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psychreviews2 · 11 months ago

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The Presocratics: Zeno

Zeno of Elea

In the tradition of Parmenides of Elea, Zeno was a student of his who flourished in the mid 5th century BC. Much of Zeno's thoughts comes down to us from Plato's Parmenides, where there's a dialogue between Parmenides, Zeno and Socrates. Laertius adds, as Aristotle did, that Zeno was "skilled to argue on both sides on any question..." He was an early, if not the earliest philosopher to use the dialectic method, and therefore an influence for a young Socrates and Plato later on. The meeting may be imaginary because it is not possible to verify Plato's account, but it set up a challenge to Eleatic philosophy for posterity. There are texts that purport that Zeno was in Athens, was paid for his instruction and that Pericles heard Zeno discourse. In Plato's account Zeno was described as 40 and Parmenides 65. At this time Socrates was supposed to be a "very young man." In Plato's Parmenides, Parmenides and Zeno are translated as and described as lovers. In another account, Parmenides adopted Zeno when they were younger. It's for sure that many readers with a sense of humor will try to conflate both of those stories, but it's hard to know what really happened because all these accounts are passed down over the years through intense memorization that few modern people could tolerate. It's not like sending a documentarian back in a time machine to film the dialogue. The end of Zeno's life also has different accounts like alternate storylines manufactured for sensation, which makes it more salient and therefore easier to remember, but may not be entirely true.

Diodorus of Sicily, for example, recounts his version. "When Zeno's native city was being ground down by the tyranny of Nearchus, Zeno formed a conspiracy against the tyrant. But he was found out, and when he was asked by Nearchus, while suffering the agonies of the torture, who his fellow conspirators were, he replied, 'Would that I were as much the master of my body as I am of my tongue!' And when the tyrant made the torture more and more severe, Zeno still withstood it for a while; and then, being eager to be rid at last of the agony and at the same time to be revenged upon Nearchus, he devised the following plan. During the greatest intensity of the torture, pretending that his spirit was yielding to his bodily pains, he cried out, 'Relax it! I will tell the whole truth.' And when they did so, he asked Nearchus to come near and listen to him privately, asserting that many matters he was about to disclose would best be kept secret. When the tyrant came up to him readily and placed his ear close to Zeno's lips, Zeno took the tyrant's ear into his mouth and sank his teeth into it. And when the attendants quickly approached and applied every torment to make Zeno relax his hold, he held on all the tighter. Finally, being unable to shake the fortitude of the man, they stabbed him to death that they might in this way break the hold of his teeth. By this device Zeno got release from the agonies he was suffering and exacted on the tyrant the only punishment within his grasp." But in another account that sounds like something out of a Scorsese movie, "Hermippus says, that [Zeno] was put into a mortar, and pounded to death."

Kirk and Raven describe Zeno as being "like Parmenides...to have been originally a Pythagorean...His characteristic method was, to reduce his opponents' hypotheses to absurdity by deducing from them the contradictory consequences. The hypotheses to which he especially turned his destructive talents were two, namely plurality and motion, which were unquestioningly accepted by all except the Eleatics themselves; but for all that, his arguments may well have been aimed particularly at the Pythagoreans." The classic arguments for Zeno involve scenarios where perceptual measurement is difficult to reconcile with how we can zoom into matter endlessly without finding absolute demarcations in matter. We stop at the limit of our strength or technology and give up the search at one morsel, atom, or subatomic particle, and can't go any further without new technological aids and advancements. For those familiar with past episodes on Buddhism and Nagarjuna, these arguments will be recognizable in the One vs. Many arguments.

Mindfulness: Nirvana: https://rumble.com/v1grcgx-mindfulness-nirvana.html

Thought and Meditation - Rob Burbea: https://rumble.com/v1gqufd-thought-and-meditation-rob-burbea.html

One example from Philoponus was that Zeno "rested his proof of this on the infinite divisibility of any continuum. For, he argued if what is were not one and indivisible, but were divided into plurality, nothing would be one in the proper sense (for, if the continuum were divided, it would be divisible ad infinitum)..." A similar argument was about Place. Simplicius recounts that "Zeno's argument seemed to do away with place, putting the question as follows: if place exists, in what will it be? For every existent is in something; but what is in something is in a place. Place therefore will be in a place, and so on ad infinitum therefore place does not exist."

Because there is a sense of space and place, there's also a sense of movement. A famous example from Zeno was The Arrow where motion is treated more like displacement of space, where at no point does movement leave a vacuum behind. "The flying missile is at rest during its flight, if everything must either be in motion or at rest, but an object in flight always occupies a space equal to itself. But what always occupies a space equal to itself is not in motion, it is therefore at rest." Zeno is focusing on how a reconfiguration of an infinite body is still interdependent.

Even more difficult for Zeno is that if you compare matter to measurement, technically you can subdivide distances into fractions ad infinitum so you couldn't ever arrive at an absolute distance with certainty. Measurements are practical approximations like you see on a ruler. Each measurement marker on an ruler has a certain diameter so we can see it, but IT can be subdivided endlessly as well. Simplicius summarized that "the argument is, in outline, that a moving body in completing any given distance would have to pass through an infinite number of half-way points; which is impossible, and therefore motion is impossible." It's possible in perception, but impossible in the absolute.

Even comparisons between greater and smaller adjust our perception when the comparisons change, yet to Zeno it's simply a rearrangement of the same things that are also interdependent reconfigurations in an infinite body. "For if it should be added to something else that exists, it would not make it any bigger...Clearly the thing being added or subtracted is nothing." You can then subdivide matter and end up with no absolute measurements either. "'The many must be both limited and unlimited in number. Limited, because it is as many as it is; no more nor less. Unlimited, because two things are two only when they are separated; in order that they may be separated, there must be something between them; and so too between this intermediate and each of the two, and so ad infinitum.'" You're left with an infinite one-ness because even shape requires a beginning middle and end. "For no such part of it will be last, nor will there be one part...not related to another." Aristotle of course criticized these arguments, and many of Zeno's arguments survive through his writings. He separated ideas of mathematics from seamless experience. "Time is not composed of indivisible instants any more than any other magnitude is composed of indivisibles."

To summarize these Eleatic ideas in Plato's account of the meeting, Socrates asks "how do you mean this, Zeno? If things that are, are many, they must therefore be both like and unlike, but this is impossible. For unlike things cannot be like nor can like things be unlike. Isn't that what you are saying? Now if it is impossible for unlike things to be like and like things unlike, is it also possible for things to be many? For if they were many they would have impossible attributes." Zeno's take from Parmenides's positive proof is a negative proof of: "One says 'The One' and one says 'Not Many...'"

Socrates later responds to Parmenides and his admission that there is an IS, and allows the like and unlike to be One in the sense that the plural of IS is ARE. They ARE. Ontology is the study of being, and being can include levels of being that allow for variety. How they share and partake with each other is their interconnection while still retaining plurality. For those interested in Buddhism, it's similar to FORM = EMPTINESS, EMPTINESS = FORM. Things may be interdependent, but you wouldn't ignore human perception. "But tell me this: don't you think that there exists, in itself, some form of Likeness, to which is opposed a different one, which is unlike, and that both you and I and the different things which we do in fact call 'many' come to partake of these two things which are?" Through comparison of categories, Socrates shows that what attributes can be in common, which would be IS in the particular, or Being in the general, are the most simple and encompassing. IS can be broken down into ARE and still Be. "When he seeks to show that I am many, he just mentions that my right is one thing and my left another, my front's one thing and my back's another, and likewise for upper and lower-for I do, I believe, partake of Multitude. But when he wants to show that I am one, he'll say that out of the seven of us who are here, I myself am one man and partake of the One. So he can show that both are true." By delineating between supra- and sub-categories, the perception is simply looking at the Universe and using larger or smaller categories out of everything. What is looked at can be One AND Many. Some of these categories can be more general, and apply to many things, and some more specific. You can expand the One to include infinite existence and then subdivide from perception thereon.

Parmenides goes into exploring Plato's Forms of Greatness, Beauty, and Justice. "Although one and the same, then, its whole will be in many separate beings at the same time, and so it would be separated from itself." Socrates then provides an example of the day that "although one and the same, is many places at once and is not at all separate from itself." The word partake, is used a lot but in a more modern style, the word share I think would be easier to grasp. The day for example looks different as it goes on and it has an opposite, the night. One could also look at the day in terms of 24 hours so that the night shares a calendar day, depending on categories you choose to prioritize and focus on. Parmenides warns that "if you'll partition Greatness itself, then each of the many great things will be great by means of a part that's smaller than Greatness itself- doesn't that appear illogical?" Even further what is considered small is great in comparison to a smaller part of the small. "Since it's just a part, the Small will be greater than it."

In response, Socrates introduces abstraction and separates our ideas of things from the phenomenon and points out our activity in perception. "But Parmenides, couldn't it be that each of these forms is a thought and properly comes to be nowhere but in souls? Then each could in fact be one and would not still suffer the things you just mentioned." Certainly the suffering is only happening in the human mind and samples of perception. Each perception-sample IS. It brought Parmenides to consider that "Each is one of our thoughts—[not] thoughts of nothing [but] of something that is or is not?" Socrates then explains the Forms in a way like a projection of how we can utilize them and how their characters appear to us. "These forms stand in nature like patterns. The different things resemble them and are likenesses, and so the different things' participation in the forms turns out to be nothing else than to be made in their likeness!" These patterns are recognized in humans as being of more or less recognition according to ideal forms, which like mathematics, can only exist in the mind perfectly, but are only approximations with matter. The ideas turn into branches of objective knowledge. Most importantly "neither do we possess them nor could they be among us." This creates a mathematical objective reality with a sense of human purpose within it. Parmenides asserts that "then what the Beautiful itself is and the Good and all the things that we do suppose to be ideas are unknown to us." "I'm afraid so." Parmenides then feared that this knowledge is that of a God that doesn't interfere with us and we have to suss out these objective truths for ourselves, and the danger is a pervading ignorance and also a freedom to go into denial. Parmenides then advised Socrates to develop theories by comparing what IS and also what IS NOT, to polish a more objective Truth as humanity learns and moves out from ignorance. In this version of the Theory of Forms, laws of cause and effect make up the patterns we see, and then we extrapolate logical laws by watching the behavior of matter. Matter is imitating logical laws that have the power to direct.

The Italian scholar and Catholic priest Marsilio Ficino, in his translations of Plato into Latin, admired Parmenides lack of resentment and his generosity in helping Socrates flesh out his ideas. "Notice how Parmenides, at times when philosophic tenets are being torn to shreds, trains the young man to be careful in his replies and judicious in his discrimination." For Ficino, he views the forms as a sign from God, and that humans are also made in the likeness of God, or Forms. It becomes a guide that separates the divine from the profane on Earth and sends a signal for us to move towards, like an intelligence meditation of pure ideas contemplated, and crude matter is renounced. "Being about to perceive the single best principle of the universe, we are obliged, first of all, to lay aside whatever is most at variance with it, that is, evil and multiplicity, and to use all our powers to be called back to our unparalleled and best quality, back to the simple and peaceful contemplation of sublime intelligence." This is hinted at when Parmenides chides Socrates about the cleavage between Forms and what ends up being dross for both of them. "Well then, Socrates, what about those things that would seem to be laughable, such as Hair and Mud and Dirt or any different thing that's very worthless and lowly? Are you at an impasse over whether it is or is not necessary to say that there is a separate form of each of these, something different than what we can lay our hands on?" "No, not at all!" Yet there's still a mystery that Socrates feels in his idea of the forms, or as Plato speaks for Socrates. "In the Theaetetus, when Socrates was asked to refute those who posited a single motionless being, he did not undertake to do so himself but gave this answer: Although I honour Melissus and others, who say that there is one self-consistent totality, for it may seem immodest of me to cross them, yet I honour them less than I do Parmenides alone, for Parmenides, to use Homer’s words, strikes me as one who is sagacious and worthy of great honour. I once conversed with him when he was advanced in years and I was but a youth, and he struck me as having a wisdom that was profound and noble in all respects. This is why I fear that we do not have the slightest understanding of his sayings and expressions, and what he himself implied by his words is, I fear, even more of a closed book to us."

To review the arguments once again, Parmenides, in his old age, decided to debate a younger less experienced Aristotle, not the famous philosopher, to conserve his energy. Their arguments fleshed out a One that cannot be made of parts, because a Whole cannot have Parts. It cannot have a beginning, middle, or end. It has to be limitless with no shape. It can't have a location, change or move if it were partless. Even things we see in motion are simply parts displacing each other in limited human perception, but the One itself is not moving. These are our perceptions and memories. At any one time perceptions are seeing shapes, locations, movements, and objects displacing each other in space and time. Even measurement cannot subdivide this One without our own participation in such labels. This is why age and time cannot be anything other than what humans introduce because even moments of time are smaller perception-memories that can be subdivided ad infinitum. We need memories of older and younger to make that comparison. Without the comparison we are back to just an indefinable IS. The One has no becoming or hereafter. The problem with these exercises is that they lack a sense of utility that humans crave. Even Ficino sees Parmenides as "the pursuer of Being, which is detached from sensory perception..."

That is the rub for Plato, the discounting of perception, and Socrates's argument cleaves this One into two by finding common ground with Parmenides and Pythagoras that there is an IS, and the starting point is always two, not One, because of our perception. Our perception can notice opposites and through that knowledge, it can use imagination to develop precise ideas from those comparisons. We need comparison to learn conventional truth, which is an abstraction that allows us to count matter and develop mathematical abstractions from perception into seamless formulas. Then we can shape matter as close as possible to the idealistic potentials pointed to in those formulas for our benefit. Eg. An Architect. "...Each of these pieces hold fast to the One and Being, and the very least piece comes to consist, in turn, of two pieces, and, according to the same speech, it is always this way. Namely, whatever piece comes to be, it always holds fast to these two pieces; for the One always holds fast to Being and Being to the One. The result is that, since it always becomes two, it necessarily is never one." The superstructure is the One Everything, and the substructure is IS. The Being is One, but we experience in human perception the multitude of the Being of IS and ARE. The Pythagorean method is then re-introduced by using number as a way to measure multitude, because we can count quantities in the repeated qualities found in perception. "And so if all number partakes of beinghood, would each piece of number also partake of it?" The numbers and being can be logical because general categories can house subcategories and "as long as it is, it must always, by necessity, be one thing; it's impossible that it be nothing...For Being neither lacks the One nor the One Being; rather, since they are two, they are always, in every case, equal." This allows the perception of movement, time, subject, object, shape and space. Perception already is a measurement out of the whole and what makes us human and capable of making some sense out of our existence.

