#Jan Van Goyen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gay-dorito-dust · 9 months ago

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Imagine Jason or Dick being jealous or pissed over Damian being a thirdwheel/cockblocked unintentionally with their gf lmao

That would be a funny sight to see. To make it worse, their gf loves spending time with Damian, viewing him as a smol tsundere cat-looking child that they want to kiss or nuzzle his cheeks whenever he's present lol. Of course with his consent.

Jason felt as though Damian had it out for him sometimes…

He couldn’t explain why as during the times that he did interrupt a sweet moment regarding you and him, they were few and far between for Jason to think that Damian was doing this coincidentally, but it happened too many times for him to count on one hand for it to not be apart of some grander scheme of his.

You however disagreed with that statement but Jason called you out on your bias towards his younger brother, meaning that your opinion was invalid.

You warned him that you wouldn’t cuddle him for a week if he tried that shit with you again…Jason was quick to concede to your demands because he honestly couldn’t live without your cuddles. But that didn’t change the fact that he truly believed that Damian not so secretly had it out for him, and it drove him to near insanity that he couldn’t prove it to you because Damian always acted prim and proper within your presence, clinging to your side from the moment you enter Wayne Manor up until you had to leave; all the wile acting like a demon spawn with him.

‘You feeling sleepy there chipmunk?’ Jason uttered softly upon noticing you trying your hardest to stay awake while mid-way through reading his book.

‘You’re being too comfortable Jaybirdie. I’m naturally going to fall asleep on you eventually.’ You murmured, snuggling closer into him to leech off of his warmth, pushing your head up so that it went from resting on his chest to resting against his shoulder and looking into his eyes. ‘Can I have a kiss?’ You asked. ‘What’s the magic word?’ Jason teased and when you pouted, he only chuckled and rested his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours. ‘I’m joking sweetheart, you can have all the kisses you want.’ He speaks lowly against your lips and just when he was about to kiss you, another voice spoke up from across the room.

‘Todd, l/n.’

‘Fucking- Jesus Christ.’ Jason flinched away from you and his eyes settled on Damian, who was stood at the end of the plush couch with a book of his own in hand, and asks. ‘Damian, what’re you doing here?’ You gave Jason a harsh nudge in the side along with a warning glare, only to visibly brightening upon seeing Damian. ‘Hi Damian! Don’t mind Jason he’s being a grump, would you like us to make room for you to sit down?’ Before Damian could get a word out you were already looking towards Jason and he groaned as he begrudgingly shifted to the other side of the couch.

‘Thank you l/n, I don’t know what Todd would be without your influence.’ Damian said as he took his seat in the space made available between you and Jason and cracked open his book that was filled with detailed descriptions of artists such as Claude Monet, John Constable and Jan Van Goyen just to name a few. ‘Unbelievable.’ Jason scoffed, looking anywhere other than you and Damian, impatiently tapping his finger against the arm on the couch for every second that Damian overstayed his welcome.

You however were thriving on the time you got with Damian as he showed you some of his favourite artists, telling you why that was while also information dropping interesting facts about art in general; You weren’t well versed in art and you weren’t claiming that you were but you silently thanked him for putting it into words that you could easily understand without feeling too out of your depth. After all it wasn’t very often that you visited the Wayne Manor but when you did, Damian was often the first -if not only- family member you wanted to see first and foremost.

‘You coddle him too much.’ Jason complained once after seeing you tightly hug Damian upon finding out he had come home from clearing a particularly dangerous mission all by himself. ‘I do not!’ You rebutted, crossing your arms. ‘Uh hate to break it to you chipmunk but you do in fact coddle him.’ Jason insisted, not liking the fact that he now had to share your attention with the little shit. ‘Then let’s ask him then.‘ you looked at your side where Damian was leaning against, minding his own business as he petted Alfred the cat’s black fur while the feline looked close to falling asleep. ‘Damian do I coddle you too much?’

