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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

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Monsters of the Museum || Dakota and Morgan

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @dakotasgrant & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Dakota and Morgan try to open up to one another. Some things are scarier than glass-cased monstrosities.

CONTAINS: Mentions of alcoholism, parental abuse, death, and car accident

Despite the weird shit that happened when she and Morgan hung out last, Dakota still felt as though she needed to water this seed, because when it came to everyone else in town so far… Well, this was the only one that was growing. She felt a little bad about getting defensive, and she had already planned on apologizing again once she saw Morgan at the museum, but… Well, technically what she’d said had been true. Morgan knew a sensitive detail about Dakota, but she didn’t really know her. And if she was going to take her only friend’s advice when it came to making more friends, then she needed to know more about Morgan first.

The museum had been her own idea, and even as she sat on the steps waiting patiently for her company to arrive, she still thought it would be fun with or without her. In an effort to be a nicer person, though, she did have two coffees set by her side, her hands in her pockets. She hoped Morgan liked hot bean water sans cream and sugar.

Morgan’s nerves prickled like needles as she pulled up to the museum. For all the effort they’d put into their pop up display during the carnival, the actual building was kind of dull looking, like a refurbished old train station no one had ever cared about. She steadied herself, trying to narrate a version of this visit to herself that both didn’t end with more attempted theft, or factual education, and had her leave with her conscience intact. She couldn’t exactly coax Dakota into making a scene while she smashed her way through reclaiming some supernatural artifacts to restore to their rightful communities, like she had with Deirdre. Nothing came to mind, so maybe she would just ignore everything in the museum and focus on the conversation around them. They were here to get to know each other. She didn’t need to worry about corpses being disrespected by being called creations and elaborate hoaxes, or photographs of supernaturals who hadn’t wanted to be seen dismissed, or magic relics categorized as superstition. She would be fine, and the afternoon with Dakota would be a good one.

Morgan finally got out of her Subaru and jogged up to meet her friend. “Hey! It’s a great day to be inside where it’s warm, huh? Let’s go, yeah?” She offered a hand to help Dakota up. “I tried to come up with some kind of random fact like they make you come up with in cheesy ice breakers on the way but--” I was too distracted by knowing how much wrongful nonsense you’re about to fall for in here. “--I just couldn’t. I’ve had some memorable shitty jobs in the past? I used to have an online crystal shop? My cat that’s been with me the longest, Anya, liked to be walked on a leash and harness?” She held open the door for them as they went in. “What I’m trying to say is, I will try to be as much of an open book as possible, okay?” And as long as they kept talking, how hard could that be?

She stepped onto the shiny tile floor and came face to face with half a dozen dull-eyed, incorporeal school children in their uniforms. She squealed, covering her mouth a second too late and jumped back close to Dakota. “Sorry! This place is just--” Haunted. Full to the brim and fucking haunted within an inch of its life. Morgan couldn’t look in any direction without catching sight of at least two spirits hovering near the display cases. Shit, shit, shit. “--so impressive! Like, way more than I thought it would be!”

Dakota was a little bit more excited than she wanted to admit, especially when Morgan showed up. She wasn’t the kind of person she ever thought she’d be friends with -- she was quirky, and weird, and confusing… But she was bright and bubbly and seemed to be this kind of oddly positive, always “chipper” sort of person. Which, as anyone could see, was the complete opposite of herself. But it made her happy to see that even if she was such a cynic, the people around her could still exist in this sort of.. Care-free innocence, it seemed. Of course, that was all her own perception, but she still firmly believed that Morgan did have some sort of sweet innocence to her, whether or not that was actually true. And she was also a firm believer that being friends with someone like Morgan was the closest she’d ever come to being that bright and bubbly and kind and sweet.

“Hey,” she greeted, but within a short amount of time she was bombarded with words. She forgot that Morgan did that, but this time it was slightly more endearing than the last. From a crystal shop to her cat, she did realize that all she was trying to do was tell her that she was going to be as genuine as possible. Whether or not Dakota chose to believe whatever she was about to say for the next few hours was up for discussion, but who would lie about a cat being walked on a harness? “Right, yeah -- Um. I guess I just wanted to know more about who you are as a person, you know?” she began, holding the door for the both of them to shuffle in. “So, let’s start with --” she began, but was quickly shut up by Morgan’s reaction to the museum.

While Dakota was impressed by the tile and artwork, Morgan seemed to have jumped back only a few moments after being inside -- as if she’d just seen a scary bug. This forced Dakota’s brows to knit together, looking at her in pure confusion. “Uh.. Yeah, I guess so..” It’s not that impressive. “I mean, it’s just a museum -- in my opinion. Have you been to the MET? I heard it’s crazy nice in there.”

“Uh…” Morgan winced with genuine embarrassment. “Sorry. I think my bar was just set really low. I mean, stars, they even have headsets! Not that I want one, you can’t really be with someone when you’re doing that.” Another nervous smile. She glared at the school children floating in front of them in a way that she hoped said, get lost. But they only glanced at Dakota with their cataract eyes and floated, dripping, back to the display case they seemed bound to. Morgan side stepped them carefully as she started down the nearest open corridor. “I did go to the MET actually! It’s so incredible, I didn’t even get to see half of it. It was just a few hours, when I took that trip to New York City with my girlfriend. We wanted our second day to be more chill and get back to our room before Times Square got too crowded, so we just walked the parts of the MET together that we could, popped out and found a bakery, and walked to a historical cemetery after. But here was this great collection of Dutch and German renaissance art and some pottery from indigenous tribes from the southwest. You should go, if you ever get the chance. I just, you know, didn’t think it would be this nice or roomy here.” She cleared her throat, hiding the impulse to seize up at the sight of a headless woman drifting up and down the corridor with them, phasing through half the patrons as she did.

“I’m not really sure how to define what kind of person I am,” she admitted, lowering her gaze to gather herself better. “I feel like I’m in a state of flux. I’m afraid you really will just have to play detective on that one.”

In the spirit of trying to make friends, Dakota tried her best to ignore the way Morgan was acting at the moment. If she’d been to the MET, she shouldn’t have been this surprised by the roominess of the museum… But, of course, she had to remind herself of Morgan’s excitability, and simply dismissed the issue. You can’t dismiss everything entirely, though can you? She didn’t want to think about that. The Nordica was weeks ago, and she hadn’t seen anything other than a big open showfloor with a few intrigued patrons wandering. All who seemed normal, all who seemed human, and no sign of anything with horns, so.. Maybe that’s just how Morgan was. Excitable. A little strange. Definitely weird. All true statements, sure, but she was also a friend.

“Everyone’s always in flux, Morgan. That’s sort of what life does to people. So tell me about your stages, and… I guess I’ll tell you mine.” she stated -- not in a malicious or rude manner, because to Dakota, she was just stating facts. If she listed all the changes she’s been through in the last 30 years of her life, she was sure she could come up with a way she was changing even now, approaching 40 in the next three years. Ooh, don’t think about that, either. They started at the Mutated Dog Remains exhibit, which was really just a bunch of old bones reassembled that showed minor mutations, but she had to admit they all looked rather large. The plaque below a particularly strange looking resemblance of a creature that must have died a while ago mentioned the word hellhound, but debunked the term by stating it was an urban legend, a made-up story, folklore.

“I know that you’re a lesbian, and a wiccan, and that you like deathly stuff. I know you had a best friend when you were younger that made you realize you were gay, and I know you have a girlfriend, and I know you’ve been to New York City. I also know that you have a cat. I guess the reason we’re here is because -- I mean, if you want to talk to me about letting people get to know me, least of all Marley Stryder, then I think it’s fair that I get to know the person who’s giving this crazy advice. So what’s the stuff you never tell anybody? Or were your parents like, happy when you were a kid?”

“Well, I flux more or harder than most people,” Morgan said with a low laugh. “And that’s three cats, total. I got Anya in Houston, and my girlfriend and I got Moira together, and we took in Niamh when her owner, a friend of ours, died suddenly late last year.” She couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking her head ruefully now as the suggestion that her parents were happy. “Oh, stars above, no. I mean, we tried. They tried. And we had moments, like most families, and that’s what I try to focus on but…” Another dry laugh. How did you explain, ‘well my mom was magically cursed with true suffering and shared that curse with me when I was born, so!’ “It was really complicated. My mother was…a really hurt woman. She did what she thought was best, but by the time she had me, her perception of ‘best’ had been warped by a lot of fear and bad experiences. She was really accepting of me when I came out, but that didn't really make all the times she dragged me screaming to my room and locked me in for awhile go away, you know?” Morgan winced, wondering if this was already oversharing. “I’m okay now, obviously,” she hastened to say. “I was just raised under some really specific circumstances that are hard for a lot of people to understand.”

“More or harder than most people?” Dakota repeated, trying her best not to sound judgmental. Lord knows she was the last person to judge, but.. It still came somewhat natural to her. Gotta work on that. She listened, though, about the cats -- reading plaque after plaque of random artifacts that didn’t look more or less interesting than what she could find at Pottery Barn. The place was probably filled with hoaxes, but she wasn’t about to comment, because.. God, wasn’t she so tired of being cynical all the time? Despite her overall standoffishness, Dakota really did care about what Morgan had to say. She could relate in a lot of ways to the story she told -- the half truths she was narrating. She’d been locked in her room before, but probably not for too long, because she always found a way out. And the more she thought about it, it was probably because dad was angry, and nobody wanted to be around when he started yelling. He never hit, though. If she loved him for anything other than ABBA, it was because he never hit. But she wasn’t going to tell Morgan any of that. Fucking hypocrite, she thought to herself. Asking this woman to bare her deepest darkest secrets while you can’t even tell her the truth. If there was one good intention of Dakota’s, though, it was that she cared about Morgan, and if she wanted to get any closer than an arm’s length, she’d need to read the footnotes. “Kind of sounds like Sparknotes there, Beck.” she said, tucking her hands into the pockets of the coat she was wearing while they aimlessly strolled the museum. “You don’t have to go any deeper than that if you don’t want. I’m just.. Saying that you can. If that’s what you want.”

“Wow,” Morgan said, laughing unsteadily. “And here I thought I was oversharing.” She shifted a little closer to Dakota, dodging the spectre of a man with burnt, twisted limbs. He glowered at her, condemning her denial of him. “I’m sorry,” she hissed under her breath. And she was. But smashing glass and striking up conversation with the air in a room full of normies wasn’t going to fix anything. “Um, if you pick a number that’s a multiple of three I can give you the Nightline Edition of some quality trauma. We can pull up one of those number generators on my phone if we really want to play with fate.” She laughed at her own bad joke. No one knew better than her that fate didn’t let you play when she’d made up her mind. It had only been, what, fifteen minutes from the banshee scream on her life to the rebar pole skewering her insides? “Last year counts too,” she added. “I’m not trying to be cagey on purpose. Shockingly, I am actually trying not to scare you off by dumping too much all at once.”

She stopped in front of a framed photograph of the Bachman House, now a pile of rubble in the bend. The placard mentioned the number of unusual deaths on the property, with the usual highlights of trampled by own horse, impaled by own farm tools, unlucky trip down stairs, and those were just the ones that could be ruled by accidents. On the other balcony, she could see teeth in glass boxes and a singular framed wing. “Can I ask you something first?” Morgan asked, her eyes settling into an empty middle distance where there was nothing to see, nothing to hide, no problem. “Where do you think all this stuff comes from? The stories, the pain around it all. What do you believe about it?”

“A multiple of three, huh?” Dakota inquired, mainly just to amuse her. If she was going to be friends with Morgan, it was quite obvious that she was going to have to play by her rules -- meaning that she probably would have to settle for the goofiness, or the kindness, or the sunshine and rainbows of it all. Weirdest part about all of that was the fact that Dakota usually scoffed at people who seemed to be full of so much joy. What the fuck was there to be joyful about, ever? You’re born, you live, you work for fifty years or so, and you die. The monotony of life… The mundanity of it all. So what the fuck was Morgan Beck even smiling about, even if she did have a Nightlife Edition highlight reel of her trauma ready to share? Jesus, dude, go to therapy.

