#a young starlet. shimmering stars

[askglassanon]

Glass World Lore: Glass Figure Yokai

The Star Fragments/Astrokleptics

They're a highly intelligent species. While the way this intelligence is displayed varies.

Some are street smart rather than book smart, some a better at things involving numbers and mass etc.

They get carvings when they experience life changing event this can tell you a lot about individual.

They have a singing tone under their voices. The songs are unique to each individual.

Glass singing tunes are most common however other instruments are heard.

They have finger pads, with none on the palms of their hands. These help them grip and hold smooth and/or slippery surfaces and objects.

Their bodies tend to vary. Going from humanoid to anthropomorphic. (Some have digitigrade legs for example, and some have joints. Even coming in other colors)

They often have soft and round snouts. Some on the longer side.

They have small feet called pedes. Pedes are often more equivalent to hooves regardless of their appearance.

Some Astrokleptics have antenna, false ears, horns and ossicones.

Their bodies can have spines and nubs. However most of them have smooth bodies till their first carving.

They can have tails.

They're mouths can be carved in or non-existent. 

Astrokleptic culture includes lots of dance and life patterns.

They all have a sense of order.

They're crystal clear first 9 years of their life. After that they develop different colors.

Whether they change completely or only become ombres depends on their diet.

There hasn't been a solid clear Star Fragment in millinias.

Because if this they are very wary of clear things and it's considered bad luck to own clear glass, plastic or gem on their homeland unless it has been boiled and cleansed in the sun for 20 days.

Young Astrokleptics are called, Glits (infants), Shimmers (toddlers), Starlings (preteens) and Starlets (teens)

They're very open and curious creatures but they've also developed a form of generational paranoia.

They're omnivores but only eat fruit, vegetables and grains because some Astrokleptics back in the day ate humans. 

Astrokleptics are strong conductors of magic and used to be frequently used for that very reason.

Because of this magic is very frowned in the geode filled caverns they call home.

They have absorb sunlight naturally and it rejuvenates them and helps them heal.

If they chip or lose a shard they can grow it back however it they lose a limb they cannot grow it back.

Any broken off injuries tend to resemble kintsugi art when healed.

When injured they leak a rich golden fluid. If they cry those tears are a paler more pearl/ivory color.

Their blush is gold as well.

Their bodies density varies. They can break and those are considered serious injuries.

They're surprisingly soft. They're solid and hard but they have a unique body chemistry

Their senses are powered by their magic. The stronger their magic the stronger the senses.

Their cousin Gem cousins are called Geotasmas or Petrified Stars.

Astrokleptics went into hiding many years before Glass existed which is why she's never seen one.

While their disappearance isn't the cause of Glass' mistreatment in her world it's possible the two are related to some degree.

There's an old legend saying they ate humans (some books say both humans and yokai only the former is true)

[grimowled]

LUSTFUL IMPATIENCE WAS a feeling they both currently shared, there was no denying the low heat in his belly that seemed to complement that of the gorgeous body now pressed against his side, transcending even the glittering fabric of their fine clothes. courting was a art he strived to perfect - the eternal night was still young and he had his own designs for this decadent starlet, eager to partake in the lavish banquet of his body, but too terribly curious about what else lay beneath the glamorous façade to squander the opportunity too quickly. he would get more than just a taste, but all in good time, at the right moment.

"hoo hoo, forgive me - always getting a little ahead of myself. but I do hope you enjoy breaking some rules-- don't you worry, I won't kiss and tell."

he crooned in a deliberately and sensually honeyed voice, turning his head towards the soft tufts of angel's hair and inhale his sinfully irresistible scent as they stepped and sauntered into the chaos of lust's nigh-time dazzle and cacophony of sounds; cars sped by and blinding neons flashed, flooding the city with their bright and hypnotic lechery, and the air felt pleasantly cool on the owl's flushed cheeks as they strolled, linking arms as a fresh couple would. as soon as they turned a dimly lit corner, a small sanctuary from the overwhelming bustle of the evening, stolas blinked his fatigued eyes and waved his hand in a flourish. like magic the air sliced in two then, opening a window into a quaint bucolic scenery - elegantly framed by a shimmering portal, a starry night could be seen draped over a vast expanse of grassland, the sounds of rustling leaves coming from a nearby grove carried by a gentle breeze.

that was to be the first stop of the night; hopefully the chain he could sense around the sinner's neck wouldn't snap taut and pull him back, if he strayed too far from its master. there were terms and conditions of course, but stolas had the unhallowed and unorthodox power to loophole around them if he so pleased.

"--I would like to take you someplace special first."

he turned around to face his comely date, wordlessly unclasping his glimmering cosmic cloak to drape it over the other's bare shoulders, and raising his palm to take his hand in his own talons as he met his sparkling mismatched gaze.

"it's a little chilly where we're going. would you like to look at the stars with me, perhaps allow me a small taste of you as we lie in the grass ?"

(he wondered how long had it been since this sinner had been graced with the sight of a starlit sky.)

He would never admit it aloud, but this was an entirely different sensation than what he was used to. When it came to most people trying to court him - who was he kidding, that was the fancy way to say it, these demons clearly just wanted to bone - it was often met with crude remarks and inappropriate gestures. Arms thrown around him, pulling Angel closer, putting drugs into his drinks to try and make him an easier mark.

Stolas hadn't even laid a hand on him yet. As a matter of fact, Angel was the touching, and while that wasn't uncommon for him either, a man that would much rather speak with his touch than his words, it was weird that the goetia hadn't even tried to make a physical move. Not in a bad weird, but a weird that he couldn't quite wrap his head around. It enticed him, the way that he already felt his stomach flutter and felt warmth forming between his legs.

Was he getting horny on romance? Fucking probably, so sue him, he didn't get that a lot.

As the other finished his drink, Angel made sure to make quick work of his, tipping it back without hardly even having to swallow (thanks lack of gag reflex). He almost slammed the glass onto the counter, clearly not as classy as the man in front of him, standing up and smoothing out his dress, grinning and looping one of his many arms around the owl's with sparkling eyes.

"Hey now, yeh' the one that wanted tah' woo meh' over first." He smiled, batting his eyelashes at the other, pressing his head softly against the man's shoulder. "Ain't that ah'm complainin'. Can't tell yeh' the last time someone actually wanted tah' take meh' on a date before gettin' in mah' pants. Or, well, mah' dress in this case." He laughed softly, following the other where he led, shrugging his shoulders. "No one sayin' yeh' can't break the rules and have a little taste before dinna', right?"

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

And Do I Dream Again?

We’re throwing it WAY back to the early 2000′s with this one, guys. One of my first hyperfixations crossed over with my latest; poetic, really. I also dug into my Weird Memories archive and remembered that we used to make banners for our fics back in the fanfic.net days (I’m old as hell and I’ve been doing this for a long time). So...without further ado, the first story in my A Very Bouncey Halloween series:

Jaskier perched on the velvet-padded stool in front of his dressing room mirror and ran a brush through his soft brown hair. He hoped to remove the curls it had been pulled into for the performance and return it to its normal fluffy mess; unfortunately that wasn’t entirely possible, the pomade his costumer had applied was too thick. 

