#artist: brick + mortar

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

Bangs • Locked In A Cage • Heatstroke • Old Boy • No I Won't Go • Keep This Place Beautiful • Terrible Things

Spotify ♪ YouTube

[hornetvoid]

i'm brighter than the sun, but i can't wait

[daymymake]

x

[scramratz]

I think my dream is to start my own bookstore/art collective/venue! Like it’s a brick n mortar where artists/writers can sell theirs stuff and on the weekends different bands can play and there’s snacks and community resources and it’s very very queer

[bc-jpeg]

RAINBOW KITTEN SURPRISE ENJOYER!!! Good taste from a fantastic artist, I'm now so curious about who else you like to listen to :0

the score, mother mother and twenty one pilots is pretty much everything to me, there’s MANY songs from them i’m listening on a daily basis.

hozier, brick + mortar, fangclub, des rocks, aurora, billie eilish, depeche mode, the beatles, abba, elo, queen, rainbow kitten surprise, fall out boy, ajr, imagine dragons, alt-j, ok go, yonaka, santigold, poor mans poison, florence & the machine, the crane wives, panic! at the disco, aviva, grandson — here I often listen 2-3 song by each of them, favorites.

2wei — so much love for their epic covers

obsessed with steven gutheinz’s music, VERY underrated

and ofc minecraft ost, creator is a new big banger for me, and my old long love belongs to mice on venus and the other side.

[peachetteprice]

heya, can you please do price with a s/o who is spiritual , has an earthy aesthetic and is in the creative industry ? i would like to see how their dynamics would work since they are complete polar opposites. thank you in advance

Hello! Thank you for the ask! And thank you for thanking me in advance (I am aware this is very advanced; I should have completed this much sooner!)

A Deal of Cards | Captain John Price

Disclaimer: I feel like I have to mention that I am a non-spiritualist. I know borderline nothing about spirituality, and this is not to share my views on the matter, but to explain that, although I tried my best to encapsulate that version of the human experience, I doubt it is anything convincing because I, unfortunately, own the most stubborn soul in the box. Really. She's not a good pick. I struggle enough as it is to get her to understand that toucans are real. I draw from the cards I've been dealt - do you get the joke - basically, so I'm incredibly sorry if this is essentially... around a thousand and a half words of utter shite. I hope that everything outside of the spirituality and ethereality is digestible, at least.

Content Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.5K

John is a practical man - in all manner of respect.

He thinks considerably of the amount of paperwork he completes on the weekdays, weekends and holidays, and the impact it has on his professional regime. He thinks kindly of the attitude that he carries alongside him from the door of his flat to the door of his office, and back again, of course, much like he would a stray mutt who wishes not to leave him. And if that was not sufficient enough, he thinks loyally of stratocracy and bravery.

That being said, his mother - in all manner of respect, too - was not so bothered about that drivel. At least not in the ways that John would have initially professed 'mattered'. John thought considerably of tact, professionalism, and an unwavering mentality. In some regard, so did she. But she much preferred the leather-tendrelled jacket, peace-sign clutching, freedom-expressing chorale of the sixties and seventies. After all, she was a young woman at the time, flourishing into her adolescence with such optimism that she thought little of administrative paperwork, stray dogs - at least not in the metaphorical sense - and regimental courage.

And if it wasn't for her, when he first met you, he might have thought differently.

It didn't take him long to realise that you were something of a spectacle to the eye. He clocked the beaded bracelet around your wrist, the way your skirt wafted in the air as you stepped from bar to dance-floor, dance-floor to bar in your brown flats, and the occasional sway your skirt, again, would give as you slipped off to the loo. And, after he'd worked up the correct amount of of courage - which lay somewhere in-between two and three pints, so that he was lubricated enough to slide into ambling conversation, but not so smacked that he would trip up on his sentences like a fumbling baboon - he swore that there was a lick of paint on the hem of your blouse, just as it faded into your waistline.

What seemed most interesting of all was that everything, from that moment onwards, seemed to fall into place like bricks to mortar. When the nights were cold, and you were cold, and when John held you close like a burning star, tight enough to suppress the chill in your bones, it was right. It was just. The perfect antipode.

When you had him at the dinner table with a bottle of wine, painting crass image after crass image of one another on miniature canvases, despite his occasional frustration over your 'minimising' of skill to humour him, presenting a sub-optimal version of John in watercolour, so that he would feel marginally better about his own artistic prowess - but not so good that you dismissed your own pride - everything was still right; just.

