#and even the curators at all saints' were talking about how the striking dark arts and crafts-style woodwork was brand new

[notbecauseofvictories]

[ Open House Chicago 2024 — All Saints' Episcopal Church, Dank Haus German Cultural Center, St. Mary of the Lake, Riviera Theater, Wilson Avenue Theater]

[asongaboutpirates]

My Father is going to hear about this

aka a Drarry fic idea (that I don’t have time to properly write 🙄) in which Harry learns about Draco’s darkest secret and they bond over it.

Draco/Harry, angst, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, first kiss

I always had the headcanon that Draco said ‘My father’s going to hear about this’ so often, because it was the worst threat he could think of. Nothing terrified him more than somebody saying ‘Your father is going to hear about this’.

~*~

Nobody has seen what Draco‘s Boggart turns into because he successfully avoids facing it in class. After he dodges it for the third time, Remus takes him aside and explains that he can’t let him pass this year if he is not able to defeat a Boggart. He offers him private tutoring if he doesn’t want his peers to see what it turns into. Draco is hesitant, but finally agrees. He won’t fail, he can’t fail.

Truth be told, Remus is not terribly surprised when, in the privacy of his office, Draco’s Boggart turns into Lucius Malfoy.

And Draco just freezes. Every single time the illusion of his father sneers at him or raises a hand as if to strike, the boy becomes absolutely useless. He can’t even begin to fathom a way to make his own father appear ridiculous. It breaks Remus’ heart.

Suddenly, during their second or third session, Harry just barges in, wrongly assuming he has a Patronus lesson scheduled. He stops in his tracks, confused when he sees Lucius Malfoy glaring at him, even more confused when Lucius Malfoy turns into a Dementor and then into a full moon as Remus jumps between them.

‘Ridiculo!’ he shouts and the Boggart disappears.

They all stare at one another, until a red faced Draco pushes past Harry through the door and runs.

He runs and runs and runs. His darkest secret in the hands of his nemesis! He’s convinced that it’s going to spread like wildfire, that he’ll be Hogwart’s laughing stock and – even worse – that his father will find out. Oh, he’ll be furious when his carefully curated image of the perfect little family gets tarnished like that. But what is there to do? Draco just has to keep his head down and wait for it to pass. If there is one thing he has learned in the course of his life it’s that even the worst pain sooner or later turns into a memory.

But nothing happens.

One day passes, then another, a third… He gets more and more anxious by the minute, but everything and everyone seems to go their normal way. His fear turns to anger. What sick mind game is Potter playing? Why is he taunting him?

When he throws him glares across the Great Hall he sometimes catches him staring and quickly turning away. He’s convinced that the Golden Boy is working on a plan to make his life hell. It’s nerve-racking.

And still nothing happens.

It comes to a point where Draco can’t take it anymore, so he confronts Harry in an empty hallway and pushes him against a wall with force.

‘What are you playing at, Potter?’

Angrily, Harry wrestles free.

‘What the fuck, Malfoy?’

‘Don’t play innocent!’ He bites his lip. ‘Why haven’t you told anyone? What are you wating for?’

Harry stares at him in confusion, then a realization dawns on him.

‘Oh! You mean what happened in Professor Lupins office. Don’t worry, I’m not going to tell anyone.’

That catches Draco unawares.

‘What? Why?’

Harry tilts his head, his green eyes fixing on Draco’s.

‘Because I know what it feels like to be afraid of someone who is supposed to protect you and I have no intention to make it worse for you.’

‘What do you mean?’ The words are out of Draco’s mouth before he can stop them.

‘My aunt and uncle are my legal guardians, but they…’ Harry swallows heavily. ‘They really don’t act like it.’

The silence that hangs between them tells Draco more than words could. He had never known that about Harry Potter, the Golden Boy who everyone is doting on. Well, everyone in the wizarding world…

‘Look, if there’s anything I can do to help…’

‘Shut up!’ Draco can’t bear the pity in his enemy’s eyes, can’t bear the vulnerability between them. ‘Leave me the fuck alone, Saint Potter!’ he spits and storms away.

He continues to meet with Professor Lupin and continues to fail spectacularly. The fact that Harry Potter is on his mind even more than usual doesn’t make it better. Why does he have to be so reasonable and so kind and so sympathetic? Why does he have to be the only person in this whole fucking school who knows his secret and doesn’t only not despise him for it, but actually relates to him? Why does it have to be Harry fucking Potter?

‘How about we ask Mr. Potter for help?’, Professor Lupin suddenly suggests, after another failed attempt.

Draco just stares.

‘He knows about your Boggart anyway and I’m sure he can be very creative in making your father appear ridiculous. It might help you to get some input.’

He wants to scream no, but he doesn’t. There’s no way he will fail Defence Against the Dark Arts, because that would not go down well with his father… So he agrees.

Of course, Harry has tons of ideas how to make Lucius Malfoy look ridiculous and after initial qualms and hesitations Draco finds the courage to laugh at some of them. It takes a few weeks, but finally he manages to come up with his own versions. The first time he actually defeats his Boggart, Harry pumps a fist in the air and then goes in for a hug.

And Draco hugs back.

It gets awkward after that.