Once his chestnut locks were as silky smooth as they were going to get, Jaskier placed the silver brush back on the tabletop and sighed. The Phantom had left him another plain red rose with a plain black ribbon around the stem. No note. No name. Just Madame Yennefer’s quiet, “He was pleased with you.” 

A whisper in passing.

Valdo interrupted the young starlet’s thoughts when he poked his head in the door and smiled brightly. Jaskier pulled his delicate white dressing gown closer around his shoulders and chest, hiding whatever skin he could despite its laciness. An ingénue’s aesthetic did not always lend itself well to preserving one’s modesty, ironically enough.

“You did wonderfully tonight, my sweet,” the Viscount purred from his place in the doorway.

“Thank you.”

“Could I have the honor of escorting you to a late dinner?”

Jaskier was about to turn him down outright when he struck upon a very particular thought. If his Angel of Music was as possessive as Jaskier hoped, surely he’d step forward and show his face to deter the Viscount. If the Phantom thought his claim on the pretty opera prodigy was being threatened then perhaps he’d make an appearance. The scheming young starlet smiled softly and let his excited Angel-related blush do the work for him in regards to Valdo Marx, “That would be lovely, Viscount Valdo.”

The mustachioed cavalier beamed. “I’ll have my footmen bring the carriage around.”

And then he disappeared back out the door.

Jaskier turned towards his mirror, still clutching the robe around his shoulders tightly to keep it closed. He wished desperately that he hadn’t changed out of his costume before the Viscount arrived at his door. Valdo had all the appearance of a gentleman, and he’d been kind enough when they were both children, but something about the way he’d looked at Jaskier in such a state of undress, like he was hungry… 

The prodigy shivered and ran his hands up and down his upper arms for both comfort and warmth. The corset around his middle felt unusually tight as he stood to get dressed in his street-clothes. If he was to meet with the creepy young Viscount for dinner then he’d need to be dressed.

Before he could move an inch, however, a cold wind swept through the dressing room and doused the candles. Jaskier gasped and let his hands fall to his sides. Had his plan really worked so well? Had his Angel decided to step out of the darkness and finally show him the face behind the roses?

The deep, familiar rumble of his tutor’s baritone seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, filling the pitch dark room with sound: “Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory! Insolent fool, your brave young suitor; sharing in my triumph!”

The possessive note in his Angel’s voice sent a shiver down Jaskier’s spine and he replied quickly, already halfway under the Phantom’s dizzying spell: “Angel, I hear you! Speak, I listen; stay by my side and guide me. My soul was weak and I wished…” - the boy shook his head to clear the thought away - “Forgive me. Enter at last, Master.”

“Flattering child,” the Angel chuckled darkly. “You shall know me soon and see why I hide my face in shadow. You shall understand at last why I have not let you lay such innocent eyes upon me in all these years.”

“Yes,” Jaskier breathed, stepping forward into the embrace of darkness. From behind the two-way mirror on the wall, Geralt gasped softly. He felt his heartbeat double in speed. The longing on his flower’s face was exquisite. It lit a flame in the composer that could not be dampened by the mists of any Paris catacomb. The boy cast his eyes around the dark room, searching for his tutor, “I want to see your face, my Angel. Don’t tease me any longer with your pretty words. I’m tired of spending my nights alone, Phantom.”

Geralt was going to fall to his knees and cry if the boy said another word, so he interrupted: “Look at your face in the mirror.”

Jaskier turned to the full-length mirror on the wall and saw a light shimmering faintly from behind the glass. He reached out involuntarily and his eyes went wide with confusion. There was definitely a figure there...a tall, broad-shouldered man standing just beyond the wavy glass wall. He was holding out his hand in Jaskier’s direction. The singer’s ghostly, lace-clad reflection stared back at him with hazy vision, enthralled entirely by his Angel’s presence.

“Angel of Music, hide no longer!” Jaskier begged, stepping forward again. “Let me see you, please!” 

“Come to your Angel of Music,” the figure in the glass beckoned, waving him forward with that broad, outstretched hand. Further into the room. Into the dark.

Jaskier placed one delicately slippered foot in front of the other, crossing the carpet in a slow but determined line. He tried to keep his legs from tangling with his dressing gown as he moved, slipping it open a bit to reveal his mostly-bare legs. Geralt bit his lip at the sight of all that skin, too much and too little at the same time. Gods, how he wanted to touch the younger man. Hold him. Please him endlessly. 

Jaskier’s eyes never wavered from the figure in the mirror. His Angel had finally come for him and he wasn’t about to waste the chance to see his tutor up close. To feel his Angel’s hands against him. He reached out towards the glass and the white silk of his robe slipped easily from his shoulder, baring a swathe of pale skin. 

Geralt hadn’t been aware, until that very moment, that someone could feel both predatory and terrified at the same moment. He wanted to take Jaskier away and hide him beneath the Opera house forever where nobody could ever touch him again; but oh, how sinful would it be to keep his talented student sequestered from the sun. He didn’t want to be rejected. He didn’t want the boy to see his face, his hideously scarred face and strange white hair, and turn from him in terror. He wouldn’t be able to live through that. 

And then…

“Jaskier!” 

Fuck. That stupid little Viscount was going to ruin everything Geralt had worked for! Had waited for! Had prayed and begged and yearned for!

But the starlet didn’t turn around. 

The posh young fool pounded against the strong mahogany of Jaskier’s dressing room door, screaming his head off to get the opera star’s attention but Jaskier’s bright blue eyes stayed trained on the composer’s outstretched hand. His gaze was glassy and out-of-focus. 

Hypnotised by chance, Geralt mused. I probably should have expected that, given the circumstances and the usual nature of our meetings.

It had been months since the Phantom of the opera last had to hypnotize his prized pupil; and it was only to keep him from getting too close to his lair.

Now his darling little flower, the boy whose voice he’d trained from good to gorgeous, was standing willingly before him. His face was void of anything but devotion. His eyes were misty and his lips were parted oh-so-sweetly as he stood before his Angel, utterly enthralled. The decadent white lace of his dressing gown had fallen from one of his shoulders, baring not only his entire left collarbone but the long, statuesque expanse of his neck as well. Geralt took his flower’s pale, rose-petal soft hand in his larger, more calloused one and whispered, “Will you come with your Angel of Music?”

Jaskier nodded and breathed out a soft, pleading: “Yes. Take me, Angel.”

Geralt pulled the younger man’s robe back over his shoulder to return him to a state of oddly indecent modesty before grabbing up the torch and turning his back on the dressing room entirely. Jaskier followed behind as they walked, the gentle whispering swish of his robe’s lacy train a constant reminder of his presence. You are taking Persephone down to the Underworld, a little voice at the corner of Geralt’s mind whispered. You are pulling your flower away from the light of the sun. 

He shook away his guilt and squeezed the starlet’s hand. Jaskier squeezed back instantly, firmly, and any doubt left in the composer’s mind flew clean away. He wants me back, the older man realized. He came with me into the Underworld. 

They rounded the final curving corner of the low, quickly-dampening stone hall and came upon Roach. The trusty mare was waiting as patiently as ever where Geralt had left her bridle fastened to the wall and she perked up her ears when her master approached. The opera ghost lifted his muse up into Roach’s saddle and nervously met Jaskier’s blue eyes with his malformed gold ones, “Sing once again with me our strange duet.”

