I know I know, but it must be bloody boring just sitting there all night. I know I’d raid the stash if I were them.”

“What, and allow unruly boys who can’t settle down to come and break in to the college grounds? You’d make a great porter.”

“That is why I am not a porter, but a devilish, wicked boy who breaks into colleges so he can sneak into other boys’ bedrooms,” he smiles.

Phil’s mind almost shuts down at that latter part. Out of sheer bewilderment his brain decides to respond by bellowing out “you are a saucy boy” in his best Lord Capulet impression, which has the effect of making Dan double over into a fit of laughter, tears streaming down his face as he wheezes the word “saucy” through silent giggles.

As they exit the building they’re struck by the biting December cold. Careful to tread lightly across the echoing stone slabs, they stealth across the smaller quad that Phil’s bedroom faces into, creep past the chapel, and step through to the larger quad wherein lies a perfectly-maintained square lawn.

“Hey!” Dan whispers.

“What?”

“Shall we walk across the grass?”

“What? Dan! We can’t do that!” Phil hisses. “We’ll get caught and fined and-”

“Oh stop it! We’re already breaking the rules by sneaking out past 10 p.m. Tarnishing an overly-pampered lawn isn’t any worse.”

Before Phil has time to protest, Dan has already set foot on the forbidden pasture.

“Dan stop! For fuc-”

“Catch me if you can!”

The boy runs around in circles as Phil loiters on the edge, deliberating on whether or not he should join in, until he looks around the quad and, upon seeing nobody, finally decides to indulge in Dan’s game. They race around the turf, skidding and slipping and ripping up the grass. Phil tries to reach Dan, but no matter how hard he struggles he never seems to be able to catch up.

“What’s that Lester? Too slow are we?” Dan taunts, placing a hand on his hip.

That’s it, Phil thinks.

Time to put Dan in his place.

With a final burst of energy Phil lunges forward, hurtling himself towards the other man in a push that sends them crashing to the floor, foreheads colliding with a knock that’ll have both of them bruised by the time the sun shines.

“Ow, shit! My head!”

“You alright?”

Phil rolls off onto the cold lawn, swiftly disentangling himself from the mess of limbs as Dan pushes himself off the ground with a grunt of effort.

“Jesus Christ Phil! What are you, some sort of juggernaut?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

Dan breathes in deeply, eyes flitting over Phil’s body before travelling back up to meet him.

“Evidently not.”

There’s a moment of silence as they recover, and Phil notices that a few blades of grass are stuck to Dan’s face. Without thinking he reaches out a hand to brush them off, fingers briefly skimming across the surface of the boy’s cheek. Dan’s eyes are wide, and his breath is hot against Phil’s hand, lips parted as his eyes lock with Phil’s. There’s a presence in those eyes that Phil has seen before. Inspecting. Asking. Phil wants to trace his thumb across the surface of Dan’s panting mouth with those big, blinking, innocent eyes staring up at him, maybe slip in a finger and feel that soft, wet tongue...but the flare of uncertainty in his chest tells him to remove his hand, stand up from the ground, and say “shall we get going then?” in the steadiest voice he can muster.

After hoisting Dan up from the ground they creep across the quad towards the lodge where the porter sits. Or rather, where the porter normally sits.

“Hmmm. Still nobody here,” Dan confirms, crooking his head around the front desk.

Phil opens the latch of the small door and steps out. “Quickly then. We don’t want to get caught.” Dan hurries across the cobbled entrance, following him through the exit as it shuts behind them with a soft click.

As soon as they’re out the college gates Dan reaches into his coat and pulls out a small bottle of alcohol. Ah. That would explain a lot. He offers it to Phil, who nods in gratitude and takes a sip.

“Eurgh!”

Dan laughs. “You don’t like whiskey?” Phil screws his eyes shut, shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the taste. “Ah well - more for me!”

On second thoughts, if Dan’s already drunk Phil doesn’t want to be the only one who’s sober, and so he reaches for the bottle with grabbing hands as Dan takes a healthy swig. Although he raises his eyebrows at Phil’s unexplained change of opinion, he hands it over regardless. As they amble through the streets Dan takes the drink back, downing it at an alarming rate, and by the time they’ve made their way to the highroad the vessel is as good as gone.

“Ah, here we are,” Dan cries, “the theatre!” Phil winces - he’s a little on the loud side.

“I saw a fan-tastic production here the other week. The Phantom of the Opera it was. Bloody blil..bloody brilliant,” he slurs, waving the empty bottle around in his hand. “Very fine chap playing Erik, very fine...” He sighs. “I wanted to be an opera singer, y’know. Dunno know what ‘appened to that.”

Phil frowns. “What d’you mean ‘dunno what happened to that’? You can still have a shot at it.”

“You know, that’s very true,” he mutters, “very true...”

As they walk down the deserted road the only sound to be heard is the clacking of their heeled shoes, until they turn down an ill-lit side-street and Dan begins to hum a tune that sounds familiar.

“Is that-”

“The Phantom of the Opera? You didn’t say you’d seen it!”

Before Phil can gush about his love of musicals, Dan unexpectedly bursts into song.

“Beneath the opera house,

I know he’s there,

He’s with me on the stage,

He’s everywhere.”

For a moment, Phil forgets how to think. He hadn’t expected Dan’s voice to be so high pitched, so silky and delicate and feminine.

“And when my song begins,

I always find,

The phantom of the opera is there,

Inside my mind.”

Dan nods his head as if expecting a reaction. Ah. The next part of the song is sung by The Phantom. Hesitant to embarrass himself but too tipsy to care, Phil takes in a deep breath and attempts to remember the lyrics.

“Since once again with me,

A strange duet.

I power over you,

Grow stronger yet.

You give your love to me,

For love is blind.

The phantom of the opera is now,

Your mastermind.”

He looks back at Dan, whose gawk transforms into a grin.

“Those who have seen your face,

Draw back in fear.

I am the mask you wear.”

Another expectant look from Dan. Oh!

“It’s me they hear!”

If he’s correct, they sing the next part together.

“My spirit and my voice,

In one command.