In Professor Lupin’s office, unwatched by the world, him and Harry had almost become friends, in a way, but lessons are over. What are they now? Draco realizes that the person who he had been taught was his mortal enemy had shown him more compassion and kindness than his alleged family ever had.

So they throw each other glances across the Great Hall, they accidentally partner up on assignments, because, darn it, they were too slow and everybody else was taken. Maybe Draco goes for a walk alone along the shore of the Great Lake and happens to stumble upon Harry who decided to read a book there.

Sometimes they sit together for hours and talk. Draco has never opened up to anyone like this, not even to Pansy. Harry already knows his most guarded secret – there is nothing that could embarrass him anymore in front of him. So they find out how much they actually have in common. Draco learns that Harry could have become a Slytherin and confesses that he had a similar discussion with the Sorting Hat. He had been so hellbent on getting into Slytherin like everyone else in his family that he had gotten his wish, even though the Hat had strongly suggested Ravenclaw or possibly even Gryffindor.

On one lazy afternoon they lie down next to each other in the sun. Their fingers meet and slowly intertwine, a touch of comfort in a turning world. And then, Draco props up on an elbow to look into the face of that boy he calls his friend now, in secret at least, and kisses him and Harry kisses him back.

And for once he doesn’t actually care if his father hears about this.

(If anyone wants to run with it and actually write this, be my guest! I’d love to read it^^)

[astronomyparkers]

Silence {X}

Warnings: Language, violence

Pairing: Vigilante!Tom Holland x reader

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: I updated sooner than three months!! Can you believe? I was checking my stats on this story, and I started it ten months ago. wild. just goes to show how long it takes me to finish things when I’m in school full time :))) but anyways, this is not the end!! There will be one more part to Silence, and part 11 is going to be.......a little different. You’ll see. As for part 10, my apologies for the cliffhanger in the last part, but hopefully this makes up for it! Let me know what you think, and thank you so much for all the things you’ve sent me about silence! I see every moodboard and art you tag me in, and i love it all <3 And finally, a reminder: I do not have a tags list. The reason why is in my FAQ. Any/all messages regarding a tags list will be deleted.

{masterlist}

When you had accepted the job of assistant curator at the Museum of Modern Art eighteen months ago, you knew the job would be a strange one.  It would require you to travel all over the world to check out potential art, monitor the wellbeing and care of priceless pieces, and associate with some of the most elite art collectors in North America.  All of that, however, was a far cry from where you were now: standing in your office with a gun pointed at you by a man who supposedly went missing almost a decade ago.

“Oh, Y/N.  Why did you leave my house?” William asked, leaning forward in the office chair. Your office chair. “Things were going so well, darling.  No one suspected a thing.”

“You—you’re—” You struggled to get words out.  The gun William was pointing at you was taking up all of your concentration.

“I went to your apartment, but you weren’t there.” William spoke casually. “So that begs the question…where did you go?”

You swallowed hard, but your mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. “It’s none of your business.”

“That’s code for you were with Tom, yes?” He let out a small laugh. “I suppose I can give up the act.  You know the truth.”

“Yes, I do.” Anger began to course through you. “I know you attempted to have Tom killed in your place.  That you stole his identity and—and forced him into hiding—”

“No, love, I thought he was dead.” William interrupted you. “I had my suspicions, of course.  And you, you precious thing…you confirmed them.  That he was alive, that he was that vigilante, trying to get revenge on his family—”

“Does your father know?” You asked the question you had been wondering since you found out the truth. “Does he know what you did to your brother?”

“No.  No one in my family does.” William shrugged. “Not that it would matter.  Tom was going to go to the police.  Even if my father did know, he would be thanking me for what I did.  I saved this family.”

“You saved a criminal.” You spat. “You are a criminal.  I can’t believe it took me so long to see how different you and Tom really are—”

“We’re not so different, actually.  That’s where you’re wrong.” William stood up and walked to the front of the desk, leaning against it casually.  He kept the gun pointed at you. “We’re two sides of the same coin. Both passionate for what we believe in. And I’m the better drinker, out of the two of us.  We used to compete to see who could finish a pint the fastest, back in boarding school. Of course, it’s been a while since we competed…maybe he’s gotten better.”

“How can you speak so casually about him?  After what you did?” You asked, disgust apparent in your voice. “He’s your twin brother, and—and you betrayed him for money.”

“Not at first.” William shook his head. “No, at first, I tried to reason with him.  I was going to convince him to join us, to participate, but that bloody fool wouldn’t see reason.  He kept insisting we had to go to the police.  I couldn’t let that happen.”

“You set up a hit on him!”

“I did what I had to do to save my family and my future!” William lost his composure for one moment. “If Tom had gone to the police, our family would have been ruined!  My future, Sam’s, Harry’s, Paddy’s…all gone in a flash.  Everything our family had worked for.”

“So instead you traded Tom’s life.” You shook your head in disgust. “Your own brother.  You traded his life for your future, you selfish—”

“I traded his life for multiple futures.  I didn’t sleep easy after it, but it had to be done.” William straightened his jacket. “I had to think of what was best for my entire family. This was the answer.”

“You’re sick.” You said in a low voice. “You’ve spent so long rationalizing your actions that you’re actually convinced what you did was right.”