The Presocratics: Pythagoras: https://rumble.com/v1gsugl-the-presocratics-pythagoras.html

The discussion reaches the limits of human perception and one has to resort to memory-instants, demarcation, and outlines to describe what is at rest or in motion. It again allows for a form of suffering and death, coming and going, where the One doesn't lose it's One-ness, but there's an acceptance that "the One would suffer all these experiences, if it is." An unlimited whole turns into a "limitless multitude." The conversation expanded into Parmenides's IS-NOT as a form of knowledge that people can attain because the knowledge of what IS NOT, IS knowledge. Plato's theory of the Forms are like polished ideas that separate from imperfect perception. It's like heavenly intelligence vs. deficient matter. In Plato's Parmenides, Samuel Scolnicov uses the example of Beauty. "Sensible things are what they are because they participate in or imitate other entities, which are what they are in themselves. The beautiful itself is beautiful in and by itself; other beautiful things are beautiful because they stand in a certain relation to the beautiful itself, and only in certain respects but not in others...They are dependent, and this is why they are deficient..." Here we can look at matter imitating laws of the universe that we are able to formulate more perfectly than how matter actually behaves. Of course, the trick is to see deviances in behavior so we can update formulas to predict future behavior. There's also a hostility because of that struggle to live in matter and to make matter conform to our perfectionist ideas. The irony is that both philosophers are taking perceptual experience in matter and extrapolating an unknowable One that can be understood, but not perceived, or Forms that are understood but imperfectly aligned with behavior in matter.

Zeno of Elea - Lee, H. D. P.: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9781107480278/

Zeno's Paradoxes - Wesley C. Salmon: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780872205604/

Plato's Parmenides - Mitchell Miller: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780691629926/

Plato's Parmenides - Albert Keith Whitaker: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780941051965/

Plato and Parmenides - Francis MacDonald Cornford: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780415613897/

Plato's Parmenides: Text, Translation & Introductory Essay - Arnold Hermann: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9781930972711/

Plato's Parmenides - Samuel Scolnicov: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780520224032/

The Presocratic Philosophers - G.S. Kirk: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780521274555/

A Presocratic Reader - Richard McKirahan: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9781603843058/

Lives of Eminent Philosophers - Diogenes Laertius Books 6-10: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780674992047/

The Library of History - Diodorus of Sicily: https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Diodorus_Siculus/10*.html

Evermore Shall Be So - Marsilio Ficino: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780856832567/

Troubling Play - Kelsey Wood: https://www.isbns.net/isbn/9780791465202/

Philosophy: http://psychreviews.org/category/philosophy03/

#zenoofelea #presocratics #greek philosophy

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ervinafindy · 1 year ago

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Getting to know more closely: Details of the process of painting andy Warhol's paintings by Denny Ja

Denny Ja, an Indonesian artist who has been poor across the art scene, is not only known as a painter and graphic design expert but also as a POP Art Art Artist's observer and admirer by Andy Warhol. In a challenging art project, Denny JA managed to re -paint one of the famous Warhol works, Campbell's Soup Cans, which was then displayed in an art exhibition titled "Andy Warhol: Pop Art Icons" in Jakarta, in December 2017. However, this re -painting is not just any duplicate made by downloading or copying photos of the original. Instead, Denny JA made a completely empty canvas, and then applied the same techniques and technologies as Warhol used when painting the original in 1962. The technique used by Warhol, which is a wigraphy technique, is a printing technique that is commonly used in making posters, t -shirts, and other promotional materials. This technique allows Warhol's original paintings to be produced in large quantities and appropriate, inevitably become one of the striking pop art engineering innovations. To be able to re -paint Warhol's paintings accurately using a seigraphy technique, Denny JA stated that he must understand every element and process involved in its original manufacturing. Starting from the selection of canvas material, depiction of a mixture of color ink mixture, to the application of the ink layer on the canvas carried out manually. Since the beginning of this project, Denny Ja invited other young Indonesian artists to become part of the production team and implementation of Warhol's work. This is done as part of Denny Ja's motivation to increase the involvement of young artists in the fields of art and design art in Indonesia. Denny Ja admitted that at first he had doubted about whether the re -painting he made would succeed in imitating the typical Warhol technique and style, but with hard work and consistency, he finally produced a unique work of art that stole the attention of exhibition visitors. Through this Warhol creation, Denny Ja wants to give a new impression of pop art in Indonesia, and re-introduce the works of pop art art from major artists like Warhol in the world of Indonesian art. He hopes that these works can inspire young Indonesian artists to develop themselves in the arts of pop art and create unique and innovative art works. The process of re -painting the Campbell's Soup Cans painting by Denny Ja also shows that art is not only about drawing something beautiful or expressing someone's emotions, but also contains certain technical and engineering elements that must be understood to create quality and consistent artwork. Through this art project, Denny Ja is one of Indonesia's leading artists who managed to prove that anything would be possible if occupied with perseverance and determination. Warhol's re -paintings designed and coveted by Denny Ja can be an inspiration for young Indonesian artists who want to work in the fields of fine arts and design arts.

Check more: Get to know more closely: Details of the process of painting Andy Warhol's paintings by Denny JA

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parfumieren · 2 years ago

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Wazamba (Parfum d'Empire)

With more than 7,500 varieties of apple in the world, you'd think there would be more than only two strains of apple fragrance: "fresh green" and "spiced red". The "green" is crisp and invigorating; the "red" is warm and comforting. Tweak them with vanilla and white flowers, cinnamon pie crust and fresh berries, and the result is always the same: a dead bore.

Don't get me wrong. My heartstrings are as susceptible to apple's homey connotations as anyone else's. No one would deny that a fruit-laden orchard in autumn is a splendid sight to behold… or that a freshly-baked apple pie makes a house smell more truly like a home. Yankee Candle Company knows it. Bath and Body Works knows it. Donna Karan knows it. Even I know it. ¡Ya basta!

Some perfumery notes (like jasmine and musk) whisper of erotic possibilities, others (like oudh and leather) tell of danger and adventure. But apple seems to speak only in cheerful platitudes, predictable and banal. Like an old plate illustration from a Dickens novel, it drips with manufactured sentimentality. If Milan Kundera's concept of kitsch needed a poster child, a shiny ripe red apple would do capitally.

Until Wazamba.

I've written of the equal measures of enchantment and disappointment I found in Serge Lutens' Fille en Aiguilles. I thought its notes picture-perfect, but its staying power piss-poor. In Parfum d'Empire's Wazamba, every promise that Fille en Aiguilles reneged on is finally fulfilled-- and all of the old apple prototypes are tossed into the fire.

Literally.

Fille en Aiguilles is a sedate little open-air campfire deep in the friendly woods-- pine knots popping, whippoorwills calling, crickets chirping. Wazamba is the same forest 15,000 years ago, with dire wolves and sabretooth tigers stalking the underbrush. The lodge fire is more than a happy gathering point for the tribe; it's the very guarantor of life, light, and salvation from the bone-chilling cold of the Ice Age. And as fires go, it's huge. It doesn't snap and crackle politely. It ROARS.

That fiery aroma at the outset? It's not the sooty, clinging smell of old smoke, nor the lively smell of new smoke, nor the nostalgic smell of smoke carried on the wind. It is the overpowering crimson glow of a banked fire pit that backhands you across the face with the immediacy of its heat. And the apple? It's neither crisp and juicy-fresh nor laden with syrup and spices. The apple is IN THE FIRE-- cast into it whole almost as fuel, or as a sacrifice to the gods. Juices sizzling, tender skin blackening, it shrivels and pops in the flames. (Good lord, what kind of cookout IS this?) Cypress and fir feed the inferno for hours, reducing all unhappy memories of Fille en Aiguilles to windblown ash. Twelve hours after application, I am still raising my wrist to my nose and smiling a toothsome smile.

Not since Breath of God have I found myself this disturbed, stymied, and intrigued by a perfume's progression. This is a savage smell, a threatening smell, a VIOLENT smell. Whatever apple it contains came straight from the larder of Snow White's evil stepmother. Its sorcery dominates the senses immediately; it strips away the notion of propriety in perfume and inspires both outrage and romance. I would wear this, and not much else, to Burning Man-- and I would be the best-dressed savage baying under the moon.

Scent Elements: Incense, myrrh, sandalwood, opoponax, cypress, apple, balsam fir, aldehydes

#wazamba #parfum d'empire #perfume review #parfümieren

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sumiink · 7 months ago

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As someone who works in printing/manufacturing I want to give some input from the other side of the counter.

First off: there are a lot of print shops out there where you can get things made, there’s really no reason to use the same ones as other artists. For prints, posters, etc, any print shop will do, even Staples. They’ve got decent prices and fast turnaround times, usually. And most products can be picked up in store to avoid shipping costs.

Seriously: go to a local shop as often as you can, to avoid shipping costs. (Unless you can find someplace online cheaper, despite the shipping)

For T-shirts: screen printing shops are pretty common these days, so try to find a local one. Doesn’t have to be big. Most places use the same shirts (usually Gildan) and the same printing method. Keep in mind that for screen printing, each color is printed via a different screen, so the more colors in your design the more expensive it will be. Shops usually charge a “frame fee” for each color, around 40-80 dollars each. Anything more than 6 colors is kinda pushing it and anything more than 12 might not be possible. If you want a shirt that has a full color print or gradients, that’s not screen printing, that’s Direct to Garment (or the newer Direct to Film). Screen-printing shops may or may not have that available you’ll just need to ask around. There’s also sublimation, but that only works on light colored shirts so your design options are limited. Ask your screen-printer what your options are. No harm in shooting them an email with your design and asking if it’s printable.

Also screen print shops will not save the frames after the order is done- you’ll be paying that frame free each time your order so plan accordingly.

People don't really like wearing white shirts.

When ordering shirt sizes: DON’T just get 10 or each size S to XXL or whatever. Sizes are in a bell curve, so get, for example, 3 small, 5 medium, 8 large, 5 XL, 3 XXL.

Don’t try to buy your own shirts (or other materials) and bring it in to be printed- just don’t, please. Printers can get the same thing cheaper and at a consistent quality, so let them handle it. (Also if a print messes up we can just get another blank from the back room instead of of ruining your shirt)

CustomInk is good but tbh a lot of their stuff is outsourced to local screen printing shops. You might be able to cut out the middle man and get it cheaper at a local shop.

^all that t-shirt stuff also applies to tote bags

Also keep in mind the print on a t-shirt can go up to 12 in x 16 in usually.

For stickers, try to find a place that sells vinyl or banners, like a print shop or trophy shop. They might also do bulk stickers of good quality. If there isn’t a place like that locally, do research and find a store online.

Trophy shops are your friend! They often do a lot of different custom printing, so ask your local shop what they have available.

For buttons: try print shops or trophy shops. But honestly this one might be better to do at home, especially if you’re doing a lot of different little things. The materials are cheap, the prints can literally be made on a regular printer with regular paper, and a cheap button press costs about $100

For pins and acrylic charms: always order about 10% more than you need, especially if you’re ordering overseas. The industry has a 10% margin of error and not everyone does quality control. Any extras you get can be sold as B-grades or leftovers.

For plushies: I don’t know anything about plushies. Sorry, you’re on your own for those.

Buying in bulk is always cheaper, so plan accordingly. Get an idea of how many you want before walking into a store.

Pretty much everything prints at 300 dpi, which means if you want to print a 5 in x 7 art print, your image needs it be AT LEAST 1500x2100 pixels, or else it’ll come out pixelated and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

Also if something is going to be printed up to the edge of the material (like an art print) make sure there’s .25 inches of safe space around all the edges- things in that space could get cut off, so no important details like writing.

I don’t know how else to say this, but: KNOW WHAT YOU WANT BEFORE YOU ORDER. Have a design, know your size and material, know how many you want. CUSTOM printing means all these things change the price of the order and nothing can get started until you make these decisions.

Most shops will send you a mock-up (or “proof”) before printing, so keep and eye on your email and respond in a timely matter if you want things to be printed in a timely matter. Of course, any changes you make to your product during the process could slow things down, but that’s to be expected. Basically, if you make a dozen changes don’t get mad that stuff isn’t ready at the agreed time. (One or two changes are normal but please don’t do a whole bunch if you don’t have to)

Most places know what they’re doing and don’t want to bother with sending you a sample for something they’ve printed a thousand times (t-shirts, tote bags, acrylic charms, stickers). Look at their sample products and judge the quality of those. They’ll send a mock-up instead. Anything that isn’t just a printed blank is another story. Plushies, pins, and custom clothing (anything more complicated than a graphic tee), you’ll probably want a sample. Any good shop would recommend a sample if it’s necessary.

You DO have to do your own research. Your budget and location are going to determine what shop works for you. Just decide what you want, google it, and make your own decision based on their prices.

My last piece of advice: START SMALL. Do one stack of art prints, one stack of stickers, the smallest batch of pins you can do- test out the shop and the product before going all in and wasting your money. Don’t drop a ton of money and place a ton of orders unless you’ve tried a shop and are confident in their abilities.

would anyone be interested if I made a breakdown post of reasons why merch artists don't share their manufacturers? it's oversimplified as "artists are just gatekeeping" in part because I think there's just not a lot of awareness that it's a significantly more complex situation and involves some level of risk compared to sharing simpler resources such as brushes

artists also don't tend to explain beyond "sorry, I don't share my manufacturers" (for good reason, they're not going to write an essay to answer a quick question) but maybe diving into the details will help people understand why so many merch artists are protective of their manufacturers and will not share with strangers

#Art advice #printing #I am weirdly passionate about this stuff #im an artist but I’ve never tried to sell prints or anything so for this post I’m taking as a printer

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fathertaurus · 4 years ago

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A Nate Jacobs Blurb part 2

A/N: Here it is! The long awaited part 2 I’ve had so many of you ask for lol. I want to mention before reading that the opening scene takes place after an hour or two into the party scene and kinda just opens up on a random scene. I didn’t feel like there was any real need to make this super long as I only wrote the most definitive moment for these characters to carry the storyline along.

I hope to continue this story as I do have many ideas but anything I post will probably just continue to be written as installments such as this and the one previous to it, as I don’t want it to be my main line of work. I’m always coming up with new ideas and I don’t like simply having one on the forefront as it places to much pressure on writing.

Regardless I hope you enjoy!

a disclaimer: If you have seen the show Euphoria you know what the character Nate Jacobs is like and what he’s done. This is not me condoning the actions of this character--in fact, I urge you to view him as the bad guy he is when reading this. That’s how I wrote it, that’s what I wanted to portray because I’ve yet to write a character as such. Though his actions may not come off as terrible when reading this remember who he is written as and try and read it in that way.

WARNINGS: alluded sexual assault, foul language

The crystalize haze taking over her entire perception of reality right now was almost near blinding to what was happening. The alcohol and whatever that asshole had slipped into her drink had truly and officially taken its toll on her physical being, her vision and balance being hit the worst. Her body laid skewed across the pile of blankets and sheets, having little to no strength to even shuffle through them and find her way up.

She couldn’t determine though if that was solely for the obvious roofie or also from the shock of watching Nate barge into the room—practically snapping the door off it’s hinges, and ripping Chris from atop of her before (with a speed she had never witnessed in her life) wrestling him out the door and down the hallway.