Damian hummed as he looked into Jason’s eyes with a deadpan expression and said. ‘No you don’t, Todd’s just being jealous.’ And just like that he went back to petting Alfred the cat without a care to see the murderous look Jason was shooting him, all the while you were non the wise and were thrilled at the fact that Damian out right admitted to enjoying your company.

‘Isn’t he just the sweetest thing.’ You said to Jason who was gritting his teeth. ‘Oh ain’t he just.’ He spat and Damian smirked as he rested more of himself against you just to hear Jason growl. This was going to be a long weekend.

Dick Grayson didn’t mind Damian joining you at first, he even encouraged it purely out of the idea that Damian would get accustomed to your presence- thinking that it would form a bond between you- but Dick would soon learn that it would ultimately be his undoing.

‘Dick! Stop!’ You squealed as you poor attempts to push him away were dismissed as his hold on you tightened, pulling you further against him as he briefly put a stop to his bombardment of kisses to make a face of thought.

‘Hmmm let me think on that…I don’t think I will.’ He said as he continued to pepper kisses across your face to his heart content, all the while purposefully avoiding kissing your lips much to your growing dismay as you tried to steal at least one kiss from his lips, only to find yourself being unsuccessful in your many attempts.

‘Close but I appreciate a good attempt.’ Dick teased, pressing a kiss to your nose before cutely rubbing his nose against yours and choosing to keep his face close to your own, his lips becoming a smirk. ‘Though if a kiss is what you wanted, all you needed to do is ask and I would’ve happily obliged.’ He chuckled and pulled his face away when you tried to lean in for a kiss. ‘Stop pulling away.’ You whined and Dick couldn’t help but find it infinitely cuter when you tried to reach out to him, only for him to kiss the back of you hand before intertwine your fingers.

‘Then ask me to kiss you.’ He said. ‘Ask me to kiss you and then we’d both be happy.’ He adds on, not wanting to reveal how desperate he was for your sweet, sweet kisses just yet. However fate had other plans for him when Damian burst into the room and you had immeditly pushed Dick off of you so hard that he landed on the hard flooring of his bedroom.

‘Damian!’ You cheered. ‘How’s my favourite Wayne doing today?’

‘Your favourite?’ Dick groaned as he got up, rubbing his aching back as he looked over at the two of you, pouting. ‘I thought I was your favourite.’ Dick felt a little betrayed that you would easily discard him for his younger brother like you did, but knew that you meant nothing by it other then just raw excitement at seeing his younger brother after so long.

‘I’m doing well.’ Damian replied, giving you a small smile as he welcomed your tight hug before looking over at his older brother who looked like a kicked puppy. ‘Still putting up with Grayson and his dramatics?’ You dramatically slumped your shoulders. ‘It might as well be considered my full time job at this point.’ You joked, smiling upon hearing Dick’s gasp of disbelief.

‘I’ll have you know I am a delightful person!’ He defended himself, crossing his arms and looking away from you both. You and Damian shared a look. ‘Yeah a delightful pain in my ass.’ You whispered under your breath as you looked back at Dick while Damian smirked. ‘Are you still pouting?’ You asked.

‘Obviously!’ Dick exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air, ‘tonight was meant to be date night. Our night.’ He said, somehow managing to pout even further as he continued to glare as the opposing wall as though it had personally insulted him just now. ‘I’ll make it up to you so can you please quit with the dramatics.’ You said but Dick didn’t move and only huffed in response, showing that wasn’t good enough for him.

‘Wanna go for a walk Damian? Maybe that’ll help you with the lack of inspiration for your latest art piece?’ You then brought your attention back to the young man with the emerald eyes as he visibly perked up at the offer. ‘I could go for a walk.’ He replied and just before leaving the room he casted his eyes towards Dick. ‘What’s about him?’

