#and yet somehow i am obsessed with skeletons for a completely different reason

[hildegardladyofbones]

I keep forgetting that we're called the skeleton clique so i stabbed myself with a knitting needle when i saw the new merch

I am FUCKING insane about the danse macabre motif in general so it is WILD to see perhaps my favourite band to release merch with it??? like??? hello???

it's like,, more than 30€ tho so i'm not rlly sure if i will be buying it (also i am certain once it launches it will be gone in an instant) because i pretty much only wear pretentious lil' blouses now. might make myself sth with the same concept tho,

[introvertguide]

Bringing Up Baby (1938); AFI #88

The current film on the AFI list is touted as the most screwball of all screwball comedies: Bringing Up Baby, (1938). It is a film that was adapted for the screen with the great Katharine Hepburn in mind. According to the writers, it fit her personality and sense of humor well and, with the addition of a lovable Cary Grant, was the perfect comedy vehicle. And audiences at the time hated it. It was a total flop during its initial box office run, director Howard Hawkes was fired from the studio, and Katharine Hepburn was labeled box office poison to the point that she had to buy out her contract because the studio would not give her any more work. Now the film is celebrated as favored comedy from the old Hollywood era. AFI listed it as the #88 greatest American film and the #14 best comedy film. So is this movie any good? Audiences in different eras disagree so I wanted to find out for myself. First I want to do the usual review of the plot (although this is a screwball comedy and it isn’t intended to make any sense) so let’s get the bold warnings out of the way...

SPOILER ALERT!!! THERE REALLY ISN’T A LOT TO SPOIL IN A SCREWBALL COMEDY BUT I DON’T WANT TO GET YELLED AT!!! PER USUAL, YOU SHOULD JUDGE A MOVIE FOR YOURSELF SO CHECK THE FILM OUT BEFORE READING FURTHER!! Alright, moving on...

The film begins with a bumbling paleontologist named David Huxley (Cary Grant). He is a man consumed by his work, yet he is somehow engaged to be married to a woman that is seemingly obsessed with taking second fiddle to his job. For the past four years, he has been trying to assemble the skeleton of a Brontosaurus but is missing one bone: the "intercostal clavicle". He is also tasked with impressing a potential patron named  Elizabeth Random (May Robson), who is considering a million-dollar donation to his museum.

The day before his wedding, David meets Susan Vance (Katharine Hepburn) while attempting to solicit donations from the lawyer of Ms. Random. Susan callously plays the wrong ball which distracts David from attending to his potential patron and then she stubbornly wrecks David’s car while she tries to get to her own vehicle. Later that night, she distracts David again while he attempts to have a drink with the man from the golf course and the encounter ends up with both characters tending to ripped clothes in public. Susan seems to like to cause trouble and believes that her traits are fun. These qualities soon embroil David in several frustrating incidents.

The next day, Susan's brother Mark has sent her a tame leopard named Baby from Brazil. Its tameness is helped by hearing "I Can't Give You Anything But Love". Susan ignorantly thinks David is a zoologist and manipulates him into thinking she is being attacked by the animal. He does not call the police but goes to Susan and she bullies him into joining her in moving the leopard to her country home. Complications arise when Susan falls in love with him and tries to keep him at her house as long as possible, even hiding his clothes, to prevent his imminent marriage.

David's prized intercostal clavicle is delivered, but Susan's aunt's dog George takes it and buries it somewhere. When Susan's aunt arrives, she discovers David in a negligee. To David's dismay, she turns out to be potential donor Elizabeth Random. A second message from Mark makes clear the leopard is for Elizabeth, as she always wanted one. Baby and George run off. The zoo is called to help capture Baby. Susan and David race to find Baby before the zoo and, mistaking a dangerous leopard from a nearby circus for Baby, let it out of its cage. 

David and Susan are jailed by a befuddled town policeman, Constable Slocum (Walter Catlett), for acting strangely at the house of Dr. Fritz Lehman (Fritz Feld), where they had cornered the circus leopard. When Slocum does not believe their story, Susan decides the best cover would be to tell the police that they are members of gang. This distracts the police long enough to allow her to escape to go and find Baby to prove she and David are innocent. The potential patron Ms. Random comes to the jail to free Susan and is embroiled in the plot when she talks about her leopard and is locked up. Eventually, the lawyer/golf partner  shows up to verify everyone's identity. Susan thinks she found the correct leopard but unwittingly drags the highly irritated circus leopard into the jail. David saves her, using a chair to shoo the big cat into a cell.

Some time later, Susan finds David working on his dinosaur skeleton alone. He was dumped by his fiancée because of Susan and he is now single. He did not get the donation but finds that Random gave the money to Susan and now Susan wants to donate the money to the museum. David confesses that his time with Susan was the best time he has ever had and that he loves her. At this point, Susan inadvertently destroys the dinosaur that David has worked on for 4 years because she won’t listen to David’s warnings. He gives up and kisses Susan, resigned to the life that will come with loving this woman. The end.

After watching this film, I did some research and I can see why Hepburn was labeled box office poison following this movie. She apparently ruined many of the takes for this film which cost a lot of money. What is more, the director and the lead actors had overtime clauses in their contracts so everyone was paid about double what was initially agreed upon because of the actors fooling around. The film might have broken even or perhaps had a modest gain, but Hepburn caused extra costs to the production to the point of major financial loss. This was a point of lean times in America, so an actor that commanded hefty pay, caused expensive delays, and did not draw in a big audience was poison to a studio. She obviously went on to do great things for film and this work was eventually embraced by audiences, but Katharine Hepburn needed to be humbled and the reaction to this movie did just that. 

I was surprised that there was a real leopard (tame of course, but still) on set with the actors. There were some shots in which the actors were filmed separately from the animal and everything was overlaid, but there were many scenes with the actors directly interacting with the leopard. Most famously, Hepburn’s character was talking on the phone while the leopard walked around her legs and the animal started to get rough with her feet. If you watch Hepburn’s face closely, she is not smiling but has darting eyes watching closely over the big cat. Apparently, the leopard lunged at Hepburn at first meeting and she did not really like the animal.