“And you think Tom is any better?  Your precious Silence?” William snorted. “Despite what he’d have you believe, he’s no saint.  He’s killed too, to get what he wants.  Just like me. As I said…two sides of the same coin.”

“Tom is ten times the man you are.” You inched forward slowly. If you could just get the Holland file…

“Ah ah ah.” William straightened his arm, pointing the gun at you again. “Really, darling, you’re making this more complicated than it has to be.”

You paused your movements. “Am I?”

“I must admit, over the past few weeks I’ve…grown fond of you.” William’s voice took on a softer tone. “Your wit, your resilience…tonight, when I spoke with my father, I was…striking a deal.”

That made you pause. “A deal?  What kind of deal?”

“To call off the hit we placed on you.” He replied simply. “You’ve proven to be valuable.”

A chill ran down your spine. “You placed the hit on me.  I knew it.”

“Of course.  With things like these…” William held up the Holland file. “Well.  You were getting much too close to the truth.  All this evidence in one place…it makes a man sleep uneasily.  You had to be taken care of.”

“Oh, I had to be, did I?” You repeated in a mocking voice. “I’m sure.”

William chuckled dryly. “That right there, darling…that attitude…it’s drawn me to you.  I convinced my father to call off the hit…if you’ll join us.”

You weren’t exactly sure what you had been expecting William to say, but it certainly wasn’t that. “If I…excuse me?”

“Join us.” He repeated. “Come with me.  Once Tom is gone, things will continue as normal. We’ll continue our relationship, you’ll continue to expand this museum that you love so dearly—with very generous donations from the Holland family, of course.  You’ve already proved yourself to be a match for me in every way. I find it…engaging.”

“If you…” You took a deep breath to steady yourself. “If you honestly think I would agree to that, then you’re crazier than I thought.”

William sighed heavily. “I would suggest you reconsider, darling.  This is the best deal you’ll get.”

“And if I refuse?  You’ll what, kill me?” You eyed the gun in his hands.  Inside, you were terrified, but you refused to show it outwardly. The last thing you wanted to do was give him the satisfaction of knowing how scared you were.

“I’m afraid I’d have to.  You’re too much of a liability.” William stepped forward towards you.  His free hand came to rest on your cheek, and his other hand pressed the gun into your side. “But what a waste it would be…”

You focused on your breathing.  You could feel the hysteria coming closer and closer, and it was amplified by the barrel of the gun in your side. “William, you are…a monster. A sociopathic monster.  I would rather burn in hell than be with you in any way, shape, or form.  Do you understand that?”

William closed his eyes for just a moment. “Wrong answer, Y/N.” He said simply. “Such a waste…you could have done great things.”

“Just get it over with.” Your breathing was shallow. “Come on. Do it.”

William removed the gun from your side and moved it to your head. “I wish you wouldn’t make me do this…”

You closed your eyes.  You weren’t going to dignify him with a response.

“Such a pretty face.” He sighed. “It’s a shame I have to—”

The sound of a gunshot made you jump, your eyes snapping open as William grunted.  He was clutching his shoulder as a dark crimson stain began to seep through his suit, and behind him, Tom stood with his gun in his hand.

“Drop the gun, William.” He said in a menacing voice, clear even beneath his mask. “Now.”

“Tom.  Is this how you greet your brother?” William said through gritted teeth. “After so many years—”

“It is when your brother did what you did.” Tom spat out. “Now drop it.”

William sighed and nodded, reaching to set the gun down on your desk.  At the last moment, he grabbed you, pressing you tight to his front as he held the gun to your head.

“Let me go!” You thrashed in his arms, but William held you tight.

Tom took a step forward, making William tut his tongue. “Watch your steps.  One more, and the pretty curator loses her head.” He said in a teasing voice. “Does it make you angry, Tom?  Knowing you’ve put her in such danger?”

“I’ve done all I can to protect her!  You’re the one who’s been putting her in danger!” Tom’s eyes were flickering between you and William.

“Take the mask off.” William said suddenly, his demeanor shifting. “I want to see the look on your face when I kill her.”

Tom hesitated, but William squeezed you tighter. “Take it off. Now.”

Tom did as William said, pulling off his mask and letting it drop to the ground.  His mouth was set in a pressed line. “There.  Now let her go.  This is between you and I.”

“Not anymore.  She’s involved now.” William began. “You know, being the hero isn’t becoming of you, Tom.  You’re just as much a villain as me.  You…”

As William talked, you made eye contact with Tom, trying to pass along a message.  You knew that Tom wouldn’t shoot William until he had released you; it was too risky. Once you caught Tom’s gaze, you flicked your eyes down to Willian’s foot.  You repeated the motion over and over until realization overcame Tom’s face. He gave the slightest nod.

When the bullet hit William in the foot, he yelled out and reflexively let go of you.  Before he could do anything else, you pulled away from him.  You grabbed the Holland file that was still sitting on your desk as another shot rang out.

“Behind the desk, Y/N!” Tom yelled. “Now!”

You didn’t even think about arguing.  You quickly dropped behind your desk as three more shots rang out; you weren’t even properly crouched yet.  You waited another moment before rising to your feet, taking in the scene before you.