The Phantom of The Opera is there,

Inside your mind.”

Phil could have died on the spot - their voices sound amazing together. He turns around to beam at Dan, but Dan’s too busy acting to notice.

“The Phantom of the Opera,

He’s there.

The Phantom of the Opera.”

He waltzes out into the road, obviously getting into it. Phil follows, and their voices combine more.

“Sing once again with me,

A strange duet.”

“My power over you

Grows stronger yet.”

“You give your love to me ,

For love is blind.

The Phantom of The Opera is now,

My mastermind.”

“Sing my angel of music!” Phil cries.

“He’s there,

The Phan-tom of the O-per-aaaaa”

“Sing once again with me,

For a strange duet.”

Dan finishes off the song with the highest note Phil has ever heard come from a man. Bursting into laughter, he bows to a one-man audience as Phil claps and shouts “bravo!”, throwing invisible roses onto an invisible stage before turning to walk down the street.

“Thank you, thank you,” Dan giggles, buzzing with adrenaline as he looks at Phil, who responds with equal spirit. He isn’t quite sure what just happened, but something about their voices combining together like that felt spectacular. It felt special. As their smiles fade, Dan looks as though he wants to speak.

“Phil,” he begins, “can I...can I compliment you?”

“Of course.”

“You have the most incredible voice. Seriously.”

Phil is stupefied. Really? His voice, “incredible”?

Something wells up inside his chest, something wild and fleeting and frantic that makes him want to sprint and shout and bowl Dan over with a tackle or a hug or just give in to his long-restrained yearning and just grab his charming, boyish face and just kiss it-

Instead, he reaches out a hand, and lightly taps Dan on the nose with his finger.

“Phil, I think you are the strangest person that I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.”

“Hey, you’re equally weird,” he teases.

“I know. That’s why I think you’re so wonderful.”

It’s his shy smile that tips Phil over the edge. He reaches out and pulls Dan into a hug that’s forceful and rough, throwing his arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tight as Dan instantly wraps his arms around him, gripping with equal vigour until they can’t get any closer.

“Thank you for agreeing to go on this mad walk with me. It’s just that I...I couldn’t sleep. This stupid performance is in two days and I’ve got so much work to do and I-” His voice cracks. Phil says nothing but rubs Dan’s back in consolation. After a while, the other boy pulls away.

“Sorry,” he mutters, avoiding Phil’s eye.

“Don’t be sorry. You’re stressed, it’s understandable. I don’t mind anyway, it was my pleasure.” They begin walking. “Don’t worry about all this school work, you’ve got enough time to sort it out before the performance. If you don’t finish it, who cares - you can do it over the holidays.”

With a big sniff, Dan nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

“As for Friday, I’m sure it’ll go smoothly. If you fluff a line just get your sword out and start duelling the audience with your fencing skills. They won’t know what hit them. Literally.”

“Let's hope I don’t fluff anything then, because I don’t want to have to kill you in a sword fight.”

“Aha! How bold you are to assume that I would lose! In fact, I, Philip Michael Lester, otherwise known as... Lance Lester, am a master of sword fighting, known throughout the land for my trusty steel and quick foot.” He snatches at the bottle in Dan’s hand, holding it by its neck. “This was my father's poniard, do you see? I'd be loth to see 't look rusty, 'cause 'twas his.”

Dan cackles, high pitched and loud. “Oh Phil, you’re such a geek, you know that right?”

“Oi - that’s Lance Lester to you!”

“Oh yeah? More like Feeble Phil,” he teases, jabbing at the other boy’s stomach. It doesn’t take long before they start to pretend-fight, scuffling in the street and tussling with each other all the way back home, gradually getting louder and more competitive until they circle back to Turl Street.

“Hey, hey, shhh!” Phil hisses. “We’re back at my college.”

Dan unclences Phil from a headlock and looks up. “We are indeed. Let’s hope the door’s still unlocked.”

Phil gives it a gentle push, and it opens with a creak. Wriggling free from Dan’s grasp he slips into the entrance, standing with one foot it and one foot out, propping the door open with his chest.

“Well, good luck for rehearsals then. I’ll be at the chapel for…”

“For eight o’clock.”

“Eight o’clock. Right.”

Dan’s face falls.

“My God.”

“What? What’s the matter?”

“I nearly forgot. Oh, what a disaster that would have been.”

Phil raises an eyebrow.

“On the night of the performance the chap I share a room with is going out, so I’m inviting a handful of people back to my room for a little party afterwards. I kept meaning to invite you but I never got round to it. Please say you can make it!”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

Dan beams. “Perfect, I’ll see you there.”

He turns away and walks up the street, hands thrust into his trouser pockets as he hurries back to his room. Phil stands at the door, watching. When Dan reaches the corner of the road he turns his head to face backwards, and, although he’s too far away to be sure, Phil is certain that he can feel the warmth of a smile shooting through the air and landing on his breast like the golden tip of Cupid’s pointed arrow, spreading through his body with a tender warmth.

#my writing #phanfic #phandom #phan #phannie #Dan and Phil #dan howell #phil lester

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neon-sparrows · 5 years ago

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Brian tim and jay in college navigating a polyamorous relationship? Love your writing!!

you know what’s good? soft content. you know what i don’t do enough of? soft contenti could do an entire headcanons post about this but i also just really wanted to write this scene.thank you!always taking requests/suggestions!

Finals week is always when things get stressful. Classes in general were nothing, as far as Tim was concerned-- he's pretty good at focusing on what he needs to these days, with the new meds, and the fact he's quite enjoying being (mostly) in charge of his own schedule. There's a few ensemble meetings to worry about, the general practice on multiple instruments to enjoy himself with... and, well, rationing his time between his music requirements and the photography final projects he keeps putting off.

He's leaning back on his couch and fidgeting with his (rented) guitar, fixing the tuning and checking the strings almost absentmindedly. The TV is on to local news and he's alone in his apartment, though he's glancing back at the clock on an average of about every fifty seconds to make sure his timing's right.