“Your power over me grows stronger yet,” Jaskier replied easily, finishing the rhyme of a song Geralt had once composed for him. His hand reached down to cup the side of the Phantom’s face that wasn’t hidden by the white plaster mask. Geralt flinched away but Jaskier paid the movement no mind, continuing to caress him wherever he could reach. “Oh, my sweet Angel.”

The composer turned away, leading Roach down the echoing hallway as quickly as possible. He tried not to glance back at his flower too often, afraid of having his intentions misunderstood by the drowsy-looking boy but oh - the way Jaskier looked sitting astride the horse with his stockings still fastened above his knees and his underthings only barely reaching to meet them. The way his dressing gown, all thin white silk and fine lace details, cascaded down around his hips and spilled over Roach… “Fuck.”

“My Angel?” he inquired. He sounded half asleep and Geralt bit his lip in shame. It wasn’t right to look at someone like that without their permission, first. He’d apologize later. 

“Nothing, my little flower. Would you sing for me?”

They’d reached the shore of the underground creek that cut through Paris. It wasn’t the sewer but it wasn’t exactly nice either. Geralt swung Jaskier down from Roach and into the boat, settling him back against a pile of velvet pillows gathered (stolen) just for this occasion. He wanted his love to be comfortable. He wanted the boy to return once his tutor gave him back to the outside world.

Because Jaskier could not be kept away from the sun. From the stage. From the adoration of the Paris elite.

No, Jaskier was destined to succeed. 

Jaskier sang through the final notes of the aria he’d performed earlier at the Gala, daring to push his voice further and pitch the notes higher than was written. It sounded heavenly as it rang and bounced off the curved brick walls of the tunnel system. Geralt knew his home would never sound this lovely again and he marveled in it for a moment. 

“Sing for me!”

Jaskier went ever higher, his face turning pink with the effort of sustaining the song. He gasped for breath between notes. 

“Sing, my flower! Sing for me!” Geralt demanded, rowing the tiny boat closer to his odd little home. Jaskier was so caught up in pleasing his Angel, his tutor, his Master, that he didn’t pay attention to how constricting his corset was or how little air he’d actually been taking in. 

The desperate opera singer finished out the final two notes of his aria as strongly and loudly as the rest before he slumped, unconscious, to the floor of the boat. 

The phantom dropped to his knees, abandoning the oar completely. He gathered the younger man into his arms and laughed in shock. His fingers paused at Jaskier’s neck to feel his pulse. He was alive. He would be fine. He’d been so eager to impress that he had run himself out of air. 

“The little fool,” Geralt chuckled, settling him against the pillows again to resume rowing. “I’m fucked.”

---

Jaskier’s eyes blinked open slowly, surveying the unfamiliar bed he’d found himself in. “Angel?” he called nervously. There was no reply, but in the distance he could hear an organ playing quietly. Jaskier stood and stepped gracefully from the bed, summoning up all his greatest charms to impress his teacher. 

When he crossed the floor and ducked into the antechamber he gasped; the Phantom wasn’t hideous at all. He wasn’t a hunchback like Triss had suggested. He wasn’t deformed like Firman claimed. His Angel’s hair was long and white, swept halfway up and away from his face while the other half hung to sweep against his shoulders. Jaskier knew already that his eyes were deep honey-gold and slit like a cat’s; they had haunted his dreams before. 

He had seen them in Box Five before. Watching him sing. 

“Angel!”

“Jaskier!”

The music stopped as his darling Phantom rushed to reach his side, arms outstretched to steady him if necessary. Jaskier thrilled at the attentiveness of his soon-to-be-lover (he hoped) and let himself fall bodily against the Phantom’s chest. His head fit perfectly against the older man’s broad shoulder and he sighed contentedly as he settled into place. “I thought you’d never show me your face.”

“I still haven’t.”

“Let me see,” the brunette pleaded, reaching for the edge of the mask where it sat on Geralt’s face. The composer turned away and grasped Jaskier firmly by the wrist. His grip sat just on the edge of painful and Jaskier bore it bravely. If he had to prove himself than by gods he most certainly would. “I want to see you, Phantom. I want to know your name and your face, truly.”

“You’ll… I don’t want you to leave yet,” Geralt whispered brokenly. Jaskier’s heart ached for this man, the man who had taught him to sing so beautifully. Surely the only thing beneath the mask could be more beauty?

“I’m not scared of you,” he reassured. “I love you, my Angel. Can’t you tell? I’ve been waiting for you for years, now.”

“You were merely a boy, then.”

“You aren’t much older than I am,” Jaskier huffed. “What, six years? Maybe seven?”

“Closer to ten.”

“And if I hadn’t been orphaned so terribly young then I would have been married at fourteen,” Jaskier reminded his tutor, whose face had turned pink beneath his covering. “I was a noble’s son, my dear. Please let me see you.”

Geralt sighed and removed the mask, baring the scar that marred one half of his otherwise very attractive face. Jaskier’s fingertip traced feather-light across the surface of his wrinkled skin. He didn’t flinch this time.

“Beautiful,” the boy muttered. “You’re so beautiful, my love.”

“My love,” Geralt sobbed, burying his face in the younger man’s neck. “My name is Geralt.”

“Geralt,” the prodigy whispered softly, like a prayer. “My sweet, perfect Geralt. You have shone so brightly in the darkness of my life, darling Geralt. You must know that I love you deeply and dearly.”

“As I love you,” the Phantom admitted. This had been more than he’d ever hoped for. Tolerance he was prepared for. Tolerance he understood. Reciprocity? Acceptance? He was terrified and thrilled and giddy.

“You are brighter than all the stars in the sky,” Jaskier beamed, pressing his lips to the opera ghost’s. Geralt kissed back, pressing their bodies together from hips to shoulders. Feeling him.

“You are my little flower,” Geralt stated, pressing another soft kiss to the boy’s forehead. 

“Come,” the starlet insisted, pulling away and tugging at his hand. “If I am to be your virgin sacrifice in the pits of this Parisian Hell then I intend to enjoy it thoroughly.”

The Phantom laughed and followed his darling into the bedchamber. 

[neglectkills]

Neglect In The Spotlight: What the Framing Britney Spears Documentary tells us about the Right Way & The Wrong Way to Help Someone You Care About

The recent New York Times documentary, “Framing Britney Spears;” is notable for bringing attention to the issue of Conservatorship Abuse by highlighting the legal and personal battles of superstar and pop icon Britney Spears; whose recent battle against her father for legal/medical/ and financial conservatship of her body, mind, Art, and estate, has recently taken center stage; thanks to many of the star’s sometimes overzealous fans who have taken a personal interest in their favorite pop idol’s personal affairs.

For those of us who grew up with the Pop Icon, her massive stardom and (frankly justified) public meltdowns shaped our view not only of the Artist Britney Spears, but also of celebrity itself. That’s why it’s not surprising that the “Free Britney” movement (a movement that believes that Britney Spears should have sole control over her conservatship, so that she can manage her own financial and personal affairs) is so popular with people in their twenties and thirties, people who like me, who grew up during the days of tabloid celebrity culture; and believe that Britney got a bum break by being dragged through the mud by ex boyfriends, the press, and the tabloids; simply for being a woman who was not only talented, beautiful, and sexy but also absurdly famous.