William was on the ground, dead.  He had a new bullet wound in his chest, located directly over his heart. His jacket and shirt were completely saturated with crimson, and more was soaking through to the floor of your office.  There were two bullet holes in the walls, directly to Tom’s left.  Tom himself had a gloved hand pressed to his arm as blood seeped through his fingers.  His expression was unreadable.

“Tom…” You stepped forward. “A-are you hurt….?”

“Bullet grazed me.  Nothing serious.” His voice was low as he looked at his dead brother.  His identical twin.  The second side to his same coin. “Are you alright?”

You nodded. “I-I am.  Thanks to you.” You wanted to hug him, comfort him, be comforted by him, but he was immediately in business mode.

“The file.  Give them to me.”

You handed it over without argument. “What are you going to—?”

“Call the police.  Tell them you came back to your office to pick up files you left.” Tom surveyed the state of your workplace, walking over to your filing cabinet and pulling out files.  When the names caught your eye, you recognized them as the same ones Tom had been tracking. “When you arrived, you found…you found Tom Holland dead.”

“I…I don’t understand.” You said slowly. “He’s not Tom.”

“He is in their eyes.  I’ve been gone too long to—” Tom inhaled deeply. “Look, Y/N…the real story is too far fetched.  It needs to be watered down for it to be believable and have any impact.  I’ll make sure these files get into police custody. Combined with all of my evidence…it should be enough to bring Corewell down.  My father with it.”

“But if—if I say that this is Tom, then….you…” You reached out to touch his cheek. “You won’t be able to…?”

“I wouldn’t be able to, anyways.” He said gruffly. “My family would barely be able to accept it, but the world?  It’s not worth it.”

“Tom—”

“Call the cops.  You need to do it now.” He pulled away from you and picked up his mask, pulling it back onto his face. “Get home as soon as you can.  The police will question you, but after…go home.  Now that this is all done, you should be safe there.”

“What about you?” You asked softly. “Will you come see me?”

Tom hesitated as he tucked the files into a bag. “I’ll…maybe. I’ll see.”

“But—”

“I have to go.  Call the cops.” Tom disappeared quickly.

You glanced at William’s body, and that was the only push you needed to pull out your cell phone.

 It wasn’t hard to act shocked, terrified, and exhausted in front of the police.  They questioned you for what seemed like hours, but you stuck to the story Tom told you.

“Whoever killed him must have taken my files.” You said, wrapping your hands around the cup of coffee one of the detectives got for you. “I-I don’t know why.”

“I just got word twenty minutes ago that the Silence dropped your files off at our station.  We believe he did this.” The detective said.  She leaned forward.  “Ms. Y/L/N, are you familiar with a company called Corewell?”

You shook your head.

By the time you were cleared and allowed to go home, the sun was rising over Manhattan.  The police had given you money for a cab ride, which you took in silence.  You weren’t sure you would have enough energy to make it to your apartment, but you did.  You stumbled inside, tossing your keys down and making sure to lock and deadbolt the door behind you.  

You crawled into bed, exhaustion overtaking you.  You had wanted to stay up and wait for Tom, but it was only a few moments before your eyelids drifted shut.

They just barely flickered open in time to see a shadow move on your fire escape, hiding the silhouette of a man debating with himself. But sleep was a rolling sea, and you were drifting into deeper tides.  Your eyes shut again, and the shadow disappeared.

{part XI}

[musicmixtapes]

September 26, 2018 Mix

This week as I was curating the playlist, I got to thinking a lot about the way that our mood at a particular moment affects the music we choose to listen to. Some people say that they pick music the opposite of their mood to counteract a bad day, some choose to delve into that feeling and get in touch with it. I, being the latter, am having a memory ridden, reflective sort of week, so I chose songs that talk about the past a little bit and how they can influence the present/future. I hope you enjoy and find something that suits your mood. 

