Pocket chess set and rubber glove, 1943
Chess set designed by Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968)
Image by Man Ray (1890-1976)
Max Ernst and Dorothea Tanning:
Something else draws his attention then, a chess photograph pinned over my drawing board. "Ah, you play chess!" He lifts the phrase like a question and sets it down as a fact, so that my yes is no more than an echo of some distant past exchange...
There is something voluptuous, close to the bone, about chess. "Your game is promising. I could come back tomorrow, give you some pointers..." So the next day and the next saw us playing frantic chess (save when I was bent over my drawing board, doing advertising illustration).
Thin laminae of an old husk, decorum, kept me sitting in the prim chair instead of starred on the bed. Until a week went by and he came to stay.
Between Lives: An artist and Her World by Dorothea Tanning
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I think what I want to get into with the "Anyone can do harm." thing that I keep beating yall over the head with is that literally anyone, anyone at all can do harm it's not "in your DNA" to be an abuser or written in the stars that you'll be a predator.
Whatever image you have of an abuser in your head, drop it and replace it with your favorite person in the world and you'll probably be closer to the truth than you realize.
It's easy to address harm when it's coming from someone you already hate.
I see it happen all the time. Someone you couldn't stand for no real reason does something heinous then all of a sudden here comes the avalanche of "I always knew they were a fucked up individual."
No, you didn't.
There is no possible way you could have known, you just already didn't fuck with them before they started doing something you could use to justify your hatred of them. I'm guilty of it too! I'm petty, mean, vindictive, and yes! I'm way quicker to believe something bad about someone I hate versus someone I love because I'm human. Still, y all gotta learn to move past that initial "Well, they were always nice to me!" gut feeling and understand that nobody truly knows anyone and anyone can be capable of anything. Even victims. Even you.
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making promo type art for a fantasy story that doesn't exist... yet..
(ambitiously, it will be a webcomic but im literally just a guy. more fun info abt this in tags)
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“She never begs. She never gives any ground. She knows that she's right.”
(this is still a wip, but i’m not sure if i’ll actually get around to properly finishing it—i’m posting this here just in case)
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I am absolutely in love with the interpretation that over time Artificer's grief has turned into just bloodlust. That it stopped being about her kids a long time ago.
She can't stop chasing the blood, the adrenaline. She's too consumed with the very feeling of hatred, the very feeling of violence.
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