Through it all though and the now busted open door she was able to make out the figures of everyone still filling the living room from her placement on the guest bed, the energy to move no longer permitted in her body but simply her eyes which watched with as much intent as they could muster up.

There was yelling, screaming, and a series of other loud noises, all echoing back to her a million times louder than they probably actually were. Figures moved in flashes and the lights burned into her skull as they danced across the catastrophe spilling all over Elias’ parents’ living room wood. Her hands were on her temples before she could even feel them, body making the intent of covering her ears to attempt to silence all the overstimulation.

Bleary eyed she breathed a deep sigh and tried to find herself, but that moment being ripped away as another set of yelling broke out, the shrills emitted from Nate himself.

He was in the dead center of it all, hands (from what she could tell) wrapped around the throat of Chris Daniel’s as he looked to be throwing him to the floor. Followed by more commotion, a body hitting the floor—it looked to give the tall brunette new access to whomever’s torso, as he barreled his foot into it repeatedly.

If only she wasn’t swimming her own vision, her own thoughts, maybe then she could truly make it all out. But the way that pill made her skin ripple over her bones and her own brain pound its way out of her skull was too much, focus was lost on her.

Before she even had a choice to say or do otherwise her eyes slipped closed and she sunk into the abyss of her body again.

Though she was nearing unconsciousness her ears pricked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. They were distinctively heavy and almost mismatched—like the person was stumbling over their own two feet.

Crossing the carpet until they were near her own body she could hear mumbling above her.

“God dammit.”

Even in her current state she could recognize that voice, the one that belonged to the person who was just moments ago beating the life out of someone. Nate.

“Look at you.” He whispered.

The feelings of hands along the sides of her hips heightened her senses for a split second, a whine rolling from the back of her lips as to protest.

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay it’s okay.” The fingertips grasped at the length of her dress and slowly they pulled it back down-- the whole movement now familiar to a piece of her memory somewhere in the back of her mind, “You’re okay I promise.”

There was a brush of her hair out of her face, the touch cascading down her face to her shoulders where she could make little notice of her sleeves being pulled back up.

Within seconds the same arms were now wrapped around her form and she was being lifted from the bed. The rocking of her motionless figure was the only distinctive thing she was able to recognize before sleep finally took her under in one vast swoop of both of her eyes shutting close. —————————

(POV SWITCH)

Swaying gently back and forth on his feet Nate turned the hall into her bedroom, careful to watch her head as he shuffled through the door.

The memories of their infamous night flooded back to him instantly, but now as he carried her unconscious body to her bed, he was able to take in the details surrounding them. Her room was a light shade of blue, decorated with huge posters starring various artists and movie stars.

It triggered a memory from a month or so ago. Sat around a lunch table only one over from her own he could vividly remember overhearing her and April Denavive discussing that Timothée Chalamet kid and how Y/N had such an affinity for him.

”He was so incredible in Little Women, I swear I’d give anything to just hold his hand or something.” Nate from his seat could see that her rambles caused April to snort into her fruit cup, the red head shaking her head at her friend.

”God Y/N you’re such a virgin.”

She made sure to swat at April’s arm, poking her finger into her side for sure measure, ”Oh fuck off.”

April laughed aloud once more as she pushed back before managing to maneuver her arms around her friend, squeezing her in a tight embrace before pressing kisses to her cheeks.

”No no no, it’s cute!” She gushed, “It’s cute how much you want to fuck that French boy but can’t work up the nerve to say it.”

”April! God--He’s American his dad is just French--oh you know what never mind I hate you.” “N-Nate?”

Returning back to reality Nate was almost startled at the sound of another voice, completely forgetting where he was for a moment. Drawing his eyes downward he found himself back in Y/N’s room, still hovering over her side.

“Shh,” he cooed, fingers tangling in the ends of her hair as he brushed them off of her forehead, admiring the array of glitter from her eyeshadow decorating her skin. It made her shine even brighter than how he always saw her. “You’re safe now..sleep.”

She rustled amongst her blankets, nose curling and eyebrows furrowing as she struggled, a huff following.

“What’s wrong?” He questioned, instantly taking notice of her discomfort. She whined innocently, sitting herself up with her eyes still wired shut and began to tug at the sleeves of her dress.

“Itchy,” She breathed another huff as she tore at the seems, “Need it...off.”

Nate’s entire demeanor shifted. He watched her meticulously as she pulled at the material until it was up and over her chest—but the poor drunk girl seemed to lose all momentum as her arms suddenly dropped, the dress now a mess sagging off of her neck.

Another shrill moan echoed from Y/N, not having the energy to pull the rest of the dress off and expressing her frustrations. Nate waved her off.

“Shush, I’ve got it.” Reaching forward he pulled the rest of the dress up and off of her figure, careful to not get her earrings or hair caught, before tossing it to the side just shy of her hamper he noticed upon entrance into her room.

A deep, noticeable breath expelled from her lungs before she fell back amongst the pillows, body now severely bare to Nate—the only thing keeping her covered being her bra with a pair of matching panties around her hips.

It was pink, the bra, lace yet exuded softness with its subtle tone of color and petite bow in the middle to add a touch of innocence. Her underwear resonated in the same way; they were different than Nate had pictured when his fingers grasped at them earlier that night. He was expecting something more revealing as was common with most girls at parties like that, or in high school in general. But they weren’t—they were form fitting, far from raunchy and bore a soft pink hue like her bra, which was different than the deep red he once imagined.

And it all looked so right on her.

Y/N had seemed to finally settle in her sheets, sleep overtaking her whole figure as she noticeably sank deeper into the mattress. Nate took that as his moment to breathe in, truly, the sight before him.

His eyes nearly followed her every move with adamancy, in an effort to note every singular detail possibly manufactured by her sleeping frame that he could then later remember at his pleasing.

“You are so,” his fingers traced down the length of her arm, watching as the touch triggered a wave of goosebumps even as she was unconscious; He smiled, “Perfect.”

Drawing back he grasped at the blanket before tugging it up and over her body, covering her up to her chest. Tucking in the sides of the cover to her skin he rustled them until he deemed her absolutely comfortable and then took his place at the flank of her bed once more.

“And you are all mine.” -------------------------

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, send requests for more if you liked!

#nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #euphoria #nate jacobs imagine #I literally didn’t proof read this at all so I apologize in advance lmao

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years ago

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Touch Me, Tease Me

Summary: A six-month shoot is the perfect excuse to have some no-strings attached fun. Pairing: Henry Cavill x Loren Lott Word Count: 2K Warnings: SMUUUUUUUUUUUUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!! A/N: This was a commission from the lovely @livinglifeformemyselfandi�� ! Enjoy!! Like what I do? Buy me a coffee (or a commission)!

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“You can’t go. It’s too dangerous! I won’t let you!”

“Give me a reason to stay, then.”

He grabbed her, not hesitating to throw her over his shoulder as he made his way to the four-poster bed. Dropping her unceremoniously onto the mattress, he tore her shirt open first, buttons flying in every direction as he exposed her lacy red bra. Her skirt went next, the body-hugging material no match for his powerful hands. The thong beneath matched the bra, and before she knew it, the set was gone, leaving her fully nude to his hungry eyes.

She gasped as his warm lips lit a path up to her mouth, taking her breath away. His kiss was deep, and she felt herself grow wetter as his tongue slid against hers. Back arching towards his body, she made it clear that his reason was more than sufficient, even as lightning crashed outside the window, lighting up the room in a pale blue flash.

His strong hand pressed against her back, pushing her breasts up towards his mouth, where he attacked with just as much fervor as he had not moments before when he’d torn her clothes off. Her mouth fell open and short, gasped inhales escaped her as his tongue hardened each nipple expertly. She couldn’t help but let her hands card through his curls as she watched his kisses move back down her body, coming tantalizingly close to where she needed the most attention.

Slipping her feet down his muscular back, she purposely slipped her toes under the towel he wore, exposing the remainder of his nude form and giving her a peek at what she knew was coming.

“CUT!! Fantastic, you two! Let’s quickly reset for the close-up! Guys, just stay where you are. Can we get the sheet ready? Freddy, I need all the lightning and moonlight on this next one. Make her look beautiful and don’t wash him out! You got this!”

Loren relaxed against the mattress as she and Henry were covered with a sheet, production bustling around them. Catching each other’s gazes, they couldn’t help but smirk. Given the movie’s rating, both knew neither of their bodies would actually be exposed during the close up shot. Without a word, she and Henry carefully removed the modesty garments that were intended to prevent exactly what they both planned on doing.

The thrill was only part of it. In truth, Loren and Henry had been dancing around one another since pre-production started on the romantic thriller that saw her playing his wife on-screen. Like the adults they were, when it became clear things needed to progress--one way or another--they sat down laid their cards on the table. Neither was looking for a serious relationship, but with a shooting schedule that was slated to last at least six months and promised to be grueling, they both wanted and needed relief from the taxing hours and sex-charged script. So they’d agreed to be friends with benefits, and keep it on the low as much as possible. Today would be the first time they dipped their toes in the water of something a little more on the exhibitionist side.

With the sheet hiding their nude forms, Loren couldn’t help but tease Henry just a little. Resting her head on one hand as she lay on her side, her other hand slipped down between Henry’s legs. Eyes locked on his, she let her nails drag up the underside of his length, grinning as she saw his eyes roll back at the touch. Henry managed to stay relaxed even as a shiver ran through him, the feel of Loren’s nails trapping the head of his cock gently, one he’d never experienced before, but one he knew he’d kill to feel again.

“The best kind of torture is the sweet kind, no?” She purred as she continued the motion, knowing no one was paying attention to their conversation. Loren loved how easily she could get to Henry; it was a power she knew all women had, but few ever truly exercised, and while she was careful to keep it reigned in, it still sent a thrill through her to know that this was the kind of fun they would have over the next six months.

Henry nodded at her rhetorical question, his own lips parted as his breathing grew increasingly labored with each teasing stroke. Hard as a rock, he was thankful the scene called for him to be on top, otherwise, he’d have a lot of explaining to do.

“Alright, quiet on the set. Henry, I want you to really give it to her. Remember, you’re trying to keep her there so she doesn’t go off and take on her ex. You gotta keep her here, and keep her safe, at any cost! Alright. Camera rolling and...ACTION!”

Though he scowled in character as he rolled them so he was on top, Henry’s eyes shone with mischief against the manufactured blue glow of the moon. Loren knew right then and there that she wouldn’t have to act for a second; every reaction would be real and raw, and probably far better than any fake pornstar act she could ever emulate.

Pulling him down for a kiss, Loren gasped into Henry’s mouth as she felt him press inside, the move seamless and oh-so-delicious. Her hand slipped down his back, discreetly holding the sheet in place as he began a slow, deep, thrust. Forgetting she was on set for a moment, the director’s voice calling out was a surprise.

“Okay, Henry I want you to start nice and slow, just like that, then really start giving it to her. Loren, you’ve never seen this side of your husband and it’s turning you on immensely.”

Henry buried his smile in the crook of Loren’s neck as his cock slid in and out at a luxurious pace, sending wave after wave of pleasure through every last nerve in Loren’s body. Framing her face with his forearms, he slowly increased the pace, not needing to be told when to up the ante.

Loren knew the boom mic overhead meant they were recording for sound, and that meant she didn’t need to be quiet. Letting the rest of the closed set disappear, she focused instead on the man above her and how good he was making her feel. Instinctively, she cupped Henry’s face, pulling him up for a kiss just as he began to ram into her, her gasping moan muffled as their tongues intertwined yet again.

His kisses lit a path of fire down her body, Henry managing to keep the bruising pace even as his mouth found her breasts, his talented tongue making her jolt with each lick. Every thrust made the room spin a little more and Loren couldn’t help the noises that left her throat as his cock hit her g-spot like it was a target each time.

There was no dialogue for the scene, which was all the better since Loren knew she’d end up calling Henry by his real name accidentally. Hands slipping over every inch of skin she could reach, Loren lost herself in the pleasure her co-star was providing, already looking forward to their lunch, wanting to see how many rounds they could fit in with the time allotted.

Gazing at the small number of crew permitted on-set during the scene, she felt the excitement of what they were doing increase ten-fold, loving the idea of doing something so naughty in plain sight of her co-workers.

Her orgasm snuck up on her, Loren captivated by the slick feeling of Henry’s length pistoning in and out of her. It was a sensation she never grew tired of and one she was grateful she’d get to feel for the duration of filming.

Loren kissed Henry deeply once more as her body tensed with the first rush of pleasure, clinging to him even as he fucked her through her orgasm. Trembling, it wasn’t long before she felt the same tension in his sculpted muscles, Henry stilling as followed her over the edge. Legs locked behind him, she couldn’t help the squeak of delight when she felt him begin to thrust again, every stroke carrying with it a powerful shot of cum, Loren’s eyes rolling back in her head as Henry filled her up with ease.

“We’re spending lunch naked,” she whispered into his ear, making it clear what she wanted even as Henry shifted their positions, sitting on the bed and impaling her on his full length. With the sheet encircling their waists, no one was the wiser as Henry continued to cum, his hips jerking and jolting, wringing a second, even more intense, orgasm out of Loren.

It was only when they began to come down, amidst kisses that their on-screen counterparts would have definitely shared, did Loren realize how quiet the set was. Continuing to act, she kissed up Henry’s neck before finding his mouth once more. It took a few moments for the director come back to his senses, looking around and blinking rapidly before remembering it was his turn to do his job.

“CUT! Check the gate! That’s...that’s lunch folks. Get them their robes, please!” Voice stuttered and a little hoarse, it was clear their performance had affected their director, this time, it was Loren who had to hide her smile in the crook of Henry’s neck. Two PA’s who looked equally shell-shocked scurried in, handing her and Henry their robes before backing off, the small crew leaving the set to allow the two leads to make themselves presentable once more.

Henry helped Loren slip her arms into her robe before sliding into his own, his smile breathless and still full of mischief.

“Check your left pocket,” he whispered, licking his lips, the tone of his voice making Loren take a deep breath, still feeling him taking up every bit of room she had to offer. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open in surprise as her fingers slipped around a fairly hefty plug, one clearly made to keep her full and stretched.

“Slip it in as I pull out. Don’t want you spilling a drop,” Henry whispered, nipping at the shell of her ear. Moaning softly, Loren nodded, situating the plug and pressing it in with quick gasping breaths as she felt Henry pull from inside her. Resting her forehead on his broad chest, she pushed the last of it in and groaned at the wet popping sound that accompanied her once more feeling utterly stuffed.

Locking eyes with Henry once more, she couldn’t help but cup his face, the heat between them still boiling. With his hand in her’s, Loren moved it down, letting him feel where the plug sat flush against her swollen mound. The noise that came from deep in his chest was all worth it, and with an impish smirk of her own, Loren slowly slipped out of bed, tying her robe tightly so no one could see the naughtiness beneath.