He knows he has no reason to count. Jay and Brian aren't the sort to be late, and they'd agreed to spend the night "studying" at his apartment (they're going to drink and probably fool around more than they're going to do any studying, because finals week is fucking stressful and why not get relief where you can find it), but he can't quite help the nerves in his chest. His mind conjures cancellations or missed reservations even when he knows nothing's wrong--

He strums the guitar again, checks the sound, adjusts the capo and then pulls the guitar off his lap to rest it delicately against the couch.

Jay had a final at 3:30. Some screenwriting related something or other, maybe submitting a portfolio-- Brian was going to pick him up at 5 and get the three of them dinner and then come back to Tim's apartment. The timing should be fine, and so it should be any minute, and Tim holds his breath--

Key in the door. He exhales and lets himself relax.

"We're here!" Brian calls through the doorway like he's got to announce it particularly far; Tim's got a small apartment, compared to Jay's and then Brian's house.

"Brought you a sandwich." Jay steps in behind him as Tim leans back to look over the back of the couch towards the two of them. Brian's dropping the paper bag on the kitchen counter to dole them out, and Jay's dropping his backpack by the door.

"Thanks." Tim smiles slightly and allows himself to relax, moving to stand up and greet them both.

Jay's the first to close the distance, leaning on the shorter man with an audible sigh.

"That bad, huh?" Tim questions as he wraps his arms around Jay's middle, more or less able to hold him up.

"I think it'll be okay. I did some good work this semester and the professor likes me, so it should be fine, but who knows."

"He's convinced he bombed it." Brian says, dryly. Tim glances over as he approaches, and tilts his head up for a kiss. Brian obliges gladly, and then gently pulls Jay away. "Even though all three of us know this little shit has a 4.0."

"Out of luck." Jay elbows Brian in the side with an audible huff.

"Luck generally implies you're not working very hard, Jay." Tim points out, and Jay's response is a noise somewhere between a huff and an agreement.

The three of them settle on the couch after a pause, sinking down into the usual spots-- Tim in the middle, Jay on one side, Brian on the other. Tim lays his head against Brian's shoulder, nestling under his chin while Jay leans on Tim, his fingers clinging loosely to Tim's shirt.

Jay's the one to grab the remote, and so the channels begin to flick through anything available to find something that interests him.

Tim lays back against Brian and shuts his eyes, resting his hand over Jay's and shifting in order to thread his fingers through Jay's. He feels the tension leaving him slowly, comfortably pressed between them, feeling Jay's fingers rubbing against his own and the steady sound of Brian's breathing.

This is good. This is better. This is what he prefers. He breathes deep. He'll figure out the rest of his projects at some point, he thinks, maybe ask Jay for help with his photography. Have Brian listen to whatever the fuck kind of nonsense he puts together before his one-on-one with his tutor.

Brian shifts around behind him to throw an arm over him and so scratch at the back of Jay's head with a small gesture, and Tim nestles his face a little more into Brian's shoulder.

"You wanna stop flipping channels and just pick something?""We might miss something decent.""You could just put a movie on.""That'd be easier."Do I get to pick?"

#marble hornets #mh jam #mh brim #tim wright #jay merrick #brian thomas #long post #writing tag #i really like! polyamory! and i wanted to write this scene #hmu for headcanons later on i guess #Anonymous

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cosmichoneyedblossoms · 6 years ago

Text

Faded Polaroid Love

Pairing: Photographer!Yoo Kihyun x Art Student! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Word Count: 3,098

Requested: Yes

“Today we take our sketch pads and pencils out into the open to grace our beautiful model, Layla.” The professor introduced our model for the class—a flowing cornucopia of golden tousled locks, electric blue irises, constellations of freckles placed upon her tanned skin. Her skin seemed to hold no imperfections as she bowed, greeting the class, “Gather your things and let's take a trip out to the garden.” You stood from your easel, slipping your supplies back into your messenger bag, following in tow with the rest of the class as you filed outside to the garden.

Spring was definitely in full bloom, the cherry blossom trees were fanning out their pastel pink petals all across campus, painting the school grounds in beautiful shades of pinks. The millions of spring flowers could be a scene from any art gallery, they come to decorate the earth, to live simply, to drink in the sunlight and rain, to grow and have their time to live, “Are you paying attention?” A soft voice found your ears and you turned to meet your best friend, Maria’s, gaze.

“Yeah, just spacing out for a second.” You offered her a smile and she slipped her arm under yours.

“You seem to be doing that a lot lately, you wanna talk about it?”

“Nah, nothing really worth talking about.” You rested your head against her shoulder, the class stopping in front of you.

“Alright class, Layla is going to get into—”

“Sorry, Professor Keeting, I’m here!” A familiar male voice erupted from behind you and Maria, you turned around to see—

“Kihyun, you’re late.” Professor Keeting hissed, motioning for him to come to the front of the class, “75 percent of you should know who this is, this is Kihyun. He graduated top of his class with a degree in photography, today he’s here to help take photos of all of you working on your projects—”

“Did you know he was coming by today?” Maria whispered into your ear to which you responded by shaking your head.

“No…” Your gaze stayed on him, your heart already causing a ruckus inside your chest. You’d known Kihyun for years, ever since you were in high school actually; he was your older sister’s boyfriend, but they ended messily, and you didn’t see him again until your freshman year at college. That was two years ago, but he still made your heart flutter as if it were yesterday—velvety cinnamon irises hidden behind long full lashes when he blinked, pale pink lips curled into a smile showing off his perfect teeth, loose driftwood tinted curls getting swept up in the gentle spring breeze—Kihyun is the epitome of your dream man.

“Take your spots however close or far away in the field you want and get started, you have an hour and then you get to take a photo of her to finish later.” You made eye contact with your instructor and she put her hands together and pulled them apart telling you to separate from Maria.

“Wow, what a snake.” Maria growled.

“She just wants a different a result from everyone.” You hummed, scoping out a good spot, but every place you wanted was already taken. You grumbled taking a spot that was a little further away from the pack of students and plopped down onto the soft grass. You tugged your sketchbook from your bag as well as your pencil case, you flipped open to a blank page and pulled the respectively numbered pencil from the pouch and began your sketch.