So let me get to the point of my personal feelings about the movie. I have watched it twice for this review: once straight forward and once with commentary by Peter Bogdanovich. I have looked at the reviews as well. It didn’t help. I and both my parents hated this movie. We have watched 41 movies on the AFI top 100 so far and this has been unanimously our least favorite. We do not like screwball comedies and this is famously “the most screwball of all screwball comedies.” I will not say that this film is bad because it obviously has a ton of fans, but I subjectively hated it. Let me explain before I get the hate mail.

Susan Vance is my kryptonite. She is a bullying socialite that does not care about anyone but herself and only does what she wants. She is manipulative towards a guy that just wants to build his dinosaur, and she wrecks his relationship, affects his job, ruins his car, endangers his life, and destroys his work. For some reason, in the movie world he falls in love with her for it. Susan Vance is the kind of person that has affected people negatively since forever. I guess it is funny because it is relatable? “Yeah, I have had my life ruined by human bulldozers like that. Wouldn’t it be funny if that person took a personal interest in plaguing me at every turn?” I am an introverted nerd and I have been harassed by the Susan Vances of the world. I don’t find them funny and actively avoid people like Susan Vance. I don’t want to see them in my movies, especially as the hero/love interest.

What hurt me was that Katharine Hepburn was apparently like this in her behavior at the time. She would talk off camera during filming and ruin takes. She would ad lib lines that she thought were funny and goof around with Cary Grant costing the studio hundreds of thousands and lots of lost time. It sounds like she was simply oblivious to the efforts of others. Her behavior as an actress and the character in the movie should not be rewarded. In film world, this bull in a china shop still gets her man. In the real world where a nation is recovering from a devastating financial crisis and facing a possible world war, nobody wants to see that garbage. As was appropriate, everybody got fired and the audience did not want to shell over their money. I am glad the film flopped and say it was deservedly so.

OK. I got that off my chest so let me now set aside my personal bias and answer the standard questions more objectively. Does this film belong on the AFI 100? Yes. It is maybe the best example of the screwball comedy of the 30s and, according to the Bogdanovich commentary, is a great example of the quick pace dialogue with double meaning that defined the time. I also think it is good to remember what happens when actors completely disregard their employers and their audience. Even the great Katharine Hepburn had to make a comeback when her audience turned on her. The placement of the film very low on the list seems appropriate to me as well. So then...would I recommend it? Subjectively, heck no. I found the movie frustrating to the point of being angry. Objectively, yes. A lot of people find whacky antics funny and any fan of shows like The Honeymooners or I Love Lucy and movies with The Three Stooges or The Marx Bros would likely enjoy this film. It has a 90% audience rating on Rotten Tomatoes and Roger Ebert called it one of the 102 movies to see before you die since it is a perfect example of the genre. It seems like a movie most people would enjoy. Let me back pedal slightly and note that I have full respect for people who enjoy the film and I am glad cinema brings you some laughs. However, I hate the film with a passion and never plan on watching it again.

[supportgaara]

I once read a fic placed between the end of the Chuunin Exams arc and before the Sasukie Retrieval arc in which Gaara was still in the process of changing his ways/denying Shukaku. It was told from Temari’s perspective, and it was essentially a sort of “sibling bonding” fic. Here it is, if you haven’t read it. I was thinking about it when I wrote this.

Kinda set around the same time.

“I want to change,” he tells her, gaze as unwavering and unsettling as it ever has been. “I want to get better.”

Not a bone in her body instinctively believes him. Too much has passed between them, she has spent far too many years counting her very breaths around him. She has learned how to tiptoe in such a way he’d hardly even notice her, far better than the most common alternative. It had taken her so long to perfect, trial and error where the trial was a seething glance in her direction and the error was the tight constriction of sand around her ribcage—alleviated only when her breaths had come short and it became clear that the one person he best tolerated would no longer be. She never called this favoritism, it hardly felt like acknowledgment most times. But here, she is the only person he can bring himself to confide in.

And this, this has to be the most vulnerable she has seen him be in all of five years.

It is not nighttime, sunlight pours through the windows like golden urns spilled over. It makes the room look far too bright, paints him strange and ethereal and wholly unnatural. His skin a milky white, the shadows under his eyes smoothed away until his face becomes all one shade. If he would tilt his head just so, it would cast lines across enough to mark distinction. But he won’t. He traces her face as if to pick her thoughts from right off it, and she fears what he will find.

A visceral thing, a sharp spike in her middle that sucks the air right from her lungs. He has always been a small thing, diminutive in comparison to absolutely everything outside of him. All of it has always come down to the look, there, in his eyes. If there is a hell, it must reside within the calm, the stillness of his gaze. What awaits is a tempest, a twisting and terrible thing, ready to be unleashed at any given moment—and she, anticipating. Afraid of its coming. How such a little thing like him can contain even a fraction of it is unfathomable. That is, she thinks, the reason why it must be as terrifying as it is. He must be fit to burst, he must be only barely containing it at all; an ocean of wrath toiling beneath the surface. Shackled only by the delicate sinews of his tiny body, the porcelain skin still untouched.

She swallows the lump in her throat and wonders at what the proper response must be. Kankuro is nowhere to be found, he is not much better at these sorts of things but he would at least serve as anchor. A reminder that she is not alone. “Is that so?” she asks, voice tight.

Gaara doesn’t move, but the barest crease forms at his brow. It is more than enough to draw a thin sliver of ice up her spine.

“I – I mean,” she hurries to placate, hands lifting in that way they so often do in these situations. The way one would toward a feral animal. “It’s…a little sudden. What brought this on?”

He can’t have missed the crack in her tone. “I’ve…had a realization. Of sorts.”

Temari knows, this topic has been long exhausted between she and her other brother. Late into the night, stowed away in her bedroom throwing furtive glances at the door. Lest he hear their speculation. It has been a few months since their return from Konoha, the disappointment has yet to fade. The grief is still fresh. The entire journey home had been all but silent, the nights they took to rest were spent staring into the fire and wondering where to turn from here. First and foremost, there was no body to bury. There was nothing, physical, to mourn. No living proof of what no longer was. This weight settled within them—at the very least, herself and her other brother; who knew what the youngest of them was feeling, how the loss has nestled itself within him, what lies the voice inside his head are still feeding him—and it has refused to leave ever since. Secondly, perhaps more importantly, Gaara has become undeniably reserved. Different. Subdued.