Morgan caught her off guard, just a tad, with her next question. Where did she think all of this stuff came from? What does she believe about all of it? Dakota simply shrugged, unsure of how to put her thoughts into words, which was a first. “I.. Guess the bones come from a bunch of different animals. Some of the artifacts have to be mass produced or ordered off, like, Etsy. The pictures and stuff? Well, anyone can go up to a creepy looking house that hasn’t had any tender love and care for a few decades and make up a story.” Dakota paused, bringing her attention back to the Bachman house. “I guess that’s what it is, in a nutshell. People wanting to believe things bad enough. People wanting other people to believe them bad enough. But the key is in making up the story -- because you can’t spell believe without L-I-E.”

Dakota let a lull in the conversation pass, tucking her hands back into her pockets, wandering off from the picture.“I pick 27, by the way. For the multiples thing.” she tossed over her shoulder.

Morgan nodded along. She couldn’t fault Dakota for speaking so callously without knowing how it all tied to Morgan. And there was some kind of awful experience sitting under her stiffness, something that made her mistrust goodness and acceptance. “I’ll give you a two for one special,” she said quietly. “The house in that picture is mine. And everything in that placard is true. I have the documents from the town archives to prove it. And there’s a few more deaths that happened off the property tied to my family. There was a servant girl named Constance who wanted to run away with one of the Bachman daughters, Agnes. They were found out by Agnes’ mother, Hannah Bachman, and the story suddenly went from a desperate romantic getaway to coercion. Constance didn’t have any family or friends to stick up for her, so word of her preying upon the innocent Bachman daughter spread, and she spent about a month living in the woods like an animal until she finally died.” Died because she surrendered her form to power a generational curse, but Morgan didn’t feel like arguing those particulars with a skeptic. “There are some truly horrible, inexplicable things that happen here that are just as real as the morning weather.”

She turned to Dakota, smiling sadly. “When I was twenty-seven, I was supposed to be finishing up my Masters’ in literature. I was living in this nice apartment with some other students and one of them was in my program. And she was so beautiful, and I would’ve done anything for her except say I liked her. One day I’m making sun tea and she pulls me aside about something, how behind on my share of the rent I am, and it’s going okay, but I decide to start opening up about--” The curse. Stupidly, she’d tried to tell her about the curse. “Some of the smaller crises that were going on, and she didn’t believe me and got really upset. And...okay, so the super swore later on that he had replaced all the windows so they were double insulated. This one windowpane had been missed. So when the girl threw one of my plants at the window, the whole thing shattered. I went to pick up the glass and she wanted me to stay away from her, and she pushed me, but because of the glass around her, she also cut herself and slipped and she went backwards just right out the window and fell through what was left of it. We were on the fourth floor, so…” Morgan winced. “Everyone heard us screaming before then, and my standing over the window-- I mean, it was so fast I was too late before I even tried to get close enough to catch her-- it didn’t look good, and they made me re-hash everything we’d been talking about and they didn’t like or believe it either, so I spent the evening answering questions from the authorities, and being yelled at by my roommates, and packing up my stuff. Then came the psych evaluation, which I was too anxious and scared to refuse, and that was pretty scary. And by that time it was eight o’clock or something, so I holed up in a Whataburger for a little bit and then drove around our college town trying to figure out where I was supposed to go next. I got a shitty little Motel 6 place for a few months before I could get leave of absence paperwork going and do depressed 20-something shit until I could start back again with a cohort that didn’t know me.” She thought back on that day, shivering at the memory of the body ragdolled on the gravel, the blood framing her and soaking her hair, the glare of the sun on her empty face… “Sometimes things just happen.” Sometimes they happened because the neutrality of the universe could hurt, and sometimes they happened because you were cursed to carry your great-great grandmother’s crimes on your shoulders.

Dakota had fully intended on continuing to browse the museum, already halfway to the next display whenever Morgan spoke up about the Bachman house. She listened, of course, but part of her didn’t believe a word coming out of her mouth. But she remembered something Erin had said a few weeks ago, something about how she herself had nothing to gain from lying to her, and Dakota couldn’t help but wonder if the same was true for Morgan. What would she have gained by lying to her? What would she get out of a story like that? Unless the woman standing before her was severely mentally ill, suffering from some sort of psychosis or a personality disorder, then what was Morgan getting out of lying about a picture of a house? She stopped in her path, turned back to look at her, and just as she was about to grill her for the evidence, she started talking about grad school.

Morgan shared, and after she’d finished, the exhibit they’d been standing in had been emptied of all people, most of whom had gone on to go see whatever else this place had to offer. Dakota didn’t mean to stare, but she was looking at Morgan for what felt like forever, and suddenly, deciding on whether or not the Bachman story was true wasn’t exactly the most pressing issue anymore. “Jesus Christ,” she murmured, because it was the only thing she really knew to say. She almost wanted to give Morgan a hug, but she wasn’t a touchy person, and she wasn’t even sure if they were close enough for that anyways, so she refrained. “Not sure I can follow that. You win on the trauma stories.”

“It’s not a contest,” Morgan said softly. “Honestly, it’s…” She exhaled slowly. It had been awful, yes. And it had taken her longer than usual to bounce back, to make friends without wanting to run or panic. She didn’t bother telling anyone about the curse at all after that, at least until White Crest. It was the kind of hurt you didn’t think about too much. Besides, there was always another one three years ahead. On and on until the day she died. “I’ve had worse. And it was over ten years ago. I don’t really, you know, think about it that much in the grand scheme of things. I have other, bigger things to worry about.” She did her best to brush it off as no big deal, but in the wake of the confession, she mostly felt bewilderment at her forming any attachments in White Crest at all. “Why don’t you tell me something about yourself, huh? I mean, I know you’ve shared a lot already, and I don’t mind talking more, I just don’t want to take all the air in here, either.” She looked sidelong at Dakota, unsure at how she was really taking all this. Did she think she was making this up? Did she think she was crazy?

Morgan was right. It wasn’t a competition. But if you did compare the two stories -- Dakota’s entire life and then the one incident that happened to Morgan when she was 27 -- Dakota would look like a spoiled goddamned brat. Of course, she could tell her about The Nordica… But she was still in denial about the events that unfolded that night. Erin was the only one she trusted enough to talk about that with because she was the only one she knew that had seen the event take place. She was the only one she really felt safe enough with to talk about the possibility that maybe that thing wasn’t just some rare animal, and maybe it was a monster. Regardless of that, though, it didn’t matter how many times Dakota showed up at Erin’s place to talk about it, because denial was more than just a river in Egypt. Dakota took the opportunity to lean against the railing that blocked museum goers from getting too close to any artifacts that weren’t held behind plexiglass, folded her arms over her chest and let out a little sigh. “I don’t feel like going by multiples of any particular number, so I’m just going to tell you everything, so try to keep up.” Here goes nothing. Or everything.

“I was born and raised in Detroit, but you knew that. It wasn’t the nice part of Detroit because we were really fucking poor. My mom worked at Valentino’s Diner on 8 Mile Road and I never saw her because she was always working -- double shifts, almost every day. I literally remember being a kid and dipping into the drug store to buy her cigarettes and dropping them off on my way home from school. My dad was an alcoholic. I still don’t really know much about him, but I know that he fell asleep in his recliner every night with old ass tv shows on with usually some type of scotch or brandy at his side. One time our house almost burnt down because he blacked out with a lit cigar in his hand -- he must’ve dropped it, because there was a huge cinched patch in our living room that we had to cut out of the carpet.” You’re really going for it, huh? “They fought… A lot. Because mom was doing the double shifts I told you about, and Dad bled their savings dry for booze, and they were always yelling at each other about money. When I was younger I remember asking my mom who “Bill” was. I used to think that we must have just had a lot of thunderstorms because the power kept going out, but really the power just kept getting shut off. Dad referred to her as a “ball and chain” to his buddies, but I think it was the other way around, because my mom was smart. And really fucking brave. And he knew that if he ever hit her, he’d be a dead man, because she wasn’t afraid to fight back. So I know what it’s like to be locked in your room. I didn’t understand then, but I know now that really she was just trying to protect me from seeing things I didn’t need to see, but must’ve forgot that I had ears. When I got older, I started sneaking out of my bedroom window when shit like that happened. Went and rode my bike, that sort of thing. I remember always being so pissed that I never knew what was going on, which is probably why I do what I do. I hate it when nobody knows what’s going on. All that misinformation..” she trailed off. Yeah, you’re one to talk. “Anyways, I was the poor kid with really greasy hair and hand-me-down clothes, and people talked. Kids are fucking assholes. But I took after my mom, because I’m pretty smart, too, and I worked my ass off and got to college. Chris -- my, uh, ex that I told you about -- he followed me. He was going to be a big businessman or whatever the fuck, and really I just wanted the stability, so.. I stayed. For a while. Then I ended up here. And you’d think that the bullshit would’ve stopped, but I know what it feels like to see someone die now, so.. I guess we’re on the same page there.”

“Oh, Dakota…” Morgan pulled her into her arms as best she could. “That’s not something you should have to know. Sorry doesn’t change anything, but… I am. And I don’t--I don’t think it’s too late for you to leave, if that’s what you want. This place is violent. Whatever, whoever you saw die...it’s just a lot more common here than it is in some other places. This place is violent and cruel and you have definitely suffered enough.” From Dakota’s expression, the same could maybe be said for her, but there was too much here. She felt bound to it, or maybe she was just mired and didn’t realize. “I know you’re just starting to find your way, but no one would blame you if you went.”

She pulled back, still touching the woman’s arm, lingering there. “Listen...if you…” Morgan hesitated. Dakota had made herself so vulnerable and Morgan knew exactly what she really wanted to know about her, and who was she to push Dakota to be more vulnerable and open with new people if she couldn’t even try to offer this? “Do you still really want to know what’s...why my body is the way that it is? Because I can tell you, or I can try to. But we should probably find somewhere to sit first.”

Can’t leave yet. “Yeah, but if I skipped town now, who would I cry to about personal shit in the middle of a museum full of hoaxes? Seriously, this is invaluable.” Dakota sounded a bit sarcastic, but she did mean it -- if she were to get the next plane ticket outta this place, she would most definitely be losing one of the only relationships she ever cared about in her life and leaving it behind. Even if White Crest was a cursed place, she’d still feel bad for leaving Morgan.

After she had pulled back from the hug -- which was accepted but not necessarily invited -- something was offered that had piqued her interest. An actual explanation as to why Morgan was the way that Morgan was. At least… Why her blood looked like tar and her skin healed at a superhuman speed. She was ready for the vegan preaching, and now a little more prepared for a cyborg arm than she had been before. If you can see Krampus in a movie theater, I’m sure doctors can create a superhuman arm. “I mean, I’d love to know, but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she offered politely, even though she was practically crawling out of her skin with anticipation. “I think there’s a cafe near the entrance, if you wanna..?

Morgan glanced quickly at the cafe area and thought better of it. Too many people. If this went badly, she didn’t want to be the center of a scene. She looked around the gallery and found a relatively empty bench. Well, empty of living people. There was a rather large group of ghost pirates floating around a piece of a ship encased in glass. Morgan made her way toward them, making a face she hoped indicated that she wanted some privacy. The pirates, however, had been dead long enough to not care and just cleared the bench so no one would be sitting through their ghostly bodies.