‘Yeah what about him.’ Dick said sarcastically from his corner, causing you to look to the ceiling with a disbelieving smile upon your lips. ‘He can come but only on the condition that he stops being pouty.’ You said and for a minute it was silent until you felt a pair of strong arms at your waist and his face buried in your neck. ‘Only if we can go back to our regularly scheduled date night.’ Dick muttered against your skin. ‘Without Damian.’ He adds and you rub your hands over the back of his reassuringly. ‘Certainly my little dickie bird. No need to get jealous of your little brother now. It’s not a good look on you.’ You teased him this time and dick groaned. ‘Only when you stop encouraging his behaviour.’ He said.

You scoffed. ‘Says the one who was all for us having a bond.’

‘And I’ve learnt my lesson.’ Dick retorted. ‘There’s only room for one person in your heart and it’s me and I’m not sharing.’ You cooed as you pressed a kiss to his temple. ‘Careful there, you almost sound possessive.’ You taunted him, having way too much teasing him and giving him a taste of his own medicine.

‘So what if I am?’ Dick asked.

‘Then I’d say that you have nothing to worry about,’ you reassured him, picking one of his hands from your waist and kissing it before allowing it to go back to your waist, ‘you’ll always be my number one dickie bird.’

It was sad that date night didn’t go to plan but by the end of the night you, Dick and Damian were fast asleep on the couch with Dick flat on his back and holding you against his chest, while you held Damian against your chest and Damian cuddling up to the both of you and holding onto you tightly; deathly afraid of letting go but his grip going completely slack upon falling asleep.

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longlivebatart · 1 year ago

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Episode 2- Twelfth Night

Welcome to Long Live Bat Art, the podcast for art lovers who don’t see art as much as they want to. My name is Sydney and thank you for taking this slow tour through an art gallery with a casual art lover. Today, I’ll be talking about Twelfth Night by Jan Steen. I hope you enjoy.

Jan Steen was born in Leiden in 1626. Twenty years later he went to Leiden University, which is why we know his birth year- the rest of the details of his birth are a mystery. Because he was college educated, he was exposed to literature and mythology outside of his own Catholic mythology.

In 1648 he, along with Gabriel Metsu, founded the ‘Painters’ Guild of St. Luke’ in that city. St. Luke is the patron saint of artists, which makes him the prime candidate for having an artists’ guild named after him. His teachers included Nicolaus Knupfer, Adriaen van Ostade, and Jan van Goyen. He ended up marrying the daughter of van Goyen, Margriet.

Steen was inspired by not only history and mythology but also by real life, especially those who tend to poke fun at real life. He painted a few pieces about Rhetoricians, who were actors in the theater. That isn’t surprising, considering that his uncle was a Rhetorician in Steen’s home town. There’s a few pieces of other evidence that Steen drew from theater and actors rather than real life- several of his paintings show so-called doctors who often make false diagnoses. These doctors are shown dressed in the way of a century before, which makes a valid argument for being a man dressed in a costume of a doctor rather than an actual medical professional.

Steen likely didn’t have very many students. In fact, only a single painter is speculated to have been one- Richard Brakenburg. But despite the lack of direct students, his work influenced many others.

He was prolific. According to Tobias van Westrheene he painted 500 paintings, and Hofstede de Groot said 1000. Because of how many he painted, 350 of them survive.

And apparently, the Dutch have a proverb about Jan Steen that I won’t try to pronounce. But the English translation is ‘a Jan Steen household’, which means more or less to have a messy house. Which, savage. That’s what my legacy would be, though. But it probably doesn’t refer to Steen’s actual lack of housekeeping, but the lived-in interiors of his works instead.

Arnold Houbraken was a so-called biographer who admitted that his ‘research’ came solely from Steen’s paintings when he wrote that Steen’s paintings were drawn from his life, just as his lifestyle was like his paintings. Houbraken’s assessments must be taken with a mountain of salt, seeing as how most of his biographies of other painters have been proven to have been largely made up or drawn from the artist’s work rather than the artist. There may be truth in the notion that you can only make art of any kind from your own experience, but you are not your work and you’re not always the same person as who you choose to base art on.