“Your trailer or mine? We’ve gotta run these lines, let’s go,” she asked, keeping up the charade for the sake of the PA who walked in just in time to see Henry get off the bed, his own robe hiding his still half-hard cock.

“Mine. More room for...blocking,” he answered, smirking as he breezed past the young man who’d come in to tell them craft services was ready for lunch, Henry doing his best not to laugh at the kid’s wide-eyed stare.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x loren lott #henry cavill smut #fic #commission #deathonyourtongueoriginals

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xenosagaepisodeone · 4 years ago

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i think "let people enjoy things" as a maxim only makes sense on twitter where people will just search terms of things they hate and reply vitriolically to anyone they see saying positive things about it and the site is designed to shove those replies in the original poster's face as much as possible. but obviously they aren't really being stopped from enjoying things they're just being annoyed by strangers about it.

I would have to agree to an extent. Given Twitter's propensity to manufacture conflict between users, I can understand why some would become a bit defensive. replies with actual criticism are shuffled in the same deck of notifications with replies that are merely unwarranted vitriol, and can come to be seen as an overlapping, hostile force. In addition, Twitter's algorithms promote interaction based off of your existing web activity, so anyone who has decided to make their web presence just fighting with people will continue to do so as their TLs are shaped to promote tweets to dunk on. My partial disagreement would stem from the fact that "let people enjoy things" spinning out of control originates from twitter, and is hardly actually used against these needlessly hostile, argumentative people (partially because its illogical to genuinely engage with someone who has become so Online and partially because people resort to other dunks for these types).

this is kind of unrelated to your initial ask but there's also the elephant in the room that Twitter does kind of warp what it means to like something. The algorithm-shaped experience wants to maximize all aspects of potential interaction. if you like something, the algorithm moves to be congruent to those interests, intensifies your exposure to them and manufactures the experience of a community made up of at what you're most likely to RT to your page- your projection of you. The encouragement to self brand is aggressively elevated to the point where in some cases, a stranger disliking a thing is interpreted as a stranger attacking you (you would see shades of this on tumblr too back in the day where people would accuse you of not liking X wildly popular thing means you hate marginalized people). Feeling attacked is also a component of self branding since it encourages the user to become more territorial over their interest. I'm not implying that everyone on Twitter is an Xtreme Stan, but the way that Things You Like (and subsequently any fandom for it that may exist) are a controlled experience deserves to be pulled into question at least a little. The guy being pavlov's dogged into being an asshole about the thing you like is most certainly being baited, but to what extent are we as well?

#asks #anonymous

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dizzymoods · 5 years ago

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1. For a long time now I've been seeing a problem with the advancement of digital image manipulation technology. I've seen a trend that as the tools which allow filmmakers to make digital adjustments to their images become more powerful and accessible, the reliance on these tools has increased to the detriment of the quality of the image.

2. In the days where the photochemical process allowed much more limited control over the graduation of hues, much more of the work of producing the final image happened on set. The quality of the frame was more directly determined by the quality of the light which was reflecting off of the subject.

3. Light is the crux of the image making process. You can't have a good image without good light full stop. It doesn't matter what you do after the image is captured, if the light you captured doesn't work, it can't be made to work by any means.

4. As these technologies have progressed I've seen such a dramatic drop in creativity in the way that light is utilized. I can't help but think that some part of this is due to a shifting attitude in the way that the image making process is conceptualized because of these technologies. Especially when I see things like the incredible popularity of Patreon grifters selling access to their corny LUTs.

5, People are eating that shit up. It seems like its playing into the homogenization of culture. Like it's a homogenization of the visual language of media which is being catalyzed in part by the accessibility of incredibly powerful tools that aren't strictly necessary to the image making process in the hands of an entire generation uncreative hacks who have risen to popularity through means other than the merit of their work.

I think the key to what you’re responding to is what you call the homogenization of visual language in media. I think the problem isn’t the technology per se but the industry that incentivized the use of the technology to maintain the carbon copy standard of the Hollywood look while also being used to save on money/time onset. && the developers who equally became incentivized to make the technology easier to be used in such a way by the industry & prosumers as well. That’s where I locate this problem. There’s a kind of echo chamber where the images that gets you hired fit into this rigid easily replicate-able formula and the technology makes it easier to make said images. I see this reverberate outside of technology and into the arena of corporate production and aesthetics. Which of course loops us back to the homogenization of visual language.

I see this homogenization in the work of DPs who started in the late 90s/early 00s. I’m thinking about Matty Libatique in particular who started out doing unique visuals in Pi and Requiem for a Dream. Even though I don’t particularly like the look of these movies they did have personality. It’s hard not to notice how on trend, flat, and boring Matty’s recent movies have been.

& I use Matty bc he moves between Big Studio pictures (Venom, A Star Is Born, Birds of Prey) and boutique indie films (Chiraq, Mother!, Native Son). & part of this echo chamber is that the technology is now relatively accessible and cheap and can produce a quality that rivals Hollywood. So now there isn’t much of a visual distinction between a $100mil film and a $10mil film in terms of image quality outside of maybe vfx.

Indie films aren’t an alternative to the Hollywood look anymore. They are now either boutique bootlegs (a24 or Annapurna) or generic knockoffs. The indie scene is a kind of testing ground for new directors and DPs: can you follow the Hollywood formula on a limited budget? That’s why today’s indie wunderkinds get scooped up into Hollywood bc they can achieve these boring corporate approved looks on a budget. Vastly different from say PTA or Malik Sayeed in the 90s.

This mimesis is at the heart of film education too. & I say film education bc you find it not only in institutional training (film school/residencies) but also on film sets interning and in the most easily accessible online resources (youtube, forums, patreon grifters, books, etc). All film education follows the model of Recognition and Recreation. Recognize the elements of this image/look and reproduce it as best you can. Film education produces technicians not masters of craft. There is no artist development. You have to sneak your pov into this small rigid mold.

And this echo chamber discourages seeking out history and alternatives bc they are either obsolete or not profitable. Ppl think photographing black skin is a relatively new development when photographers like Van Der Zee were doing in the 1920s. & what Van Der Zee was doing in his photography in the 20s is wildly more technically difficult than dragging an effect onto a photo or applying a filter. The New Black Vanguard photographers are particularly annoying about claiming to be the “first” to do something even though they’re consciously (but badly) copying 70s-90s fashion photography that was circulating on tumblr (usually by Rashida & Bri) ca. 2011-2014

I’m not mad at these insta photographers or these other visual artists who might not be talented but are adept at social media/sliding the HSL scale. Its the media and tech industries manufacturing the ability to do so and the manufactured need to work this way. Now that so many ppl can do this and the tech is demystified it makes it easier to replace workers. As a photographer/DP you aren’t bringing a unique eye to the project like Vadim Yusov or Jack Cardiff. You’re bringing the ability complete the task quickly and cheaply.

Something that I don’t ever see talked about wrt the homogenization of visual culture is how around 2007 Fincher & Soderbergh started saying the dreaded digital look will be as good and eventually better than celluloid. & with the RED One and Arri Alexa it became an achievable reality. So now instead of a meaningful difference in the visual palette between celluloid and digital we now have what essentially amounts to celluloid and imitation celluloid.

i do think there is value in this post manipulation technology. I just think that it needs to embrace it’s artifice. So much of this digitally produced corporate look has some tether to reality/physics. I try to imagine how Dziga Vertov or Seijun Suzuki would have used it. I think it would’ve been exciting We got a glimpse of how Obayashi was using it.

While I agree that the visual degradation of the image is annoying and worrisome. I think more importantly is the end to which images are used. What is the meaning or purpose of this image? There’s also a degredation and flattening of meaning in these images as well. I think #RepresentationMatters is a big reason for this. Everything is now selling us capitalist aspirational images of women presidents and black board members. They really don’t mean much more than those “Anything is possible” posters with the balloons on them in first grade classrooms.

Since going to HU I’ve been increasingly less interested in placing value in the graphic quality of an image but rather its meaning/purpose. The Dario Calmese/Viola Davis cover kinda sealed that deal lol. But I do agree w the sentiment here. I don’t think there’s a point to working in a visual medium if everything you’re making looks the same.

Shameless self plug of an online grifter: I’m planning on covering cinematography more generally but this specifically is central to that topic in September’s episode of Niggas Eatin.

TL:DR: the technology is more of a symptom of the absolute disease that is hollywood’s corporate slog of images than the actual problem.

#cinematography #photography #long post #Anonymous #I hope this makes sense

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cosplayinamerica · 4 years ago

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ARTIST ALLEY: Jamie Kaye

EJEN: Tell us how you got started in artist alley, what was your first one and what was that experience like?

JAMIE: The first con I did artist alley was at a con in The Woodlands, TX in 2008. I was 18 and fresh out of high school. I hadn't a single clue about how any of this stuff worked. My setup was pretty hilarious. On the front of my table I had a hand drawn sign made out of poster board that was like a school project.

My merch was a few low quality home made prints because I had a heck of a time trying to figure out printing formats. One of my prints was a Rayman Raving Rabbid if that tells you anything about the time.

Anime conventions were so different back then and a lot more accessible for amateurs to find their way. The standards and expectations weren’t nearly as high.

EJEN: After that first alley, we were you encouraged or discouraged from doing another? I know sometimes a bad experience might sour going back and how did you learn to manage your table - experience, YouTube videos, all of the above?

JAMIE: Oh I was in no way discouraged! I had a great time and had low expectations. There were next to zero resources and didn’t have more experienced friends back then so it was so much trial and error in terms of getting stuff printed. I tried to pass on my knowledge as much as I could. Nobody knew how to get stuff made through manufacturers either so there weren’t merch trends like there are now. You just mostly had people selling books and stickers. Maybe keychains.

EJEN: Was there a point that you went “yeah, this could work” and you made the jump to travelling out of state for artist alley?

JAMIE: Denver Comic Con! It was the first out of state convention I tried since it was still somewhat driveable even though it was still a 15 hour drive. I went a couple years in a row and the attendees were super positive and welcoming. The community was great.

EJEN: Did you share a table? How did you decide on DCC?

JAMIE: I didn’t, actually. My friend lived there for a while and recommended it. I mostly went so I could drive and not have to invest in flying. Wanted to keep costs as low as possible.

EJEN: After all the time you spent in artist alley, what’s the most important factor that an artist must understand to do decently in sales?

JAMIE: Being patient! It’s not likely profits will happen in your first get go and it will take some time to figure out what works best. Start small and don't heavily invest in merch right away. Feel things out.

Don't be afraid to make merch of niche things you like. It may not make a ton of money but that one thing you sincerely like might more deeply connect with a customer. Those are the folks that’ll remember you and come back!

Along the lines of be patient, don’t sweat it when you have a con with bad sales. It happens for so many reasons. It’s not a good idea to fuss over “a bad table location” or “there weren’t enough attendees.” It’s most likely out of your control and will happen.

EJEN: How do you describe your style and how has it changed if any over the years you’ve done art? What were some of your earlier influences?

JAMIE: My style pulls inspiration from animation, manga, and western comics. Expressing energy, emotions, and passion are insanely important to my art. My earliest influences were video game art. When I was a kid I would get a hold of any strategy guide I could just so I could see the art. I still have my Final Fantasy 9 strategy guide from when I was a child that’s just about torn to shreds from looking at it so much. I would say the strongest early influence on my art is the Ace Attorney series.

EJEN: Were your folks supportive of your endevours or were they more urging you to pick a more stable path?

JAMIE: My family was pretty supportive of doing whatever I wanted. My older brother and sister drew, but I was the only one that pursued it seriously.

EJEN: Describe to me a typical day in the Alley!

JAMIE: A day at a con is a thrilling but exhausting adventure where you get to interact with so many people. It’s always exciting to meet people that share the same interests as you and provide them with art of the thing they love. The community of artists is amazing too and feels like family. You can get so caught up in it all that it’s easy to forget to eat until you’re hangry. Don’t forget to eat!

EJEN: Besides doing the Alley, you are also the concept artist for a third person exploration game called Line. Tell us what does that entail!

JAMIE: LINE is a beautiful indie game made by my pal Dave Gibson, myself, and a super awesome crew of friends. It’s a relaxing exploration game about a little girl and her robot. Doing concept art for a game was always a dream of mine, so seeing my art come to life in 3D is pretty crazy.

EJEN: And on top of all you do, you are a personal trainer/coach as well! Tell us about it!

JAMIE: Physical wellness and training is always something that was important to me and increasingly became at the center of my life. It goes hand in hand so well in art. Art can be so subjective and wild, but working on your body you see numbers improve. You become stronger, faster, feel better, and nobody can take that away including yourself. I love helping people feel that experience and thrill. It’s also insanely important for your mental and physical well being! Soon I will be starting virtual workout courses for artists! I’m super stoked for it.

EJEN: Oh, that’s a great idea! Workout for artists, inspiration for the creative and physical! Can you tell us more?

JAMIE: As an artist, maintaining physical health is as important as ever. These workouts include stretches, cardio, and strength activities targeting artists’ needs. I want to make them fun to do, while targeting specific areas that will help artists. For example, doing a yoga sequence of updog and child pose can do wonders for your back.

EJEN: Thank you for taking time to jot down your thoughts!

https://missjamiekaye.com/

#artist alley #artist alley interview

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comrade-meow · 4 years ago

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New Zealand schools have introduced a climate change resource that suggests children “eat less meat and dairy”, even though teachers will not know how much meat or dairy any child in their care has eaten. Opinion pieces in the papers have called for the reduction of meat and dairy in hospital menus, not usually generous sources of such foods, despite the well-known risks of undernutrition, especially of protein, in the frail and elderly. Globally, the influential and once-objective medical journal the Lancet has hosted Eat Lancet, a coalition of vegan and vegetarian technocrats backed by processed food manufacturers, and promoted their agenda. The Guardian newspaper accepted an £626783 grant from the backers of Impossible Foods to run a series of articles against animal agriculture.

These initiatives, aimed at remodelling our food supply in a way that favours the multinational food processing and seed-and-chemical corporations, whose control of many aspects of farming and diet is already problematic, have run far ahead of the scientific community’s efforts to understand the health effects of such dietary change.

Our hunter-gatherer past

The Neolithic Revolution was the first alteration in human affairs that is generally considered worthy of the term Revolution. In Marx’s terms, it saw a change in the means of production sufficient to form new classes aware of their identities, and thus a change in the relations between people. Early humans had fed themselves in an opportunistic, hunter-gatherer fashion that tended to favour a diet of animals supplemented with plants where and when these were available. Large animals made the best meals but gathering activities could collect many smaller ones, as well as eggs, grubs etc.

The people of the Mesolithic era discovered that some animals could be herded and some plants grown in gardens (not usually by the same community, because one activity favours nomadism and the other favours a sedentary habit) but these activities, which greatly improved food security after the decline of the prehistoric mega-fauna due to hunting and climate pressures, tended to occur at the communal level and probably did not create major class differences between the people involved.