Morgan shouldered off her jacket and sat very close to Dakota, who she pulled down with her. “So, last April I was kind of in an accident. There was this light malfunction and that caused this huge wreck and it was so fast there was debris everywhere. And I was um…” She winced, remembering. “I was on the sidewalk. I was supposed to go home after work, but I stopped for ice cream with my friend, at this little stand. And it was just some terrible Final Destination bullshit, but my foot was caught and I couldn’t run and then I was on the ground, and there was this…” That pole. That fucking pole of rebar. Morgan had seen it almost every night during those magic nightmares. She couldn’t talk about that, not without knowing how Dakota would take the truth. “It was really bad,” she said. “I don’t know what the best way to explain is, but you can track the….change in my pulse, my heartbeat.” She rolled up her sleeve and held out her wrist. “Will you see? Please?” Her voice trembled with trepidation. Already, she was scrambling to brace herself for the worst; trouble was, she didn’t really know what ‘worst’ looked like yet.

As Morgan ushered them over to a nearby bench, Dakota started to realize that maybe this was a bigger deal than just some blood disorder or bionic arm thing. Whatever it was, she still thought that Morgan would be a friend regardless, because you’re not friends with people just because their bodies function normally. Besides, even if it freaked her out, Morgan was the closest thing to a friend Dakota had ever had -- and she didn’t mean that lightly. Not when she’d grown up the outcast, and not when fitting in always felt like jamming a puzzle piece where it didn’t fit. As far as she was concerned, Morgan could admit she’d committed several murders and partook in some shady drug lord businesses and she’d probably still be her friend.

As they sat, and Morgan spoke about an accident, Dakota just listened. She was good at listening, but it was more of the “getting it” part she hadn’t mastered -- at least...not when it came to people. The accident she’d described seemed horrific enough. Something Dakota prayed to a God she didn’t believe in that would never happen to her. At first, she was confused as to why she needed to feel her pulse, but her voice trembled, and she could tell this was important to her, so.. She gave it a shot, even though she didn’t quite understand. Placing two fingers on her wrist, Dakota searched for her pulse. She tried several different spots, but she didn’t feel a single beat, and her skin was still ice cold. “So… You have a weak pulse? Because of the accident?” she asked.

“You have to hold it for longer than that,” Morgan hissed. “Here.” She took Dakota by the sleeve and pressed her hand over her heart, firmly, where it would’ve been easy for anyone to feel at least a faint impression of a heartbeat. Morgan held it, and held it, and held it. “I’m trying to tell you I don’t have one anymore,” she whispered. “But I’m trying to prove it to you first. You need to understand that this is real.” She drew in a deep breath (In. Hold. Out.) and made sure Dakota felt it. Her chest expanded, the air flowed, but only because she willed it consciously. There was nothing in her that regulated her existence, no internal rhythm to keep up. Her will and her steady feeding were the only things maintaining her existence. “You can try checking on my neck, you can ask me to hold my breath, whatever you feel like you need to do, but I am trying, very hard, to show you the truth.”

Maybe laughing was a knee-jerk response. Actually, she knew exactly why she started to laugh -- because people laugh when they need to project dignity and control during times of stress and anxiety. In situations like this one, right here and right now, when Dakota was confused on all fronts, and anxious because she knew the truth was that Morgan didn’t have a pulse, or a heartbeat, nor was there even the faintest thumb against the palm of her hand through her chest, her response was to laugh. If there was no pulse -- if there was no beat, no rhythm rattling around in her ribcage, then she must have been… She had to be… Dead. Right? People usually laugh in a subconscious attempt to reduce stress and calm down. However, for Dakota, it often works otherwise.

It took a few moments, but she retracted her hand as if recoiling from a hot flame, and stood up immediately. She didn’t know what to say, much less what to do. She could make a break for it and get the hell out of there, but that depended solely on whether or not her legs would move, because they felt made of lead at the moment. She could continue the awkward, anxious laughter that had first bubbled up but has since dissipated to breathing somewhat shallow, quick breaths. Her thoughts raced, so much so that her words wouldn’t come out, and when they finally did, she sputtered. “Am I -- Am I fucking crazy?”

Morgan let Dakota withdraw her hand and grabbed her jacket, started double checking her pockets and bags to make sure she wouldn’t leave anything behind when she made her hasty exit.

“Them’s the breaks,” One of the pirates said. “Head empty as prawns, these humans.”

“Yes, thank you,” Morgan hissed. He was trying to be comforting, but she didn’t want to hear any of it.

She didn’t meet Dakota’s eyes or look in her vicinity as the woman continued to laugh (laugh) deliriously at what she was being shown. “No, you’re not fucking crazy. What’s fucking crazy is having to spend most of my daylight hours pretending to be alive when I’m not. We don’t have to keep doing this. I can go. You can stay and enjoy the--whatever.”

Dakota realized Morgan was moving quickly, like she was ready to flee the scene of a terrible accident. Pun most definitely not intended. She swallowed thickly, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came, not for a few moments that felt like an eternity when Morgan was getting ready to run. “Morgan, wait, I --” she cut herself off, because she didn’t know what she was asking her to wait for. It was like her mind had shutdown, only functioning on the essentials. “I didn’t mean to -- I just -- I don’t -- It’s not possible, which means you’re a -- You’re dead, but that.. You’re...” she was probably sounding like a basket case at this point, and she decided at that moment to stand up a little straighter, brush the hair out of her eyes. “I… I’ve got to go.” And with that, she practically ran to her car, fired up the engine, and got the hell out of there.

“The word you’re looking for is ‘zombie’,” Morgan said, grumbled between Dakota’s desperate stutters for understanding. She was ready to run right there, but Dakota beat her to it, and she had just enough pride not to race her out of this stupid, stupid idea of an afternoon. Slowly, she pulled on her jacket and arranged her hair over the collar just so, and put on her scarf. There was no need to rush anymore and no one curious enough to see her furiously blink back the sting in her eyes and swallow the lump forming in her throat. “Fucking humans, am I right?” She rasped.

The ghosts agreed, but only in silence.

#alcoholism tw #car accident tw #domestic abuse tw #monsters of the museum #wr dakota #wr chatzy #wr dakota chatzy #wickedswriting

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ophelia-coeur · 4 years ago

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tagged by @fvae - thank you! i’ll be ✨manifesting✨ that pottery studio for you

rules: answer these questions and tag some people you are contractually obligated to know better

I'll be tagging @brizzlovesyou @bandsanitizer @caffeine-catastrophe and whoever else feels like it <3

1. name/nickname: ophelia

2. gender: female

3. star sign: libra

4. height: physically, 5′8. spiritually, 5′11 (which I now have luckily achieved with platform boots)

5. time: 18:20

6. birthday: birthdays are gross :)

7. favourite bands/groups: 5sos, nothing but thieves, keane, sleeping at last, boys world is quickly getting there too.

8. favourite solo artists: taylor swift, sabrina claudio, shawn mendes, hayley williams, gregory porter and literally everyone ugh

9. song stuck in my head: nothing, though i’m listening to taylor swift right now

10. last movie: a drunken watch: “50 shades darker” to confirm that it is, indeed, a bad movie

11. last show: i think four bad episodes of fate: the winx saga, which was v unfortunate for my time and wellbeing

12. when did i create this blog: 2016

13. what do I post: nostalgia, excerpts from other people, music, whatever i feel like, the occasional personal post that dutifully gets deleted 24 hours later.

14. last thing I googled: nicknames for short people as research for a fic lmaoooo

15. other blogs: @lydias--stiles which is multifandom with a current focus on julie and the phantoms, that one show no one can shut up about as of late

16. do I get asks: nope, i do get frequent ones on my other blog though

17. why i chose my url: this was originally supposed to be a studyblr, but that was when i thought i actually liked studying.

18. following: 384

19. followers: the size of a senior book club

20. average hours of sleep: between 3 and 12 because being manic hasn’t stopped being fun for some reason

21. lucky number: not superstitious

22. instruments: ukulele that hasn’t been touched in a while lol

23. what am I wearing: straight-legged jeans, black knit sweater, socks

24. dream job: fashion historian or columnist for a paper. or working for a museum when they have a fashion exhibit and digging in the archives for the good pieces and help create the story around it. plan b is to become an exotic dancer in a strip club :):):) gotta get that back up

25. dream trip: indonesia, congo, mexico, boston, backpacking through scandinavia, clubbing in eastern europe.

26. favourite food: anything juicy and vegan. chili sin carne, mangos, hummus, anything with mushrooms

27. nationality: belgian, baby!

28. favourite song: i legit love everything. drunk me would say something by abba or lizzo. right now though, “impossible” by nothing but thieves.

29. last book read: the first quarter of “on the road” by jack kerouac

30. top three fictional universes i’d like to live in: the tinkerbell cinematic universe was dope as fuck, i’d love to be a flower fairy. “martine” which was a belgian children’s book series about a girl just having fun with her friends. the bratz universe because i, also, have a passion for fashion lmao

#about me #tag games

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artistic-allegory · 5 years ago

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Women’s Contribution to Art Throughout History

It’s common knowledge that women’s art has clearly been overlooked and undervalued throughout history. A large portion of art created by women was signed only with a last name, leaving the artist gender-less – this may have been done to avoid gender bias that would affect how her work was seen and valued. These gender biases have resulted in women’s achievements in particular media to be categorized as “arts and crafts” rather than “fine art.” Stereotypes caused certain mediums – like textiles, or fiber arts (embroidery, knitting, etc.) to be feminized, despite the male participation in both. Women faced challenges while attempting to excel in their art careers as they had trouble gaining recognition, receiving training, and trading their work. Many female artists who established a career as art educators were taken much less seriously in their skill.

Multiple factors resulted in the misrepresentation of women throughout art history such as anonymity due to works of art not being signed. Almost all female artists faced a discontinuity in their identity as their name changed after marriage - any works of art that were signed with their original name would no longer be connected to them. Some artwork created by women was reassigned, or credited to other artists, in the 18th and 19th centuries. Dishonest and greedy art dealers would even attempt to alter signatures to increase the value of the art. Other reasons women’s art became “lost” are inactivity and relocation. Many artists were quickly forgotten about if they were to stop making art for an extended period of time (raising a family was often causing these female artists to take career “breaks.”) It was not uncommon for artists to travel the world, and move from place to place. These changes in location would also result in their legacy to disappear quickly.

Women have been creating and participating in the arts as early as the prehistoric era. The female role in art throughout history has swept across the entire globe with ancient artifacts to prove it. Evidence retrieved by anthropologists sheds light on the various mediums of art that women worked with - such as jewelry, textiles, pottery, baskets, and painted surfaces. It has also been discovered that collaboration was typical in the creation of art in the prehistoric era, with these same techniques leading into the Paleolithic era as well. As early as 460 BCE, women and men worked alongside each other to create various objects, such as painted vases – an example being the ancient Greek Caputi Hydria.

Artists in the medieval period - some of which were women - were either nuns or wealthy aristocrats who could afford not doing more strenuous work. The wealthier female creatives often worked with embroideries and textiles, while the nuns created illuminations. Art training moved from workshops to universities as the study of nude males and corpses was used to educate artists of the human body, which was especially important when painting group scenes and prestigious religious compositions. However, women were prohibited from these spaces, thus restricting them from creating such works of art. The women who were successful artists of the time were almost always children of painters, receiving training from their father’s workshop to gain the necessary knowledge and skills. Most aristocratic women who created art ultimately ended up choosing marriage over pursuing an artistic career. The female artists of the 15th century that are known today were nuns associated with convents, meaning they did not have to sacrifice their art for a marriage.