Spotify Playlist 1. Planet Hunter by Wolf Alice - This song is all about trying to recreate memories of something or with someone that happened awhile back, events which were really positive, but they cannot be rehabilitated. The artist reminds me of if Taylor Swift had not become a pop music sellout and instead taken a dark moody indie music route, and well, the results are stunning because she creates a depth of feeling to the music that most pop cannot do, in my opinion. The part I relate to the most that struck me was the repeated phrase of "I left my mind behind in 2015" which reaches a point where we, as listeners, realize that there are peaks in our lives that we wish to return to, especially at some of our valleys. I love this because it is an upbeat song about feeling out of place in the present, which is really fascinating. 2. St. Paul by Ritchy Mitch & The Coal Miners - Honestly, the piano that tinkles into a wonderful melody/rift in the beginning has to be the most alluring part of this song, which eventually becomes a much bigger feeling as it continues on. There aren't many striking piano-driven songs these days, so I was impressed with that along with the fact that this song clearly disses a saint, yet doesn't seem offensive in the slightest because it is so personal and not an attack on anything but oneself's feelings. The instrumentals and their uncertainty directly correlate with the restlessness of the lyrics and the crunchy sound of the singer's vocals; we love to see a parallel of the sound of the music to the actual meaning behind the song. All the literary techniques used to write a song is the reason why our ears are so attuned to it. 3. Window by Nana Grizol - Going along with the recurring theme of memories and the past, this song is literally a metaphor for a window looking into the past of what something once was. The defining line of this song comes when the singer refers to the window of the past and saying that "we can lift them/and focus on the moments that we lift in" which is a beautiful shift in tone from a reminiscent tune to one that look towards changing for the better and leaving the memories (whether good, bad or ugly) behind for someone else to revolve around. The artist, Nana Grizol, often covers really broad topics, such as negative feelings, the passing of time, moving on in a really succinct way that reaches an audience who needs to hear mantras in a refreshing way. I like to think of this song as a meditative yoga for the ears, please practice daily. 4. Solitary Daughter by Bedouine - I found this song in the most interesting way, so here it is: I was in the Mcnally Jackson bookstore on Prince Street in the city, rifling through the poetry section (as one does) and stumbled upon a book that transcribed songs into poems and included commentary from other writers and from the artists themselves, in a lot of cases. Reading these lyrics as a poem in a book was so thrilling because I often talk a lot about how some songs are really just poetry set to music, and in this case, other people must have thought so too. This piece is incredible in its way of speaking about a woman not needing someone to rely on or anything to sustain her, except for her own self, her home is herself, which is so liberating to both hear and read. I highly recommend reading the lyrics alongside listening. 5. Chemicals by Gregory Alan Isokov - Off of his brand new EP "Dark, Dark, Dark" which was released not but six days ago, is this peaceful and meaningful acoustic folky ballad by a personal favorite of mine. This piece is especially interesting because it plays off of the notion of the different ways in which chemicals can affect a person's body, kind of like the way a person who is really important in one's life can do the same. An image that I love to see showing up in art is the trope of hands trying to reach one another, whether it be in the "Creation of Adam" or an old film. This song plays with this lost hands imagery, in the line "how my hands can't seem to find your hands in the dark", which if I wasn't already in love with the song, sealed the deal for me 100%. Definitely check out the other two tracks off of the EP, they are wonderful as well. 6. Slipped by The National - This week's mix all began with this one sad ballad by my current favorite group and it just built off of this. I cannot express with words, on paper or in person, how much I am tethered to the lyrics of this song. Something about the raw and honest way that this was strung together speaks to a person who is done with being vulnerable to someone who has no intention in showing hidden parts of themselves back. In this narrative song, the speaker is talking to a girl who left the city to go to a more rural area in the South, thus separating the two, and telling how tragic it is to break away from something when he could not be what she wanted him to be. This is a solemn and intense vow to oneself that they will not break down and fall apart because of a love ending, this is another mantra. 7. We're So Lost by Voom - Upon first instinct, I would like to classify this song under tracks I would listen to whilst laying under the stars and thinking about our existence in such a big place or while slow dancing with someone and contemplating what is going on. But now, even in a good mood this song makes sense because no matter how you feel in terms of being in this world, everyone can agree that we have no idea what we're doing most of the times and are mere beings that are floating through time and space, trying to determine why we were placed here in the first place. In some ways, this can be thought of as a slow rock philosophical crisis song, or you can just love it because of the waltz like beauty of it. Your choice. 8. Fuck Love by Lalić - I definitely expected a cynical, bitter, anger driven song when looking at the title, but if I can say any cliché here, it's don't judge a song (book) based on its title (cover). If anything, it's more of a love song, explaining that the speaker has no real reason to be saying things like "fuck love". I think this is interesting because oftentimes, people don't like to be honest with themselves about their emotions, so instead they put up their walls immediately and turn to sarcastic, defensive comments like "i hate everyone" "love suck" or.... "fuck love". Being one of these people, this song opens up that term and exposes us hate poseurs who are very sensitive and truly love to love. The low fi rock sounds with a strong guitar line is nice to hear as well. 9. Blood Bank by Bon Iver - He is so detailed in his description of bags of blood, I have to believe that he actually had a conversation with someone he loved at a blood bank, discussing the differences between people's blood... which is... interesting. It is also vital to this song to understand that the two separate memories he tells about are very closely related because he is explaining the variability of relationships and how to decide whether it is prudent to enter into an affair or to be your own person and indulge in lonely behavior. Of course, it never hurts to be told really emotional things like this with Bon Iver's delicate crooning and layered harmonies that build throughout with such simple complexity, unmatched by other singers in his genre. 10. How It Gets In by Frightened Rabbit ft. Julien Baker - Your first question after listening may very well be "how what gets in?" as my first question was this exact thing. Maybe what gets in is this undeniably wonderful call and response song along with angelic harmonies. But maybe, what gets in, at least in terms of this song, is the literal healing of an open wound and how to properly dress it and make sure it doesn't get infected, or at least that was what was accounted by the singers in question. I interpreted the song to be a recounting and lesson on how love can come into one's life in unexpected places, and how just because there was hurt and pain in the heart for a long time, does not mean it has to stay that way forever. 