The invention of farming

The Neolithic Revolution, which unleashed the human potential for war, creativity, and social division, resulted from the identification of the germs of plants (specifically grains and legumes) as durable sources of energy. If grains were grown (I will use grains in the wider sense of “cereals”, after Braudel, including other dried germs such as peas) and there was a surplus, this surplus would still be edible over the next year, a year when drought or pests or diseases might wipe out the other food sources that hunter-gatherers depended on. This advantage was offset by the nutritional poverty of grain-based diets, so that tuberculosis probably became an endemic disease during this period,[1] but the existence of a less-perishable surplus allowed the diversion of part of the population away from food gathering for large parts of the year, and saw the creation of armies and other workforces.

In Europe, the Neolithic Revolution is dated at around 10,000 BC and its arrangements are a matter of prehistory, but in China this change occurred later and the written record around Bi-gu or grain avoidance includes folk-memories of conflict between grain eating and grain avoiding peoples.

The history of colonisation is the history of the conquest of lactose-intolerant peoples by lactose-tolerant populations, and of non-grain eaters by grain-eaters. In the Indian sub-continent, a combination of dairy herding and a cereal diet high in legumes uniquely allowed the survival of a substantially vegetarian population, and saw the conservation of genes favouring reproduction on such a diet, including genetic polymorphisms still rare in European populations (adaptive mutations only predominate where many individuals without them have failed to survive or reproduce).[2] That the Indian social system became more aggressively class-based than any other is probably no co-incidence; prejudice against meat-eating is still used as a tool of social control against minorities, while meat-eating is one way young Indians today identify as modern and egalitarian. However there were some important exceptions to the trend – the Aztecs were a hunter-gather people who conquered and dominated the Mesolithic agriculturalists of Mexico, and the Mongols were nomadic herders and hunters whose greater stamina and independence allowed them to defeat the rice-fed armies of the Chinese Emperors (after conquering this breadbasket, the successive Mongol Khans seem to have eaten and drunk themselves to death).

Early vegetarian ideology

In the European and Asian cereal-based societies the poorest classes went without meat, supplementing cereals when possible with buttermilk or blood pudding which were more economic replacements. The rich ate as much meat as they could. The idea that an entire society might avoid meat is a recent one with its roots in religious practice, and, insofar as it has any political basis, this flows in two distinct streams – the eco-fascist, in which meat avoidance is a sign of “purity”, most humans are a burden on the Earth, and the Indian vegetarians are of course Aryans. This is something like the vegetarian vision that Adolf Hitler picked up while studying anti-Semitism with Wagner’s heirs at Bayreuth.

And then there is a Marxist-Anarchist, and latterly Intersectional, version, founded on a valuation of animal rights as inseparable from, and a logical extension of, human rights. Vegetarianism was a frequent obsession of the early British Socialists; G.B. Shaw, who derived most of his energy from dairy fat and lived to the age of 94, made himself into a well-known example, and the idea was sufficiently entrenched among the British Socialists and their milieu that H.G. Wells preserved its internal contradictions for posterity in The Time Machine. In his far-future vision, humanity has evolved into two separate species. The Morlocks are descendants of working-class meat-eaters, the Eloi of leisure-class vegetarians – all Wells’ loathing is reserved for the Morlocks, yet it is obvious they are (still) the engineering brains keeping their world running and the Eloi fed. The Eloi are useless for anything but enjoying the sunshine and feeding the Morlocks, and the discordance in Wells’ progressive values as he describes both species is as shocking as anything else in the story.

The first large-scale experiment in plant-based protein was attempted by the Bolsheviks. As usual, it’s hard to separate the roles played by idealism and cynicism in the story, but the bare bones are that the Soviets found their initial attempts to remodel the countryside rebuffed, blamed this on the recaltricance of the kulak class, and set out to destroy them. The problem being that the kulaks, owning most of the cattle and sheep across the Russian Republics, helped to feed the people. Beginning in the 1920s, soy experts from the USA (then the Western world’s leading soy producer) were among the many foreign technicians imported into Russia, and soy processing plants were built and soy production increased to 283,000 tonnes in 1931, the year Stalin unleashed enforced collectivisation and the terror against the kulaks (and also the Kazakhs, a herding people who suffered the largest proportionate loss of life during this period). This led to the loss of millions of animals, either killed by their dispossessed owners or mismanaged by their inexperienced new owners. The soy project was hardly able to prevent the massive famines that followed, and by 1935 soy production had dropped to 54,000 tonnes. Though soy milk would later prove useful during the siege of Leningrad, by the 1930s soy had probably only served one purpose, as a statistic needed aforehand to quell the objections of pragmatic delegates to the destruction of the kulaks and their livestock.

Today we face the revival of this idea, of plant protein that will create a world with no need for animal protein, and the remodelling of life in the countryside, with the new impetus of climate change as its driver. Livestock cycles natural carbon, meaning there is no net addition of C02 to the atmosphere – and its contribution to the shorter-lived methane precursor has not changed since 2000 (methane rises have been due to fracking, methane itself AKA “natural gas”, landfill, and rice production; methane-emitting animals have always existed on Earth in substantial numbers, and have not created a novel situation in the sense that the discovery of coal, oil and gas did). We have recently seen how much global disruption is required to reduce fossil fuel CO2 emissions to 2006 levels, levels which will still warm the planet if they continue. It could be still be worth reducing agricultural cycling of CO2 through methane, which is more warming than CO2 if this is cost-free, but is it?

Why humans evolved as meat eaters

Animal foods, and especially red meat, supply a constellation of nutrients not found together (if they are found at all) in any plant food. Nutrients are those chemicals essential for the functioning of the human organism, and plants, but not livestock, can survive well without nutrients such as amino acids, fatty acids, vitamins and minerals that are essential to humans. Surviving as a vegetarian or vegan is possible for some (perhaps assuming the genetic variants referred to earlier are present) but to thrive requires knowledge of these nutrients, where to find them, how to process the foods that supply them, or how to supplement them. Thriving as an omnivore or even a complete carnivore does not – nutritional sufficiency is the reason we evolved eating meat and other animal foods long before we learned there were such things as essential nutrients.

The reasons for avoiding meat or all animal foods can have a class basis – veganism may be taken up by educated middle-class adults, more likely to be exposed to “health food” ideas and aware of the need to supplement, some of whom then commercialise their habits as social media “influencers”. Meat avoidance is also being adopted increasingly by educated middle-class children for identity or compassionate reasons, but the poor may also avoid meat because of its cost when a loaf of bread or a packet of flavoured noodles can be bought for a dollar; these two motivations sometimes coincide when students in temporary poverty make a virtue of what they perceive to be a necessity.

Does the meat-avoiding behaviour of young people have unintended costs? Several observational studies have looked at the characteristics of meat-avoiding populations and found alarming increases in depression, anxiety and self-harm.

“The majority of studies, and especially the higher quality studies, showed that those who avoided meat consumption had significantly higher rates or risk of depression, anxiety, and/or self-harm behaviors. There was mixed evidence for temporal relations, but study designs and a lack of rigor precluded inferences of causal relations. Our study does not support meat avoidance as a strategy to benefit psychological health.”[3]

How can we explain these correlations? Why should we assume that they are causal?There are several lines of evidence to support a causal link: 1) several nutrients found in meat and animal foods are important factors in mood and cognition; vitamin B12, iron, carnitine, DHA, choline and tryptophan are some examples.[4] 2) the fatty acid mix in dairy and red meat has a similar composition to that of amniotic fluid and breast milk which has anxiolytic (anti-anxiety) effects in young animals.[5] 3) soy is a convenient and cheap replacement for animal protein; soy processing in Western diets results in a 10-fold higher level of the estrogenic contaminant isoflavone than that found in Asian diets.[6] Soy isoflavone causes anxiety behaviour in young female animals, and there is evidence supporting psychotropic and hormonal effects in humans.[7,8,9.10] Interestingly, while right-wing critiques of soy eating focus on effects it can have on young men, the scientific evidence for adverse effects in younger females, converting to HRT-like benefits after menopause, is stronger.[11] 4) other toxins found in plants, such as salicylates and oxalates, as well as problematic proteins such as gliadin/gluten and zein, may be present at higher levels in meat-free diets (but are not unique to them). A vegan mince sold in Countdown supermarkets is simply a coloured blend of soy protein and gluten, a protein linked to the risk of schizophrenia.[12] In the New Zealand context it would be relatively easy to confirm or dispute some of these associations. Everyone admitted to hospital for longer than a day supplies their dietary preferences. The dietetic preference data from psychiatric admissions could be both linked to outcomes over time and compared with the population average distribution, or the distribution in a ward where diet is least likely to play a role in admissions.

Iron deficiency in women

Young women in New Zealand are the most likely to report being vegan or vegetarian in surveys, as elsewhere in the world. Vegans in the Gender Studies field generate papers linking meat to masculinity, with the implication that this masculinity is toxic and might be improved by a plant-based diet.[13] The corollary of this belief – that women may therefore be weakened by meat-avoidance – is never considered. In a 1980 essay by Gloria Steinem called The Politics of Food (in the collection Outrageous Acts and Everyday Rebellions) she describes some of the cultural constructs by which women are deprived of the good nutrition which men use to stay dominant. The belief that men need to eat red meat more often than women may have been valid when the average man was more likely to have to survive an attack by a wild bear than the average woman, but today it is mainly women who suffer from serious iron deficiency. The rate – and the cost to the health system – is increasing in New Zealand as more women give up meat. Iron deficiency anaemia in early pregnancy is associated with neurodevelopmental disorders in children, not an outcome that will increase the mother’s autonomy.[14]

In Georg Büchner’s 19th century “working class tragedy” Woyzeck, filmed by Werner Herzog with Klaus Kinski in the leading role and the subject of an opera by Alban Berg, the title character, a soldier, is subject to experimentation by a sadistic army doctor. The experiment involves Woyzeck living on nothing but peas. Peas may supply a complete protein, but Woyzeck goes insane; the deprivation being the final straw in his alienation. James Cameron, the film-maker responsible for Avatar and Titanic, is investing heavily in pea protein as if this were his gift to New Zealand. I am not sure whether he has watched Woyzeck – one would think he has.

Plant-based vs meat-based

Again, we have the specificity of plant germs as commodity; their low cost of production, long storage life and versatility of processing outcomes makes them an ideal investment and a robust one, as poverty and adversity increases their consumption, as we saw during the 2020 Lockdown Event. However, a plant-based burger is nutritionally greatly inferior to a meat burger, and that burger is often the most nutritious single food item many will people eat in the course of their day. The current push to eat a plant-based diet for “planetary health” is something that all the multinational food processors have signed up and provided funding for, and why not – Coca Cola, Unilever, Nestlé have always sold us plant-based foods. We notice that while iron-deficiency anaemia increases in New Zealand with the reason in plain sight, Nestlé scientists here in NZ are developing a more potent form of supplemental iron to add value to their products as their parent company backs the push to reduce meat. (As usual, it’s hard to separate the roles played by idealism and cynicism in the story). But, you may well ask, isn’t eating meat linked to an increased risk of cancer and heart disease? These associations are small to begin with, but they are also intensely confounded by social class and educational status. Supposing a factory that makes a carcinogenic chemical is hiring. Who is more likely to apply for that job – a meat eater (who will likely have a bigger family to support, among other considerations) or a vegan? Who, so to speak, eats all the pies, and needs food that is filling and nutritious without having to give it much thought? Who is more likely to work two jobs and be exposed to the disruptive metabolic effect of shift work? Carcinogen exposure and shift work are just two of the confounding variables ignored in diet epidemiology. (That meat-eating in Western populations may symbolise or associate with labour itself – as it did for H.G. Wells when he wrote The Time Machine – is not a consideration I have found discussed in the epidemiological literature.)

Certainly one can think of mechanisms that might link meat to disease, as one can with any food, but one can also think of protective mechanisms; several of the nutrients found mainly or only in animal foods are required for various antioxidant and immune defensive enzymes, and some like carnitine and EPA even have a place in the management of heart disease. The argument against meat-eating should not be confused with the argument for sometimes rationing a valuable food that is in short supply. The wartime rationing of meat in the UK is thought to have improved the health of the poorest by guaranteeing a greater supply than they had had previously, at a more affordable price. In Europe, the peasants who supplied the cities with meat, dairy and luxury foods such as oysters were sometimes forced by network disruptions to consume these foods – which many of them had never tasted before – with benefit to their own health.

The plant-based agenda can scarcely be expected to recognise these benefits, or understand the argument summarised by Williams and Dunbar (with regard to the vitamin nicotinamide and amino acid tryptophan in their tuberculosis paper), that if better data collection and analysis resulted in us ”…returning to our egalitarian past and redistributing meat or its components that supply NAD (avoiding both the highs and the lows between individuals and over individual lifetimes) [this] may be more effective than subsidizing corn grain (while the increased prosperity from unlocking human potential should pay for the intervention).”[1] Progress – which includes unlocking human potential from the chains of preventable mental and physical disease – depends on good data, and we do not yet seem to collate the data required to know whether or for whom plant-based diets are safe in New Zealand.

George Henderson works as a researcher for Professor Grant Schofield and the team behind the What The Fat books and the social enterprise PreKure, which has been running free lifestyle and health programs through the lockdown. He is the author or co-author of several scientific articles and letters published by the BMJ, Lancet Diabetes and Endocrinology, the JAMA, and other journals, including an influential review of low carbohydrate diets in diabetes management for the New Zealand Medical Journal. A musician, songwriter and amateur musicologist, he has recently presented a series of podcasts on 20th century women composers for Karyn Hay’s Lately show on RNZ.