To watch, in retrospect, how horrifically this young woman was treated simply for being outstanding amongst her peers; is disturbing, to say the least... But is also seared into our collective minds as part of her superstardom. We see the paparazzi tabloid culture of the early 2000’s as part of the myth and mystery of this particular celebrity’s story, as well as an intrical part of celebrity itself. We, as society, see it as a trade off: They build you up just to break you down, but that’s the price of being rich and famous. You could argue that the same thing happened to stars as diverse as Marilyn Monroe to Shelley Duvall; and the press does seem particularly cruel to female stars who have lost their “shimmer,” either by reality or perception.

Feminist journalists and philosophers have pointed out that Britney’s story, in some ways, is a common to the female experience; women who are successful and powerful, and seemingly in control of their sexuality; tend to attract the judgement of society; as well as the disdain of men, and the jealousy of other women. The virgin/whore complex, or paradigm; won’t allow such women to be virgins and seductresses, mothers and businesswomen, performers and emotional Artists with something to say. What Britney, like so many other women is most guilty of... Is just trying to live her life; in spite of the unfair judgements, criticism, envy, jealousy, and disdain of others.

That’s why I think the documentary does a good job of holding the press accountable for its smear-campaign against its number one teen pop starlet. It does a great job of holding society responsible for the many sexist double-standards that we hold male and female celebrities apart; and I think it does a decent job of illustrating the genuine concern that many Britney Spears fans have for their favorite female artist.

Where I think the documentary falters, though, is its framing of the “#FreeBritney” movement as being entirely benign, benevolent, and helpful. Though I’m sure many of the people featured in the documentary genuinely care about Miss Spears’ health, happiness, and welfare; and believe that they are genuinely fighting for the rights of someone who is highly competent and capable; there are still others who have used evidence of Britney Spears’ past mental health struggles, nearly a decade ago, as evidence to the contrary.

While no one can ever know or understand the very personal and private struggles, feelings, or thoughts of someone else. Especially someone whose life experiences are as exceptional as Britney Spears’, I would argue that many both inside and outside of the #FreeBritney movement, are currently doing more harm than good.

The backlash of the documentary isn’t that more people are seeing Britney Spears as a competent grown woman who capable of taking care of her own affairs... But rather there are many who are using the documentary to push the once popular perception that there’s something so wrong with the star’s mental health, because of the seemingly stress-induced nervous breakdown she had in her twenties, that it justifies why she was placed in a conservatship in the first place.

If we can use our empathy and compassion to put ourselves into her shoes for a moment: How would you like complete strangers asking you if you’re “ok?” How would you like people on YouTube, Facebook, and Instagram commenting that they are “concerned” for your mental health?

To anyone of us that has been the victim of a Narcissistic smear-campaign; we can understand her pain on a smaller-scale, but not on the world-scale on which she finds herself. To anyone who has battled trauma or depression; or faced other mental health struggles, themselves; we know for a fact this is not the right way to advocate for someone who might be struggling; and yet casual disdain and disregard for “tabloid celebrities” feelings, is something we’ve all grown far too comfortable with and accustomed too.

I personally think that Britney Spears learned how to silence the “haters” a long time ago... She probably knows that a certain amount of criticism or speculation is the price she paid of fame... But at the same time, no matter how rich and famous someone is; it can’t completely block out such outrageous speculation. No amount of fame can silence thoughts that everyone thinks you’re “crazy” just because your whole life is out there for the world to see; and no amount of money can block out feelings of being isolated or misunderstood. Especially when those feelings are coming from your so-called “fans” and “supporters.”

Those of us who were initially concerned for her conservatship situation are now concerned that this speculation about the Star’s health is only piling onto an image of “instability” that she has been trying to shake off since she was in her twenties.

Just a quick look at Britney’s Instagram can tell you how many people are only interested in the spectacle of concern, of feigning concern, rather than showing actual concern.

The documentary opens and closes with a good argument: The Britney Spears Conservatship is unfair, because she is has proven herself to be healthy and highly competent. It also makes a fair argument that Spears’ father, Jaime Spears, and several other members of the stars family (including lawyers and doctors hired by allegedly abusive family members) don’t have the star’s best interests at heart. I think that, in many ways, even beyond the documentary... is obvious.

The truth is, none of us know what Britney Spears’ personal financial, medical, or mental health situation really is; and that’s why none of us can speculate as to whether or not she’s competent enough to handle her own affairs. Our speculation is just that speculation; we know that she might not be in an ideal situation, but it’s not for us to judge what an ideal situation would be. The world we know, the image we perceive of her, as she so eloquently put in one of her Instagram posts; is just on the other side of the camera’s lens. But does that make us powerless to help someone who we perceive as being potentially medically neglected or financially abused? I’d say the answer is no.

The way we help people like Britney Spears, and people in the same kind of situation that the Britney Spears documentary depicts, isn’t by speculating about their competency or mental health; but creating safe spaces in which they can tell their own stories.

We advocate for others by creating the conditions in which they can advocate for themselves; and we write articles and essays like this, with the hope that the messages of self-advocacy and support will spread far and wide enough that they will find themselves into the Star’s private circle. So that those closest to the victim/survivor, can help support her, and advocate for what’s best for their loved one.

I know it makes me a hypocrite to pile on like this, because it does sound like I’m also offering my two-cents about what’s best for Britney, someone I’ve never even met, or could ever hope to meet... But the fact is this issue affects me personally because I had to advocate, in the past, for a loved one who was in the same kind of situation that the Britney Spears documentary depicts. My loved one was being financially abused and medically neglected, and I had to legally intervene; in order to make sure my loved one was both receiving proper medical care and control of their own finances. I’ve also had friends who were in similar situations, who died due to medical neglect, after being placed on the wrong psychiatric medications.

Therefore, I understand both as an advocate and as a victim; the harm of neglect and abuse. Neglect, in particular, can be as subtle as pretending to advocate for a victim’s health and best interests; but giving them either the wrong medication, the wrong dosage, or even the wrong diagnosis. This is particularly common in women, as women are likely to be diagnosed with mood disorders that require medication. Therefore, if Britney Spears is experiencing some kind of medical abuse or neglect, then that can be very dangerous.

It’s only because I have some experience in this field, as a nurse and as a family member of someone who was in a similar situation, that I feel comfortable offering any comment at all; but I’m humble enough to understand that I know absolutely nothing about Britney Spears’ personal situation, from the outside looking in.

I believe the best way to advocate for any and all victims of abuse and neglect is simply to give them the freedom and space to tell their own stories, so that they can be their own best advocates, that’s how we can #FreeBritneySpears and many others. Not by assuming we know what’s best for them, based on our own limited experiences; but by giving them the support, dignity, and respect that they deserve and require to make healthy decisions and live their own best lives.