11. NFWMB by Hozier - This acronym is probably the smartest thing I have experienced in a song's title in a long time: NFWMB is really Nothing Fucks With My Baby, expressed in a classy way, courtesy of the forest prince and love of my life, Andrew Hozier-Byrne. As always, there are several biblical references and apocalyptic death metaphors, which always leaves me feeling very confused and inspired at the same time. The very jazz and blues influenced low key rock song is so different from other love songs that it kind of creates its own category in that sense. It is described by others as "the love song for the end of the world" therefore going back to my feelings of apocalypse, decay and biblical tellings. 12. One In A Million by Hudson Taylor - "You gotta be cruel if you wanna be kind" ok this just hit me way too hard and true. The only way I even discovered this artist is actually because they are opening up for the Hozier concert I am attending tonight and now I am super excited to see them perform as the opening act as well. They remind me of a toned down version of The Kooks in a lot of shared vocals and chord progressions and upbeat instrumentals, except they are a duo hailing from Ireland and they classify themselves a folk band, though the punk/alternative rock influences found in this song are undeniably present. Also present is the message of knowing someone doesn't care about you the way you care about them and needing to be released from that sort of madness... cool. 13. Into The Mystic by Van Morrison - I'm probably not introducing anybody to this song for the first time right now and certainly not the last, but something about the changing of the seasons and the shift of weather from summer to autumn calls out to the mystical and slow dance vibe that this classic and iconic folky rock song inspires. There is absolutely nothing better than the buildup from quiet lull to the horn heavy chorus and interlude that just makes you want to stop and dance wherever you are in your day. Another musical aspect that is highly appreciated by yours truly is the intricate acoustic guitar rift that is taken and shifted into a lot of newer acoustic based songs that we hear all the time these days. The past influences the present and the present is heard in the past all the time, especially in music. 14. Size Of The Moon by Pinegrove - Shifting into a more heavy punk, angst themed style of music is this memory driven song which tells us about a time where the speaker is thinking on the communication issues that occurred in a relationship and how they could have easily been remedied, but there was no effort on the other half's side. From an interpretation of the song, one person smartly said, "It’s really easy to indulge in nostalgia when you’re at a rocky part of a relationship. Suddenly everything appears better than the present, no matter how imperfect those times were." I have to concur with this notion because our perception of the past changes over time and when we miss someone, at times, we look at bad memories and they even start to seem better than being alone... but they are not. 15. Kathleen by Catfish and the Bottlemen - Another song geared towards a relationship not working out the way it's supposed to is from a band that is one of my all time favorites. Their comical British style of lyrics is so appealing to my American way of thinking of things and the heartfelt honesty heard in their songs play along quite nicely with the super power rock style in which they are written. This tune in specifics, is not about the past, but the present and trying to reflect on what is going on in the "now" which is a really complicated thing to try and do, when you are infatuated with someone. The instability is heard not just in the lyrics, but also in the interchanging chords of the electric guitar and the fast paced anxiety ridden drumbeat, which is awesome.. 16. Holland, 1945 by Neutral Milk Hotel - This band is one of the weirdest, coolest ones that only the people who love grating vocals and intense lyrics can truly appreciate to the desired capacity. The whole album, from the 90s, "In The Aeroplane Over The Sea" depicts the story of Anne Frank and the tragedies behind what happened to such an innocent person, along with her youthful romance and how it all devolved in such a short time. A lot of fans of this album have also speculated that there is a second layer of meaning between the World War II references, being that is expresses the kind of tension and tragedy that occurs when you lose some so important in your life, and how the mourning of this loss can only be remedied through appreciating this person afterwards. 17. I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You by Black Kids - Okay, so I'm pretty sure that we can all understand the meaning of the song strictly through the title of this song, negating my opinion before on how you should not judge a song based on its title... well in this case, you can absolutely do that. Not only does it have the best dance tune in the world, but it is also so adorable that the singer's only common connection with the girl he is speaking about is their affinity and adeptness with dancing. Although I definitely have "two left feet" as the singer describes the boyfriend having in this song, I relate to this in terms of music. If there is a person who I really care about, the connection I automatically have is usually in a musical sense, and I am greedy about this relation. We all have something we won't teach someone else's boyfriend/girlfriend if we care about them. 18. 123 by Girlpool - I love this so much. It depicts a relationship where the speaker is asking the partner/SO to tell them everything that is wrong with them in a really sarcastic and aggressive way. It's comical and honest and vulnerable all at once which I have to give a hand for because mixing comedy with painful relationships is something that I always attempt in my writing. The song deals with an interpersonal relationship that is simultaneously “toxic and loving" as described from a contributor on Genius Lyrics, which is a website I often refer to on advice and other commentaries on music I really enjoy. The girl rock power that is disseminated with this track is so strong and empowering, for any gender, so please don't hesitate to sing this when you're feeling angsty about someone. 19. Million Years Ago by Adele - I don't think I ever really talk about my deep appreciation for Adele on here, because I try to branch out from popular artists and focus on more under-appreciated and undiscovered types; but I'm making an exception because although she is one of the most iconic voices of the modern generation, this specific song is so underrated in terms of her best songs. It sounds so french/spanish acoustic ballad inspired and makes me feel like I am transported to a black and white film from the 50s with the sadness and depth that it gives me in such a simple way. It ALSO follows along with my theme of the week, which is looking back in order to look forward, because she sings about the troubles of missing things from the past and dealing with the issues of transforming into a different person. 20. Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex - Finally, one of the best mixes of every song I have spoken about previously, is this moody sad love tune by the moodiest, saddest, love bands of the modern generation. There is an unspoken cheesiness of Cigs After Sex songs that for some reason, I am completely enamoured with because I feel like the notion of expressing things in a hyperbolic way has been tossed by the wayside. This group brings back the feeling of needing to tell someone how much they care and not caring about what anyone else thinks, which is important in a world that so often ridicules the ridiculous emotions that love brings about. In particular this song speaks to the feelings of needing to get someone out of a feeling they are trapped in, so to be with them fully, and telling the person they will be there in their lowest and darkest times. 