Now, onto the painting.

If you took a prior look at this artwork and decided I was insane for trying to describe it, you might be right. But it was such an interesting work I figured I had to try.

It’s a table at a large dinner. Nine adults and two children are clustered at it, some standing and some sitting. There are four adults in the background at the extreme right of the piece, all seated.

The center of the painting is dominated by a woman reclining on a chair, her right arm over the back of it and looking over that shoulder to look at a child. The reclining woman is wearing a white bonnet she’s untied to be loose around her head. Strands of her dark blonde hair are shown curled over her forehead. Her face is relaxed and she’s smiling softly. Her cheeks are rosy in good health, or maybe just a lot of wine. She’s wearing a white garment that’s more revealing than I thought was permitted back then- you can see the skin of her throat, some of her shoulders, and cleavage. She’s wearing a bright orange corset, and a long dark mustard skirt that looks like it’s made of velvet or a similar material. It has the look of it when you stroke it the wrong way in parts of the skirt. The skirt is draped over her lap and legs, which are spread open slightly, though no skin is shown. She’s wearing pointed orange shoes a few shades darker than her corset.

As a brief aside, if you listened to the episode on Vermeer’s The Milkmaid I described a box on the floor behind the titular character. I thought that the box would contain warm coals to heat the food or room. The same kind of box makes an appearance in this painting. That's what I love about making this show- I'm learning new things.

Her left foot is against the floor and her right one is in a box- this one with no top and only two closed sides. There’s a bowl in it, probably holding warm coals as I thought before. It looks like they were used to warm toes, not food or rooms.

The woman is also wearing an overcoat that looks like velvet, as well. It’s a warm light brown on the outside and a cream on the inside. Her right arm is bare from just below her shoulder down to her wrist, and she’s holding a tall white decanter that looks like ceramic with small pink flower details, probably containing alcohol going by the glass with amber liquid in it in her left hand. Her left arm is bare the same as her right and her hand is holding the glass in such a way that the liquid is tipped towards the side, but has no chance of spilling. It’s half-full.

She has a white cloth napkin spread over her lap. The end near her knees and closer to the viewer is folded under itself, and the end near her stomach is folded over. The folds are shadowed.

There’s a man to our right of the reclining woman, her left. He’s wearing a flat red hat with black feathers, but it’s almost on the side of his head. It’s being held up because his head is drastically tilted the opposite way. It looks like he’s holding some kind of awl or other pointed thin metal tool in one hand and using it to puncture some kind of taut fabric or leather covering on the jug he holds tucked under his other arm. He’s smiling widely. He’s older- he’s bald and has a short white beard and mustache. He’s wearing a black shirt with a high ruffled white collar that reminds me of portraits of monarchs in England. He has brightly colored fabric draped over the arm closer to the viewer, his left. It’s tucked under his belt. It’s striped with mustard yellow, deep orange, and dark brown. It reminds me of Mexican serapes. Maybe the technique or just the fabric made its way from Central America all the way to Holland. The Dutch were prolific traders, they were so close to the water.

His pants are beige, almost a khaki color. They have a vertical band of darker brown on one hip from his belt to his ankle. His socks are dark gray and he has dark brown leather shoes in the same style as the reclining woman, though his are more squared at the toes. The shoes show the sides of the foot, only covering the soles, toes, and heel.

To the left of the image and the right of the reclining woman is a small child standing on an end table that’s carved on the front drawer. The carving is detailed but not terribly ornate- it has swoops and an oval design around the keyhole. There’s a three-armed candle next to the child with a snuffer extending from the metal plate underneath. The child is holding a glass in both hands and has just finished drinking deeply from it- the glass is still to his lips but his head is bowed. Perhaps he partook in alcohol as well.