While no mention of specific female artists, there have been references made by Homer, Cicero, and Virgil regarding the creation of textiles, music, and poetry by women of the time. Although the increase of trade, travel, and universities in Europe in the early 12th century lead to an increase of women’s involvement in art, that progress was set back as the printing, woodcut, and engraving movement was taken over primarily by men. Major cultural shifts, such as humanism (the philosophy stating the dignity of all people) led to a major increase of female artists’ reputations in the renaissance era. The individual creating the art, and their identity became more valued at this time – including the women. Italian humanist Baldassare Castiglione stated that both women and men should be educated in the social arts - which resulted in more women engaging in visual, musical, and literary arts. This was the first time in renaissance history that noblewomen were given the opportunity to study painting. Self-portraits became a popular subject matter among women artists of the renaissance era, depicting themselves as not only artists, but as musicians and scholars as well. A prominent difference between craftsmen and artists soon became clear as those wishing to identify as an artist would be well-versed in perspective, human anatomy, mathematics, and ancient art – where a craftsman would not be.

In the emergence of the baroque era, the depiction of women in art changed drastically. Although female artists were still unable to study human anatomy from male models, they were naturally very familiar with the female body and depicted women in a new light. As most male painters of the time created images of women as expressionless muses, female artists began depicting women as conscious, independent, and self-aware beings that determined their own destiny. In the early 1600’s, still-life painting grew in popularity and was mostly dominated by female artists considering all of the materials - like flowers, vegetables, fruit, and everyday objects - were readily available to women.

Large-scale historical paintings emerged in the 18th century depicting events and situations throughout history – but preparing to make these works of art required the study of casts of antique sculptures and study of male nudes, almost always in an academic setting. This is why there are no large-scale historical paintings by women around that time. Many academies in Europe which promoted the sale of art, trained artists, and exhibited artwork, usually did not accept any women. The Academy in Paris, which had around 450 members, had permitted only 15 of them to be women, although they were daughters or wives of members. They stopped admitting any women at all in the late 18th century.

The beginning of the 19th century opened up many opportunities for female artists as the various styles of painting branched out. Impressionism, landscapes, and animal paintings were common for women to paint at the time. The emergence of photography gave creative women a new outlet considering there was no restrictions or required training to hold them back. A well-known female photographer in this era includes Dorothea Lange, who traveled and documented the Great Depression. The 20th century brought many art movements, such as abstract expressionism, art deco, and surrealism - all of which artists like Hilma af Klint, Lyubov Popova, and Hildreth Meiere emerged from. Contemporary art and environmental art also could not have progressed without the works of many female artists. Japanese artist Yayoi Kusama - who created sculptures, collages, paintings, performance art, and environmental installations – depicted feminist, surrealist, psychological, sexual, and autobiographical themes in her work. Environmental artists like Betty Beaumont and Vernita Nemec created installations to bring awareness of ocean pollution as well as educating society and challenging modern beliefs/actions.

Clearly, the struggle for equality and respect in the art world throughout the years has not been easy for women. Even today, gender and race disparity are prominent in the art scene. Out of 10,000 artists displayed among 18 museums across the United States, 87% are male. The alteration of many works of art created by women, as well as their work being sold for less, plays a major role in the reason we see so little successful female artists throughout history. It is incredibly important to recognize and appreciate the work and skill of not only modern female artists, but those in the past who never received proper recognition for their contribution to the art world.

#history #art history #women's history #art

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taylastudio2022 · 2 years ago

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TUESDAY WK 4 - RESEARCH LECTURE SIMON MORRIS:

SIMON MORRIS:

In Time: where painting meets pottery - Simon Morris.

Notes:

Turned an interesting corner - making pottery. Where painting meets pottery, connections and energy’s

what can I learn from both

When Each Action Opens. Jhana Millers Gallery, 2021. When two colour become one. 2021. invited to do this wall paper - commercial gallery. Interesting, not easily bought, brought into homes etc.

Simon Morris, Wen Each Action Opens - some writing for the show

Started thinking differently about practice.

Napels Yellow, Yellow Ocre - only use one brush.

Method of that - two colours mixing together, becoming one.

a few things going on here - making wall drawings since the mid 90s - sub canvas for gallery space, architecture nature of the work - considering all spatial elements.

time becomes inherent in the work

daily life -human interaction, the world that it occupies. Painting = the wider world.

Temporary work - gets painted out at the end, important for me. Doesn’t get stored, turns into a concept that can be re-made.

made work all over the world - only needs an air fare.

point of tension - for our desire for objects - complicated this idea of things, owning, things, objects, looking after things.

museums have purchased the work. - own the right to it? Private homes etc.

daily paintings 2010 - morning studio ritualistic paintings - one stroke each day - to stop procrastinating

black water colour - different process - maths, formula - very particular method, algebra

similar conceptually

Black Water Colour, 2015, Ilam School of Art Gallery.

Walking Drawing - development for exhibition - 2022, City Gallery project. for 2023.

10 week residency - san fran , big studio, time to make work. Headland Centre For The Arts, - routine, working with other people, communal, having dinner together, back into studio, out for a beer together etc.

experiences, walking in the Himalayas - spiritual wellbeing, aligning, budda monks. w/ sherpas.

Future Memory, 2022 - Lithuania

Driving creek pottery, coromandel

functional objects - working with others

Engine Room

Quarts Museum, visiting potteries

ceramic practice

Yellow Ochre Room, 2015, acrylic paint. Commissioned by Christchurch Art Gallery. Photo: John Collie. (Above).

Simon Morris, Daily Painting #32 Acrylic on linen 36 x 36 cm 14 3/16 x 14 3/16 inches (Above).

Colour light (yellow ochre), 2020 Acrylic paint, jute, wood, light 45 x 45 cm 17 11/16 x 17 11/16 inches (Above).

Blue Water Colour, 2011 (Above).

Reflection:

I was really intrigued by Simon’s lecture, in particular the idea of daily ritualistic painting. I absolutely appreciate having a method to get out of procrastination stuck zone. I’ve experienced that a bit more so this semester for some reason, and I suppose my version of these daily paintings would be just to start knitting. It does really get me doing something, and allows me to relax as my body focuses on the knitting - or relaxes as I am doing something = any who it helps to clear my thoughts and get a base for ideas going. I spoke about these mental &well being benefits last semester in some of my research and reading which is probably worth revisiting.

I also found the way Simon spoke about objects, and human’s urges to own objects / material, and look after things, quite relevant as I think over the materials and objects used in my work. I just have been thinking over reasonings behind materials, why I choose what I choose, who they belong(ed) to, what they become, how they affect the work etc etc. This lecture just sparked ideas surrounding that aspect.

The social aspect and communal experiences Simon spoke about was another story I really enjoyed. I love the idea of energy and experiences with others while creating and working on artworks. I just thought it was a fond memory and something I appreciate being a part of my art process, talking to others about it, having a break together from it, revisiting it.... :)

Thinking of sculpture/materials in relation to another practice like drawing or painting, similarly to how Simon compared pottery to painting, is also relevant to how my practice has developed, and is something I continue to work through.

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beyondcuckoo · 4 years ago

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Indian Pueblo Cultural Center -- Albuquerque, New Mexico has been published on Elaine Webster - http://elainewebster.com/indian-pueblo-cultural-center-albuquerque-new-mexico/

New Post has been published on http://elainewebster.com/indian-pueblo-cultural-center-albuquerque-new-mexico/

Indian Pueblo Cultural Center -- Albuquerque, New Mexico

Indian Pueblo Cultural Center—Albuquerque New Mexico

One look at the IPCC website, https://indianpueblo.org/ and you’ll already have an idea of what to expect during a visit. However, along with the obvious attributes of any fine museum and cultural center, this place exudes personal stories, artworks, cultural histories, and a vibe that is difficult to explain—intuitive in nature, with a splash of solidarity among peoples.

The Pueblo People are as similar and diverse as the lands they inhabit—rugged, beautiful, and most importantly spiritual in nature. As the earth changes and folks are once again migrating to escape disaster, and/or search for opportunities, we are reminded that there is no permanence to life. Life morphs as we struggle to stay the same.

One aspect of Pueblo life that appeals is that of tight knit families and communities. Research shows that in the past (at its height AD 1000 – 1300) the welcome sign was always out. Travelers, traders, friends, and relatives were invited in and made comfortable, often necessitating the addition of accommodations, as is evident in the spread of some of the most occupied sites. It wasn’t until colonialism intruded on Indigenous life that war became common and it did not end well for Indians.

Today the tide is turning—those that questioned Native American wisdom are now wondering if we need to take a few steps back and embrace the ancients. Archaeologists and anthropologists have re-directed their research to include the Indigenous perspective and to understand how myths, legends, and religious beliefs may hold the key to understanding not just how the past unfolded, but how we can benefit today from the traditional ways.

Art, song, dance, and poetry acts as a healing balm for hurts and traumas that art too difficult to talk about. Simple signage displays more than an evident meaning. As I stood before this poem and gazed at a nearby seed jar, extraordinarily formed and painted with crude tools, hand-dug earth, and buried firing, I felt a deep desire to immerse myself in the mysteries of these people.

One exhibit includes a projected film of Maria Martinez, famous for her San Ildefonso, black on black pottery. In the film Maria digs the earth with her hands, mixes the clay, forms and decorates the pottery, and buries multiple creations in a pile of dung, dirt and stone, insulated with whatever discarded items that will hold in the heat and fire the pots. Her dedication to her work, her family and her community are legendary. The exhibit explores the challenges of the time—poverty, alcoholism, education, and the bounce-back ability to overcome them all.

Then there’s the younger generation, which is finding new ways to celebrate their existence and to show the world the benefits of life close to nature, love, good health, and family. Roxanne Swentzell, a leader and visionary, captures soulful feelings in the expressions of the faces on her sculptures. https://www.roxanneswentzell.net/towergallery_bronzes.htm

Then, as a New York City girl, I couldn’t resist this piece by Zuni artist, Silvester Hustito, as I have my own personal war going on with that city—love of a place of emergence—disdain for conflicts that destroy. As described by the Wheelwright Museum of the American Indian: His images are contemporary and abstract in nature. But the general subject matter comes from Silvester’s experiences growing up in Zuni. Initiated into a Katsina clan as a youth, he “likes to make work that gives you a feeling of what I experienced, because to me it was and still is a very powerful thing.” His recent “War God” series uses symbols close to the Zuni people. While respecting the privacy of Zuni beliefs, he has tried to show the essence of the meaningful symbolism. He says he has used the War God imagery because “it’s something I admired when growing up.”

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pagesoflauren · 7 years ago

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A Thousand Years (vampire!Jack Lowden x reader AU) - Part 8

Part 7 Masterlist

“I bought us tickets to go to the history museum,” Y/N states plainly one evening as she’s eating dinner. Jack is amusing himself with one of Socks’s cat toys when she says this and he stops. “Which museum?” “Museum of Modern History.”

Jack snorts a laugh.

“What?” “Nothing, it’s just…some of my stuff’s there.” “What do you mean?” “Like, I told you I sold some of my stuff to collectors and museums? That museum is one of those places.” “Did they pay you well, at least?” “Oh yeah. They paid for the TV, its mount, the couch and this table.” “Why did you even get a dining table if you didn’t eat?” “We didn’t see the point in getting another couch to face the kitchen. Plus, if we ever moved out of the house, we’d just leave the table and then the new family coming in would have one.” “How generous of you,” she quips. “Anyway, I got the tickets for the ‘overnight hours’ for you vampire folk so that we don’t have to worry about the sun coming out while we’re there. We’re going Friday night at 10:00.”

“What in the freaking world,” Y/N says, tilting her head to look at a teapot that was meant to look like an elephant, but looked more like an elephant that got its body parts mixed up. “The 1700s was a wild time,” she says sarcastically, filling out the questionnaire her professor had given her.

She had to be here for an assignment as part of one of her classes to complete a history minor, which didn’t have much to do with her psychology major, but she liked history, so why not minor in it?