References:

[1] Williams AC, Dunbar RI. Big brains, meat, tuberculosis, and the nicotinamide switches: co-evolutionary relationships with modern repercussions?. Int J Tryptophan Res. 2013;6:73‐88. Published 2013 Oct 15. doi:10.4137/IJTR.S12838 [2] Kothapalli KS, Ye K, Gadgil MS, et al. Positive Selection on a Regulatory Insertion-Deletion Polymorphism in FADS2 Influences Apparent Endogenous Synthesis of Arachidonic Acid. Mol Biol Evol. 2016;33(7):1726‐1739. doi:10.1093/molbev/msw049

[3] Urska Dobersek, Gabrielle Wy, Joshua Adkins, Sydney Altmeyer, Kaitlin Krout, Carl J. Lavie & Edward Archer (2020) Meat and mental health: a systematic review of meat abstention and depression, anxiety, and related phenomena, Critical Reviews in Food Science and Nutrition, DOI: 10.1080/10408398.2020.1741505 [4] Frédéric Leroy & Nathan Cofnas (2019) Should dietary guidelines recommend low red meat intake?, Critical Reviews in Food Science and Nutrition, DOI: 10.1080/10408398.2019.1657063 [5] Contreras CM, Rodríguez-Landa JF, García-Ríos RI, Cueto-Escobedo J, Guillen-Ruiz G, Bernal-Morales B. Myristic acid produces anxiolytic-like effects in Wistar rats in the elevated plus maze. Biomed Res Int. 2014;2014:492141. doi:10.1155/2014/492141 [6] Fernandez-Lopez A, Lamothe V, Delample M, Denayrolles M, Bennetau-Pelissero C. Removing isoflavones from modern soyfood: Why and how?. Food Chem. 2016;210:286‐294. doi:10.1016/j.foodchem.2016.04.126 [7] Hicks KD, Sullivan AW, Cao J, Sluzas E, Rebuli M, Patisaul HB. Interaction of bisphenol A (BPA) and soy phytoestrogens on sexually dimorphic sociosexual behaviors in male and female rats. Horm Behav. 2016;84:121‐126. doi:10.1016/j.yhbeh.2016.06.010 [8] Tillett T. Full of beans? Early soy exposure associated with less feminine play in girls [published correction appears in Environ Health Perspect. 2012 Jan;120(1):A17]. Environ Health Perspect. 2011;119(12):A525. doi:10.1289/ehp.119-a525b [9] Adgent MA, Daniels JL, Rogan WJ, et al. Early-life soy exposure and age at menarche. Paediatr Perinat Epidemiol. 2012;26(2):163‐175. doi:10.1111/j.1365-3016.2011.01244.x [10] Hibbeln, J.R., SanGiovanni, J.P., Golding, J., Emmett, P.M., Northstone, K., Davis, J.M., Schuckit, M. and Heron, J. (2017), Meat Consumption During Pregnancy and Substance Misuse Among Adolescent Offspring: Stratification of TCN2 Genetic Variants. Alcohol Clin Exp Res, 41: 1928-1937. doi:10.1111/acer.13494 [11] Patisaul HB, Jefferson W. The pros and cons of phytoestrogens. Front Neuroendocrinol. 2010;31(4):400‐419. doi:10.1016/j.yfrne.2010.03.003 [12] Čiháková D, Eaton WW, Talor MV, et al. Gliadin-related antibodies in schizophrenia. Schizophr Res. 2018;195:585‐586. doi:10.1016/j.schres.2017.08.051 [13] Jessica Greenebaum & Brandon Dexter (2018) Vegan men and hybrid masculinity, Journal of Gender Studies, 27:6, 637-648, DOI: 10.1080/09589236.2017.1287064 [14] Wiegersma AM, Dalman C, Lee BK, Karlsson H, Gardner RM. Association of Prenatal Maternal Anemia With Neurodevelopmental Disorders. JAMA Psychiatry. 2019;76(12):1294–1304. doi:10.1001/jamapsychiatry.2019.2309

#Anglo.txt

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latestprintingmachine · 3 years ago

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2021's Best Digital Fabric Printing Machines

CJV300-160 Plus Miami Cotton, silk, nylon, polyester, and other fabrics are not all made equal. Each material necessitates a particular ink chemistry, which is why your fabric printing equipment must be customized for your needs.

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Which Fabric Printing Machine Do You Require?

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Printers that print directly on fabric

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Additional Points to Consider

Which Fabric Printing Machine Do You Require?

Dye sublimation, direct-to-fabric, and hybrid printers are the fabric printing machines we'll be focused on. Finally, the sort of fabric printing machine you want will be determined by your printing application.

A direct-to-fabric printing machine will give the exact chemistry you need if you're printing on cotton, silk, or nylon. A dye sublimation printer is required for polyester materials.

Printers for Dye Sublimation

The textile industry relies heavily on dye sublimation printing. The technique produces the ideal chemistry for printing on polyester, one of the most often used fabrics for soft signage at tradeshows, airports, and shopping malls.

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Sure Color F7200 Epson Epson Sure Color F7200 Epson Sure Color F7

The Epson F7200 produces excellent print output while being incredibly easy to use. The F7200 is an excellent entry-level dye sublimation fabric printer with a 64-inch print width and a low price.

VJ-1638WX Mutoh

The Mutoh VJ-1638 is suitable for everyday dye sublimation printing, despite being simpler than the Mimaki TS300. At a low price, this fabric printer delivers eight-color channel printing, a variety of ink options, and excellent performance.

XT-640 Roland

Roland's XT-640 model is an eight-color channel printer for production printing that competes with Mutoh and Mimaki. This printer also comes with pink and yellow bright inks.

CJV300-160 Plus Mimaki

The CJV300-160 is well-known in the sign and graphics business as a highly regarded roll-to-roll printer/cutter. The CJV300, on the other hand, allows enterprises to go well beyond posters and banners, opening up a whole new realm of sublimation manufacturing.

For applications where cutting the paper is necessary before sublimating to the target output, the combination of printing and cutting in one machine offers significant economies. A good example is printing on coffee cups.

Printers that print directly on fabric

The dye sublimation paper transfer method will not work with cotton, silk, nylon, or any other non-polyester fabric. But that doesn't rule out the possibility of printing on these fibers.

The method will only need a change in ink chemistry, allowing you to print directly into textiles rather than transferring from paper. Direct printing is also better for polyester applications that need deep ink penetration, such as printing on flags.

Printers with a hybrid design

Industrial hybrid inkjet printers combine the best of both worlds. The devices listed below can print on both transfer paper and cloth directly.

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This allows the ink to penetrate the cloth more deeply. When the cloth is backlit, the outcome might be more vibrant color.

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Read more: about Printing ideas

#digital fabric printing machines #latest printers 2021 #best print service

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cruelfeline · 5 years ago

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This Got Long and I am Sorry

Well, the anti in the Hordak tag deleted their post, which is a huge bummer because it means no fun games for me. But! I have been looking forward to addressing the points in that post all day, and I won’t give up my chance to talk ad nauseam about Hordak. Because y’all know that I love to talk about Hordak.

also I saved the post as a draft prior to it getting deleted so I actually have the whole thing hahaha

However: in order to prevent the original poster from getting harassed for said post, I’m just going to address points via my own summary. Safer that way! So, here we go: addressing some posited reasons that Catra and Hordak are not comparable, plus some claims about why Hordak can’t be treated with the same kindness many like to treat Catra with.

1. Hordak being a clone of a dictator/not being biologically similar to Catra et. al, acting as he does because of this biology as a clone.

This portion of that post was a little odd because I don’t really understand what the argument was. Perhaps the idea that Hordak literally cannot be anything different than his progenitor due to... cloning science? I’m not sure.

But assuming that that was the intended argument: being a clone essentially means having the same DNA as someone else. That’s all. It does not mean that you are the exact same person (ask some identical twins if they are the same exact person as their sibling). The environment one is raised in, along with epigenetics (changes in individuals due to gene expression rather than DNA), provides infinite variations between individuals that might share the same DNA. So this argument is a little... nonsensical?

Now, I can definitely buy that some of Hordak’s morality might be biology-based; that is a legitimate argument. See this post regarding why an individual like Hordak may not have issues raising children for his army, for example. Mind you, I don’t really see this as an argument in support of him just being an evil, irredeemable bastard; rather, I look at it as an argument against “natural evil” and more in favor of different biological, cultural, and environmental factors creating an alien morality.

2. Hordak created a social system that resulted in all sorts of abuses being visited upon children. He viewed said children as disposable materials for his war.

...yeah, actually, just go to this post again. Honestly, I have zero expectation for Hordak to have any sort of special tenderness towards children. I don’t expect a clone from a society of clones to value children, not because he’s pure evil, but because he comes from a world where children aren’t a thing. Why would he value them?

A creature whose life is so different from ours as to give it a different sense of morals isn’t necessarily evil, even if they do things that we look upon as evil via our morality. Morality is not a universal constant; our evil may be meaningless to an alien, whereas our good might be horrifying to them. It all depends on the creature.

And as far as seeing children as disposable material for war: well, that follows, doesn’t it? Because after all, Hordak is also disposable material for war. Material that was actually disposed of.

3. Hordak was ready to murder Catra for disobeying orders; he’s likely murdered other high ranking officers for the same.

There is no evidence that Hordak has personally murdered anyone, so we’re just going to pass on that. One may speculate all one wants, but unless Hordak presents me with a neatly-written list of all the poor souls he’s slain, I don’t have much to say about this.

However, regarding him being ready to kill Catra: this is a complex situation because it was not as simple as “Catra disobeyed, so she must die.” Catra did not just disobey Hordak; she lied to him. He gave her a chance to come clean, to be trustworthy and loyal, to own up to a mistake, and she lied to him.

This is an issue for a couple of reasons: first, Hordak appears to have a thing about lies. He has a thing about people deceiving him (potentially because, where he comes from, he is truly incapable of lying), about not knowing what people around him are planning. Personally, I think that this is at least somewhat rooted in self-defense: he is physically weak without armor and prone to emotional manipulation by anyone who knows anything remotely intimate about him. Catra proves this point by manipulating the bejeezus out of him during season four, right after showing him that she can kill him anytime she likes by disarming him via crystal-grab. If one of his subordinates is prone to deceiving him, he needs to get rid of that subordinate to protect himself.

Second, when Catra loses Shadow Weaver, she truly does endanger the whole Horde. Like, Shadow Weaver literally helps the Princesses infiltrate during season three. That is a thing that happens. Hordak isn’t just pulling dumb moments of insubordination from thin air; he elects to eliminate Catra because she has done something that proves to be actually detrimental to the Horde in a serious way.

I don’t mean to say that Hordak is morally correct in sentencing Catra to death, first via Beast Island, then via Crimson waste; what I mean to say is that he enacts an extremely dramatic punishment not due to simple disobedience, but due to Catra being legitimately dangerous to his life and the life of the Horde. It’s still not “good,” but it’s not the same as killing Catra for mouthing off. It’s not some grand confirmation of irredeemable evil; it’s not that simple.

4. Catra is an abused child who has been broken physically, emotionally, and psychologically since she was an infant; Hordak, on the other hand, has no background in abuse. The only bad that has happened to him is being called a defect and sent out to fight and die, which didn’t really matter because he was a clone anyway.

This… this is a sentiment some antis hold that is honestly disturbing to me.

I won’t touch on the Catra portion; all of that is true.

But Hordak… I cannot comprehend how some people don’t seem to understand the true horror of Hordak’s situation. As far as we currently know, as of season four, Hordak was manufactured to be a tool of war. He was never meant to be his own person, despite clearly having the psyche of one. He didn’t even have, couldn’t have, his own name. He was born into this purpose with no way out, no hope for any choice of his own. For pity’s sake, he has a port in the back of his neck that allows him to be erased without a moment’s notice. That is a piece of hardware someone put in him to completely control him against his will. It is a level of bodily autonomy violation suffered by no one else on this show.

Hordak has essentially no personal self-esteem and no ability to self-validate outside of his identity as Prime’s clone. His entire concept of self-worth is based upon being useful to Prime, to the point that he doesn’t seem to understand that his being thrown away for getting sick is not only not his fault, but morally abhorrent. He is so emotionally dependent on his Brother that, despite severe risk to his own life, he seeks to return to him rather than simply taking Etheria for himself (which is what he would have done if he simply wanted to be a ruler). He needs Prime’s validation, Prime’s approval, that badly.

And he tries to obtain that approval despite being absolutely terrified of Prime, despite it being very clear to us that there is no way that Prime will ever give it as long as Hordak remains his own self. Despite all of that, Hordak needs it because he was manufactured and programmed and conditioned to worship this terrible creature, and he simply cannot grasp a different way to live. He’s too emotionally sick.

I’m not sure how someone can look at this character and not see what has happened to him, what is happening to him, as abuse.

5. Hordak only starts to care about anything else when Entrapta enters his life, and he only does so because she validates him; even then, it takes a long time.

This is a perplexing concept to me because… well, yes? Of course he only starts to see things differently when he bonds with Entrapta? Obviously?

Until then, he never had anyone suggest to him that he could be a worthwhile person without having some sort of practical use. He never had a companion to share his vulnerabilities with. He only had his sick ties to Prime.

Perhaps this means to suggest that Hordak should have started building a new life without the help he received from Entrapta? As if people suffering from mental illness and severe emotional pain should just be able to lift themselves up with zero support and fix their whole lives in a snap.

Ailing people tend to need other people’s support to get through their troubles. Hordak not being able to see new possibilities for his life without Entrapta’s help doesn’t say anything negative about him; all it says is that he needed someone’s support to start healing. Just as the overwhelming majority of people do.

6. Catra wants to be in charge so that others can’t hurt her. Hordak wants to be in charge just so he can “be on top,” and he only regrets what occurs with Prime because it means he is no longer dominant.

Hordak as a warlord is actually a very interesting thing to look at. He fails to act in the way that many enthusiastic, traditional warlord characters do, to the point that he seems less into the ruling and more into the obtainment of Prime’s esteem via conquering a planet to prove his worth. Which is, y’know, what’s happening: Hordak doesn’t care about ruling Etheria. He cares about conquering it so he can present it to Prime and prove that he deserves to live. The full post about that is right here.

If Hordak really cared about ruling something, he would have never bothered wasting all of that time building a portal to get in contact with Prime. He would have focused all of his efforts on conquering Etheria and left it at that. His actions only make sense when one understands that he doesn’t actually care about being a tyrannical lord; he cares about showing his Brother that he’s a good boy.

7. Catra feels regret for her actions; Hordak does not. Catra sees herself as an irredeemable bad person and hates herself. Hordak doesn’t believe he needs to be redeemed and just wants to control everything.

Again, I won’t touch Catra here, because that assessment is valid.

Hordak, however: Hordak literally thinks so little of himself that he believes it his own job to prove to his brother that he shouldn’t have been tossed aside to die. He doesn’t see this as a moral failing on Prime’s part. He doesn’t see it as wrong, that he was thrown away because he got sick. He sees it as a problem that it is his responsibility to fix.

Hordak admits to Entrapta that he has doubts: perhaps Prime was right. Perhaps he, Hordak, is a failure. Perhaps it was okay to send him out to die.

Hordak believes Catra’s lies about Entrapta’s “betrayal” because, Twitter Word of God, he views himself as undeserving of friendship.

Whether Hordak believes himself needing redemption is beside the point: the core of Hordak’s story and character arc has nothing to do with being a morally good person. It has to do with learning, understanding, and internalizing that he has his own value beyond what Horde Prime grants him. It has to do with accepting himself as he is, triumphs and shortcomings alike. It has to do with realizing that he has a right to live with or without Prime’s say-so.

Moral redemption has nothing to do with it because before Hordak has any hope of learning to respect the rights of others, he has to learn to fight for his own.

Am I done? I think I’m done.

Well. Regrettably, I had to summarize this, so the original poster’s words are not verbatim intact, but I think I got the sense of them! Also regrettably, they will likely not see or respond to this, so that chance for active dialogue is gone. But anyone else can respond if they like, including any antis lurking about the tag. Well; if you can slog through this whole thing!