The child is wearing a white undershirt that looks like a long nightshirt and stops above his knees- the lower half of his legs are bare. He’s wearing cream socks that have been pushed down and brown shoes that are in the same style as the velcro shoes you put on little kids- there’s a smaller gap on the sides but not as drastic as the adults’ shoes.

He’s also wearing a mustard overcoat with white fur at the collar. His hair still has the fineness of childhood. It’s long and dark blonde. Maybe he’s the son of the reclining woman- she has a fond expression on her face as she looks at him. He has a white paper hat on his head that looks somewhat like a chef’s hat. There’s another slightly older child behind him who’s tugging on his overcoat. This child has a basket upside-down on his head and a flushed face, maybe from more alcohol.

This child is wearing a forest green overcoat. He has a light blue fabric draped over his shoulders, like what you do with a sweater if you don’t feel like tying it around your waist. This isn’t tied, though. His legs are bare like the first child’s, and he’s wearing the same kind of socks and shoes.

Behind the child in green is a man in black clothes who has some kind of pointed metal receptacle on his head. It's like a big funnel. He also has a flat piece of leather carrying spoons tied around his waist. He’s holding a large metal serving spoon towards the man next to him, and what looks like a huge metal spatula against his shoulder. For all I know, it’s an instrument. He’s holding it like he’s playing a violin. He must be a fan of kitchen implements that could possibly be instruments. The man to his immediate left is more stern- he has a long metal thing in his mouth, maybe he’s taking a draw from some kind of tobacco or something like that.

The man to his left is also wearing black, with a white bib that extends over his shoulders and a black hat with a wide brim. The next figure looks like a nun- she’s wearing black with the covering over her hair and the white piece separating it from her face. The rest of her outfit is black as well. She has her hand on the stem of the glass the first child is drinking out of- whether she’s giving it to him or trying to take it away is unclear. She has a slightly amused expression on her face.

The next woman must be a server of some kind- she’s holding a black tray of food over her head. It could be waffles or cookies, I can’t tell. She’s smiling. Her arms are pale where they’re exposed by her clothing. She’s wearing a black top with a white dress underneath.

The next man has longer curly hair that’s graying. He's wearing black, as well, with a white collar. I thought it was odd that a few figures are dressed so darkly and the first four so vividly. But this man is turned slightly to talk to the musician on his left. The musician is standing in front of a painting in an ornate gold frame. The painting is a dark landscape, with a slim tree on the left of the image and dark details I can’t make out in the rest, with a sky with an orange glow emanating from the middle.

The musician is playing a fiddle. He’s wearing a brown bowler hat and is talking to the man with graying hair I described before. He’s young- his face still has a boyish look to it and he doesn’t have any facial hair. He’s wearing a deep green coat and a blue-toned shirt underneath with the lapels showing. In front of him is a woman looking to her left. Her arms are folded on the table with her right arm laying over her left. You can see a hint of orange fabric peeking out from under her coat, which is green-toned with white fur down the front, at her collar, and at her wrists. She’s smiling softly.

The man seated on the left of the four seated figures is wearing a blue hat that’s darker on the underside of the flat top. His face is pale and he has a small beard extending solely from his chin. Almost like a long soul patch. Not a great look. His face is blank- maybe he’s bored. No one seems to be talking to him. To the right is a figure you can barely see between the women in front of him. He has slicked black hair that’s covering both sides of his forehead in a curve. He’s wearing black clothes with a white collar, though his is buttoned up. The next man is seen in profile. He’s wearing a black hat and has long curly brown hair that falls just past the front of his shoulders. He has a thin pencil mustache. Also not a great look. His shirt is a green-yellow, more of the latter than the former. He has a wide white collar. And the last figure is a woman with her back to the viewer. This woman is wearing a thick black shawl with white trim over a red-orange dress. She has some kind of necklace on, as well. You can only see the back of the necklace- it’s not a chain, more of a thin leather strap. It has a short orange tassel at the very back of her neck. She’s sitting in a sturdy wooden chair that has been carved to have gently twisting legs and a high back with a gap in the middle that shows the person sitting in its back.