- Neglect Kills

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: MOVIE REVIEW: Troop Zero

(Image: imdb.com)

TROOP ZERO— 4 STARS

You can look up to the stars.  Their heavenly bodies present undiscovered infinity all around us.  You can also look up to people. If the gaze is met by a caring person, you will find a different kind of infinity.  Go ahead and look to both. Such is the infectious moxie and bountiful courage zipping through the filthy accouterments and unkempt hair of the motley mess of girls that comprise Troop Zero.  

To rightly thumb its nose at the historically warped expectations of young ladies, Troop Zero may not be high-minded cinema.  What it is, however, is high-hearted entertainment.  That calls for trite covered in treat. Put this movie in front of any girl, hell, any kid period, that’s been demeaned about their differences or forced to conform to supposed societal standards.  Let them watch this movie, smile, and stitch their own sash or freak flag to be proud of.

Continuously emerging small screen and big screen starlet Mckenna Grace is Christmas Flint, a redneck rascal of a girl from her unkempt platinum locks to her sloshing rubber boats of choice.  She is the sprightly star-gazing daughter of her widower father Ramsey (comedian Jim Gaffigan). He is an unlucky and toothbrush-gnashing lawyer with one employee, his tough secretary and long-pining law student Miss Rayleen (Oscar winner and producer Viola Davis), and one regular ne’er-do-well buddy and client Dwayne (Mike Epps).  The lot of them live in the dingy decadence of a trailer park in the rural speck of Wiggly, Georgia in the summer of 1977.

LESSON #1: YOUR CLASS OF YOUR UPBRINGING DOES NOT REFLECT YOUR POTENTIAL— Someone who does not grow up in mainstream finery or sparkling sophistication is not doomed to mediocrity.  Their uniqueness forges their own path and personality. Christmas can be anyone she wants, not because of crystalline cultivation, but from the loving support of her surrounding family and friends.  The caring values of one’s upbringing exceeds the socioeconomic class of it.

With crafty creations and library-fed ideas, Christmas has a loving home complete with a rooftop deck for watching meteorites, signaling aliens, and reflecting on memories of her dear mother.  Her monologue voiceovers express a mindfulness to match her bravery. Unfortunately, Christmas is seen by her peers as excluded weirdo trash who likes dirt and science instead of dolls and shoes.

LESSON #2: WEATHERING VERBAL BULLYING— The teasing Christmas receives is unrelenting at times, proof that there was too much in that era just as their is now as well.  The lead attackers are the local troupe of hoity-toity Birdie Scouts overseen by the local school principal Miss Massey (Oscar winner Allison Janney).  Christmas absorbs that dissonance with pluck, but words hurt. The more wrong ones cut deeper than others can see until a breaking point.

Christmas’s draw towards astronomy peaks when it is announced that local youths will have the chance to record their voice on NASA’s famed “Golden Record” that will be going into space with Voyager 1 and 2.  All they have to do is win a state-level Birdie Scout “Jamboree” talent show, the vacuous culmination of prescribed lady-like expectations. To compete against Miss Massey’s faction of fakery, Christmas seeks out fellow outcasts in the form her sensitive BFF Joseph (Charlie Shotwell of Captain Fantastic), the barbarically bossy Hell No (Milan Ray), the gassy glutton Smash (Johanna Colon), and the pious pushover Anne-Claire (Bella Higginbottom) to form a squad.  Miss Rayleen, with one-upmanship and cigarette drags targeted towards Miss Massey, is coaxed to lead this rumpled rabble.

LESSON #3: LET KIDS BE KIDS— Take that uniqueness from Lesson #1 and promote it.  Don’t stifle it solely because it’s different. Don’t shame it because it’s not what others expect.  Let them strut their stuff and be themselves, no matter their gender, caste, or interests. If they want to crank up David Bowie and gyrate through imagined galaxies instead of step to safe showtunes, let them.  If they “funna” want to kick ass in their own endeavors, let them kick ass. If they make friends while doing so, even better. If they are happy and creative, let kids be kids.

The wellspring of the fun in Troop Zero comes from watching this mob bond and carry on.  Viola Davis and Allison Janney are automatic impressive presences.  For a tidy indie here, they soften nicely from their recent dramatic trajectories to become young again themselves while acting as the “I don’t play” adults.  Jim Gaffigan is always good for affable laughs, scruff or no scruff (the former in this one).

The adults are game and wonderful, but the tweens are the magnets. As the lead, this is Mckenna Grace’s largest work to date and it adds to her future capability. Grace is a carrot of enticing endearment in nearly every role she’s had and the youthful ensemble around her, complete with three newcomers (Ray, Colon, and Higginbottom), multiply that power.

It is from all this wondrous spirit that Troop Zero exudes its strength and worthy purposes pointed towards courage, identity, and resilience. Beasts of the Southern Wild writer Lucy Alibar trades isolation vitality for group dynamics and hearty humor.  What cliches exist are spun with pleasing gumption. Directed by Katie Ellwood and Amber Templemore-Finlayson (known as the team of Bert & Bertie), this isn’t a girly Goonies of contagious uncouth behavior. Rather, unity is the prize over riches.  Confidence is the invaluable magic, a power still sorely needed in the parallel present. The film and Rob Lord’s score shines that brightness into its settings and morals in hopes that some of that luminosity can carry across the screen to the viewer.  Catch the shimmer of these stars and enjoy yourself.

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[bbybaphomet]

COLA STUNS WITH AERIAL SILKS PERFORMANCE OF ‘JUICE’ @ MAMA 2019, FACES CRITICISM FOR DECISION TO PERFORM  ‘FAR LESS GRACE.’

k-pop fans all over the world tuned into the mnet asian music awards tonight to watch their favourite artists' performances and route for their bias to take home the trophy- and while cola's heathers may have been dissapointed that his nomination for best male artist didn't result in a win, the sleepy starlet certainly gave the audience something to talk about.

as this was the singer's first performance at mama, high theatrics were expected from many, especially given cola's penchant for impressive stage visuals. banned from performing the vast majority of his most recent album, it was expected by many that cola would perform 'juice,' the title track of the album 'russian doll' - and when his stage theme was revealed to be entitled 'cherry cola,' it was a no-brainer. while the song choice was unsurprising, cola shocked the audience by delivering a stunningly beautiful aerial silks routine to the first quarter of the song. cola's experience with aerial acrobatics it's no surprise to true fans, as he has previously utilised an aerial hoop for performances of his track 'jungle book,' however fans and fellow idols alike were still left awestruck as cola gracefully danced through the air, secured only by shimmering fabrics, until he delicately descended back down to earth in time for the second chorus. not least arresting was the singer's revealing choice of outfit- a pair of blue jeans and a glittered up bare torso. after singing the sickly, sultry hook of the megapopular synthpop track, the lights cut out. after a few moments in darkness, a soft light lit the stage once more, cola sat cross legged in the center, his body swathed in the holographic silks he had danced upon like blankets. from his spot on the floor, cola sang the track 'far less grace,' a track filled with haunting anger, centered around cola's fear of the state of the human race. stripped back from all of his usual bells and whistles, cola did not move a muscle throughout the entire four minutes and sixteen seconds of the song, letting the weight of the lyrics sink in- and they feel more unsettlingly relevant than ever, with the scorning lyrics centering around troubling issues such as corruption and rape culture.

while many viewers coveted the beauty and elegance of cola's performance of 'juice,' many critisised the inclusion of 'far less grace,' accusing the serious nature of the song to be innapropriate for a celebratory event- although a smaller population have praised him for using his time on a widely viewed platform to bring attention to serious issues in today's culture. at any rate, the breathtaking acrobatics are sure to become a historical event in the young star's career.