Nothing about him has softened, there is no clear evidence of change, in the way he must be referencing now. But he is no longer the same.

His presence does not ooze with malice, in that way it used to.

The name rolls about on the tip of her tongue but she does not bring herself to say it aloud, now, in front of him. She has repeated it time and time again in the absence of his presence—Uzumaki, Uzumaki, Uzumaki, catalyst that he is Uzumaki—has pressed the face accompanying it into memory as if it somehow belongs there. They do not call it obsession, exactly. This kinda fixation Gaara seems to have. They tell themselves they get it, or that they would. If they were in the same position. How can someone who has spent so long alone possibly feel learning he never had been? How can someone so unfortunately unique possibly feel knowing he was not the only one?

How does it feel to know there had always been another way, had he only been given the right tools?

“I… I know I am beyond help,” he says suddenly, and Temari—cold, hard, weapon chipped from stone Temari—feels her chest squeeze, her breath catch on the way in. His eyes are no longer on her, but the strain in her middle does not disappear. His hands have turned themselves into fists and his shoulders pull in toward him. He is not wearing his gourd but Temari searches for it anyway, eyes the area just beyond him for the hulk of its shadow. His mouth twists into a frown and he can’t seem to find the right words, or maybe he can’t bring himself to say them. Maybe he knows exactly what he’s supposed to be saying. Maybe he’s just forgotten what forgiveness tastes like on the way out, having spent so long without it parroted back to him. “I know I have done terrible things. I know I cannot make up for them.”

Temari cannot pinpoint the worst he’s done, and that in itself might speak volumes. A mangled child’s body, the homes that have turned skeleton, the blood soaked so deep into his sand he reeked for days afterward. How he reveled in this, and the wrinkle of their noses when he was close enough to smell.

Gaara showers more and more often, his hair is a different shade now as a result. His sand is the same and he still breaks more bones than he absolutely needs to but now, now he seems to reel back when he does. Not contrite. Not disturbed.

Just deeply confounded at his own reaction.

“I know you don’t believe me,” he mutters, the shadow of a scowl crossing his features. “But I want to change. I want to believe I can.”

Temari thinks it must be scary, to him. He had taught himself his own solipsism, he had carved his perception in such a way there had been no room for modification. He had convinced himself so thoroughly, and had gone so long without challenge, that he had forced an entire village to accept—to submit, to bend, to wilt in the light of his terror. This was their way of life. This was their reality. To live in fear of this small boy, for the sea at storm inside of him.

But lately, lately it’s been hard to pick this up like before. Lately it’s been hard to justify this apprehension, still sharp in her side.

“I think,” Temari finally says, mind working quick. His mouth has snapped shut, whatever he might’ve been planning to say cut off before it can come. His gaze is attentive, bright, round like that of a child’s. It makes him look his own age. He is so eager to hear what she has to say. He needs this validation, he craves it in the way he once craved affection. Oh so very long ago. “I think it’s important to understand that this isn’t who you’ve always been. I think it’s important for us to acknowledge that…we did this to you. We brought you to this point.”

He considers this, for a very long moment. This room has one exit, the windows are narrow and purely decorative. Useless, too small for her to wriggle out of. The door is just past him, opened. She tries not to stare at it. She knows how volatile he can be. And for all his speak, she knows this is all theoretical at best. A conversation that may or may not leave this room at all.

But his gaze flickers, harmless.

“I do not know how to distinguish my actions from…from Shukaku,” he says slowly, dropping his gaze. “I do not know where I end and…he begins. He has… He has embedded himself into me. He has made me forget who I might’ve been before.”

Temari gnaws on the inside of her cheek. She has never talked to Gaara for this long. She has never heard him say so many words at once. “I… I remember,” she tells him, nervously. She tugs on her sleeve and stops herself from looking away when he meets her gaze again. That sharp sting of fear starts up at her chest, as it always does, but she does not flinch. She does not shrink away. “I remember who you were.”

There is a question there, clear as can be. His mouth thinning out, his eyes searching her face.

“I’ve always been afraid of you,” she confesses quietly. “They said you were dangerous, they made you seem so dangerous. So I was afraid. I didn’t ask why I should’ve been, I just knew I had to be. They said there was a monster inside of you, and so that made you a monster. But I remember how you were like, I remember you were kind. And sweet. I remember you were afraid, too. I remember you not understanding why you were alone. And I remember when you changed. And that… And that gave me a reason to be afraid.”

She swallows audibly. His expression has not changed. This is not news to him.

“Shukaku did not own you so completely,” she tells him, breathless, “not when you were younger.”

His hand comes to rest over his middle, frowning again.

“It’s easy to forget you’re separate consciousness,” she says. “You and him, you’re not supposed to be interchangeable. When you were little, his actions were his actions. And yours were yours. I think… I think maybe he waited until you were low enough to take advantage of. And that if he…if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have done what you’ve done.”

“I wouldn’t know,” he says. “He’s never wanted anything else.”

Temari sighs tightly, almost relieved. “I think it’s important we understand that you are not the same people. That he… That he is wholly to blame for the things he has forced you to do.”

Gaara goes quiet. Perhaps this conversation has not gone where he’d anticipated, but it has made her somewhat confident. He has not taken her words the wrong way just yet.

“Have you ever,” she begins, wringing her fingers. He lifts his gaze slowly to hers, waiting. “Have you ever not wanted to do it?”

He knows exactly what she means. He doesn’t even hesitate. “I don’t know. He took that from me, too.”

Temari thinks she loves her younger brother, in some distant part of her. What does not echo back when she looks at him, a muted thing that shrunk and shrunk but never quite went away. It breathes its first sign of life, here, when this look comes over him. This confusion, this doubt, this fear of the unknown—visceral, as she has always known it to be.