“I’ve made better teapots than that,” Jack critiques, wrinkling his nose. “Do you know how to do pottery?” “Yeah, it was the, um, what do you kids say? The ‘OG’”—he uses air quotes—“pottery wheel and kiln. No electronics, just a bunch of gears attached to a tabletop and fire.” “I can’t believe you just used the term ‘OG.’” “I’m trying to be hip and with it!” “Shh,” she hushes when his voice gets too loud, “Yes, dear. You’re catching up nicely with the modern lingo.” “Thank you,” he says, smiling a closed lipped smile, causing his dimples to appear and eyes to crinkle up.

Y/N giggles. “Whenever you smile like that it reminds me of a teddy bear. Or Winnie the Pooh! Like a little Pooh Bear,” she says, patting his cheek, “It’s so cute.”

Jack’s eyebrows immediately knit together, his face dropping down into a frown. “I’m not cute,” he says as she rolls her eyes and begins walking away. “I’m a vicious, blood-drinking monster with...with fangs and a body count!” “You’re a 167-year-old grump with a fluffy black cat who fusses over his girlfriend and acts all bashful when she kisses his face.” “I do not!” he says indignantly.

She balances on her toes and presses a light kiss to his cheek. When he doesn’t soften immediately, she kisses him repeatedly until he melts under her touch. “Told you,” she says, her face plastered with a smug look. “Come on,” she smiles, grabbing his hand and tugging him to another exhibit, “I gotta answer questions about your time.”

She leads him to the 1800s wing. There’s a slideshow of old photos projected against a wall while other artifacts litter the floor in glass cases. “Y/N, here, look,” he says, finger pressing against the glass to point at an old opened diary, the pages yellowed due to the passage of time and faded curly handwriting scribbled on it. “Is that yours?” “No, it’s Thomas’s.” “Hm, yeah, I don’t think your handwriting’s that nice,” she said sarcastically, a teasing smile on her face. “I’ll have you know I had some of the best handwriting in Oxton.” “Right, and that town has how many people in it…?” “Anyway, what’s the next question on your paper there?”

She laughs at his not-so-subtle attempt at changing the subject, her eyes scanning the paper before landing on the question she needs to answer. “‘What two occupations did John Cochrane have?’” “Oh, I had a beer with him once. He was a lawyer and a chess player. Smart guy but he’d drink himself stupid. I think he preferred just playing chess and hated his job being a lawyer, but I dunno.” “What was he doing in Oxton?” “Passing by. He had to spend the night at an inn before going to Edinburgh.” “How old were you?”

Jack thinks for a minute before answering that he was sixteen.

“Dang, look at you, brushing shoulders with Scottish greats and all.” “Not just Scottish ones, had dinner with Winston Churchill once.” “You had dinner?” “Well, he had dinner, I was just sitting at the table.” “What was he like?” “Didn’t really care much for me. There’s a bit of a stigma against vampires if you can’t tell. But your generation isn’t as bad as previous ones.” “Lucky for both of us,” she smiles and he leans down to kiss the crown of her head.

They’re pulled from their conversation when a tour group passes by and the tour guide gestures to a portrait of David Dunbar Buick. Jack’s heightened hearing sensitivity allows him to pick up a small tidbit of what the guide is saying: “…he was known to be a very generous and kind man, very intelligent, obviously…” Jack leave’s Y/N’s side and begins walking over, “Actually he was a cocky zounderkite who got lucky.”

He feels Y/N’s warmth coming towards him before he feels her hand tugging at his arm. “Jack,” she warns quietly. She’s comfortable around Jack, but at the moment there’s a crowd of vampires looking at him and now her. She could be imagining it, but it seems like they’re eying her as if she were a Christmas feast.

“Just a second, love,” he says dismissively, patting her hand, “He wasn’t generous at all! He flaunted his money everywhere because quite frankly he had nothing else to his name.”

“Actually, I wasn’t gonna say anything but it’s true,” another vampire speaks, coming to the front of the group with a boy in tow. Y/N’s eyebrows raise in curiosity; this boy isn’t quite as pale as the rest of the group. “I grabbed a beer with him once and all he had to talk about was his money. He wasn’t very nice at all.” “Gentlemen, please, I’m just giving a tour and following a script,” the guide says, shrugging exasperatedly. “Yeah, love, c’mon,” the boy says, tugging the other vampire’s arm. He huffs and leads him towards Jack and Y/N, and she shrinks a little more behind Jack.

“Hey, mate,” the other vampire greets. “Hi,” Jack replies, holding his hand out, “I’m Jack.” “Garrett. This is my boyfriend, Ash.” “Nice to meet you, Ash,” Jack smiles, shaking his hand as well. “This is my Y/N,” he says, bringing her to his side. She smiles and shakes both their hands. Ash’s hand is warmer than Garrett’s. He’s human.

“Have you got Anderson as well?” Ash asks, pointing to Y/N’s clipboard with her homework packet on it. “I do! I’m in his 10:00 class.” “I am too. I sit in the back, though.” “Oh, no wonder I’ve never seen you, I sit in the front.” “What question are you on?” he asks, coming over to Y/N’s other side and looking at her paper. He’s only a little bit behind and she catches him up with her so that they can finish the worksheet together.

“So, how’d you meet?” Garrett asks as they trail after their significant others who are laughing animatedly and jotting down their answers to the questions. “Oh, I work at the bar across the street from campus, I don’t know if you know it, the Lion and Rose?” “Oh yeah, yeah, Garrett’s gone there with a couple of his mates after exams and stuff.” “Yeah, she just needed something to help her sleep and it was just me and her.” “Oooh, nice, did you tap it?” “What no!” Jack laughs, “No I didn’t. What about you, how’d you two meet?” “We met through a friend at a club. You know the one on Grand Avenue?” Jack shakes his head, “No, no, I’ve been—what is it the kids say—‘off the grid’ for the past twenty years or so. I’m catching up now since I’ve met her.” “Ah, I see. Well, yeah we met there, got a bit drunk at a club and did karaoke. I took him home and he asked me to stay, and I mean…I did, of course, cuz I mean, look at him, he’s adorable.”

Jack follows Garrett’s gesture to find them a good distance away, talking gesticulatively about a typewriter.

“And then he made breakfast for me and I just ate it away because I can’t say no to him—“ “I know that feeling.” “Right!? It’s so hard to deny him anything. I literally bought him a pair of shoes he didn’t need because he batted those damn eyelashes at me.” “Oh, I just spoil her. She gets mad at me then I just smile at her and then it’s fine.” “Aww, that’s so sweet. Oh, wait, right, the story. I mean, I didn’t wanna come out and meet the other uni students he lives with so I just stayed his room. We talked, watched movies and he kept feeding me. Then when the sun went down I was leaving and he started realizing that I didn’t eat. He started blushing—they’re cute when they blush, aren’t they?”

Jack chuckles and nods.

“Yeah. He kept apologizing and I just thought it was really sweet and endearing. We’ve been together for about four months.” “That’s so sweet,” Jack says.

“Do you know any other couples like…us?” Y/N asks. “I don’t, actually. But not a lot of people have really turned their nose up at Garrett. There were just issues when he met my parents.” “Yeah, I had the same thing. My dad is still such a stickler about it.” “I think they’ve come around to it now. Can I ask you though, have you thought about…the biting thing?” “Oh. Yeah, I have. I don’t want to be a vampire. Not yet, at least. I might change my mind later on. I’ve been wrestling with the idea of having kids. I’ve always wanted a family and I’d love to have one with Jack but I don’t know if it’s possible.” “Well I’m sure you guys can figure something out. I don’t think it’s impossible.” “Yeah. We’ll see. I’m just trying to graduate now.” “Same here. What’s the next question?”

Later, when Y/N and Ash have finished their homework, they make plans to have dinner together, Ash making a joke about how he’d love to actually eat with someone instead of eating while Garrett sits across from him.

“You know I can hear you, right?” Garrett says as he frowns. “Oh, please Garrett, you can’t possibly get upset over me actually wanting to eat with someone. And don’t worry, you’ll have Jack to grump about shit with.” “I am not grumpy!” both vampires say, scowling and crossing their arms. Ash and Y/N just laughed. “I’ll see you on Monday!” Y/N says, “And I’ll sit next to you now.” “Thank you, the people who normally sit around me are like rocks. They’re so boring.” “Don’t worry, we’ll be in the back talking shit about these two,” Y/N says, pointing at their boyfriends who only frown more. “Alright, that’s enough chatting for tonight, let’s go,” Jack says, reaching out for Y/N’s hand, who grabs it as she shares another laugh with Ash at their boyfriends’ eagerness to get the two gossiping humans away from each other.

They walk to the car, Jack having shed his coat to keep Y/N warm.

“You don’t actually think I’m a grump, do you?” “I don’t know, you’re kinda grumpy sometimes. But you’re also a big dork. And I love you, anyway. You’re like Hades and I’m Persephone,” she giggles. “Yeah, and Socks is Cerberus.” “And we’re all one happy little family.”

He laughs at that, leaning to kiss her cheek as he brakes at a red light.

“One happy, grumpy, mischievous little family.”

#Jack Lowden #Jack Lowden AU

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foryourart · 7 years ago

Photo

Image courtesy of REDCAT.

Thursday, November 30

Course: One-Day Workshop: Collage in Fine Art, LACMA (Miracle Mile), 1pm.

Scholarship Award Exhibition, UCLA (Westwood), 5–8pm.

Valeska Soares: Sense and Sensuality, Santa Barbara Museum of Art (Santa Barbara), 5:30–7pm.

LAXART Benefit Auction and Cocktail Party , The Penthouse of Ten Thousand  (Century City), 6–9pm. $200.

Artist and scholar walkthroughs: Raquel Guitierrez, Hammer Museum (Westwood), 6pm.

CraftNight: Downtown LA Clay Laboratory Night, Craft & Folk Art Museum (Miracle Mile), 6–8pm.

TATTOO: STORIES OF IDENTITY AND CULTURE LECTURE SERIES: Black and Gray: California's Homegrown Style, Natural History Museum (Downtown), 6pm.

In Person: Dan McCleary, Laguna Art Museum (Laguna Beach), 6pm.

Paul Brach Lecture Series: Helen Molesworth, CalArts (Valencia), 7pm.

Writing Now Reading Series: Lily Hoang, CalArts (Valencia), 7–10pm.

Talleres: Experimental Women Filmmakers from Latin America, Hammer Museum (Westwood), 7:30pm.

Cuba: Antes, Ahora / Then, Now – Artist Conversations, Annenberg Space for Photography (Century City), 7:30–9pm.

Talk: The Director’s Series: Michael Govan and Alejandro G. Iñárritu, LACMA (Miracle Mile), 7:30pm. Sold out.

District 798 – Dissident Chinese Performance Artwork, Think Tank Gallery (Downtown), 7:30–10:30pm. Thursdays through Sundays through December 10.

Charles Atlas, Rashaun Mitchell, Silas Reiner: Tesseract, REDCAT (Downtown), 8:30pm. $12–25. Through December 3.

Friday, December 1

CNP Special Invitation: Fantômas: Revenge of the Image, CalArts (Valencia), 12:30pm.

Our Iliad, CalArts (Valencia), 2 and 8pm. Through December 4.

WHAP! Lecture Series: Art and the Long Downturn, West Hollywood Public Library (West Hollywood), 2:30–6pm.

Claudia Concha Perea, Citrus Studios (Santa Monica), 6–10pm.

Tariq Alvi, Reaching For The Beginning, Michael Benevento (Koreatown), 6–8pm.

3rd annual Slamdance DIG: Digital, Interactive & Gaming, Big Pictures Los Angeles (Mid-City), 6–9pm.

Skid Row 3on3 Streetball League, Skid Row History Museum & Archive (Downtown), 7pm.

Kent Merriman Jr., Ignominious, Bel Ami (Chinatown), 7–10pm.

ALL ABOUT ART: CUBAN ARTISTS' INGENUITY, Museum of Latin American Art (Long Beach), 7–9pm.