LISTEN TO JUICE LISTEN TO FAR LESS GRACE

[princesfitness]

New Post has been published on My Fitness and Nutrition Store

New Post has been published on http://myfitnessnutrition.princefamily33.com/2019/04/30/tricks-to-start-improving-your-looks-now-2/

Tricks To Start Improving Your Looks Now

TIP! Always exfoliate your face a few times per week! Exfoliating your face takes off the top layer of dead skin cells, revealing the smoother, healthier skin underneath. If your facial skin is especially dry, you can exfoliate a few times a week.

A lot of people think that they have to follow the ‘stars’ when it comes to being beautiful. When many of the images presented there are altered, this can be a dangerous proposition. For you, you need to create your own understanding of beauty. This article will give you a lot of advice that is helpful when it comes to beauty.

TIP! Sometimes skin blemishes, like pimples, can detract from our beauty at the most inopportune times. If you have experienced this, you can enjoy a quick fix by placing a tiny blot of toothpaste on the pimple.

Nail polish remover or acetone is a good thing to add to a bottle of nail polish that is getting thick or drying out. You only need to use a very small amount. Shake the bottle thoroughly. This may leave you with one or two additional coats of polish.

TIP! Vitamin E will help you stay healthy. You can use it for all sorts of things.

Your hair follicles are still going to be open and that will create a problem. For example, you may experience discomfort and irritation. Do not use products that have fragrance after you get waxed; they will also cause you irritation.

TIP! If you have a square-shaped face, use a coral or creamy rose blush to soften the angular appearance. With your fingers, put the blush on the top of the cheek, then use a gentle tugging motion to spread out the color up toward your temples.

Get daily exercise if you would like to look young and fit. Daily activity is important to staying healthy and will help keep you looking youthful. This is critical to looking good. You should be up and active for at least fifteen minutes a day. You should stay active it it just means cleaning your home or walking around the neighborhood.

TIP! Always get rid of old makeup before laying down at night. Gently wash off all makeup with a soft cloth and luke-warm water or makeup remover.

The beauty products you own will last longer if kept refrigerated. In summertime, this can be extra helpful. You can create a cooling effect on the hottest days by storing your facial toners, lotions and skin care products in the refrigerator. By giving your skin a cool relief, it will feel much better.

TIP! It is important to keep all of your makeup pencils sharp. This will ensure they are clean to use.

Pick a matte blush instead of a shimmer blush, unless you do not have any flaws on your skin. Shimmer blushes highlight flaws in skin and make them appear obvious. Matte blushes, on the other hand, can camouflage blemishes, helping to give you the look of radiant, flawless skin.

Boar Bristle

TIP! You should use a moisturizer at night in order to keep your skin near your eyes from drying out. This will stop dark circles from occurring, reduce puffiness and minimize wrinkles that may develop in this area.

Using a boar bristle hairbrush on your hair can help to reduce frizzing. Frizzy hair is a common problem. Use a boar bristle brush for managing frizz in your hair as it dries. Brush the affected hair gently while pointing the dryer downward as you dry.

TIP! For a cheap and effective body scrub, look no further than an ordinary kitchen sponge. Buy large quantity bulk packages of sponges to save you some green.

The skin near your eyes can get dry overnight. To nip this in the bud, use an eye moisturizer right before you go to bed. Keeping this area healthy and well moisturized can prevent dark circles and may prevent lines and wrinkles, as well.

TIP! If you are someone who likes to wear makeup everyday, have a day at least once a month where you do not wear any makeup. You will let your skin breathe and it will remain healthy.

To get long and nice nails, try putting Vaseline in your cuticles at least once a week. They provide nutrients to the nail, which it needs to grow in stronger. If you wear nail polish, apply a top coat to reduce chipping.

TIP! Eyelash extensions are a great way for you to appear more vibrant. You should consider this if you are getting married or going to an affair that requires formal attire.

Once you are finished putting on your lipstick, put your finger in your mouth and then pull the skin out to form an “O” shape. This prevents lipstick from moving from the insides of your lips to your teeth without disturbing the lipstick that is on your lips.

Ingrown Hairs

TIP! If you are embarrassed with the way your skin looks, then you might should think about visiting a dermatologist who can get you a chemical peel. You can remove dead skin and help new skin grow using a chemical peel.

Try to use lotion to prevent ingrown hairs. After shaving, generously apply lotion to your skin; this should prevent painful ingrown hairs. Dry skin is another common cause of ingrown hairs. Doing this will cause your ingrown hairs to fall out, and new ones won’t be formed.

Don’t compare your beauty to that of Hollywood starlets. Your ideas of beauty should be ones you define for yourself. These tips can help you with natural beauty.

[caveartfair]

How Joseph Cornell’s Surrealistic Sculptures Transformed 20th Century Art

Duane Michals, Joseph Cornell, 1972 © Duane Michals. Courtesy of DC Moore Gallery, New York.

It’s fitting that the artist Joseph Cornell, a self-taught maker of fantastical sculptures, lived the majority of his life on a street called Utopia Parkway. After all, his collages, assemblage boxes, and films operated like portals into enchanted zones where shimmering angels, Hollywood starlets, mythical beasts, and mysterious corners of the cosmos were within reach.

Cornell, who was born in 1903 and died in 1972, didn’t have an easy or charmed life. His father died at a young age, and the artist took care of his demanding mother and disabled brother for the rest of his days. Much of his time was spent working in the basement of his family home in the New York borough of Queens. Within this hermetic reality, Cornell regularly experienced soul-crushing bouts of what he simply described, in his extensive diaries, as “lethargy.” His artworks, however, offered an escape into mystical, happier worlds.

Despite his reclusiveness, Cornell created a body of work that delighted the 1940s art world—and, in some cases, inspired shock and envy. (Famously, the flamboyant Salvador Dalí toppled a projector at Cornell’s first screening out of jealousy.) Amongst Cornell’s passionate admirers were Surrealists like Roberto Matta; the Abstract Expressionist Willem de Kooning; Yayoi Kusama; and the father of Dada himself, Marcel Duchamp. Mark Rothko, for his part, once wrote to Cornell to praise the “uncanny magic” of his work.

During his life—and well beyond it—artists, scholars, and countless Cornell acolytes have lauded the power of his vision. Cornell was a voyager, as collector Robert Lehrman has written—an artist “traveling through space and time to dimensions of the imagination and the spirit.”

Who was Joseph Cornell?

Untitled (Juan Gris series, Le Soir), 1953-1954. Joseph Cornell Sotheby's

Untitled (Hotel Box with Vermeer Detail), ca. 1955. Joseph Cornell Sotheby's: Contemporary Art Day Auction

Cornell was born in 1903 in South Nyack, New York, as the sixth “Joseph Cornell” in his family’s lineage. He wasn’t interested in fine art at a young age, and decided against joining his sister in painting classes she took (with none other than Edward Hopper). Instead, he was attracted to “the shiny surfaces of popular culture and enthralled by tricks of magic and escape,” as his biographer, Deborah Solomon, has written.