Kihyun made his way around the widespread pack, taking pictures of them working on their pieces, but his eyes kept wandering back to you. His camera focused on you from afar, snapping your beauty in its lens, he knew he was supposed to be taking pictures of everyone, but he was drawn to you like graphite to the card stock of a sketchbook. He felt like he spent only minutes on your figure, but in all reality he spent the whole class time taking photos of you, peppering in photos of the other students, but 90 percent of the photos taken were of you.

“Alright class, time is almost up, everyone take out your phones and snap your photo of Layla to use.” You glanced down at your sketch, it almost complete, but what harm would it cause for you to take one just in case? You pulled out your phone and opened the camera app, your steady hands taking a picture of her when a flash from your side startled you.

“Kihyun…” Your eyes connected and he wore the biggest smile.

“I’m sorry, you just looked so pretty so fixed on the screen.” You double checked to make sure you got the photo you needed and stood up, slipping your phone back into your pocket, when Kihyun reached out to place a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his smooth fingertips brushing against the shell of your ear, “How’ve you been? It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

“G-good…” His gentle touch increased your heart rate, the part of your ear he touched burned a fiery red, “Seems like you’re doing well.”

“A bit.” His angelic smile came back to his lips, “I’ve actually got a question for you.”

“Oh?”

It had been a few weeks since Kihyun asked if you would do him a favor and at first, you told him no because you weren’t even comfortable with your own body, and the thought of Kihyun staring at you for however long made sent chills up your spine. After letting the thought linger through your mind for a few weeks, you reached out to him, and here you are standing in front of his apartment, your anxiety already clawing up your insides. You sighed, backing away from the door, maybe you could text him and tell him you were sick and you wanted to do it some other time, or tell him something came up and you—

The cream door opened in front of you, your eyes connecting with his, “Y/N! Why didn’t you knock?”

“I-I just walked up to the door.” You gripped the handles of your small duffle bag, attempting to avoid his gaze when his hand came around to the small of your back, guiding you inside.

“Since you’re here, why don’t we get started.” He closed the door behind you and made his way to the hall, his eyes turning back to meet your gaze once more, “Why don’t you get changed in the bathroom and meet me in the back room?”

“O-okay.” You nodded, the butterflies in your stomach making you feel queasy.

“First door on your left is the bathroom and the last door on the right is where I’ll be.” You nodded, watching him disappear down the hall. You closed your eyes and exhaled the breath you had been holding, Kihyun caused dormant feelings to awaken inside you. Ever since your sister brought him home and introduced him as her boyfriend, you knew that he was the one you wanted. For someone who “loved” him, she sure did leave him a lot, when she was out playing with her friends Kihyun was at your house waiting for her, confessing things to you that you never thought you would even hear him say, you fell for him— inexplicably hard. He indulged in you, burned his touch into you, seared kisses into your skin that would stay for years, took so many of your firsts that he tainted the white halo you wore.

The smell of his spicy cologne filled your senses as you stared at your ensemble in the floor length mirror. You ran your hand over the black cage straps that connected to the black sheer lace bra, down to the black lace garter belt that was clipped to your stockings, then finally over the matching lace thong. It was provocative, sure, but even looking at yourself, your cheeks flushed as you turned your backside to the mirror, your fingers tugging at the elastics straps that hugged your skin a little too tightly. You quickly tugged the silk robe from your bag and pulled it on, shielding your eyes from your erotic figure, “What am I thinking?” You paced the tile floor thinking if you should really do this, it’s not like he hasn’t seen your body before, but it was different this time, you were both adults, single adults, and he knows you’re practically in love with him. Sighing, you grabbed your phone from the countertop, then tugged the door open, your feet made light steps down to the room to see the setup Kihyun had created—white walls, white bedding, white tufted bed frame, a white metal ottoman sitting at the end of the bed, cream accents like the rug, the curtains hanging from the large windows letting in the pale sunlight. You stuck out like a sore thumb in your body adorned in black, this only made you more nervous, all eyes were really going to be on you.

“You okay? You’re looking a little pale…” You jumped at Kihyun’s voice as he appeared beside you, his warm skin quick to rest on your forehead. He felt his own forehead to compare to yours, “You don’t feel any warmer than I do, have you eaten?” He smoothed over loose strands of your hair while you shook your head.

“Not since like eight this morning.”

“It’s four in the afternoon, Y/N…” You shrugged, wrapping your arms around your torso, keeping the robe close to your skin, “Tell you what, you still like jajangmyeon, right?” Hearing your favorite food leave his lips had your stomach already growling, but even with the hunger growing in your stomach, you still couldn’t get over your nerves.

“Yeah, but—”

“If you do a good job, I’ll order a double portion and tteokbokki.” An innocent smile passed over his lips making your heart flutter.

“F-fine…”

“Awesome. Let me set up the tripod and then I’ll be ready.” Kihyun disappeared out of room for a moment and reappeared with his camera and tripod in tow. You plopped down on the bed, your eyes catching the stereo sitting on the dresser.

“Ki…?”

“What’s up?” His eyes didn’t leave his camera as he set it up near the bed.

“Mind if I put on some music…?” You got up from the bed walked over to the stereo, your phone in hand.

“If it’ll help you, sure.” You breathed a sigh of relief as you opened your phone up to your playlist, and plugged the aux cord into it, the sound of SMNM’s ‘Everything’ flowed from the speakers. Kihyun looked up from the camera to see you swaying your hips to the beat, his hands were quick enough to take the camera from the tripod to catch you losing yourself in the song.

The silk robe slipped from your skin, fluttering to the floor as you fell onto the bed, the flash of the camera becoming nonexistent as your raked your nails up your thighs to the bare skin of your stomach. Fingertips ghosted over your décolletage, goosebumps rising at the warm sensation starting to pool in your core, you never usually got off on feeling your own touch, but with his eyes watching you, every press of your skin sent electricity through your limbs. You rolled into different positions giving Kihyun amazing shots even if you weren’t paying attention to him, the only thing on your mind was the heat that was attacking your skin.