Anyway, in conclusion: Hordak is a sad bastard man. He has just as many painful personal problems as Catra and will forever have all of my sympathy and kindness because I have decided that he deserves it. So there.

#hordak #catra #man I have been looking forward to writing this nonsense all day and it was a good time #i love talking about this bastard #to the point that i appreciate antis giving me posts to respond to #you go you angry little people

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brokasteltranslations · 5 years ago

Text

Fate/Requiem: Chapter 4

Several days had passed since I had been relieved of my duties as the Reaper. No more work had come in from my master, Caren Fujimura, since the Kundry case, and I no longer received information on a preferential basis over the municipal network. I had been barred from the critical point where the Akihabara district barrier was located, and my access to Kanda Shrine and Yushima Temple, where multiple ley lines converged, had also been restricted. Stripped of my rank and duties, I was nothing more than another truant – and one dragging a nameless, powerless, useless Servant in tow to boot. A lone wolf not even worth employing as a guard dog.

Fortunately, Akihabara was a prime tourist destination, and as long as I wore my usual swimwear and windbreaker I would more or less blend in with the usual clientele. However, that did nothing to help me feel less out-of-place. Whatever I did, I just felt like running away and hiding in a hole.

I had received no more information on the Command Seal Hunter. It was worrying that the case had not yet been publicly acknowledged. My gut told me that it had not been quietly solved and faded away. It was merely biding its time.

Whispers of the “Woman with the Missing Hand” circulated Shibuya. It had become something of an urban legend among students.

Don't you know better than to cut that out? Keep repeating it and it'll become real, and then who'll have to deal with it? It'll be... actually, I suppose it won't be me. Not any more.

----

As a consequence of my newly-imposed freedom, I had taken to wandering the town aimlessly with Pran on a daily basis. Wherever we went, we found faint traces of Chitose's presence. It crossed my mind more than once to quit Akihabara for one of the other wards.

–

There were many things that seemed to draw Pran's interest, but over time I started to notice a broad pattern. It was live experiences that he seemed to enjoy - street performers, buskers, speed painters and the like were what most often caught his eye.

Thinking back to the episode with Kuchime, I tried taking him along to a shop geared towards those 'otaku'. It was crammed to the rafters with endless figurines of buxom girls, male-oriented toys and all manner of merchandise, to the point where I was almost sick of looking at it. However, none of it particularly seemed to resonate with him.

Maybe it's because they're all manufactured goods. Perhaps it's originality that appeals to him?

He stood by, a little sleepily, gazing into the distance as though squinting into the sun, watching faraway strangers. Only when we passed a shop selling astronomical telescopes did he exhibit a different reaction. He squatted down in front of a poster of the planets – clearly not hand-made – and stayed there for well over a minute.

“Do you know Jupiter?”

“This eye... it follows me.”

“Eye? Oh, you mean the Great Red Spot?”

“This planet's so big. It's so big...”

He shivered, then pulled the goggles resting over his head down over his eyes, and peered at the poster once more.

“A planet, huh? I'm surprised you know that word.” Had he picked it up from when I read The Little Prince to him? He had initially talked about coming from somewhere far away – perhaps he wasn't just making it up? Or maybe... no, was that even possible?

I chose my words carefully. “That's a very old photograph. From before the war. The Great Red Spot on Jupiter isn't there any more. It got smaller and smaller, and then it disappeared.”

He smiled gently at the poster.

“Maybe it went to sleep. I hope someone comes to wake it up.”

–

Before I knew it, the day of the Grail Tournament had arrived. I hadn't exactly been waiting with bated breath, but still I found myself in front of the Colosseum.

The colossal stadium was located on the outskirts of Akihabara, bordering the ocean. Its enormous silhouette threatened to overwhelm the surrounding cityscape. Towering arches, each easily the size of a skyscraper, rose high in three, four levels to form the thick exterior of the cylindrical structure and enclose the arena within.

This was a place of pure competition. The poets once spoke of the ancient Roman emperors giving their people bread and circuses; here was the circus reborn for the modern age, the manifestation of the people's right to entertainment.

–

I had ended up accompanied to the Colosseum by Pran and Karin. Koharu had, to my great chagrin, seen fit to furnish me with not one, not two, but a whole four reserved tickets – two Master-Servant pairs. Technically Servants had no need for tickets – after all, they could just assume their spiritual forms – but no-one willing to come to see the Grail Tournament in person could reasonably be refused a seat, and they were provided in pairs as a matter of course. That being said...

“How long's it been?”

It had been twenty minutes since the stadium had opened, and we were still waiting.

Enormous lines snaked from each and every one of the Colosseum's myriad entrances. At this rate, the tournament would probably have started before we got to our seats. Personally I hardly minded, but it must have bothered Karin, because she suddenly yelled out at the top of her voice.

“All right, fine! Flake out on me, see if I care! We're going in, you hear?”

“You really want to go in? You sure you don't want to wait a bit longer?” I did my best to keep my voice neutral.

“Damn right I'm sure! Never should've invited you anyway, you lousy no-show son of a...”

None of her messages had prompted a response, it seemed.

–

The individual keeping us waiting was the weary-looking guitar player, Kuchime.

Unsure what exactly to do with my four tickets, I had decided to start by offering them to people I knew. Karin herself had snatched the chance with typical zeal, but her partner Kouyou had been reluctant to join us, leaving me with one left over. However, a few days later the two of us had happened to stumble across Kuchime in a side-street in Akihabara, strumming away with his usual gloomy air and being flatly ignored by every passer-by. Karin had called out, probably taking pity on him.

“Hey, Kuchime, was it? Ever thought of checking out the Grail Tournament? Maybe the halftime show'll give you some tips on how not to make your customers run a mile.”

“Ain't got no need for that, little missy. I'm happy as long as I'm getting' through to people with ears to hear.”

“Think you're some kinda auteur, huh? Keep dreaming, idiot. Why don't you just go the whole way and die young while you're at it!”

I had watched blankly as she exploded at him unprovoked. Her tirade had ended with her snatching the ticket from my hands and thrusting it squarely into his unshaven face. Had she done it in a spontaneous surge of pity for this dishevelled musician, or had she been planning it all along? I may have been the Reaper, but even I wasn't so insensitive as to probe any further.

However, in the end, the chance she had taken came to nothing. She stalked towards the arena, fuming. I followed her, leading Pran by the hand.

–

Eventually, we arrived at our designated seats. The interior of the Colosseum was spacious, tall, and delightfully modern.

I now understood why the queues today had been particularly bad: the staff were conducting unusually extensive baggage checks and body searches on all attendees. I had even seen staff members flagging down particular individuals for Command Seal checks, and it was hard not to notice the guns at the hips of a number of security personnel dotted around the stadium.

I'm glad they didn't try to check my Command Seals. Maybe the reservations got us through...

In any case, it was gratifying to see that my warning to Hannibal hadn't gone unheeded. Although there was always the possibility that the organisers had gotten wind of the serial killings themselves, and acted of their own accord.

“Yo! Sorry we took so long.” Karin reappeared with Pran in tow. Both of their arms were piles high with soft drinks, packets of peanuts and other junk food. She tossed me a freshly-grilled hot dog.

“So this is the bread part, huh? Shouldn't be long until the circu- Yeowch! Aah! My tongue!”

“Circus? You mean the halftime show, right? Oh yeah, there was a stall selling some kinda porridge too if you want some. I tapped out though, seemed pretty weird.”

“Porridge, huh? How odd... Hey, who gave you those?!”

I suddenly registered Pran was decked from head to toe in tournament merchandise, complete with a little paper cap and a megaphone. He was ready for the show.

I couldn't stop myself from bursting out laughing, and soon both me and Karin were clutching our sides. She was so engrossed in the tournament now that it was hard to imagine she had been furious not twenty minutes ago. I could probably learn a lot from how quickly she rebounded.

Next to our seats on the very front row was a space to be kept open in case of emergencies. Fortunately, it was just large enough for Kouyou to squeeze in. Accommodating larger Servants was probably half of the reason it was there.

–

After a minute or so, the music playing throughout the stadium increased in volume and a rousing melody began to play. It seemed we'd timed our arrival perfectly.

The music faded away, and for a moment, the entire arena fell silent. Then, as if on cue, a voice rang out across the stadium. Below us, eldritch lights began to dance across the very front row where the patricii would have sat in the original Colosseum. A diminutive figure strode down to the aisle, and unfurled a pair of feathered wings. At the same time, the main screen cut to a close-up of a girl - a woman? - dressed in a plain white Grecian tunic.

“Good evening, my lovely little piglets!” Her greeting echoed around the Colosseum at amplified volume. “Welcome, one and all, to the ocean stage of the Grail Tournament! That's right! We're all setting sail for Okeanos, and I, the great witch Circe, will be your guide!”

She stoked the crowd's excitement, and they answered with a deafening roar… although I did pick up some rather crude jeers mixed in with the cheering.

“Thank you, thank you, my little piglets! I love you too! Now, before we meet all our brave warriors, I'd like to introduce our commentary team!”

Two burly men strode down the aisle to join her, waving to the audience.

“First, for the Ottoman Corsairs, we have a scallywag among scallywags! The Gentleman of the Caribbean! The one and only Blackbeard, Edward Teach!”

“That's me!” Blackbeard was greeted by deafening boos. He did not seem to care a jot.

“Sounds like you know him well! Let's move swiftly on!”

“Wait, that's all I get?!”

“Next, for the Carthaginian Alliance, we have the king of admirals! The man who saved the Roman Empire from the Ptolemaic Dynasty! Friend and advisor to Emperor Augustus, I give you Marcus Vipsanius Agrippa!”

Agrippa! The commander who led the Romans to victory at the Battle of Actium!

I expected him to bask in the applause of the crowd, but instead he rounded on the emcee.

“What is this? I never agreed to this! First you invite me to attend nigh on midnight last night, and now you expect me to commentate?! Explain yourself!”

“About that... Honestly, we wanted Eukleides of Alexandria, but he cancelled at the last moment. What are Foreigners like, right?”

“Some nerve on you, girl! You expect a general of Rome to commentate on the Carthaginians? And you! Yes, you, the Servant with the easel! You think capturing my face is funny, do you?!”

The sight of the irate Agrippa slowly being talked down by the witch emcee, and eventually taking a reluctant seat at the commentator's desk, drew no small amount of laughter from the audience.

“All right, everyone, make sure you have your channels all set to your favourite team! If you're feeling peckish, why not try some delicious kykeon?”

–

“Well, that sure was something.”

Karin was grinning next to me. I, for my part, was aghast. This was grotesque, a vulgar display that made a mockery of Servants' pride and nobility. It was difficult to tell how much was real and how much was acted, but the tastelessness of the ambiguity only made me feel more disgusted. The tournament itself hadn't even begun yet, and I had a feeling it was only going to get worse.

I guess the least I can do is watch it through. I probably won't be getting another chance.

My reasons for being here were twofold. Firstly, I wanted to see what I could learn about Koharu's mysterious Possession ability. I had also been deeply impressed by the way that, despite being aware of her naivety, she disapproved wholeheartedly of any wrongdoing, and the evident admiration with which she viewed her companions.

My second reason was that I wanted to see for myself the incredible power that Servants were permitted to wield here. I felt both awe and terror for Noble Phantasms. It was baffling to me that abilities so destructive might be allowed to be used freely.

The citizens of Mosaic City were different to Masters in the true sense. They were no magi, with magic circuits passed down from previous generations or developed through special training, and it went without saying that none of them possessed a Magic Crest. The mana that powered their magecraft originated from the Holy Grail, and was distributed throughout the city via ley-lines. This mana was more than enough to sustain a Servant in everyday life with no discomfort. However Noble Phantasms, which employed magecraft on a much larger scale and consumed vast amounts of mana, were another matter entirely. Activating them was highly challenging, and they could kill a Master unless attempted with extreme care.

Broadly speaking, the most common foes I encountered in my work were Masters who fought with little regard for their own lives, because they had found something they valued more.

Had the combatants in this Colosseum all reined their latent magical abilities to extraordinary levels? Or had the footage I had seen simply been enhanced in some way after the fact? I had come to determine the truth.

“Oh, there you are, Kouyou.”

In the formerly empty space in the midst of the cheering crowd, the enormous bulk of the Ogress had appeared. She sat with her belly pressed to the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible. Occasionally her eyes glanced sideways to meet with Pran's.

–

Feeling a little relieved, I turned back to the arena. The battlefield was enormous: a huge rectangular arena, two hundred metres on the larger side. Above each of the spectator seats floated semi-transparent screens that provided a closer view of the action.

Finally, the battlefield began to change. Cracks ran across the centre, and the stage began to fold in on itself with mechanical precision, forming a deep, wide basin. Water swirled in to fill it, and rocks rose from beneath its surface to form a maze of crags in the open water. Two galleys burst from the canals at either side of the stage, defying the current. They hung in the air for a second, like salmon poised mid-leap above a waterfall, and then crashed down into the water below with a mighty splash. A host of smaller boats and schooners followed them out, and quickly organised themselves into two fleets.

There was no magic in this, only the most cutting-edge stage equipment... although perhaps it was best not to think about the enormous, ominous shadow circling beneath the water's surface.

–

“Now, my little piglets, I think we've kept you waiting long enough! Let's get this naumachia started! We know you're tired of the same-old same-old, so this year we thought we'd change things up a little with a large-scale team-on-team battle! Which of our brave teams in Akihabara today will be crowned the conquerors of the high seas?

“First, we have the Ottoman Corsairs! For these terrors of the Mediterranean Sea, this man once more takes up the rank of Pasha! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the great pirate of Barbary, the Redbeard, Heyreddin Barbarossa!

“And that's not all! Next we have his second-in-command! There's not a man west of Austria who doesn't know his name: the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Jacques de Molay!”

The witch introduced each of the competitors one by one, stoking the crowd's excitement. Illustrious admirals and infamous pirates lined up upon the deck.

“And now, last but not least, someone you know very well! The mightiest commander of the navies of the far east - can you say “Hassou-tobi”? Our favourite natural-born Heike-killer, Minamoto Kurou Yoshitsune!

“Could this samurai be the most dangerous competitor on the field today? I'm sure the other side won't be showing much quarter, so look forward to some spectacular acrobatics!”

–

The pretty young warrior looked a little uncomfortable in responding to chants of “Ushiwaka!”, but eventually gave in and began to wave to the crowd. The sight broke me from my trance, and a young girl standing nearby caught my attention; she hadn't been introduced.

Could that be Yoshitsune's Master?

She was dressed in elegant traditional Japanese robes and heavy facial makeup, matching Yoshitsune, but she herself appeared to be nothing more than an ordinary citizen. Behind or beside the other Servants stood similar unassuming figures. More than a couple of them were wearing masks that obscured their faces.

Eventually, the oriental arrangement of Mozart's Turkish March playing throughout the Colosseum drew to a close, and was replaced with an unsettling, savage, African-style drumbeat. The Grail Tournament was as tasteless as ever.