HIGHLIGHT World AIDS Day - Home Video: Media Art in Response to HIV/AIDS, The Broad (Downtown), 7:30pm.

31st Anniversary Drawing Show and Rodney Bingenheimer: Santa's got a GTO Vol. 2 Record Release Party, La Luz de Jesus (Los Feliz), 8–11pm.

Vinny Golia Large Ensemble, CalArts (Valencia), 8–11pm.

Kiss by Guillermo Calderón, CalArts (Valencia), 8pm. Continues December 2.

Opening, The Chronicles Of LA (location revealed with RSVP), Continues December 2.

Saturday, December 2

Holiday Market, Hauser & Wirth (Downtown), 11am–6pm. Continues December 3.

Holiday Gifts, Long Beach Museum of Art (Long Beach), 11am–5pm. Continues December 3.

Workshop: INHABITANTS, A Physical Theatre Activation Lab with Gema Galiana + Emily Meister, Pieter (Lincoln Heights), 11:30am–3pm. $35.

Museum of Failure, A+D Architecture and Design Museum (Downtown), 12pm.

Open Studios Day, Angels Gate Cultural Center (San Pedro), 12–4pm.

Circular Knitting on a Loom Workshop with Tanya Aguiñiga, Craft and Folk Art Museum (Miracle Mile), 1–4pm.

Docent-Led Tour, Claire Trevor School of the Arts (Irvine), 1–2pm.

Bellini and the Renaissance Imagination, Getty Center (Brentwood), 2pm.

Malpaso Dance Company, The Music Center (Downtown), 2 and 7:30pm.

Judith F. Baca & Amalia Mesa-Bains: In Conversation, CSU Northridge (Northridge), 2pm.

Magu’s Mental Menudo Discussion Forum, UCI Claire Trevor School of the Arts (Irvine), 2–6pm. Also December 16.

Radical Covers, CalArts (Valencia), 2–4pm.

MAK Architecture Tour 2017: R.M. Schindler Architecture Tour & Inglewood Block Party, various location (Inglewood), 3–7pm.

The Evolution of Fragility: Toward a New History of the Ancient World, Getty Center (Brentwood), 4pm.

Mano-Made: New Expression in Craft by Consuelo Jimenez Underwood, Craft in America Center (Beverly Grove), opening reception and talk, 4pm.

Holiday Drinks!, 1301PE (Miracle Mile), 4–6pm.

SBC SoLA Gallery’s Small Works Exhibit and Fundraiser, SOLA Gallery (Leimert Park), 4–7pm.

Caroline Larsen: Poolside and Dominic Terlizzi: A Spirit Knows A Shadow Shows, Craig Krull Gallery (Santa Monica), 5–7pm.

PATRICK MARTINEZ: AMERICA IS FOR DREAMERS, Vincent Price Art Museum (Monterey Park), 5–7pm.

JAMES MARSHALL (AKA DALEK): The Space Monkey Returns, Thinkspace (Culver City), 6–9pm.

Cali Thornhill Dewitt: SAFE WORDS, Karma International (Mid-City), 6–8pm.

VANESSA BEECROFT, PIO PICO (Mid-City), 6–9pm.

Silke Albrecht, MIER Gallery (West Hollywood), 6–8pm.

Hugh Holland: Silver. Skate. Seventies., M+B Photo (Hollywood), 6–8pm.

It’s All Good…, Diane Rosenstein Gallery (Hollywood), 6–9pm.

Ovahness 12: Gothic Playground, 356 Mission (Downtown), 7pm. $40.

HELEN REBEKAH GARBER: THAUMATURGY, ICHIRO IRIE: GARMONBOZIA SAGRADA, and DAVID DIMICHELE: REAL AND UNREAL, Denk Gallery (Downtown), 6–8pm.

Marisa Takal: Beyond Oy Too Scared to Ha-Ha and Grant Levy-Lucero: Central, Night Gallery (Downtown), 7–10pm.

William Anastasi, Ghebaly Gallery (Downtown), 7–10pm.

Ron English: TOYBOX: America in the Visuals, Attaboy: Grow in the Dark, Lauren Marx, Patrick Faalufua: Le Pe’a Teine, Miho Hirano 2017: The Beauties of Nature, Corey Helford Gallery (Downtown), 7–11pm.

Music: Chagall Concert: Mikhail Rudy and the LA Opera, LACMA (Miracle Mile), 7:30pm.

PANG!, 24th Street Theatre (Downtown), 7:30pm. Also December 3.

FUEGO: A NIGHT IN PUERTO RICO, Museum of Latin American Art (Long Beach), 7–10pm.

That Bad Donato: The L.A. Brazil Connection, UCLA (Westwood), 8pm. $29–59.

Hi, Solo #5 10 artists . 1 city . 3 - minute solos, Pieter (Lincoln Heights), 8:30–10pm.

Sunday, December 3

WORKSHOP: Basic Self-Defense: Jodi Darby, Pieter (Lincoln Heights), 10am–12pm. $10–20.

CAAM Book Club: We Should All Be Feminists, California African American Museum (Downtown), 3–4:30pm.

Juan Downey: Radiant Nature Book Launch, LACE (Los Angeles Contemporary Exhibitions) (Hollywood), 1–4pm.

Echo Park Pottery Sale, Echo Park Pottery (Echo Park), 1–4pm.

Cornelia Funke's Journey through the Ancient Americas, Getty Center (Brentwood), 2pm.

Video Art in America Screening: States of Crisis, City of West Hollywood Library (West Hollywood), 2:30–4:30pm.

Artist talk: Deborah Decker: Under the Radar, TAG Gallery (Santa Monica), 3pm.

Community Bread Bake, ICA LA (Downtown), 3–5pm.

ALEC SOTH DISCUSSION + BOOK SIGNING FOR THE MACK BOOKS EDITION OF SLEEPING BY THE MISSISSIPPI, Arcana: Books on the Arts (Culver City), 4–6pm.

Amy Granat – A FRIEND OF THE DEVIL IS A FRIEND OF MINE, Marti Ceramics (Inglewood), 5–8pm.

Art is Calling Me...I Think, CalArts (Valencia), 8–10pm.

Monday, December 4

Talk: "Sarah Charlesworth: Doubleworld" Gallery Discussion, LACMA (Miracle Mile), 7pm.

Kip's Desert Book Club: Playa Works: The Myth of the Empty by William Fox, BOXO House (Joshua Tree), 7pm.

From Minos to Hadrian: Archaeology and Island Life on Ancient Kythera, Greece, Getty Center (Brentwood), 7:30pm.

SCREENINGS: Part of the series The Contenders 2017: Mudbound, and Q&A with Dee Rees, Hammer Museum (Westwood), 7:30pm.

Moustapha Alassane: Pioneer of The Golden Age of Nigerien Cinema, REDCAT (Downtown), 8:30pm. $6–12.

Tuesday, December 5

Marc Cooper, Robert Scheer and Suzi Weissman Conversation: Media & Democracy: From the Vietnam War to the Consolidation of “Alternative Facts” in the Digital Era, REDCAT (Downtown), 7pm.

SCREENINGS: Part of the series The Contenders 2017: Molly’s Game, Hammer Museum (Westwood), 7:30pm.

The Florentine Codex & the Herbal Tradition: Unknown vs Known?, The Huntington (San Marino), 7:30pm.

Wednesday, December 6

Three Museums—One Collection: The New Displays of Greek, Etruscan and Roman Art in Berlin, Getty Center (Brentwood), 3pm.

Universal Histories | Santa Monica students respond to PST:LA/LA, 18th Street Atrium Gallery & the Crossroads Sam Francis Gallery (Pico), 4–6pm.

SCREENINGS Part of the series The Contenders 2017: Downsizing, and Q&A with Alexander Payne and Hong Chau, Hammer Museum (Westwood), 7:30pm.

SENSEsations, Long Beach City College (Long Beach), 7–8:30pm.

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cloud9mn · 6 years ago

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2018 recap

Concerts (including volunteer shifts at the Cedar):

Cafe Accordion Orchestra at the Cedar

Malamanya at the Cedar

Enso Daiku taiko drumming group at the Landmark Center

Pink Martini and the Von Trapps with the Minnesota Orchestra

They Might Be Giants at First Avenue

Altan at the Cedar

Tao: Drum Heart at Orchestra Hall

The Decemberists at the Palace Theater

The Twilight Hours - visiting my bestie in Des Moines

The California Honeydrops at the Cedar

Lake Street Dive at the Palace Theater

Tannahill Weavers at the Cedar

Amadou & Mariam at the Cedar

Communist Daughter at the Cedar

Los Rolling Ruanas at the Cedar (I think they were my #1 new discovery of 2018)

Femi Kuti at the Cedar

Dawes at the Palace Theater

Beck at the Armory

Lemon Bucket Orkestra at the Cedar

Jupiter & Okwess at the Cedar

Jeremy Messersmith at the Parkway Theater

The New Standards Holiday show at the State theater

Plays:

Collected Stories at the MN Jewish Theatre Company

Indecent at the Guthrie

The Wickhams at the Jungle Theater

Exhibits:

1968 exhibit at MN History Center

Art Shanties at Lake Harriet

China exhibit at MIA (Minneapolis Institute of Arts)

Art in Bloom at MIA

Gentleman in Moscow book tour at MIA

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings book tour at MIA

Evening tour of the MN State Capitol

Sunken Egypt at MIA

The Museum of Russian Art

Classes:

Photo editing class at the White Bear Arts Center

Pottery class at the Caulfield Clay Center

Spanish classes through St. Paul Community Ed

Yoga class through St. Paul Community Ed

Bengala mud dying class through St. Paul Community Ed

Two knitting classes at StevenBe yarn store

Rock balancing class at the MN Landscape Arboretum

Travels:

New Orleans French Quarter Music Festival in April

South America in November

Other miscellaneous stuff:

Visited a salt cave and listened to “sound healing”

Kentucky Derby Day at Brit’s Pub

Strawberry picking at Pine Tree Apple Orchard

Twin Cities LGBT Pride parade

Circus Juventas annual summer show

Tour of Twin Cities Public Television studios

A hayride at Aamodt’s Apple Orchard

Knitting projects

A cowl

Three hats

A scarf

A vest (still in progress)

Volunteer gigs:

Cedar Cultural Center

Friends School Plant sale

Hidden Falls litter cleanup

Food packing at Second Harvest food shelf - monthly

Election Judge

Hair colors:

Deep purple in March

Self touch-up with Violet purple in April

Back to turquoise in June

Back to violet-purple at the end of December

Books read: 33

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biofunmy · 5 years ago

Text

Del Pitt Feldman, Who Made Crocheting Hip, Is Dead at 90

Del Pitt Feldman, whose crocheted designs helped redefine a homegrown technique that had been relegated to potholders and simple scarves as a respected medium for fashion and art, died on Jan. 14 at an assisted living facility in Mechanicsburg, Pa. She was 90.

Her daughter Melissa E. Feldman confirmed the death.

Ms. Feldman was best known for creating hand-crocheted garments with unfussy silhouettes and a breezy, confident ease; the tactile drape and raised texture of the material became a key element of each item’s design. Her pieces frequently used intentionally wide stitchwork that resembled oversize fishnet; it became a trademark.

The clothes were sold mostly at Studio Del, a boutique she opened on East Seventh Street, in Manhattan’s East Village, in 1965. The garments — including open-weave vests, string bikinis, minidresses and capes — seemed to capture the freewheeling spirit of the neighborhood, and of the 1960s counterculture. The store’s clientele included Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Grace Slick and Andy Warhol.

High-profile women like Cher and Lily Tomlin also wore her clothes, but Ms. Feldman was unimpressed by celebrity status. When Ms. Joplin walked into the store and asked to try on a small top that was hanging in the window, her daughter said, Ms. Feldman declined, telling her she was too big for its trim dimensions.