Kihyun watched your nails mark up your skin leaving pink ribbons in their wake, his eyes focused on you rather the camera that sat in his hands. This side of you was completely different than he’d ever seen, the timid air that usually floated around you vanished like smoke, to let this erotic minx take over. His heavy gaze followed your hands down to the junction of your thighs, quiet gasps escaping your plush lips while your fingers dug into the thin lace fabric, eager to dip into your core. Kihyun couldn’t help but put the camera down to climb onto the bed, edging close to your slowly thrusting hips, his fingers aching to touch your skin. Your breathless moans of pleasure peaked his arousal, the stiffening bulge in his pants throbbed at the sight of your fingers moving your panties to the side, letting your extremities delve into your sopping core.

“Kihyun…” The slight, almost inaudible, whisper of his name tempted him to pull you to him and take you.

“Y/N… Would you like some help…?” He asked, catching the nod of your head before reaching out for your legs, his cold fingers wrapping around your thighs, he tugged your body to him in such a rough manner a gasp escaped you, but his hunger fueled your own insatiable lust. Anchoring himself under your legs, he slipped his hands around your thighs, spreading your juiciness, his tongue quickly gathering your glistening arousal onto its rough pallet before slipping into your core while smooth fingertips drew unhurried circles around your clit—the mixture of your whimpes and moans were music to his ears, a melody he had missed since the last intimate moment he shared with you. He craved to feel your body shake under his touch more than he ever has with any woman and here you were, clamping your thighs around his head as he brought you overwhelming bliss.

“Ki…” He looked up at you, your fingers motioning for him to come up, he came up between your legs, your hands wrapping around his neck to pull him down, your lips melding to his. You slipped your tongue into his mouth, rolling it over his, a throaty hum radiating through his chest as his fingers fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. Kihyun was eager to please you, feel you, sear his touch into your skin, make you his, so eager that he couldn’t get his clothes off fast enough; he pulled away from your kiss to toss his shirt onto the floor as well as his pants along with his briefs. He rested your legs over his shoulders and slid his length in between your slick folds, a breath getting caught in his chest from how sensitive he was himself.

“Y/N… are you sure…?” Kihyun asked, unsure if he could stop himself if he dipped into you and you asked him to stop.

“Please, my insides are on fire…” Your lust tainted eyes begged for him not to stop, pleaded for him to keep going. He inhaled deeply as he slid the tip of his cock into your wet heat, your fingers quick to wrap around his hands holding onto your waist. The coiling of your tight walls around him elicited an animalistic growl before he buried his length in you with one hard thrust, a scream of pure pleasure ripped through your throat as trails of fire raked through your nerves—the convulsing of your core only made him pound into your orgasming pussy, ruthlessly keeping you on cloud nine. With every graze and pointed thrust to your sweet spot, the louder your voice became, he reveled in hearing you moan because of him and didn’t care if anyone else heard you because at the end of night, they were going to know who you belonged to, “Kihyun! Please don’t stop!” You cried, another orgasm on the brink of breaking.

“I didn’t plan on it.” He adjusted your legs on his shoulders, reaching even deeper into your core, the head of his cock kissing your sweetest of spots, your body became undone with that one thrust—your toes curled as your nails dug into his arms leaving deep crescent moons into his skin, ones so deep that they would surely be bruised by the morning, “Cumming again?” He chuckled, thrusting into your wetness. The messy strings of curses mixed with his name had him throbbing inside you, his pace became erratic, his own high on the verge of busting, “I’m about to cum—where do you want me?” He rasped, trying to hold it together.

“On me…” You breathed, slightly whining when he pulled out of your core to pump his warm seed all over your stomach, painting your beautiful skin in his warmth.

Kihyun viewed your sleeping figure curled up in his bed, cloaked in the warm lighting of his bedroom as he worked in editing the pictures he took of you. Your full lashes dusted the tops of your cheeks while you floated in your dream world, leaving yourself vulnerable to Kihyun’s camera lens—he grabbed the old Polaroid camera from his desk, unable to stop him from photographing your beauty and innocence tangled up in his sheets, “If only you knew what you do to me…”

“What was the theme again?” Maria asked you while you walked arm in arm up to the venue.

“Something that makes your heart race?”

“That would be why he asked you to wear some lingerie for him.” Maria teased, a blush rising up to your cheeks.

“Hey, I didn’t tell you everything so you could tease me for the rest of my life.” You sighed, your lips forming a pout.

“I’m just kidding, the fact that you guys hooked up even though you’ve been through a ton, is great. Seeing as he liked you more than your sister anyway.” You and Maria followed the signs that were leading to the exhibit, your eyes finding other photographers work as you made your way towards Kihyun’s set up. Multiple arrangements of photos were the photographer’s significant others, photoshopped horror stories, fears, and of course—women dressed in lingerie.

Kihyun stood off to the side talking to the other photographers when his eyes found you and Maria walking up to his pieces. He watched as your eyes took in the sight of a collage of Polaroids of you, all of them strategically placed to make a large photo of you sleeping, then they flicked over to a blown up picture of you holding his hand close to your chest while you slept, and finally they landed on the pictures of you that he took while you drew in class a few weeks ago, “What do you think?” He asked for you to whip around and look at him.

“When did you…?”

“The same night, you were just sleeping so beautifully that I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take gorgeous pictures of the girl who makes my heart race.”

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janephillipsblog · 5 years ago

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Babette’s Gift

I recently closed my first semi-professional theatre experience with Fire Exit Theatre. It was quite a journey and a very rewarding and challenging one at that.

Back in August, I auditioned for “Babette’s Feast”, a play adaptation of the short story by Isak Dineson, conceived and developed by Abigail Killeen and written by Rose Courtney. It turned out to be a very unconventional audition as the venue was not open during my time slot. We auditioned in groups and my group ended up auditioning outside in a residential area. We worked on scenes from the script as well as doing group performance exercises for the director, Jeany Van Meltebeke, to see how we worked together as an ensemble.

Several days later I received an email from Artistic Director, Val Lieske, offering me a role in the ensemble, with the note that specific roles would be assigned at a later date. A couple of weeks later, another email was sent with assigned roles. I would be playing Babette as well as a little bit of ensemble work in the first part of the play before Babette makes her first entrance.