Raised by solidly middle-class parents, Cornell spent his early years looking forward to the family’s jaunts into New York City. They would attend vaudeville shows in Manhattan and make trips to Coney Island’s Luna Park, where rides like “A Simulated Trip to the Moon” whisked him into otherworldly landscapes. The penny arcades unlocked peepholes revealing train-filled vistas and delivered mystical fortunes.

These amusements all but stopped, however, after the Cornell family experienced a series of misfortunes. First, Cornell’s brother, Robert, was born with cerebral palsy. Not long after, in 1917 (when Cornell was only 14), his father died after a battle with “pernicious anemia,” a disease similar to leukemia. After this, a defining aspect of Cornell’s future was written for him: For the rest of his life, he’d live with and care for his mother and brother. “The three would be inseparable for life,” wrote Solomon. “Though it would be wrong to assume that the arrangement was particularly rewarding for any one of them.”

Regardless, Cornell provided unconditionally for his family. Throughout the 1920s and ’30s, he took jobs—as a textile salesman, a garden nursery attendant, an image researcher—that subsidized his loved ones but bored him. In response, he escaped further and further into the fantastical stories offered by theater, literature, and religion.

In particular, he sought refuge in the Christian Science church, whose teachings he followed devoutly, as well as in the pomp and pageantry of ballet and opera. He was further inspired by the growing pantheon of Golden Age Hollywood actresses, like Lauren Bacall and Carmen Miranda, and natural phenomena: the psychedelic plumage of exotic birds, iridescent seashells, or the awe-inspiring architecture of constellations.

Even Cornell’s favorite foods evoked childhood pleasures and whimsy. He was obsessed with sweets, and often documented his dessert intake in his diaries. In one entry, he recounts a late-night snack of “raspberry almond paste strips (petit fours)”; in another, “toasted coconut covered marshmallows.” Matta remembered a visit to Cornell’s home in which “the first thing he showed me as a ‘promise’ of a good weekend was the ice-box,” he recalled. “It was packed with cake, ice cream, and all sorts of sweets.”

In the 1920s, on trips into Manhattan, Cornell began collecting trinkets that reflected his wide-ranging interests: photographs, records, books, and baubles of all sorts. By the ’30s, he was transforming them into collages, and assemblages soon after, while working on his kitchen table. By then, he and his family had moved into their modest Utopia Parkway home, where, for the rest of his life, Cornell would live, eat copious amounts of dessert, and make shape-shifting, surrealistic sculptures.  

What inspired him?

Carrousel—Lanner Waltzes, . Joseph Cornell Questroyal Fine Art

Cornell never had formal art training. Instead, his work emerged from his impressions of the world around him—and what he envisioned might exist beyond it.

Despite his hermetic and antisocial tendencies, Cornell observed his surroundings attentively. Even a casual bike ride could inspire “complete happiness in which every triviality becomes imbued with a significance,” as he described in a 1948 diary entry. Over the course of that adventure, he observed “an overgrowth of vine,” a “girl arranging a sunchair,” and a “bob-white call” with wonder. In everyday objects and details, he found what he called “a glow of inexpressible joy.” He also voraciously consumed art history and contemporary culture at New York’s museums, galleries, operas, ballets, and theatres.

In the 1943 issue of Americana Fantastica magazine, Cornell contributed a text-based artwork that could be read as a summation of his interests. On one page, he arranged hundreds of words in the shape of a pagoda, like a pantheon of his passions. They included Mozart, the Blue Grotto of Capri, pageants, Leonardo da Vinci, Italian villas, sunbursts, daguerreotypes, Edgar Allen Poe, Ursa Major, marvels of motion, Johannes Vermeer, dovecotes, and a cohort of prima ballerinas. He embedded all of these inspirations—which occasionally transformed into obsessions—in his body of work.

He made his earliest artworks by combining Victorian prints that he collected on trips to Manhattan’s antique district. In one of these collages, the sail of a ship metamorphoses seamlessly into a rose with a giant spiderweb at its center. As Cornell scholar Lynda Roscoe Hartigan has suggested, these pieces “acknowledged an initial debt to Max Ernst’s Surrealist collages,” but without any of his “black humor and eroticism.” Instead, Cornell’s two-dimensional works evoked whimsy and wanderlust.

While Cornell spent most of his life in New York, he “relished the notion that he was descended from voyagers,” explained Solomon. (Cornell’s great-grandfather, Commodore Voorhis, was integral to the town of Nyack’s development, and designed and raced clipper ships.) Indeed, much of the artist’s work references journeys—whether into tempestuous seas, the lives of movie stars, or the cosmos.

Object (Soap Bubble Set), 1941. Joseph Cornell "Joseph Cornell: Wanderlust" at Royal Academy of Arts, London (2015)

Untitled (Tilly Losch), 1935-1938. Joseph Cornell "Joseph Cornell: Wanderlust" at Royal Academy of Arts, London (2015)

He also discussed his own artistic process by using the language of travel. Cornell referred to the transformation of his impressions into representations as “exploring that became creative.” By the late 1930s, this exploration inspired his first three-dimensional works, composed from the souvenirs he’d collected throughout the last decade.

“In the absence of art training, he learned by doing, and frequently referred to himself as a maker rather than an artist,” noted Solomon. Often, the texture of objects both fascinated him and informed the content of his compositions. “One of the few sources of sensuality he allowed himself—texture—was also a catalyst for understanding a range of phenomena, from the patina of age and nature’s weathering effects.” (Cornell wasn’t known to have any physically intimate relationships, despite a deeply emotional connection he developed with Kusama.)

Some of his first assemblages brought together his interests in faraway places, religious icons, and contemporary starlets. In Untitled (Tilly Losch) (1935–38), a cutout illustration of the famous dancer floats like a hot-air balloon over a mountainscape. Untitled (Penny Arcade Portrait of Lauren Bacall) (1945–46) features small images of Bacall that surround a larger, central portrait—an effect akin to “a great Northern Renaissance altarpiece,” as famed curator (and friend of Cornell’s) Walter Hopps has pointed out.

Works like these also reference Cornell’s enduring interest in the trappings of childhood, and a reverence for children in general. Though his own youth was marked with tragedy—or perhaps because of this fact, as scholars suggest—he retained a fondness for games, trinkets, and youthful innocence. For his series of “Medici Slot Machines,” which he made between the 1940s and 1960s, Cornell placed images of children born into the influential Florentine family (who were patrons of Renaissance art) into boxes resembling his own beloved penny arcades, filled with balls, jacks, feathers, and other playful curiosities.

These works celebrate Cornell’s child-subjects as celebrities generously doling out prizes, but the series also has an ominous edge. Some of his Medici boxes resemble targets, an allusion to another more serious game of chance swirling around Cornell: World War II. While he wasn’t drafted, he was acutely aware of, and disturbed by, the conflict.

Cornell dealt with tragedy by letting his imagination wander into worlds unaffected by sickness and war. Many of his most celebrated boxes explore spirituality, space, and the mysteries of science.