Now that the figures are done, let’s move on to the rest of the painting. The background is what looks like a dark wooden wardrobe behind the last four figures. You can see two posts of it extending upwards, with oval decorations topping them. It’s against a green wall- it’s darker behind the wardrobe, then the corner is further into the painting space and is lighter because of the window. The window has a sheer curtain tied back on the left of it. The window is closed and is separated into four sections of glass- two on the left and two on the right. The glass is broken up by black pieces, like lead in stained glass.

In front of the window is an empty birdcage, or maybe a chandelier for candles. Either way, it’s rounded, open, and metal. It’s dangling by a chain from a wooden beam on the ceiling. On the extreme left of the background is a stone fireplace, maybe. Some of the stone is gray and carved, some of it is brown and polished. Onto the foreground.

The floor is checkered with wide black and white marble tiles. You can see the veins in the material. There’s an empty jug on the left near the children, and two pans. One is a brighter metal than the other. The brighter metal one is also deeper, with a spoon resting in it. The darker one is more of a skillet. On the right of the image are eggshells broken on the floor. There’s a whole egg, too- blue-toned in color. The table in the middle ground is covered with two tablecloths- the top one is white, but the under one is more reminiscent of a carpet. It has orange, brown, and mustard floral designs on it, and it’s stiffer like a carpet, too.

The table holds dessert- plates, a single orange, and a cake on a stand. Last, but certainly not least, is what looks like a spaniel mix standing in front of the table. He’s white with brown markings on him that are smaller near his feet, and his tail is up and alert. He’s standing and looking off into the distance to the right of the painting.

Now for my thoughts.

The skin, the fabric, it all looks like you can see what it would feel like just by looking at it. Like the velvet of the reclining woman’s dress. There’s also smooth metal, soft paper, and wiry fur.

It seems like a fun party, with alcohol flowing for both the adults and the children. Other than the four people on the right, but maybe they’re just taking a short break from the revelry. There are also a few people with non-hats on their heads. Which just reminds me of those stereotypical college frat parties where someone ends up with a lampshade on their head. Drunk people, man. The same throughout history.

I also love the way Steen captured the liveliness of this celebration. Music is playing, people are laughing, and all around a good time is being had. That’s what makes this piece so interesting- the joy the subjects are experiencing. I can’t help but smile when I see this piece. It looks like a gathering of loved ones that truly enjoy each other’s company.

People have always had fun, and it’s great to see that depicted in art. Lots of people think that the past was so much harder than it is today, which it probably was. But there were times where they were just as happy as we are. Life wasn’t misery after misery, they had celebrations as well. And just as happiness brings people together today, it did the same back then. And seeing a piece of art like this, it just reminds me of that. Looking at this piece of art is like looking in a window that can see into the past, showing the viewer a glimpse of what life was like. And life is fun.

Because that’s what it boils down to- fun. Sure- sometimes you can have bad days, even bad weeks. But there’s always something to look forward to, some small kernel of future or even past joy that you can use to keep yourself going.

Here’s my challenge for you- find one thing to be happy about today. It can be a memory, it can be a quiet moment at the park where you see a dog chase its own tail, fully believing that this time he’ll get it. If you do that, you might realize something- big joy and small joy is the same. You can land a multi-million dollar job or have a great day in another country, or you could have a cool drink on a hot day or spend some time with a friend. Joy is joy.

If you liked this episode of Long Live Bat Art, please consider telling a friend and reviewing to help the podcast grow. A link to the transcript of this episode is available in the show notes below. And you can follow me on Twitter at Long Live Bat Art. That’s Long Live B-A-T Art. Thank you for listening to this episode, and I will see you in two weeks.

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