Photo Credit: Andrea Cross Photography. With Kyla Ferrier and Sarah Haggeman.

“Babette’s Feast” is set in a small Norwegian town called Berlevaag and centres around two sisters, the children of a dean to a religious sect. The two sisters, Martine and Philippa, despite their beauty, offers of marriage, and for Philippa, a chance to be an opera singer, remain in Berlevaag as spinsters throughout their life, carrying on the work of the dean after his death. In their autumn years, they take in Babette, a French refugee from the Paris Commune, as a housekeeper. Babette was once a celebrated chef at the Café Anglais in Paris and had fought as a communard, alongside her husband and son, both of whom were killed in the civil war. The story culminates in Babette’s gift to the sisters and the community – a fabulous feast of French cuisine.

We had about a three-month rehearsal period before we moved into the Engineered Air Theatre at Arts Commons, throughout which, Jeany gently pushed us to “tell good story,” paying attention to the details and working on the subtext of the script. Looking back it was incredible how much we gleaned from between the lines of what at first appeared to be a simple script and story. Rachel Peacock, as well as being a part of the cast, was the composer and musical director for the production and her compositions enhanced the show no end, with the music performed with a harp, violin, glockenspiel, our vocals and even toy wooden blocks!

I made some personal discoveries as a performer during the process. Jeany would often tell me to work on being neutral emotionally at certain parts in the play. Well, people have always been able to read me like a book and I am a terrible liar as it simply shows too much on my face. Poker player I am not! For acting there is so much to work on within to achieve what the audience will eventually see. Part of that skill is learning to live in the present, moment by moment. What human doesn’t wander emotionally into the past or future? In the many years of doing theatre, I have learnt that this mental wandering out of the present can trip a performer up in a performance.

During the rehearsal process, imposter syndrome also raised its ugly head on occasion. This was my first production out of the community theatre world where most other fellow cast mates have other careers and acting is a hobby and a different way to socialize for a lot of people. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it is a fantastic hobby and there is nothing wrong with not wanting to pursue it as a career and a person can still strive for excellence in a pastime. From the day of the first read-through, I discovered that I was among kindred spirits. I was with people working in some capacity within the industry and who wore many hats like myself, often with many projects on the go at the same time. I felt at home, however often my anxiety would whisper negative things in my ear that I didn’t belong.

The biggest challenge for me was the fact that Babette was French. Whilst it wasn’t a goal of the production for the performers to have impeccable accents, I did not want Babette to sound English. I also did not want her to have a stereotypical French accent. There were also a few lines in French within the script which presented another challenge. During high school in Ottawa, probably in Grade 11 or 12 (I have moved from the UK the summer before I started Grade 11), I was kicked out of Grade 10 French for struggling with the work in the class. My mother is still angry about it and I realize now that it was probably more to do with the teacher wanting to keep her class averages up than my learning ability. I was a shy and self-conscious teenager who hated speaking aloud in class and had always been very self-conscious about the way I spoke even in English, let alone a foreign language, as we had moved around a lot and I always had a different dialect. Those early days in high school in Ottawa usually meant I had to repeat sentences about three times to my friends before they understood what I was saying! The result was that I no longer had confidence in my ability to even learn to speak a second language. I seem to recall that in the UK, I had quite enjoyed French and German classes, but in Ottawa, everyone was so far ahead in French. The last French course I took was in first year of university as a degree requirement. My inability to speak Canada’s other official language was one of the reasons I ended up moving to Alberta.

There is a section in the script where the ensemble repeat some of the French words spoken by Babette. At the first readthrough during which I most likely pronounced the French lines incorrectly and with limited understanding of the meaning, having the words repeated caught me by surprise and in a moment of self-consciousness, I honestly thought some of the others were correcting my pronunciation! This was not the case! Though certainly down the road, Caleb and John, other cast members (Caleb was also the assistant director), helped me with the pronunciation. Google Translate also became a good friend! I talked about my hang-ups with speaking French with Caleb about two weeks before we moved into the theatre. He asked me when I was going to let them go. Right now, was my reply! I had already upped the ante for myself by inviting French-speaking friends to the show and at this point it was time to really put in some work. I would record myself speaking Babette’s lines to ensure they sounded like Babette and not me.

Photo Credit: Andrea Cross Photography

By the week of our final rehearsals, I felt that Babette had really arrived. I felt confident in my ability to portray her on stage. I was super-excited to be in a show at the Engineered Air Theatre. I had been in the venue once during the Festival of Animated Objects in March (I love the retro décor) and on the first day we were in the theatre, I remembered the intention I had set through a selfie on Facebook in May during the Bouffon workshop (held in the ATP rehearsal hall) that I hoped to again enter and exit the stage door of Arts Commons many, many times in the not too distant future. Well it came true! That is the power of manifestation, folks – I also manifested a free transit ticket that day.

Opening night was on a Wednesday. Fire Exit has a tradition for everyone to wear red shoes on opening night (started by Val and her red boots). I found a really nice pair that day in the WINS thrift store and they went really well with my green Christmas leggings. We had a talk back after the performance, my first ever. There were a couple of complimentary comments about how humble Babette was. In the lobby after, a lady asked if I was French! All our performances went really well, despite sickness making its way around the cast (par for the course for a December show – I was lucky as I had been sick a few weeks prior). Once we had an audience, we discovered that what had seemed like a serious play for the most part, was actually quite whimsical and fun throughout. Our audiences were great, very loving and kind. My French-speaking friends told me that they understood every word and joked how they were going to converse with me in French now.

Photo Credit: Andrea Cross Photography. From left to right: John Moerschbacher, Kyla Ferrier, Daniel Kim, Caleb Gordon, me, Sarah Haggeman, Rachel Peacock, Kendra Hutchinson and Ainsley Daumler.

“Babette’s Feast” was over too soon after a run of only seven performances. It will be an experience that I will forever treasure and remember. Thank you to all involved for sharing this incredible journey with me!