–

“Now swivel your heads the other way, my adorable piglets! Little corkscrew tails to the east, and snouts to the west! Please give it up for the mighty heroes of the Carthaginian Alliance!

“Cast your eyes upon Rome's worst nightmare! At his back, the souls of three war elephants with whom he crossed the Pyrenees and the Alps! Ladies and gentlemen, the Lightning Commander, Hannibal Barca!”

The sight of Hannibal, cross-armed on the deck in traditional battle garments, was so wildly different from the garrulous old tourist I had met in Cafe Borges that I could hardly believe it was the same man. The mighty cheer from the crowd put not so much as a crack in his stern expression, and he harboured a menacing aura.

“And not to be outdone, his second-in-command: The Firebrand of Castile, El Cid!”

The witch continued with her introductions, each one punctuated with thunderous applause. I tuned them out. My attention was absorbed by a small figure on the deck, with a white coat draped across her shoulders. I followed her with my augmented vision as she stared keenly into the enemy ranks.

He stood a short distance behind her, head askew, hands on his hips. He seemed devoid of tension, as though this were nothing more than a routine warmup.

“And taking up the rearguard is someone I'm sure you all remember! None other than the warrior who took the Newbie Tournament by storm! Our proud Knight of the Round Table, Sir Galahad!”

–

With the introductions concluded, the galleys began to slip forwards, and each team assembled into their respective formations. Karin rapped on my knee with her megaphone, unable to conceal her excitement.

“I told you it was gonna be awesome! Dunno much about the pirates, but even I know Yoshitsune!”

“You expecting me to be impressed or something? You could hardly call yourself Japanese if you didn’t.”

I could not imagine it would be easy for this collection of pirates, outlaws to the bone that they were, to assimilate cleanly into everyday life in Mosaic City - although, of course, there were exceptions. Perhaps it was for the best that there was a place for them here, where they could put their talents to use while also entertaining the populace. However...

“I know it's just a mock battle, but don't you think this seems really one-sided? The Ottomans are obviously better at sea. Hannibal's famous for his war elephants, but he can't even use them on the water.”

“Haven't been reading up, eh Eri? Here's a flyer for you. See? Says right here the field will change halfway through, and turn into a land battle. There's your Carthaginian advantage.”

“Ah. I get it.” This was never supposed to be a fair battle, but a dramatic turnaround against overwhelming odds. The perfect script to drive the audience wild. I myself had to confess, I was looking forward to seeing Yoshitsune and Galahad face off – so much so that a part of me wished this were a real Holy Grail War.

“Yeah. Now I see.” I gazed around at the nearby spectators with dawning realisation. I felt as though I'd grown a little closer to understanding how these competitors could wield such extraordinary power, and the system that supported them in doing so.

----

“Eh?”

The back of my neck prickled. Someone, somewhere, was watching me.

I slid my gaze slowly around myself, careful not to let my reaction be noticed, but my stalker was impossible to discern through the interference of the crowd around me.

I'm being watched. No doubt about it. There's something else, too. A familiar, maybe?

The Borgia siblings' warning came to mind. Someone I'd previously crossed, out for revenge. As I looked around warily, hoping to forestall some impending attack, I noticed something strange: dotted throughout the crowd were spectators standing motionless, seemingly blind to the excitement around them.

Victims of the Command Seal Hunter? No, that doesn't seem right...

I focused, filtering out the auditory noise, following the sense of wrongness back to its source... and happened to catch a snippet of conversation from the row in front.

“You serious? A fire in Shinjuku?”

“Where? Tsunohazu? Kashiwagi?”

“Seems like it's around Hanazono way.”

Hanazono?

My old house was in Hanazono. Which was to say, Chitose's house was in Hanazono. I leaned forward a little, and stared at the woman in front's phone from over her shoulder.

“Eri, the hell are you doing?”

On the screen was a video someone had uploaded to the municipal network.

“What on earth...?”

A video of a building on fire. In real time.

A row of old wooden houses in Shinjuku wreathed in smoke. A human figure appeared from the billowing grey curtain, aflame from head to toe. However, they did not run or drop to the ground, but continued calmly into the next building, and even as their blood boiled and their skin charred with the flames' caress, began to feed the flames.

The video cut short - interrupted by a new upload of a public train brought to a standstill, flames licking at its roof.

As I watched, a buzz of concern began to spread throughout the crowd. It was hardly surprising; there were probably no small number of spectators here from Shinjuku. I turned around to see that Karin, too, was transfixed by her phone.

“What's wrong?”

“They say there's been some kinda 'pedestrian accident' in front of Shibuya station. A tram derailed and went across the cross... Oh. Ew. I'm not looking at that. Trains are stopped too. The hell's going on?”

Simultaneous incidents, all across Mosaic City.

“Ugh...”

I gripped my arm as a dull pain blossomed inside it. The stench of death was agitating the spirits. Black blood oozed out from beneath my hand, as their ire turned on my own body.

Just when I thought I'd gotten them under control...

This arena was no longer a place I should be. I was the greatest threat here, to the tens of thousands of spectators present and the partners by their sides. Right now, these simultaneous incidents concerned me.

Security here was tight, and more to the point, greater warriors than I could ever hope to be now thronged the main stage. This was perhaps the safest place in all of Mosaic City. My place was not here – as much as I had wanted to see Koharu fight, I no longer had time to worry about that.

“Eri, wait.”

Karin must have guessed my intentions as soon as I stood up.

“You're going? Just like that? Without me, again?”

“Sorry. I know I invited you out here and everything, but... there's something I need you to do.”

“What is it?”

I stared back at Karin for a moment, then looked down to the boy by her side.

“Kouyou, do you think you could take care of Pran?”

The ogress looked to Karin questioningly, then gave a slow nod.

“Consider it done. Just leave it to us, Eri.” Karin flashed her newly-recovered Command Seals, alongside an irrepressible grin. Just as I made to leave, Karin's phone buzzed with a notification, and she pulled it out.

“Who's texting people at this kinda time?”

She checked the screen and sighed.

“It's that Kuchime asshole. He says “Sorry.””

“That's all?”

“That's all.” She smiled, resignedly and a little sadly.

----

I left the seats behind and made my way to the outer hall. While still indoors, this was an airy, open space, with high arches modelled meticulously after Roman architecture. It extended far away in both directions, curving gently to match the shape of the arena. Shops lined the outer wall, still milling with a fair number of late customers. Here and there people clustered around screens outside the storefronts, drinking as they watched the matches unfold.

What's even the point of coming here?, I thought. You could be doing that at home!

–

As I hurried towards the exit, I organised the idea I'd hit upon earlier in my head: to whit, that the competitors in the Holy Grail Tournament were taking their mana from the crowd itself. Tens of thousands of pseudo-magi, all pouring mana into the Servants doing battle below. That was my hypothesis.

This Colosseum was not a post-war addition to Akihabara. It had been a part of this town since long before the world was restructured, and it was far too large an anomaly to be permitted to exist without a reason. And in ancient Rome, the battles that took place in the colosseums had been sacred acts; offerings made to the gods.

Heroic Spirits take on all of our thoughts, hopes and dreams. They draw power from them.

The greater the mark a Servant had left upon history, and the more fame they had earned, the more power they drew. Such was their nature – and as an unintended and tragic consequence, Servants were occasionally summoned with the strange and cruel skill, “Innocent Monster”.

How much of this do the Riedenflaus family realise, I wonder?

I couldn't help but wonder just to what extent thaumaturgical systems might be entwined with the structure of the Colosseum itself.

An unexpected voice called me to a halt.

“Erice, we need to talk. It's important.”

It was the first time I had seen Ms. Fujimura in several days. I wheeled around to find her standing in the dimly-lit outer hall, dressed like a librarian as always.

Why is she here? What could she possibly want to talk about?

I strode towards her, with the intention of grilling her on the events in Shibuya and Shinjuku.

As I opened my mouth, I heard an odd sound from the broadcast. As the camera focused on the Carthaginian flagship, the witch performing the commentary had yelped in shock. I spun around to look. Ms. Fujimura, too, focused on the screen.

What I saw defied comprehension.

Regardless of the fact that the enemy was still distant, Hannibal, the Carthaginian commander, whipped his blade from the sheath at his belt, and without a moment's hesitation thrust it deep into the chest of his second-in-command, El Cid.

“Gah!”

El Cid's face froze in an expression of disbelief. His Master rounded on Hannibal in his confusion. The Carthaginian pulled his bloodstained sword from his ally's chest, and without a care for the man's protests, swung his sword crosswise in a vicious slash.

Both El Cid and his master collapsed. Two heads flew from the boat, to splash down unceremoniously into the artificial sea.

#Fate/Requiem #Fate #translation #light novel

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twins-parted · 4 years ago

Text

Seth’s Apartment - ( A.K.A - The Evil Lair Where He Plots & Also Tries To Escape Reality ! )

( If you guys want - I’ll write one up for Jonah too, unless we don’t care though, because then I won’t ! )

Seth was gifted a renovated sound-proof apartment from Edith for graduating high school with highest honors and a perfect GPA. It takes up the four apartments in a reclusive section of Louisiana, two towns away from his hometown of Deadwood. ( Jonah’s is the entire bottom floor and takes up the same amount of space: four apartments, though he rarely uses it. ) Both apartments have intricate lock systems and the best home protection technology available because Edy worries about her baby brothers.

The general set - up of the apartment is the front room, to the left is the laundry room hidden by sliding doors, and to the right is a coat closet and a visitor’s bathroom. As you move down the hall there is an archway leading into a state - of - the - art kitchen, complete with stainless steel appliances and the same white, black & gray color motif used throughout. After moving to the end of the hall there is a spacious living room with a 120 inch 4k television set up on the south facing wall, a nice gray suede ‘ U ‘ shaped couch in front of it, and a glass top coffee table in the middle of the ‘ U ‘. A few family photos and some movie posters adorn the walls. There’s a baby grand piano, ( another gift from Edith ), in the corner of the north facing wall closed off with his recording set up. It faces out to the stunning view of the mountains and the valley of wildflowers and honey suckle. The entire north wall is made of floor to ceiling bullet - proof glass, with french doors leading out on the balcony, which has lots of pretty green potted plants and flowers around.

On the east wall, there’s an open alcove arch that leads to stairs leading up to his bedroom - the heavy mahogany door at the top is usually always locked unless he’s home. the stairs are obscured by the wall that will hide that entire section of the apartment.

Seth’s bedroom has black walls and a mahogany wood floor. The track lights over the bed and desk give the room a movie set vibe though they are rarely used --- instead, Seth favoring the expensive recessed neon light strips that run the entire perimeter at the top of the room and he has some near the molding at the base of the wall. He sets the colors to change his mood & they are bright enough to be useful. There is an open balcony style window strip that runs the length of the room, though he usually has the wooden blinds pulled across. Other wise, you can look out over the living room. The west wall is lined with bookshelves built into them ( And a faux shelf that is actually a secret door that leads down into Seth’s huge home office ), a desk with a laptop for general use is against the south wall under the window strip, the walk - in closet is across from the left side of his sleigh style california king bed, it boasts all the conveniences of mechanical organization and space savers inside.

On each side of Seth’s bed, ( which is against a large bay window over looking another side of the wildflower meadow ), are mahogany bedside tables. In Seth’s are a mix of airplane bottles of alcoholic stuff ( I doubt he knows what they are or where the came from directly. ) As well as his prescription meds, a couple joints, a pack of cigarettes, a pair of expensive leather gloves, and a handgun with some ammo ( for safety & to tie up loose ends ). Near this is a small armchair with a throw blanket over it. ( This is usually were he sleeps instead of the bed - he doesn’t like how empty it feels. ) A complex looking stereo system is behind the chair against the wall and well out of the way - most people miss it.

The bathroom is almost right across from the door leading into the room. Inside it is a mix of a heated stone floor, marble counter tops and yet more recessed neon lighting. The fixtures are chrome, the tub has a build in jacuzzi ( even murderers need to relax ! ) and the shower has a water fall style head, as well as standard attachments for the less bougie. There’s a steam setting that makes it a dual sauna. All in all ... very fancy indeed.

If you know about the secret sliding wall panel that leads down to Seth home office, you’d be surprised by the sheer enormity of it. The walls are stark white, covered in expensive movie and covered in comic memorabilia. Their are track lights and recessed floor lights that illuminate certain objects. There is yet again a whole wall taken over by books. Against the wall you see stepping down into the office is a huge desk, organized - with a cup of coffee on a coaster by the mouse and with a few books and papers arranged neatly on the opposite side. Otherwise everything has a proper place and is there already. There is a sofa a few feet from the entrance for lounging, though it’s never been used, and a carnival style popcorn machine beside the sofa and between the desk and sofa.

At the wall opposite the desk’s place is another ‘ U ‘ shaped sofa with a glass top coffee table in the middle and it is around a big projector screen - ( the projector is built into the ceiling and the speakers are built into the ceiling and walls. ) This room is used for virtual meetings and for Seth to view his work in the same way someone else might. There is a big climate controlled storage closet down a smaller hallway that isn’t noticeable unless you are near the movie screen. and happen to look across at the weird alcove in the wall. In the storage closet is a cellar-esque door - after climbing the ladder dow into an unassuming hallway there is a ladder leading back up on the far wall & a set of steps to the side of the ladder you’ve just climbed down. ( This leads to a secret door in the kitchen that is carefully concealed by metal shelves. ) The ladder at the end leads into the closet of the suite across from Seth’s. The door in the middle of the hall on the left is firmly locked but this is probably his first snuff film studio. ( Back when he had to murder people himself ! Aw humble beginnings !!! )

The suite across from Seth’s is concealed in the same way his is - there’s an arch that opens into stairs leading up to a beautiful, but simplistic bedroom and bathroom - ( nothing nearly as grand as Seth’s personal mini apartment across the living room ! Not that anyone would know what they were missing considering he doesn’t let anyone into his room. ) There’s a door as soon at you walk into the arch leading up stairs that opens into a smaller personal living room and a medium sized extra storage closet space - but these areas are much more simplistic and suspiciously picturesque.

A sickening feeling of manufactured hospitality sets in when you have to occupy these rooms.

Seth’s apartment was designed to be as secretive and complex as his own mind. The whole thing is one big mind fuck. That’s meant to toy with his guest’s sanity. The only people who actually know how to navigate it are Seth and the contracting company that made the renovations. ( The guy in charge ? Mysteriously died a few months after - the plans lost in files somewhere, possibly destroyed --- though, there must be duplicates in the deceased’s records somewhere. No one cares enough to check. )

Anyway - this is the general set up of Seth’s apartment ( NOT HIS HOUSE THAT HE BUILDS LATER), give or take some decor and area rugs.

#( I took two hours writing this. )#( Big Oof™ )#• Welcome To Life - It Sucks !!! • ( College Verse. )#• They Say I Have A Very Promising Future • ( Seth Headcanon. )

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