Hope you enjoyed listening with me, see you next week!

[withinthescripts]

Season 2, Cassette 9: Metropolitan Museum of Art (1981)

[tape recorder turns on]

Welcome to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and its new Harlem Island home. I am Elaine Hara, director of contemporary exhibitions. Thank you for attending “Claudia Atieno: in Memoriam”. This exhibition has been curated by Atieno’s friend and fellow artist, Roimata Mangakāhia, who spent two years with Atieno in her artist commune in Cornwall in the early 1970’s. The commune was deserted in 1972, when Atieno vanished. We know of course that she died, although there is much uncertainty and speculation as to how. We might expect that these paintings or Mangakāhia’s narration would address the rumors of foul play or open windows on Atieno’s story, but we feel there’s little to be gained here. Please instead enjoy this retrospective on Atieno’s known life and work, and join us in farewelling one of the 20th century’s greatest artists.

For membership to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, please see the kiosk located at the Hudson River ferry station at the Saint Nicholas Park dock.

[bell chimes]

I have thought long and carefully about what to include in this exhibition. I have thought about which works Claudia would want included, and what she would have left out. It is not easy to guess at a person’s opinions years after they have gone. It is hard to know if the impressions you hold of them are accurate, or if they’ve been colored and altered by the changes that have happened within yourself.

Perhaps it is for the best that she was unable to provide any input into this exhibition. Creative people are not always the best curators of their own work. When you have been so close to a piece for as long as it takes to conceive it, refine it, and in the end create it, it becomes difficult to see how it might fit into a wider picture.

When you are busy examining the flower in front of you, it is hard to see the mountains in the distance. I hope Claudia would approve of my choices. I wish I could share them with her. She is one of the finest artists I have ever known. And I would very much like to know her thoughts on how I’ve chosen to celebrate her work. [tearily] She’s one of the closest friends I’ve ever had, and I would very much like to again hear her feelings on the world, on art, and on ourselves.

I’ve selected a range of works from various points in her career, including the unfinished painting she left behind when she abandoned her home in Cornwall.

[bell chimes]

One. “House with Yellow Door”.

We’ll start one of my favorite of Claudia’s works. It has a playfulness to it that she rarely shows in her work, although it was pervasive in her life. There is a cliché that artists are moody and unfriendly, malcontents who pour so much of themselves into their work that they’ve got nothing left to the people around them. I’m not convinced that this cliché is very often true. It certainly wasn’t in Claudia’s case. She was warm and lively and welcoming. She liked to talk about anything except herself. She was exceptional at pulling people out of herself and loved to be surrounded by people as much as possible.

This painting, while simple, is imbued with that liveliness Claudia carried with her through her life more clearly than anything else she’s done.

Look at the house and its ordinariness. The ordinary street as well. What do you define as ordinary?

You expect to enter this home and be met with a warm meal and a generous glass of wine, which is exactly the kind of expression Claudia gives as well. No one walks away from her unfed, which is as admirable a quality as any I can think of.

What kind of food do you like? Do you need food to feel comfort?

The people standing outside the house are ordinary people. But they look like people who would care about how you are and offer you a place to stay if you needed one.

Do you need a place to stay? What does caring look like?

It is a portrait of Claudia’s past life, of her childhood, and there’s no way to know whether it’s accurate or not. It is a portrait of her house and her family before she was made to leave them. The house no longer exists, and the family are scattered to the winds.

The vision may be an idealized vision of a childhood that never happened in place of a more painful one, or at least a more imperfect one. Or it may be the reality, a snapshot of a life of bliss cut short by the rebuilding of society. It’s hard to say which idea is the more tragic. Perhaps there’s always loss and pain when we look back at a person’s childhood.

[bell chimes]

Two. “Woman in Bath”.

I have never allowed another artist to use me as a subject. Sitting for an artist is tedious at best and I’ve never had much patience. But Claudia was always persuasive, and every artist should know how the person under their brush feels. So here we are.

I lived with Claudia for a while on an island off the coast of Cornwall. The house had a few idiosyncracies. One of which was a bath tub just off the corner of the living room. It stood on its own clawed feet, not hooked up to any plumbing. Filling it took dozens of trips from the kitchen with pots and pans of water. Emptying it was complicated.

Portraits never show the full bredth of a person’s experience, even when that experience is just one moment captured.

What do you see in a portrait like this? The blackness of the woman’s hair, rising above the curved white edge of the bath tub. The curve of her fingers as they droop towards the floor. The steam rising from the water.