#actorslife #theatre #babettesfeast #fireexittheatre

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themusicenthusiast · 6 years ago

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Friday, March 29th, 2019 – Hozier Leads Fans on a Compelling Trek Through the Wasteland as the Wasteland, Baby! Tour Hits Dallas

Photos by Jordan Buford Photography South Side Ballroom has hosted plenty of sold-out shows during it’s time, some stellar talent gracing the stage just in the past year and packing out the venue that can accommodate a couple thousand or so people. However, it had been a while since a show had taken place there with the sheer amount of excitement that enveloped the one occurring on this final Friday of March 2019. Andrew Hozier-Byrne, or as he is professionally known, Hozier, was returning to Dallas for the first time in roughly four years. Four years that have seen the artist growing more and more acclaimed, his successes most recently culminating with the release of his highly anticipated second studio album, Wasteland, Baby! (out via Rubyworks Ltd./Columbia Records). Nearly three weeks in to the North American leg of the Wasteland, Baby! Tour and Hozier and his band were finally getting to North Texas for a performance that likely could have taken place at place even more spacious than South Side Ballroom. No fans were complaining about it though, recognizing this was surely the last chance they would ever have to see Hozier in a venue whose layout boasts some sort of intimacy with the artist. They had been anticipating this for quite some time; the line to get in snaking from the door to the street a ways behind the venue, down it and into the parking lot where it continued to zig and zag. The staff worked to get people in as quickly as they could, making the wait time more than acceptable, yet the line consistently stayed the same as more people arrived and joined. And that was even before when the doors had been scheduled to open at seven, more than a couple hours yet to go before Hozier would ever take the stage. Those attendees were comprised almost exclusively of a young demographic, from teens to early twenty-somethings – a few parents seen bringing their kids to what was surely the concert of the year in their eyes – and of those it was largely a female fanbase whose adoration for Hozier was readily apparent. Jade Bird commented about that stark contrast as she warmed up the audience, asking the ladies in the crowd to make some noise followed by having the guys do the same. She made a quip about them being outnumbered, grinning as she spoke. It was just her, armed with nothing more than an acoustic guitar as the young, British singer-songwriter treated listeners to some bare-bones renditions of her songs, giving them a preview of sorts of her debut LP that is due out in April. Patrons highly enjoyed what Bird did, though by the time she was done they were ready to get to the main act. Fortunately, they didn’t have long to wait. Hozier and his accompanying ensemble cast of musicians (seven in all) took the stage at 9:01, deafening fanfare officially welcoming them to Dallas.

As Hozier’s music is built on a foundation of impassioned emotions, so, too, was the performance he gave, and it was aided by a quality of production that was phenomenal, rivaling the level of what is expected from an arena show. Nothing extravagant, it was just a rich, luscious display that captivated the senses, accenting the music so that the songs felt bolder and stronger than they already were. It was noticeable as they took the stage, flickers of light barely illuminating the outlines of each musician. Soon, Hozier’s gentle plucking of the strings of his acoustic guitar rang out through the room, “Would That I” beginning the 81-minute display they had planned. As they progressed the center stage gradually filled with light, revealing the man of the hour for all to see; the climatic and impassioned choruses bringing more of the band into focus as short bursts of light struck them. An enthralling atmosphere had been established by that opening number, and to say it felt spiritual – sonically and visually speaking – would not be an understatement. The stark contrast of that track as it ebbed and flowed between something tranquil and beautifully striking was wonderous, and Hozier would only build upon that, seizing that moment to further immerse the audience in the spectacle that he had planned.

Several members of his backing band served in multiple roles, such as Rachel Beauregard and Kristen Rogers, both of whom had provided backing vocals for that opening number, and afterwards approached the front of the stage where they contributed to the percussion and keys, respectively. It was with “Dinner & Diatribes” where one was able to better appreciate the intricacies of Hozier’s music, given that everyone was able to see just how much effort goes into bringing the expectations from the recording to life. Everyone’s role was vital; most of the musicians clapping along with the percussion when they could, encouraging the spectators to do the same, which they did with glee. With that track Hozier and company made it apparent just what a force to be reckoned with they were, the energy skyrocketing off the charges, Hozier himself finding a moment to just wail on his guitar with absolute ferocity. They were in top performing shape thanks to being well into the current tour, their chemistry binding everything together as they really hit their stride with plans to go beyond it.

Quickly escalating with those first couple numbers, it all culminated with “Nina Cried Power”, the powerhouse, anthemic track being an ideal song for the live environment. Only occasionally did Hozier play a guitar during that one, instead embracing and owning the role of frontman for the only real moment of the show. He did carry his guitar along with him, holding it to his side and even lifting it slightly in the air, but for the most part he roamed about the stage and belted out every line with immense passion. The connection he had to that song was obvious, the emotions that went into it bleeding through on his face; the subtle movements, such as the little gestures of the hand that he did, being quite keen, and as minute a detail as that was it went a long way in further thrilling the crowd. What was so surprising about that was how strongly the spectators reacted to that first handful of songs. Wasteland, Baby! has only been out for a couple of months, yet those songs already seemed to be as beloved as those from his debut LP. It’s a reaction seldom had, one where fans of any artist or act enjoy the new material as much as what they’ve become so familiar with, and it speaks to the respect and even loyalty that Hozier’s fans have for him. That said, they loved hearing the couple classics that immediately followed, after which Hozier declared the crowd to be one of the most enthusiastic and simply best audiences that they had ever played to. Fearing that could be construed as just a statement he stressed his sincerity about it, the slight state of awe over the amount of love he and his band were being shown affirming how genuine he intended that comment to be.

The stage was awash with brilliant pastel lighting for “Talk”, piercing through what was otherwise darkness, the faint outlines of the majority of the band members being all that was noticeable; while “From Eden” drew a joyous response from the crowd once they discerned what it was from Hozier’s picking at the acoustic guitar he had switched out to. Perhaps one of the neatest things about this show was how Hozier worked to make it feel like an intimate affair by injecting a bit of a storyteller vibe into it. For example, in setting up the title track he spoke of what a “weird time” it had been when he first began writing for this new record, around the time that 2016 had ended. In case anyone had forgot, he reminded them that was the year a seemingly abnormal amount of celebrities – and musicians in particular – passed away, which in turn had him thinking about the end. Thus, “Wasteland, Baby!” was born, a gorgeous song that alludes to the fragile and fleeting nature of existence; the band being pared down to a trio for that primarily acoustic piece.