And although he complained about the numerous 'useless' rocks and gems around the house, which you agreed to contain to just one room - the study, the one room he never entered unless to shush your stress over your work with a cup of tea and a cheeky Hobnob - and, additionally, expressed dissatisfaction over the number of dreamcatchers and chimes interrupting his morning paw of the newspaper, which you agreed would be best in the back garden, above the kitchen window, everything maintained the balance again, of being right. Just.

Certainly, he didn't complain when you received a rather befuddling letter in the post, explaining something arty-farty about your joint finances that, even with his secret pair of reading glasses (reserved for the house and the house only) he couldn't make heads or tails of, that somehow made perfect sense to you, such sense that you marched into Natwest within the day to haggle its discourse, returning to a ready-made bubble bath - with your favourite oils that had been memorised by John over a tough few months - a glass of wine and an end-of-the-evening massage, as gratitude of your pragmatism.

"I'm not entirely inept, you know," you smile over the rim of your glass, as your other hand tangles itself within John's hair. He'd only lasted thirty minutes before deciding he'd join you in the bath, however disgracefully he displaced the water over the side of the tub, that, like the good man he was, he promised to clean, post-session.

"I know you're not, love." He rumbles, one of his palms along your thigh as you massaged shampoo into his hair. You'd been doing that for an extortionate number of minutes, but, like any other good man, John wanted to relax. Even if it meant sitting with shampoo in his hair for half an hour. "Smells nice in here."

"Always smells nice in here. Not just tonight." You say, gathering another sip from your wine. It's good wine. Swiss. Not French, like any good good wine, but Swiss. Like a perfectly reasonable wine, but not so reasonable as to induce premature thoughts of contempt and supremacy over the likes of the undoubtedly better French wines. It's the sort of wine that will later have a dizzying effect on the mind to suppress lateral thinking. It's the sort of wine that leads the evening to end with a man pressed against one's naked chest.

Now, John should have been the first to wake the following day. But that was not the case. It was never the case that he didn't wake up first, if one forgets the select few times in which he hadn't woken up first before, which one should, if dignity is to remain. During that singular occurrence, rather than loll over a mug of coffee that wouldn't hit him before it hit the toilet bowl, you decided to compile something of an experiment.

An experiment, in your terms, which consisted of grinding together everything you considered to be dear to the mind (with equal proportions of edibility; you weren't trying to hospitalise the man) and present it to John as an appetising smoothie.

That, along with a therapeutic massage, sent him out the door to begin what he claimed that night, under negligible amounts of duress, was his most efficient day on base, completing both outstanding mountains of paper that had been sat on his desk since the Wednesday before the Wednesday just gone.

Now, it would never beat the time he accidentally ordered what he thought to be a mineralising water from the vending machine, only for it to turn out to be a suped-up energy drink - not constructed for men in their early forties beginning to reach the age whereby they can take unabashed post-lunch naps - that sent him into the worst blast of productivity-turned-depressive-crash of his life, which had him googling symptoms of low electrolytes during a conversation with Laswell. That was by the by.

What it did beat, however, were the numerous times he awoke with discomfort, ranging from pain experienced in the back, thighs, calves, sternum, stomach, cervical region, lumber region, thoracic region, sacrum region, shoulders, clavicle, neck, jaw (naughty), and/or the feet or hands, which was, for a man of his prime age, often. Though, notably, with your invention and a morning massage in bed - the pain became a thing of the past.

"So, what you're saying is... it isn't a load of bollocks?"

"I never said it was a load of bollocks." John said as he piled dishes into the dishwasher; which, really, was only to cover him for the fact that he had, once, called it all a load of bollocks.

"It sounds like, to me, that you're admitting that my beliefs hold water."

"They're... useful for a man like me." He admitted.

"I helped you." You grin. "Admit it, darling."

"I just did, didn't I?" He chuckled.

"Say that I helped you. Your darling wife, the most gorgeous woman in the world--"

"--Yes, Ma'am--"

"--Helped an old sod like you."

"Old sod?" He whistled; it was something with an undertone of respect. "I'd watch your tongue, love."

"Well," you unfurled your sleeves, "your lovely, helpful, assistive wife is going to complete her evening yoga. You're welcome to join her, John. Unless you value waking up aching all over, in which case, you can fit her and her husband some clean sheets. Alone."