Do you see the conversations that happened between artist and subject? You do not. Can you hear what’s being said? You cannot. Can you hear what’s being left unsaid? What are you leaving unsaid? [chuckling] Why would you do that?

A portrait is always a picture of secrecy, no matter how open and honest your subject. No matter how skilled and perceptive the artist. A portrait always hides more than it tells.

So here is the only portrait ever painted of me by another artist, and you can barely see my face, with no hope at all of knowing what I’m thinking. But are you trying anyway? Please, do not.

[bell chimes] [tape recorder turns off] [ads] [tape recorder turns on] [bell chimes]

Three. “The Empty Pier”.

Claudia painted this long before we met. I don’t know where it is, I never asked and if I had, it’s likely she would have evaded the question, spun it around to ask something about me instead.

The beach is lonely and somehow feels like it’s been lonely for a long time. It is not the loneliness of a beach in winter, remembering the laughs and games of summer, feeling like they will never return, even though they come back every year like clockwork. No, this beach feels like it hasn’t seen a human being in years, maybe ever. It is bleak and quiet.

But for the pier, you would think no one had ever discovered it. The pier itself is weathered, but looks sturdy at first glance. It is not until you look closely that you see how rotten and perilous the struts supporting it are. Stretching, brittle, and weak into the sea below.

The sea also looks at first glance reliable and safe. But below the shimmering green of the surface, a darkness moves. It is a portrait of a storm about to strike, of a ground about to fall out under someone’s feet. It is a portrait of peace about to end.

[bell chimes]

Four. “Unfinished Work”.

I did not see this painting until I began planning this exhibition, although Claudia must have started it while we were both in Cornwall. It is a painting of the house, or of the island, or of neither and both those things.

You can see the northwest corner of the house and behind it, the sloping grass leading towards the sea and the sea fading off towards the south. At least you would have been able to see the sea, had she finished the painting. As it is, there’s simply a thin, pale wash waiting to be built upon.

At the southern edge of the island, there are a few sketched-out lines. They could be the beginnings of a tree, although I can’t remember that any tree stood on that part of the island. They could be a figure, standing at the cliff’s edge.

That spot was a favorite of mine while I lived there. At high tide, you could dive into the sea below and it was like – jumping into oblivion. Claudia often asked me how I was brave enough to do it, but it was perfectly safe at high tide. I encouraged her often to take the plunge. It would release her of every feeling, every weight, to fall so far, for so long. And at the moment you feel you cannot stand the sky any longer, the sea hits you, returns you to the cold shock of birth. Your mind clears, your skin aches, and you cannot climb back up quickly enough.

But as with my suggestions about her art, she did not take my suggestions. This was also the last spot I saw her before she went away. I’d been painting outside, taking my last few moments of the sun, (-) [0:14:22] about the horizon to finish a seascape I had been working on for some time. These were also my last few moments on the island before I would travel to Amsterdam.

It was low tide. The time for diving had passed. It was the only thing I wanted to do, besides leave Cornwall to get away from Claudia.

I passed Claudia on my way in to collect my things and head to the mainland, and we said our farewells. Neither of us has ever been sentimental and our farewells were brief. Plus we both assumed it wouldn’t be long til we saw each other again.

But she said: “Roimata,” and when I turned, she hesitated. She rarely hesitated in her words. “I’m… going to take the plunge,” she told me. I wanted this to be figurative and literal. But I understood she was ready to try diving. She did not understand the tides.  

The last reflection of the sun’s arc was below the water now. I think of this moment a lot. I play it over and over in my mind.

There was a moment, you see. There was a moment when I could have told her. I could have told her it was low tide.

Can you hear what’s being left unsaid?

That moment is frozen now, perhaps it always has been, I see it from outside my own body. I watch my face, trying to see there what I was thinking, trying to see myself making that decision. Or failing to make that decision. I can’t see it. My face is blank, impassive, pleasant.

I watch myself in the moment, where I didn’t tell Claudia Atieno not to cliff dive. The moment… where I didn’t tell her the tide was out and the water had given way - to sharp rocks.

This was the last time I saw her and honestly cannot tell you what she did, or or what happened to her a-after that moment. I wasn’t there. I didn’t see. I’d already packed and left for Amsterdam, I’d work at the…

I don’t know if she was brave enough to dive in the end, really. I hope she was. [chuckles] I hope she freed herself from the weight of an audience’s expectations. I hope she threw herself into a moment of brief bliss, but no thought as to how that moment might be perceived. I hope she felt the joy of falling into oblivion.

I hope she felt – reborn.

[tape recorder turns off]

Within the Wires is written by Jeffrey Cranor and Janina Matthewson and performed by Rima Te Wiata, with original music by Mary Epworth. Find more of Mary’s music at maryepworth.com.

The voice of Elaine Hara was Leah Nanako Winkler.

Don’t forget to check out the amazing Within the Wires T-shirts and Claudia Atieno artprint at withinthewires.com.

OK, our time is done. It’s you time now. Time to stop by the museum giftshop, grab yourself a souvenir book of paintings about [my 17-year-old cat Simone]. Pick up a poster featuring [goats whispering to other goats]. And buy a commemorative vase made out of [Boston accents].