His “Soap Bubble Sets”—perhaps the artist’s most surrealistic series—probe the relationship between “science and imagination, knowledge and wonder,” as Hartigan has written. In one set, from 1941, a found pipe emits otherworldly “bubbles,” while glass discs containing cutouts of seashells float against a sea of black. In another, from 1947–48, cork balls become something of a solar system, hovering above a celestial map and luminous blue marbles. It’s no surprise that Cornell often described his basement studio as a laboratory, organizing his materials with the precision of a scientist labeling lab specimens.  

Likewise, later works in series like his “Hotels and Observatories” and “Celestial Navigation Variants” operate like windows into other realms. Cornell created gridded, architectural constructions resembling rooms. At their center, he often placed squares, like windows, that open into maps or abstract paintings depicting star-studded night skies. In these works, the artist “telescopes down, literally, physically, from the world we’re in, to the inside of this box, to a window beyond,” as Hopps has explained.

In the process, Hopps suggested, Cornell introduced big questions: “Where are we going?” “Where are we?” “What is beyond, beyond?”

Why does his work matter?

Palace, 1943. Joseph Cornell "Joseph Cornell: Wanderlust" at Royal Academy of Arts, London (2015)

While Cornell intentionally resisted direct associations with the artistic groups and movements that cropped up during his almost 70-year life, his work deeply influenced Surrealism, Dada, Abstract Expressionism, Pop, and even Minimalism.

In 1936, just several years after Cornell began making art, the director of the Museum of Modern Art, Alfred Barr Jr., included Cornell’s first box, from the “Soap Bubble Set” series, in the movement-defining exhibition “Fantastic Art, Dada and Surrealism.” Cornell’s transformation of everyday, forgotten objects into elements of wonder aligned with Surrealism’s tenets, and artists like Matta and André Breton recognized him as one of their own.

Cornell’s ability to represent expansive ideas, spiritual quandaries, and vast landscapes within small spaces—and with just a handful of objects—also inspired artists working in abstraction. De Kooning, for one, commended the “architecture” of Cornell’s work. Cornell’s extensive use of the grid in representing expandable systems and vastness likewise informed the Minimalists. Hopps has described Cornell’s use of “cordial glasses to represent the forces of nature that hold experience together” as “very big ideas, achieved with very simple means.”

Dada and Pop artists took note of Cornell’s rejection of painting and drawing; inventive use of found objects; and interest in popular culture. Duchamp and Cornell were big fans of each other. And Kusama—whose intimate but platonic relationship with Cornell is visible through extensive correspondence between the two artists—was inspired to re-launch her own artistic career in Japan after Cornell mailed her a box of magazine cutouts. Kusama went on to create a series of collages that charmed the Japanese art establishment; later on, she, too, would infuse themes of infinity into her work.  

But perhaps most of all, Cornell’s legacy is defined by the enthralling spirit of magic, fantasy, and mystery his assemblages emit. As Lehrman has said, he “could take you into the universe in the space of a thimble.”

from Artsy News

[almeda95r995065-blog]

The Future Of Starwars

All that glitters just isn't gold ? at the sea oahu is the sand that glitters the most ? both in extreme sunlight and so on the full moon night. Not just the sand, the lake also shimmers with the sand and the shine can definitely make your photographs look awful, especially if you compare them as to what the thing is that in fact. But because the ek hazaro mein meri behna episodes unfold, it is clear that life is not a cakewalk and that is why is this series realistic and believable, as they say. Cancer strikes among the sisters and it really is her sibling that sacrifices her probability of developing a child to save her dear sister. However, through many twists inside the tale, one is soon subjected to lots of drama. Due towards the bone marrow donation within the cancer treatment, one of the two lead protagonists is forced to achieve out to a surrogate mother. The latter in turn ends up developing feelings towards husband but does realize the folly of her actions before too long. 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Talking about the future fashion trend in Hindi cinema it could either be a comeback in the old traditional form or perhaps a total new strategy for wearing gowns, skirts, saris. Let's not predict too much to be sure Bollywood always has a great gift to offer to people so let's wait and discover what outfits the long run has in store for all of us. Utterance as recovered as gratify helpfulness you remain psychologically counterpoised. It dissolves sad emotions. You cannot rattling find unquiet, mad, or low if you are laughing. Laughter assists you to act and charge. It reduces say PoradnikFaceta.com 525225896 and increases spirit, helping you to detain convergent and accomplish more. Sustenance shifts stance, permitting you to see situations in the writer unimaginative, fewer discouraging combust. A strange get of belief seriously taken. If you need to point out to taking care of these days, which may jak wrócić do byłej dziewczyny not be constant, it might certainly be Fashion. It is rightly said that a new fashion trend takes birth each day, which can be promisingly true. Talking about fashion in Bollywood cinema it could be counted from your era of 1960's. Popular star pairs in Bollywood developed the trendiest clothes that took over as style quotient of the era then. Raj Kumar-Meena Kumari a number one pair who was simply seen acting in mythological films a different trend to portray. Later, the pair of Dilip Kumar- Madhubala once more brought in an alternative trend where Madhubala was spotted wearing tight chudidaars and kurtis. Jeetendra who had previously been popularly called as jumping jack again was seen wearing a white attire from head to toe which later continued to become a fashion. Talking about Deva Anand, he was one particular actor who invented an attire which in fact had colored muffler tied round the neck and cap. Raj Kapoor's Russain style spool T-shirts became well liked and also the flowy gowns by Nargis became a much-preferred costume in PoradnikFaceta.com 525225896 PoradnikFaceta.com 525225896 parties and also other get-togethers. Bollywood movies days gone by had many pool scenes wherein models and actresses were spotted in multicolored shinning swimming costume. However, the polka dotted swimming costume was then a well known trend. Rajesh Khanna fondly called as kaka usually wore kurtis and safari suits, which has been adapted by many men then. Bell-bottoms and puffed sleeved tops worn by Sridevi, Rekha shot to T.co popularity among young teenage and college going girls.

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                   HOLD ME TOUCH ME TELL ME IM BEAUTIFUL. The fairest of them all !! The brightest most inspired star in the sky. Dark veil shrouding the universe, gems woven into it’s celestial fabric and they shimmer softly. Comforting moon hazed night, the sky was dressed in black while she wore sequins and the most expensive of attire. She adored it all, LUXURY AND EXCESS. Borderline obsessed with a woman deceased but lives on as the FORM beauty’s most esteemed and accurate representation. Well - read and smart enough she knew what she knew and would say anything. But for the night was young she stayed fairly quiet. 

                   Usually the life of a party, someone to be ENVIOUS of, someone dramatic and would become intoxicated quickly. But tonight the starlet watched somewhat dazed. Her eyes half open, subtly disinterested while her cherry red lips turned downwards into a frown. Her date had been whisked away by another and she wasn’t feeling particularly good about socializing. WHAT IF SHE JUST LEFT? Leaving behind a melancholy trail of glitter and stardust. She huffed slightly, brows furrowing as she brushed golden curls back behind her ear. Frown only grew deeper as she was now lost in her own mind, she slowly began to drift away from this reality.   ❝    This is such a bore...   ❞   J spoke in a low tone,    ❝    Maybe I’ve gone to too many parties. They all seem the same now!    ❞