Ms. Feldman’s work, which also included hand-crocheted items for the home, tended to be in free-form patterns instead of more traditional straight lines. That style resonated in the hippie era.

“That was the point: that it was not granny squares and doilies and all kinds of things we associated with our grandparents during the 1960s; that it could be contemporary, that it could be creative,” Dilys E. Blum, co-curator of “Off the Wall: American Art to Wear,” an exhibition currently on view at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, said in a phone interview.

Ms. Feldman’s narrow store, decorated with vintage wooden furniture found at junk shops nearby, had a homey feel. More often than not, Ms. Feldman would crochet there, sitting in a large rocking chair. Classes were held in the back; a wide array of yarn was also for sale, as were tools for knitting and crochet.

By the early 1970s, the store had become a de facto clubhouse for a group of female artists who were working in crochet, among them Dina Knapp, Sharron Hedges, Arlene Stimmel and Nicki Hitz Edson, who was also, for a few years, a store employee. Ms. Feldman, who was older than those women, called herself “the mother of the movement,” her daughter said in a phone interview.

“Her space was a magnet for these young women who were interested in using yarns to create innovative new forms and wearable pieces,” said Julie Schafler Dale, who founded the influential Manhattan store Julie: Artisans’ Gallery in the early 1970s. “That was key in sustaining what people were doing at that time.”

Ms. Feldman also wrote books, which included instructions, images and encouragement to work beyond the constraints of standard patterns. “Crochet: Discovery and Design,” published in 1972, was praised in The New York Times for going “beyond baby booties and into ideas that could turn into works of art.” A follow-up, “The Crocheter’s Art: New Dimensions in Free-Form Crochet,” was published in 1974.

“She did want to teach people the basics and then encourage them to go off on their own: to be creative and ‘don’t be afraid to try things and just see what your mind can conjure up with your crochet,’” Gwen Blakley Kinsler, founder of the Crochet Guild of America, said by phone.

Ms. Feldman’s book “The Crocheter’s Art” was published in 1974. She wanted, one commentator said, “to teach people the basics and then encourage them to go off on their own.”Credit…via Feldman family

Delores Pitt was born in Chicago on Feb. 23, 1929. Her parents, William Pitt, a kosher butcher, and Serene (Davis) Pitt, a seamstress, were both immigrants — her father from Poland, her mother from Hungary. The family moved to the East Flatbush area of Brooklyn a few years later.

The household was frugal, but even as a child Delores was creative and resourceful: When she was around 10, because her mother considered buying a Halloween costume to be a frivolous expense, Delores crafted her own makeshift Tin Man ensemble using aluminum foil from the kitchen. She also learned to crochet as a child.

She graduated from Samuel J. Tilden High School in Brooklyn in 1945 and the next year married George Feldman, an advertising copywriter. Before focusing on crochet, she was an amateur sculptor and studied with Chaim Gross and Bruno Lucchesi.

By the early 1980s, Studio Del had closed and Ms. Feldman had developed bursitis, which put an end to her professional crocheting. She was a spokeswoman for DuPont’s line of yarn for a few years and also took up pottery, which she occasionally sold. She suffered from worsening symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease over the last decade.

Her husband died in 2013; a daughter, Lori Feldman, died in 2006. In addition to her daughter Melissa, she is survived by a son, Geoffrey; a sister, Florence Harris; and three grandchildren.

Even after she officially gave up crocheting, Ms. Feldman sometimes made pieces for her family, typically with her usual disregard for convention. A sweater for her first grandson, for example, was made with Velcro patches affixed to small crocheted stuffed animals to keep him entertained.

“She wasn’t afraid,” her daughter said, “to go monumental or outrageous with anything that she was doing.”

Sahred From Source link Arts

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mastcomm · 5 years ago

Text

Del Pitt Feldman, Master of the Art of Crocheting, Dies at 90

Her daughter Melissa E. Feldman confirmed the death.

Ms. Feldman’s work, which also included hand-crocheted items for the home, tended to be in free-form patterns instead of more traditional straight lines. That style resonated in the hippie era.

Her husband died in 2013; a daughter, Lori Feldman, died in 2006. In addition to her daughter Melissa, she is survived by a son, Geoffrey; a sister, Florence Harris; and three grandchildren.

“She wasn’t afraid,” her daughter said, “to go monumental or outrageous with anything that she was doing.”

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/del-pitt-feldman-master-of-the-art-of-crocheting-dies-at-90/

#Life style

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caveartfair · 6 years ago

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Excursions to 5 Art-Filled U.S. Cities Where You Can Unlock Your Creativity

Exploring your artistic instincts while traveling can yield unexpected rewards. Psychologist and travel writer Michael Brein explains that “travel enables us to be more adventurous, more expanding, more experimental, and more exploratory, by enabling us to experience ourselves in new, creative, experimental ways.” Making art necessitates making choices, and can result in a wellspring of self-confidence and self-awareness. Doing this in a new context, while inspired by the history and culture of a new place, can be transformative.

Beyond the major American art hubs, many U.S. cities are rich with opportunity for exploring one’s creative instincts. The unique histories of the five cities below each inform year-round classes, workshops, and retreats that are well-suited to novice artists over the course of a short trip or a long weekend. Whether you’re looking to get creative with paint, clay, iPhone cameras, or glass, as you plan your itinerary, just recall an observation by Henry David Thoreau: “The world is but a canvas to our imagination.”

Sarasota, Florida

The John and Mable Ringling Museum of Art, Sarasota, FL. Photo by DeAgostini/Getty Images.

John Ringling was an intriguing contradiction: a connoisseur of high art (he believed an art museum was essential to every town) and an impresario of the mythic, at times gaudy world of the circus. He and his wife, Mable Ringling, first purchased land along the Sarasota Bay in 1911, and by 1925, his net worth exceeded $200 million. At that point, they also owned several of the surrounding Florida Keys, and began nurturing cultural institutions—including their eponymous art museum and school, the Ringling Museum of Art and the Ringling College of Art and Design—that still distinguish Sarasota as a site of artistic experimentation and innovation.

Recently, Art Ovation, a new hotel in downtown Sarasota, began collaborating with the Ringling College of Art and Design to connect guests to the arts through a wealth of classes, demonstrations, and exhibitions within the hotel. The inaugural exhibition, “Legacy,” featured art by faculty, alumni, and students from the college; the hotel is building a permanent collection by acquiring pieces from each exhibition, and guests are even able to participate in the selection process.

Complimentary on-site classes for guests range from origami to portrait painting to paper weaving, and a local artist-in-residence is situated in a studio space in the lobby. Guests can also try out musical instruments, and guest rooms are all equipped with a ukulele (lessons take place at the rooftop bar), art supplies, and a dedicated workspace for focused exploration.

Nearby, Art Center Sarasota offers one-day and week-long classes in mixed media, acrylics and oils, watermedia, printmaking, and more. The historic venues that anchor Sarasota’s cultural scene are also in close proximity, like the Florida Studio Theatre, the Sarasota Opera, the Van Wezel Performing Arts Hall, the Marie Selby Botanical Gardens (which has a performance series as well as an art gallery), the Sarasota Ballet, and the Asolo Repertory Theatre.

Santa Fe, New Mexico

Courtesy of Sunrise Springs Spa Resort.

Centuries before Santa Fe grew to become the third-largest art market in the U.S., Ancestral Puebloans created ceremonial and functional pottery using beeweed, tansy mustard root, and crushed hematite to ink dark patterns on white clay—a form of pottery now referred to as “black on white.” When Spanish settlers arrived in the 16th century, they brought their own techniques for wood-carving, portraiture, furniture-making, textiles, and metalwork. In the early 20th century, New Mexico—a spare desert landscape with dramatic and awe-inspiring hues of earth and sky—earned recognition as a source of boundless inspiration for artists from the East Coast. As local gallery director Michael Ettema writes, “There have been artists in Santa Fe as long as there have been people here.”

Many of the 200-plus galleries in Santa Fe—which showcase everything from sculpture with found objects to handcrafted jewelry and textiles—offer open studio events in addition to the city’s myriad opportunities for getting tactile and expressive within a variety of mediums. One standout opportunity is the Santa Fe Photographic Workshops, which offers classes in digital, iPhone, and night sky photography. The Santa Fe Art Institute offers workshops in design and storytelling, and Sunrise Springs Spa Resort’s Art Immersion program combines mindfulness with artful exploration—workshops include “Zen Doodles,” “Sugar Skulls,” “Blind Portraits,” and the enchanting “Twilight Studio.” Another popular attraction is the immersive, interactive installation of Meow Wolf, a local art collective that builds multimedia art environments and hosts concerts and events in their former bowling alley-turned art space.

A variety of day trips can also feed creative impulses, including visits to Art & Soul in Taos, which offers collage workshops; and the former stomping grounds of Georgia O’Keeffe an hour north in Ghost Ranch and Abiquiú.

Toledo, Ohio

Courtesy of the Toledo Museum of Art.

Before artist Harvey Littleton led two seminal studio glass workshops at the Toledo Museum of Art in 1962, glass production in the U.S. was, in large part, utilitarian—designs for canning jars, tableware, bottles, windows, sconces, lanterns, and railroad insulators. But Littleton, the son of a prominent research physicist for Corning Glass Works and a professor at the University of Wisconsin, believed that glass could transcend functionality. In 1960, the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation rejected his application for funding to establish a university program in glassblowing, but panelist Otto Whitman—the director of the Toledo Museum of Art at the time—urged Littleton to spend a year at the museum. Littleton’s workshops spurred the American Studio Glass movement, and established a precedent for determining the design for a work of glass art while in the process of creating it, with techniques like fusing, blowing, kiln and sand casting, crushing and binding, coldworking, flameworking, and staining.

The Toledo Museum of Art, along with innovative local studios in the area, offers regular glass workshops, classes, tours, and demonstrations. Weekly workshops in the museum’s Glass Pavilion, a companion building to the primary Beaux-Arts museum site, which was designed by Kazuyo Sejima and Ryue Nishizawa. Each month, one workshop is focused on a featured object—for example, September’s is an apple paperweight, October’s is a ghost—while another popular offering is “Pick Your Project,” a 90-minute session where participants can choose to create one of a variety projects, like a glass bird, flower, or pumpkin.

Similar classes are available at other glassmaking organizations in the area, like Gathered Glassblowing Studio and Copper Moon Studio in nearby Holland, Ohio. The latter offers youth classes where participants craft mosaics and puzzles with fused glass, and learn techniques for glass-cutting. Also in Holland, the Firenation Glass Studio and Gallery, an independent gallery and collective workspace, is open for tours and offers various specialized glass-blowing classes.

Stockbridge, Massachusetts

Courtesy of Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health.

The Berkshires region is a bucolic respite with an iconic landscape of thickly forested mountains, winding roads, and small towns that recall America’s colonial era—an idyllic venue for spending time outdoors while reconnecting with the interior. The Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health pairs yoga, wellness, and outdoor programs with workshops in music, dance, and the visual and literary arts. Special workshops this year involve collage, painting, knitting, and writing, as well as classes that fuse visual arts with yoga. Freelance travel writer Joni Sweet describes a recent collaging workshop as “delightfully free form,” observing that “no matter what, you’ll come away with a piece of art that speaks to you—and potentially some new friends you gained through the process.”

One hour east of Kripalu is Zea Mays Printmaking Studio, and both the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art and the Clark Art Institute are less than an hour’s drive north. If arriving or departing through Boston, Diana Stelin leads two evening workshops for adults each week through The Plein-Air Art Academy; this fall, they’ll focus on landscapes in asian art.

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Courtesy of Minneapolis Institute of Art.