He will disappear now, she can feel it. He has been exposed to too much for one day, he will need to evaluate his feelings. He will need to consider them in full, without distraction. And so she figures this won’t hurt.

“I think you can change,” she says, as confidently as she can manage. “I want to believe you can, too.”

Gaara snaps shut, this new look shifting over his face before he backs out of the room. His mouth still curved in a frown, his brow furrowed, and his eyes shuttered with uncertainty.

.x.

I’ve been really, really wanting to write character studies on the Sand Siblings. They’re so fascinating. But, of course, Gaara will come first.

[luluuu-blog]

P.Jaisini-smiles-GIG-NYC2015

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE MANIFESTO GLEITZEIT 2015 BY STELLY RIESLING Featured below is another original art work of mine in homage to THE PIONEER OF INVISIBLE ART — PAUL JAISINI. Forget all the copycats that came after him — Master Paul Jaisini was the *FIRST* of a totally original concept and the *BEST*. My favorite thing about him is that he’s a voice, not an echo, which is quite rare. DISCLAIMER: This is for anyone who is a hater OR wishes to better understand me, what I’m all about, so you can decide whether I’m weird or normal enough for you — a kind of very loose manifesto, rushed and unrevised, full of raw uncut emotion that I don’t like to be evident in my writing as lately I prefer a more professional, formal style, so we can consider this a rough draft of the more polished writing to come when I have extra time. I might return to this text later and clean it up or break it into separate parts. Right now it’s a long-winded hot mess, so if you manage to make any sense of it, BIG PROPS TO YOU. lol …and if you manage to read it ALL, you have my solemn respect!!! in a day when reading has been reduced to just catchy headliners and short captions of images once in a while. The consequence of this one-liner internet culture is non-linear, tunnel thinking, which is baaaaaad. There lives among us a most enigmatic and charismatic creature named Paul Jaisini who led me into the wonderful world of art, not personally, but through descriptions of his artworks in essays written and published online by his friend, which painted the most fascinating images in my mind. Early on as a kiddo, I experimented with photography, simple point and shoot whatever looked attractive to me. Digital manipulation of my photographs with computer software followed… and somehow I learned useful drawing techniques along the way to combine existing elements with nonexistent ones, which allowed me to elevate the context for my ideas. Later, I started creating my own digital art from scratch for my friends and family as a favorite pastime. They would shower me with praise and repeatedly encouraged me to share my “different” vision with the rest of the world… it took a while and wasn’t easy to overcome the insecurity of not being good enough along with a gripping fear of being harshly criticized, but one day I woman-ed up and started publishing my work on the web, reminding myself that my livelihood didn’t depend on a positive reception. Paul Jaisini’s role in all this has been to not disgrace myself, even if what I do is just a hobby. And I would never do him and other genius artists the disservice of calling myself a professional because I know I’ll never be as good as any of the GIANTS of pre-modern history. Be the best or be nothing, no middle ground. People’s jealousy in the past, future and present over my obsessive love of Paul Jaisini, which they are well aware is purely plutonic, has caused them to despise the man and has made many relationships/friendships impossible for me. I refuse to have such people in my life because by harboring any negativity towards Paul, they unknowingly feel that way about me and express it to me. It’s their own problem for not realizing this. Paul’s new art movement, Gleitzeit, shaped me into the allegedly awesome girl I am today, giving my art more edge, more “sexy” because it refined my vision of the world and propelled me to attain the skills necessary to not dishonor my family name through tenacious pursuit of perfection. Since the beginning of my life, I attempted to depict what I saw in visual, musical and literal forms, but continuously failed without adequate training and determination. Paul Jaisini’s Gleitzeit was the answer to my prayers. Who I am today I owe mostly to him and his selfless ideals of the artverse that I’ve given unconditional loyalty to (he has this cool ability for hyper-vision to see whole universes, not itty bitty worlds, hence I call it an artverse instead of art world, with him in mind). So again, anyone who hates Paul Jaisini hates ME because, regardless of what he means to you, he is the most important person in my life for making me ME. The way a famous actor, dancer or singer inspires others to act, dance or sing, Paul inspired me to become a better artist, better writer, better everything. More people would understand if he was a household name because they’re wired to in society. But we’re inspiring each other all the time in our own little communities without being famous, so if someone has the ability to change even ONE person’s life immensely with creativity, it is a massive achievement. And passionate folks like myself are compelled to scream it from the cyber rooftops. So here I am. It’s whatever. Furthermore, I’d like to address here a few pressing matters in light of some recent drama brought on by both strangers and former friends. To start, I never judge the passions, interests or likes of others, which are often in my face all over the place, so likewise they have no right to judge any of mine. It is quite unfortunate and frustrating how very little understanding and education the majority of people have or want to have. Their logic is as primitive as a chipmunk when it comes to promotion of fine art on the web: “spamming, advertising, report!” It’s their own problem that they fail to understand what it’s about due to the distorted lens through which they see the world or inability to think for themselves; an inherent lack of perception or inquisitiveness. Well, guess what? Every single image, every animation, every video, every post dedicated to Mr. Paul Jaisini and “Gleitziet” (to elaborate: a revolutionary new art movement Paul founded with his partner in crime and personal friend, EYKG, who discovered him and believed in him more than anyone) has an important purpose. Every one of those things you run across is a piece of a puzzle, a move in a game, an inch down a rabbit hole; the deeper you go, the more interesting it gets; the more levels you pass, the more clues unfold, the greater the suspense and nearer the conclusion (yet further). You earn awesome rewards like enlightenment, spiritual revelations, truths, knowledge, wisdom and the most profound reward of all: the drive to improve yourself to the absolute maximum, so an unending, unshakable drive. People often make a wrong turn in this cyber game and go back a few levels or get stuck. Those that keep on pushing, however, will come to find the effort has been worth it. And what awaits you in the end of it all? The greatest challenge to beating the game: YOUR OWN MIND. You will be forced to let go of every belief you held before you had reached the last level, to completely alter your mindset and perception of the world, of life, of yourself. But by the time you’ve gotten to that point, it will be as easy as falling off a cliff! (It is a kind of suicide after all — death and rebirth of spirit.) Paul Jaisini does NOT, *I repeat* does NOT use mystery and obscurity to his advantage as a clever marketing ploy, no, he’s too next level for that with a consciousness so rich, he should wear a radioactive warning sign (he’ll melt your brain, best wear a tinfoil hat in his presence as I certainly would.) The statement he makes is loud and clear, hidden in plain site for those who take the time to connect the dots and have enough curiosity to fuel their journey into unknown territory (an open mind and flexible perception helps a lot). Actually, anyone with an IQ above 90 is sure to figure it out sooner or later. Hint: You don’t have to SEE an extraordinary thing with your eyes to know it exists, to understand it and realize its greatness — you can only feel it in your bone marrow, your spinal fluid, your heart and soul. The moment you do figure it out, as the skeleton key of the human soul, it will unlock the greatness and massive potential buried deep within, changing the doomed direction humanity is undoubtedly headed. I don’t speak in riddles, I speak in a clear direct way that intelligent humans will understand, so I’m counting on them. GIG is an international group of artists and writers that support Paul Jaisini’s Gleitzeit. We started off as an unofficial fan club of Jaisini in 1996, comprised of only 6 individuals spanning 3 countries, and eventually escalated in status to an official fan group across the entire globe. A decade later it had grown to hundreds of fans. Nearly another decade later, there are thousands. Let’s not leave out another delightful group of vicious haters that have been around for