It was followed by another new song as well as a story to accompany it, Hozier speaking of a type of bird known as a shrike. Rightfully assuming that most were unfamiliar with the species he described some of their habits, like how they impale insects or small animals on things, even hanging them on what could be called a hook, earning them the nickname of “butcher bird”. “…They’re a beautiful bird, but also horrifying… So, I thought it would be an appropriate name for a love song,” he finished, earning a hearty laugh from the onlookers. The subdued “Shrike” portrayed Hozier and company in a different light; Suzanne Santo, who was on guitar duty for most of the night switching out to a violin, the restrained nature of that strikingly lovely track putting more focus on Hozier’s voice and the vast range he commands so impeccably well.

Patrons were elated to hear “To Be Alone”; the hypnotic drum beats Rory Doyle steadily served up enrapturing all, some clapping along ensuing before a portion of the second chorus was ceded to the fans, who shouted it at the top of their lungs. “Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)” also stood out as a fan favorite of the night, the song being so much more than what is portrayed on the recording. Amazingly intense, it allowed for arguably the most raw, primal moment of the night, Hozier proving he has all of the hallmarks of a bonafide rock star. It was straight up rock ‘n’ roll, a seductive beat and gritty guitar riffs ensuring it was a beast; the dazzling display of lights that went with it adding to the impressive scale. Adding some insight to “Almost (Sweet Music)”, Hozier explained it was about attempting to “escape the inescapable”, speaking of how music establishes a lasting connection to whatever a person is experiencing in their life at that moment, and who they were with. That really seemed to resonate with everyone, as that is one of greatest powers that music has: providing a tether to every crucial moment of one’s past, be it wonderful or awful.

The closer came abruptly, “Take Me to Church” catching everyone off-guard in the most wonderful way. Mainly, it was just difficult to believe that the night was already over. Unexpected as it was, the couple thousand people hastily got on the same page, echoing along to every last word of the now classic breakout hit; a collective shriek filling the room in the latter part, Hozier having jumped into the pit in front of the stage, getting as up close and personal as he possibly could with the lucky fans who had scored a spot at the front. A phenomenal display on all fronts, Hozier wasn’t quite done with Dallas, a couple songs planned for the 10-minute long encore. They weren’t done dazzling, either, “Work Song” showcasing another gorgeous side of the collective talent gathered on stage, as they nearly all harmonized with one another, the layers of the vocals being astounding, resulting in a stunning finish to what had been a concert for the ages.

Hozier definitely has a throng of ardent supporters, but on the other hand, there are still just as many people out there who probably view him simply as the man who performs “Take Me to Church”. He is so much more than just the guy who crafted one massive chart-topping single, though. I’ll confess, even I was inclined to believe that notion prior to this night, but this performance totally revolutionized my perceptions of Hozier. The level of artistry he possessed was jaw-dropping, epitomizing what a legitimate artist is throughout every second of the performance. Whether he’s sweetly crooning on a more tender balled or investing everything into belting out something more spirited his voice is phenomenal and brimming with emotion. His guitar work may have been secondary for him, though when he was able to dedicate more of his focus to it his chops were readily apparent; and those rare moments where he acted solely as a frontman he stood as a vigorous one.

Furthermore, he is a true singer-songwriter, and in an age where it has become more prevalent for musicians to perform music that was written by a third-party, you have to respect that. Because of that, there’s a more personal connection formed, the life events that led to these songs and how much they really meant to Hozier being noticeable as he performed them, as if baring a portion of his soul for all to see. Hozier is the kind of talent that comes around about once a generation. Considering how relatively new he still is it’s remarkable how refined his talents are, already carrying himself and executing the songs in a manner that makes it appear as if he has spent a lifetime doing this. Yet he’s remained humble enough to still be slightly shocked over the reaction people have to his music, which is refreshing to see.

As high as fans’ expectations were going in to the concert this night, they were exceeded. The band he has surrounded himself with was responsible for part of that, all being top tier talent who fleshed out the music perfectly and made sure to invigorate the audience to boot. However, a lot of credit for that needs to go to the crew as well, especially those in charge of the lighting. A key element of any show, the production for this one was stunning. It worked in brilliant harmony with the music, allowing the songs to sound bolder and more emotive. It was artistic, further accenting the artistry that went into the performance. A once in a lifetime talent, it’s easy to envision Hozier moving up to arenas of various scales in the near future. And based on what he gave Dallas this night, he’d have no trouble commanding a crowd of thousands upon thousands of people. In fact, I’d be quite interested to see how the performance would be elevated for venues of that scale, because as much as he offered up on this Friday night, Hozier still has so much to give to the world. This North American leg of the Wasteland, Baby! Tour will run through April 14th, when it will conclude in Spokane, WA at First Interstate Center for the Arts. Other stops include The Pearl in Las Vegas, NV on April 7th and Hollywood Forever Cemetery in Los Angeles, CA on April 9th. Most of the shows are already sold-out. They’ll return to the U.S. in May and June for shows in the south and mid-west, including a performance at Hangout Festival in Gulf Shores, AL on May 17th. A complete listing of Hozier’s upcoming events can be found HERE; and check out Wasteland, Baby! in iTUNES or GOOGLE PLAY. Set List: 1) “Would That I” 2) “Dinner & Diatribes” 3) “Nina Cried Power” 4) “Jackie and Wilson” 5) “Someone New” 6) “Talk” 7) “From Eden” 8) “Wasteland, Baby!” 9) “Shrike” 10) “No Plan” 11) “To Be Alone” 12) “Nobody” 13) “Moment's Silence (Common Tongue)” 14) “Almost (Sweet Music)” 15) “Movement” 16) “Take Me to Church” Encore 17) “Cherry Wine” (acoustic, solo) 18) “Work Song”

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