Through relatively small in terms of population (with just under half a million residents in the metro area, per the last census), Minneapolis is a cultural gem due to its diversity and historically strong funding for the arts. There are abundant museums to get lost in, like the Weisman Art Museum and the Walker Art Center, home of the not-to-be-missed Minneapolis Sculpture Garden (The Walker also offers free drawing workshops led by Amber Sausen, president of Urban Sketchers, on the first Thursday of every month); the Somali Museum of Minnesota (dates for fall classes in Somali Kebed weaving are currently being finalized); and the Museum of Russian Art. The Minneapolis Institute of Art offers a “Sketching in the Galleries” program, which begins with a short lecture and discussion, followed by a practical portion in the galleries.

One Saturday each month, Alchemy Arts Studio, located in the Stillwater neighborhood, hosts three-hour-long fused glass classes, as well as jewelry-making workshops using metal clay (made from powdered metal, a fiber-based binding agent, and water), dichroic glass, silver leaf, molds, and handmade beads. Short workshops in digital photography and Adobe Lightroom can be found at Mpls Photo Center, and the Chicago Fire Arts Center, which focuses on “fine and industrial art forms that are produced using heat, spark, or flame,” offers weekend workshops in blacksmithing, enamel and coloration, encaustic work, jewelry and metal casting, neon signage, tinsmithing, welding, and repoussé (working with small tools and malleable metals to create a raised design).

You can also look for classes and workshops at the Northern Clay Center, as well as a variety of studios in the surrounding area, like Artistry (part of the Bloomington Center for the Arts), the Edina Art Center, the White Bear Center for the Arts, and the Minnetonka Center for the Arts.

from Artsy News

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toopuppykoala-blog · 7 years ago

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Seoul - A Family Holiday Location

korea ski tour Seoul is the funds city of South Korea and is the residence of a variety of palaces and enjoyable routines. It is a wonderful area to experience the outdated and new of Asia. This location is nicely knit with the relaxation of the nation with various modes of transport like aircraft, prepare, bus, vehicle and boat. This report discusses the locations to go in Seoul and different enjoyable activities in this lovely metropolis for you. Amusement Activities There are a number of amusement parks in this metropolis, most of which are open up for most element of the year. Lotte Globe is an indoor amusement park and one of the world's greatest of its kind. It showcases the historic Korean life and has a number of rides and a people museum. Everland and Children's Grand Park are other amusement parks which are specific points of interest for kids. This metropolis has a On line casino named Seven Luck and it is only for foreigners. You will also locate horse racing grounds. Races are largely held throughout the weekend. Mountain Biking is an additional tourist attraction. You can hire mountain bikes and other equipment you require. They also provide coaching if you demand any support with biking on the mountain. There are a quantity of theaters exhibiting traditional and contemporary artwork performances. You can also select to go for calm night with a quantity of spas and massage rooms offered in the city. There are also tiny institutes which instruct Korean cooking and pottery to support just take with you a element of Korea following your holiday. Spots To Go to Palaces are most common among the areas to go in Seoul for any tourist. These are spots exactly where Korea's royalty was seated in ancient moments. Some of these palaces have been restored and repainted to preserve their heritage. Gyeongbok-gung is the grandest palace of Seoul. It is now the residence of Korean Folks museum and Joeseon Palace Museum. There are a few mountains in Seoul which are known for scenic beauty and also gives hiking path for equally novices and knowledgeable hikers. This location is also recognized for its temples and shrines. Jongmyo Shrine is a shrine specially created for the royal families of the Korean dynasties. Jogye and Bongeun are significant Buddhist temples in this town. This town is also identified to have a number of parks with diverse themes. They host the Globe Comic Conference 2 times a month and they also supply a number of people villages showcasing cultural heritage of this spot. Buying And Other Amenities Korea private excursions will include Namdaemun and Dongdaemun which are famous vacationer purchasing places. These are places recognized for clothing, components with a Korean contact to it. There are also a lot of artwork galleries and retailers for electronic devices in the city. You will uncover a number of authentic Korean and Japanese dining establishments in the city to give your style buds a pleasant alter in taste. There are also a amount of very good accommodations accessible from funds hotels to deluxe suites. They would aid you in finding a personal tour in Seoul for you to go around the spot without having any difficulties.

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nofomoartworld · 7 years ago

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Hyperallergic: The Novelty and Excess of American Design During the Jazz Age

“Muse with Violin Screen” (detail) (1930) from Rose Iron Works, Inc., designed by Paul Fehér, wrought iron, brass, silver and gold plating (courtesy the Cleveland Museum of Art, on Loan from the Rose Iron Works Collections, © Rose Iron Works Collections, photo by Howard Agriesti)

The Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum’s The Jazz Age: American Style in the 1920s is billed as the “first major museum exhibition to focus on American taste in design during the exhilarating years of the 1920s.” Rather than narrow the lens on this era of rapid cultural and technological change, this concentration on the post-World War I United States is a lively, international showcase of design. “We felt very much that European exhibitions of Art Deco had tried to cover a broad swathe of things, but definitely from a European point of view, and either left out what was going on in America entirely, or dumped everything in but the kitchen sink,” Sarah Coffin, Cooper Hewitt’s curator and head of product design and decorative arts, told Hyperallergic.

“Study for Maximum Mass Permitted by the 1916 New York Zoning Law, Stage 4” (1922), designed by Hugh Ferriss, black crayon, stumped, pen and black ink, brush and black wash, varnish on illustration board; 26 5/16 x 20 1/16 inches (courtesy Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, photo by Matt Flynn, © Smithsonian Institution)

Coffin co-organized The Jazz Age with Stephen Harrison, curator of decorative art and design at the Cleveland Museum of Art. After closing at the New York museum in August, the exhibition will open in Cleveland this September. The collections of both institutions majorly informed the structure and themes of The Jazz Age. “It was when the traditionally minded Cooper Hewitt had started to acquire contemporary design,” Coffin said of the 1920s at the Manhattan museum. During the Cooper Hewitt’s recent multi-year renovation, these holdings came to light. “We began to realize how much material that we had from the 1920s that had been little exhibited, if at all,” she explained.

Meanwhile, the Cleveland Museum of Art has several pieces acquired from the influential Paris 1925 International Exhibition of Modern Decorative and Industrial Arts. Exploring the two floors of The Jazz Age is a bombastic visual experience, and any museumgoer who attempts to read every label, to examine each of the over 400 objects, may quickly find their brain saturated. Of course, decadence, novelty, and a collision of colors, styles, and shapes are part of what made the Roaring Twenties so dynamic. As F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote in his 1931 essay “Echoes of the Jazz Age“: “It was an age of miracles, it was an age of art, it was an age of excess, and it was an age of satire.”

Installation view of The Jazz Age: American Style in the 1920s at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Centered on themes like “Bending the Rules” and “Abstraction and Reinvention,” The Jazz Age offers curated tableaux of furniture, flapper dresses, paintings, Prohibition-era cocktail shakers, and all manner of objects to demonstrate influences across media. Many of the featured designers were immigrating from Europe, or having their creations imported to the United States. Others were Americans who went abroad to study and train, picking up tubular metal techniques at the Bauhaus in Germany or ideas for bold hues from De Stijl in the Netherlands. For example, Ruth Reeves studied textiles with Fernand Léger in Paris before she worked on abstracted designs for Radio City Music Hall, and Viktor Schreckengost melded his sculpture studies in Vienna with Michael Powolny with his Ohio pottery background.

“What we were trying to do was show that all this innovation was very much the vibrant conversation of people from many countries coming together in the rising urban environment of New York and places across the country, and interacting across the board in every medium,” Coffin said. She added that the “overall impact of this was an extraordinary amalgamation of designers from a variety of countries who came here with an interest in bringing some of their modern design thinking to American soil.”

“Tissu Simultané no. 46 (Simultaneous Fabric no. 46)” (1924), designed by Sonia Delaunay, printed silk, 18 5/16 x 25 9/16 inches (courtesy Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, © Smithsonian Institution)

Installation view of The Jazz Age: American Style in the 1920s at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

The installations in The Jazz Age reflect this rise of international exchange. British designer Wells Coates’s green, circular Bakelite radio, one of the manufacturing innovations being spread to the new middle class, rests on German designer Kem Weber’s sage-hued, streamlined sideboard, which was also intended for serial production. Russian-born craftsman Samuel Yellin’s curling wrought iron fire screen mingles with Lorentz Kleiser’s monumental tapestry showing Newark’s transformation from an indigenous village to an orderly town, both pieces demonstrating the endurance of historical European aesthetics. A towering “Skyscraper Bookcase” of California redwood with black lacquer, all designed by Austrian émigré Paul Frankl, incorporates the zoning-enforced architectural setbacks of the new skyscrapers, something which Erik Magnussen’s Cubic coffee service with its silver angles does on a smaller scale.

“It’s in those conversations where we hope that people can see if we put a beige and gray Jean Dunand enamel vase next to a similarly colored dress that it shows that these colors are the palette of the era,” Coffin said. “You start seeing connections, like an Edgar Brandt screen influencing the Rose Iron Works of Cleveland. It all keeps bouncing back and forth.”

Installation view of The Jazz Age at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

“The New Yorker” (Jazz) Punch Bowl (1931), designed by Viktor Schreckengost, manufactured by Cowan Pottery Studio (Rocky River, Ohio), glazed, molded earthenware; 11 3/4 x 16 5/8 inches (courtesy Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, © Smithsonian Institution)

A portrait of Hattie Carnegie by Jean Dunand (1925) with a day dress designed by Marcel Goupy (1919-20) (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

A trophy designed by Jean E. Puiforcat for a 1923 figure skating competition at the Palais de Glaces in Paris (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Paul Manship, “Actaeon (1925), bronze (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

“Mystery Clock with Single Axle” (1921), produced by Cartier (Paris, France); owned by Anna Dodge; gold, platinum, ebonite, citrine, diamonds, enamel; 5 1/16 × 3 13/16 × 1 7/8 inches (Cartier Collection, photo by Marian Gerard, © Cartier)

Accessories and barware, including a silver owl-shaped cocktail shaker designed by Peer Smed (1931), a design that hid its function during Prohibition (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

An evening dress and underslip designed by Gabrielle Chanel and produced by House of Chanel, made from blue silk chiffon with applied blue ombré silk fringe (1926) (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Pair of wrought iron and bronze gates designed by René Paul Chambellan for the entrance to the executive office suite of the Chanin Building in New York (1928) (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

“Tourbillons Vase” (1926), designed by Suzanne Lalique for René Lalique; pressed, carved, acid-etched and enameled glass; 7 15/16 x 6 7/8 inches (courtesy Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum, © Smithsonian Institution)

Installation view of The Jazz Age: American Style in the 1920s at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

A daybed designed by Frederick Kiesler (1933-35) and Aaron Douglas’s “Painting, Go Down Death” (1934) (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Installation view of The Jazz Age: American Style in the 1920s at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Installation view of The Jazz Age at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

A bergere chair designed by Paul Follot after Robert Bonfils, manufactured by Tapisserie des Gobelins and L’Ecole Boulle (1922-25), featuring an airplane (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Detail of a door designed by Edgar Brandt inspired by Persian manuscripts (1923) (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Installation view of The Jazz Age at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Woman’s wool knit striped bathing suit (1920s) (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

A wrought iron and gilding firescreen designed by Edgar Brandt (1925) (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Installation view of The Jazz Age at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

A ten-panel screen made of gilt and lacquered wood with patinated bronze, designed by Armand-Albert Rateau (1921-22) (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Installation view of The Jazz Age at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

Detail of a linen textile designed by Thomas Lamb, manufactured by DuPont Rayon Company, with the Diana’s leaping gazelle motif that was popular at the 1925 Paris Exposition (1920-29) (photo by the author for Hyperallergic)

The Jazz Age: American Style in the 1920s continues at the Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum (2 East 91st Street, Upper East Side, Manhattan) through August 20.

The post The Novelty and Excess of American Design During the Jazz Age appeared first on Hyperallergic.

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