nearly as long as us since the late 90s and have also grown in impressive numbers. Now, for the record (and please write this one down because I’m sick of repeating myself), Paul Jaisini himself is not part of our group and has nothing to do with us. He loves and hates us equally for butchering his name and making him appear as a narcissistic nut-job in his own words. He casts hexes on us for the blinding flash we layer over the art that members contribute to GIG — “disgusting-police-lights, seizure-inducing-laser-lightshow, bourgeois-myspace-effects retarded-raver shit” in Paul’s words. Ahh, how we love his sweet-talking us. In a desperate attempt to please him, those among us who make the art and animations have spent countless hours and sleepless nights trying to solve a crazy-complex quantum-physics type of equation = how to not create tacky or tasteless content. He does fancy some of it now, we got better, that’s something! In the reason stated below, our mission just got out of hand at some point. What little is known about Paul Jaisini, even in all this time, is he’s a horrible perfectionist who slaughtered hundreds of innocent babies — I mean — artworks of remarkable beauty created by his own right hand (mostly paintings, some watercolors and drawings). He’s a fierce recluse who wants nothing to do with anyone or anything in life. But those few of us who know of an incredible talent he possesses (one could go as far as calling it a superpower), could not allow him to live his life without the recognition he FUCKING DESERVES more than any artist out there living today and, arguably, yesterday. We use whatever means necessary to reach more people, lots of flash and razzle-dazzle to lure them into our sinister trap of a higher awareness. Mwahaha! The visual boom you’ve witnessed in both cyber and real worlds, that is GIG’s doing — two damn decades of spreading an art virus — IVA. InVisibleArtitis… or a drug as in Intravenous Art. It’s whatever you want it to be, honey. Our Gleitzeit International Group (GIG) started off innocently enough and gradually spiraled out of control to fight the haters, annoying the hell out of them as much as humanly possible. They don’t like what we do? WE DO MORE AND MORE OF IT. But never without purpose, without a carefully executed plan in mind collectively. If we have to tolerate an endless tidal wave of everyone’s vomit — e.g., idiotic memes and comics; dumbed-down one-liner quotes; selfies; so-called “art photography” passed through one-click app filters; mindless scribbles or random splatters by regular folks who have the nerve to call themselves serious/pro artists; primitive images of pets, babies, landscapes, random objects, etc… then people sure as shit are gonna tolerate what we put out, our animated and non-animated visual art designed for our beloved master, Paul Jaisini, who has shown us the light, the right path to follow, taught us great things and done so much for us — and so in our appreciation of him, we stamp his name on everything, for the sacrifices he has made in the name of art, to save our art verse, he’s a goddamn hero. There’s a book being written in his dedication where little will be left to the imagination about him. If Paul Jaisini was as famous as Koons or Hirst, for example, people would know it’s not him posting stuff online with his name on it but fans creating fanart like myself among others. But noooooo, such a thing is unfathomable to most people – the promotion of another artist. Like, what’s in it for us? Uhh, nothing?? This is all NON-PROFIT bitches, the way art should be. It’s a passion FIRST, a commodity/commercial product/marketable item LAST and least. Its been that way for us since the early 90s to this day. Not a single member of GIG has sold an art work (neither has Paul Jaisini who’s a true professional) and we want to keep it that way. We do it for reasons far beyond ego. So advertising? Really? How the hell do you advertise or sell thin air, you know, invisible paintings, invisible anything? Ha ha, very funny indeed. The idea here is so simple, your neighbor’s dog can grasp it. Our motives: replace fast food for the mind with fine art, actual fine art. You know, creativity? Conscious thought? Talent? Skill? Knowledge? All that good stuff rolled into one to bring viewers more than a momentary ooohand aaahh reaction. Replace the recycled images ad nauseum; repetitious, worn-out ideas; disposable, gimmicky, money-driven fast art for simpletons. Stick with the highest of ideals and save the whole bloody planet. Fine art is often confused with craft-making. This often creates bad blood between classically trained artists who put out paintings that leave a lasting impression, that make strong conversation pieces, that are thought-provoking and deep… and trained craftspeople whose skills are adequate to create decorative pieces for homely environments — landscapes, still lifes, animals, pretty fairies, common things of fantasy, and other simplicity. Skills alone are not enough for high art, you need a vision, a purpose, the ability to tell a story with every stroke of your brush that will both fascinate and terrify the viewers, arousing powerful emotions, illuminating. I have yet to see a visible painting in my generation that does anything at all for me, other than evoke sheer outrage and disgust. What a terrible waste of space and valuable resources it all is. Paul Jaisini leads, we follow. He wishes to remain unknown – so do most of us. I’m next in line, slipping into recluse mode, no longer wanting to attach my face, my human image to my art stuff. I wish to be a nameless, faceless artist as well, invisible like P.J., and in his footsteps I too have destroyed thousands of my own artistic photography and digital art made with tedious, labor-intensive handwork. The whole point of this destruction is achieving the finest results possible by letting go of the imperfect, purging it on a regular basis, to make way for the perfect. I love what I do so it doesn’t matter, I know I’ll keep producing as much as I’m discarding, keeping the balance. Hoarding is an enemy of progress, especially the digital kind as there’s absolutely no limit to it. It’s like carrying a load of bricks on your back you’ll never use or need. The watering down of creativity that digital pack ratting has caused as observed over the years is most tragic. For the creative individual, relying on terabytes of stock photos or OSFAP as I call them (Once Size Fits All Photos) instead of making your own as you used to when you had no choice, being 100% original, is a splinter in the conscience. It’s not evil to use stock of, say, things you don’t have access to (outer space, deep sea, Antarctica, etc.), but many digital artists I know today can’t take their own shot of a pencil ‘cause they “ain’t got no time for that!” How did they have time before? Did time get so compressed in only a decade? Ohhhhh, and the edits, textures, filters, plug-ins and what-have-you available out there to everyone and their cats… are responsible for the tidal wave of rubbish that eclipses the magnificent light of the real talents. I can tell you with utmost sincerity there is no better feeling on earth than knowing your creation is ALL yours, every pixel and dot, from the first to the last. It’s not always possible to make it so, but definitely the most rewarding endeavor. I’m most proud of myself when I can accomplish that. Back to Paul Jaisini, from the start there have been a number of theories floating around on what his real story is. One of my own theories is that he stands for the unknowns of the world who can’t get representation, can’t get exhibited at a decent gallery because highly gifted/trained artists aren’t good enough – those kind of establishments prefer bananas, balloon dogs, feces, gigantic dicks/cunts, and all kinds of what-the-fucks… So again, you don’t get the Paul Jaisini thing? That’s your problem. Don’t hate others for getting it. People are good, very good, at making baseless assumptions and impulsively spewing it as truth. They criticize and judge as if they’re high authorities on the subject yet they clearly lack education in fine art or art history and possess little to no talent or skill to back up their bullshit. My little “credibility radar” never fails. When they say I know this or I know that, I reply don’t say “I know” or state things as fact as a general rule of thumb – instead say “I assume/believe” and state the reasons you feel thus to appear less immature, especially about a controversial topic like invisible art. I have zero respect or tolerance for egomaniacs who think they know it all and act accordingly like arrogant pricks. Who can stand those, right? Once again, a good example would be: I, Stelly Riesling, believe everything I’ve written in this little manifesto to be correct based on personal experience and observation from multiple angles, thorough research and sufficient data collected from verifiable sources (and don’t go copying-pasting my own words back at me, be original). Just because you or I say so doesn’t make it so. Just because you or me think or believe so doesn’t make it true or right. I only ask that my opinions are regarded respectfully and whoever opposes them does so in a mature, civilized manner. We should only be entitled to opinions that don’t bring out the worst in us. I don’t normally take such a position, but the time has come to stand up for what I believe in! It’s quite amusing and comical how haters think calling me names, attacking me or my interests or members of the project I’m part of for years is going to change something. It only makes more evident the importance of what I’m doing so I push on harder still. Words of advise to those who can identify with me, with my frustrations over people’s reluctance to change their miserable ways, with our declining art world… DON’T waste time on people who sweat the small stuff, whose actions are consistently inconsistent with their words. DO waste time on people who always keep their eye on the ball—the bigger picture of life. Paul Jaisini’s invisible paintings are more than hype, more than your lame assumptions. Here’s one I got that’s pure gold: a cult! It started out as A JOKE OF MINE that was used against me. I told a then-good friend that he should come join our little “art cult” in a clearly lighthearted manner, and later he takes this idea I put in his head first and accuses me of being in an (imaginary) cult—the jokes on me eh?. But wait, aren’t cults religious? Our group consists of people around the world of different faiths (or none at all) so how could that ever work? If religion was about making fine (non-pop) art mainstream and bringing awesome, fresh, futuristic concepts to the collective consciousness, the world would not be so fucked up today because talent, creativity, originality and individuality would be the main focus, not superficial poppycock; those things would be praised and encouraged and supported in society by all institutions, not demonized and stigmatized. Here is one thing I CAN state as solid fact: only one person close to Paul Jaisini knows the TRUE story, or at least some of it: EYKG. Everything else that has ever been said about him is myth, legend, gossip, speculation, the worst of which is said by jealous non-artists (wannabes, clones, posers, hang-ons, unoriginal ppl in general) and anti-artists (religious psychos, squares, losers and -duh- stupid ppl). Sadly, people are unable to see the bigger picture by letting their egos run their lives or repeating after others as parrots. Commercial art, consumerism, and ignorance of the masses truly makes me want to curl up in a ball, not eat or drink or move until I die, just die in my sleep while dreaming of a better world, a world where real fine artists rule it with real fine art as they used to and life is beautiful once again…. Well I hope that settled THAT for now, or perhaps inadvertently made matters worse. I hope I didn’t sound too pissed from all these issues that keep popping up like penises on ChatRoulette… just got to me already! Can you tell? I had to put my foot down, stomp ‘em all! To be continued, still lots more ignorance and pettiness to battle… Till then peace out my bambini. MWAH! FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE MANIFESTO GLEITZEIT 2015 PROLOGUE Paul Jaisini was like a messiah, as you wish, who saw/understood the impending end and complete degeneration of Fine art or Art become and investment nothing more than that. He predicted the bubble pops art when everybody would eventually become an artist, including dogs cats and horses, because they as kids followed the main rule: express yourself without skills or knowledge or any aesthetic concerns. J. Pollack started pouring paints onto canvases; Julian Schnabel, former cab driver from NY, suddenly decided he could do better than what he saw displayed in galleries, so he started gluing dishes on canvases; A.Warhol, an industrial artist who made commercial silk-screen for the factories he worked in, started to exhibit "Campbell’s soup" used for commercial adds… and later the thing that made him an "American Idol": by copying and pasting Hollywood celebrities (same type of posters he made before for movie theaters). When Paul Jaisini stood out against the Me culture in the US by burning all of his own 120 brilliant paintings (according to the then-new director of Fort Worth MoMa Museum, who offered hin an exhibition of his art in 1992, and later the Metropolitan Museum curator, Phillippe de Montebello, in 1994).Paul probably assumed all fellow true fine artists would join him or stand by him against corruption of the art world. And after 20 years of his stand-off…the time has finally come today. Many artists and humanitarians around the world took a place beside him. His invisible Paintings became a synonym for the future reincarnation of fine art and long lost harmony. The establishment is in panic! The "moneybags" (as Paul Jaisini named them) are in panic, because they invested BILLIONS of dollars in real crap made by craftsmen. Now they realize that the reputation of American legends of expressionism was nothing but a copy of Russian avant-garde" Kazimir Malevich, Vasiliy Kandinsky and tens of others from France and Germany.. US tycoon investors were spending billions on "Me more original, than you". "Artist Shit" is a 1061 artwork by the Italian artist Piero Manzoni. The work consists of 90 tin cans, filled with feces. A tin can was sold for £124,000, 180,000 at Sothebys, 2007. EPILOGUE Before I resume promoting and admiring a very important art persona on today’s international art arena, I’d like to clear up some BIG questions; people ask continuously and subconsciously, directly & indirectly: "Why does the name Paul Jaisini, flood the Internet in such "obnoxious" quantities that it’s started suppressing some other activities that my friends might share with the rest of the Internet’s Ego Me only Me www society? I can’t just answer this… so I’ll try to explain why I’m writing this: Jaisini’s followers keep posting art and info about, He IMHO the only hope in quickly decomposing visual fine art. "Paul Jaisini realized many years ago, in 1994, when he declared (at that time to himself only) the start of a New era, a New vision, that he is trying to redirect from the rat race, started by an establishment in post-war New York, long before the Internet culture. Sub related information: Adolf Gottlieb, Mart Rothko, etc (after visiting Paris France in 1933): "We must forget analytical art, we must express ourselves, as a 5 year old child would, without a developed consciousness. Forget about results – do what you feel, EXPRESS yourself with your own unique style" With this statement Mark Rothko starts to teach his students, degeneration of fine art begins, and the generation of war of styles took a start signal of the material race, greatly rewarded by establishment "individual" – eccentric craftsmen – show business clowns. Sub related Information: In the summer of 1936, Adolf Gottlieb painted more than 800 paintings, which was 20X more than he created in his whole art career as a painter, starting from the time of Gottlieb becomes a founding member of "The Ten" group in NYC "Group of Ten" was a very peculiar, enigmatic group… Based on a religious point of view;(where a human figure was prohibited from being created) GLOSSARY IN 1997, Paul Jaisini’s best friend Ellen Y.K.Gottlieb started a cyber campaign by promoting on a very young Internet, back then, Paul Jaisini’s burned paintings as Invisible Paintings, visible only through poetic essays. She and a handful of people saw his originals and were devastated that nobody could ever see them again. "We, his fans, believe that someday Paul will recreate his 120 burned paintings if he has any decency and moral obligation to his fans, who have dedicated decades to make it happen, for their Phoenix to rise from the ashes and the whole world will witness that all these years we spent to get him back to re-paint the Visuals again were not in vain," – said E.Y.K.Gottlieb in 2014 during the 20th anniversary celebration of Invisible Paintings to GIGroup in NYCity. So now, hopefully, this clears up why I and others do what we do – our "cyber terrorism" of good art, dedicated to Paul Jaisini’s return, which is & and was our mission & our goal. We post good art to fight "troll art" which is worthless pics, after being passed through 1-click filters of free web apps. We are, in fact, against this www pops pollution, done with "bubble art" by the out of control masses with 5 billon pics a day: Pics of cats, memes, quotes,national geographic sunsets and waterfalls, not counting their own daily "selfies: and whatever self-indulging Me-ego-Me affairs, sponsored happily by photo gadget companies like Canon, Nikon, Sony…who churn out higher quality madness tools at lower cost. This way Government taking away attention from the real world crisis of lowest morality & economical devastation. The masses are too easily re-engineered/manipulated by the Establishment PopsStyle delivered to them by pop music and Hollywood "super" stars. In 1992 Paul Jaisini’s Gleitzeit theory predict such a massive, pops self-entertain madness, following technological explosion, but not in illusive scales. Uber Aless @2015 NYC USA NOTE Date’s numbers and events can be slightly inaccurate. #gleitzeit #paul-jaisini #invisible #painting #art #futurism #art-news,

Posted by E_Y_K_G on 2015-03-28 04:43:10

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[voicesofchaos]

Castlevania (Netflix) Review

Super Castlevania IV was one of the first videogames I ever played when I was like 5, maybe 4 years old. Needless to say I love the games and the series! I have played a large number of them like Symphony Of The Night, 64, Legacy Of Darkness, Legends, Harmony Of Dissonance, Aria Of Sorrow, Dawn Of Sorrow, and Portrait Of Ruin, Order Of Ecclesia, Lament Of Innocence, Dracula X Chronicles (Rondo Of Blood), Lords Of Shadow, and am even a fan of the game the whole fandom hates. Judgement. In addition to all those games listed I have briefly played several others like Castlevania III:Dracula’s Curse which this show is based off of. So I have been waiting for a Castlevania movie or series for over a decade! I have constantly planned out how I would write and direct it if I was in charge. I’ve waited a very long time for this series to come to life in a movie-like media. So what did I think of this delivery?

Let me just start off by saying that I am immensely happy this was animated. I was always worried they would make it live-action and would just look horrible. Being animated allows them to do a lot more with it which exactly reach the full potential with but more on that later. Also many people call it “Castlevania anime” but this is a fairly American-ish style which I do think is good. We all know I am a complete anime obsessed freak but Castlevania and anime are two great flavors that don’t taste as well together. We see most clearly when comparing the art style shift from Aria Of Sorrow to its more kind-friendly sequel Dawn Of Sorrow.

It is so cringey! So yeah Castlevania works best with a cross between Japanese and American art in a European gothic style. Now the the art style of Castlevania as a whole has changed and evolved a lot throughout the years but that is where it has find its most resonant identity.

So the Netflix series does a passable job at art. I do wish a few things were a bit more touched-up and polished but hey animation is hard and takes time. I do hope the sequel can look a little bit more crisp. The character designs are distinct enough. Trevor looks different from everyone else. Sypha stands out among the speakers. For the most part you can even tell the clergymen apart. I especially like the part between Dracula and Alucard. In their scene other Dracula was surrounded by darkness while we only see see Alucard’s silhouette which mirrors Dracula’s except surrounded by white light. Where I am most disappointed is not the human design but the monster design! The most beloved Castlevania game, Symphony Of The Night, has nearly 150 entries in its bestiary. Sure a lot are reskins or bosses but still that is over 100 different unique monsters. In this series we got generic demons and a cyclops. Come on! I know this is not a videogame so of course we will have far less enemy variety but the plain demons got old way too fast. I can’t believe we did not get skeletons as they are pretty iconic to the games. Season 2 better have flying medusa heads!

Somehow though I skipped over the story which should have been the most important part. As I said I only played a little bit of Castlevania III but it does make sense as the best place to start for many reasons. Now I don’t like the original Trevor Belmont as character for silly personal reasons (Sonia Belmont should in canon be the first Belmont to fight Dracula!) but it does have a strong cast of supporting characters which not too many Castlevania games can claim. As well it is one of the first entry in the timeline. Lament Of Innocence is the only real canon game before it since Castlevania Legends was made non-canon and that Lament Of Innocence is a kind of nifty prequel but not a real compelling starting point actually.

With Castlevania III we get that badass D&D party going through Dracula’s infamous castle to defeat the boss. You know the party that consists of Trevor Belmont, Sypha Belnades, Grant Danast, and everyone’ favorite character Alucard/Adrian Farenheights Tepes. Wait a second, WHERE THE HELL IS GRANT! I mean he is definitely the least popular of the quad and while I am sure he has some fans out there no one is really going to miss him not being part of the cast yet. But still if he is not in season 2 then they missed a great opportunity to just have another well known supporting character. They could easily develop his character to be more beloved by the audience.

While what about the other characters that were included. I think most people character from this will be Dracula. He comes off very sympathetic and seems more like the hero than the villain of the story despite his plans for mass genocide. The other character who I feel was very point and true to the original was Sypha. I think she is easily the most likable character. I am glad that they didn’t take too long to reveal her gender. They did a little tease and shoutout to the fans by the elder only referring to her with gender-neutral pronouns and Trevor even makes a joke about her being dressed as a boy. Otherwise though that would have been an outdated gag if they kept it in. As I have mentioned many times we also have Alucard who I guess has a satisfactory role so far. I feel like his battle to test Trevor went a little long despite being so cool. I guess more so his questioning of Trevor’s determination rather than the fight itself is what felt lengthy as it made Alucard seem more bratty than an noble prince of vampire-human blood. Trevor’s character here I feel very mixed about. He does get cool by the end of it. But him starting off as a rundown beaten anti-hero at first just felt a little too drawn out. Most Belmonts are supposed to be quintessential heroes. Giving him some character development and not being a goody two-shoes is a good idea but I feel the execution could have been a little better.

Then we have minor characters. The speakers, especially the elder, do their role but there isn’t much else to say about them. Then we have the church. Ehh I question if they went the wrong direction here. Don’t get me wrong I love the story about the church causing the downfall of humanity and being the ones to bring fourth the evil they preach against as they try to assert control over people no matter who is the victim. But again the execution here feels meh. Castlevania is mostly a black&white good VS evil story. But many times there have been hints that humanity and religion are not so pure and might not be worth saving. Maybe they should be devoured by darkness. But it is subtle. It makes you think and question it. Here the show hits you over the head with “The church evil and Dracula is a saint!” It is over the top in the wrong way. As I said Castlevania has a wealthy lore of monsters, the point of the game is to have the heroes fight horrifying monsters. Yet this entire series Trevor mostly fights humans. Not even well-trained or fearsome humans. Mostly just angry mobs. This is definitely one of the most disappointing things in this series.

The other most disappointing part, THERE IS NO CASTLEVANIA! Seriously it is in the title of the series and we barely see the most important character in any Castlevania game, Dracula’s Castle! We see it raise up and that is it! What should set Castlevania as a story out from other vampire or horror stories is the setting. The castle should feel very much alive and part of the story. Luckily we did gets traps and gears so they didn’t completely forget to include some CASTLEVANIA in the series. Still though we spent a little too much time in the city and not enough time getting to the destination.

I have a lot to complain about and be disappointed with in this series but I definitely would NOT call it bad. It is still pretty good and appeals to a wider range of audience. It is a long intro for a short season. These 4 episodes could have definitely been done in 3 episodes, maybe even 2! As said many times, season 2 has a LOT of hype to live up to. I heard season 2 was approved for 8 episodes before I watched this so I figured that season 2 would be moving on to Christopher Belmont and SImon Belmont. But no no no. We still have a long way to go in Castlevania III: Dracula’s Curse. The Castlevania lore is very vast and has a lot to explore so I do hope this goes on for a long time and they can get creative with it as they pump up the quality.

[hildegardladyofbones]

so normal about this actually. like, i don't even care.

I keep forgetting that we're called the skeleton clique so i stabbed myself with a knitting needle when i saw the new merch

I am FUCKING insane about the danse macabre motif in general so it is WILD to see perhaps my favourite band to release merch with it??? like??? hello???

it's like,, more than 30€ tho so i'm not rlly sure if i will be buying it (also i am certain once it launches it will be gone in an instant) because i pretty much only wear pretentious lil' blouses now. might make myself sth with the same concept tho,