John did, in fact, admit to himself that you were lovely, helpful, assistive (and of course a little gloatful in your fix of his morning routine), and collectively completed downward dogs, warrior II, and pyramid poses - with minimal complaint - until he bored himself enough to stretch the bedding, instead.

What he would never admit, however, under any amount of duress - negligible or otherwise - was that, between the meditation, the voodoo trickery (his words), the positive mantras, and the impromptu yoga which exercised places along his body that he didn't think could be exercised: you made him feel like the youngest man alive.

| Masterlist |

[discoratco]

Howdy there folks!

We are looking for artists that would like to create original art for zines!

This opportunity would mean that you will have published versions of your art, get a fair cut of the profit and get to network with other creators. The zine would be a quarterly publishing, meaning that there are several opportunities a year to be in one. Each zine would be shared between 13 creators, placed in brick and mortar shops and sold online. Each artist would have up to 8 pages, with a minimum of 2, meaning you can fill those pages however you'd like- comic format, graphic novel, creature field guide, digital illustrations etc. Writers: you could have a short story inside!

Our quarterly zine is called Creature Feature, whatever that means to you! Lil guys? Sure. That thing under your bed? Sure! Were-kittens? Yeah! Your local cryptid? Yeehaw! Your imagination would be the limit.

If this sounds like something you'd be interested in, fill out our application form. Have any questions? Email us at heath@discoratco.com.

Hope to see some of you soon!

[thewildwaffle]

Tattoo

This was written in chunks of when I actually had any drive to write in the past few months, which wasn't often. I tried doing a bit of editing, but my brain demands to move on to the next short. I'm just happy my brain wants to write again, so who am I to argue?

***

The shop was not as dark inside as it looked. Sillik was glad for that. As a duib, his eyes were well-adapted to the bright sunlit mountains of his homeworld, and he managed just fine with the medium-light of the city that Human Ernesto had been showing him around.

It wasn't the human's hometown, that was on the other side of the continent, and the crew they were both part of only had a relatively small radius to go while on surface leave due to time constraints. Thankfully, it was a city that Ernesto had visited many times before, and so was very familiar with all the best places to eat, relax, and otherwise explore. Sillik, Ernesto, and the others in the group they’d been spending the day with only had a few more hours before they needed to be at the spaceport to report back for duty. With full bellies after having had a delightful meal at a small local cafe downtown, they were in no rush as they meandered down the wide sidewalks lined with flowers and lovely shrubbery.

“Woah,” Sillik stopped walking and nearly got run into by Human Carol who had been walking directly behind him, “what is that building?” He pointed to a small brick building a few doors down from where they currently were. Not very out of the ordinary in and of itself, but it was the decoration of the building that had pulled Sillik's attention. The brick texture of the building was completely covered in a base coat of black paint with complex and intricate white and gray patterns swirling across the structure like they’d been poured on and across the whole of it. The grayscale was interrupted by strategically placed pops of color in the form of stylized animals, flowers, and characters that Silllik did not recognize.

Painting the building, with its brick-and-mortar texture would have been hard enough, but whoever had done it had gone beyond. This? This was beautiful! This was art!

Without waiting for an answer to his original question, Sillik approached the building in an almost reverent state of awe. The closer he got, the more he could make out the fine details the artist must have painstakingly minded when painting. It appeared to cover all the building, or at least all parts he could see from the street. How long had it taken to do all this?

Sillik almost didn’t notice when the rest of the group caught up with him. Someone, probably one of the humans, let out a long arching whistle sound. “Oh my stars! Look at the name!” Ernesto laughed as he walked up to the front door. “Tatu Shop?” Carol followed his gaze to the white sign above the door. “What’s so special about it? They just misspelled tattoo, or what?” “No, it’s a pun.” Ernesto pointed to some of the colorful animals painted around the shop. They had long pointed faces and looked like they were built out of armor. “Tatu is Portuguese for armadillo.” “Punny!” Another human, Steph laughed. “So it’s a pet shop?” Sillik asked. It made sense, he supposed. The art of the building was so interesting and happy-looking, and it was widely known that pets often made humans happy. Ernesto laughed “What? No, they do tattoos here. As in body art? It’s a play on words.” He turned back to the sign above the door and hummed to himself. “I’ve actually always wanted a tattoo. Just a small one on my arm. I’ve had the design in my mind for years.” Steph made a show of checking their comm device. “If it’s not too big of a design, they might be able to do it before we have to be back. We still have four hours, but keep in mind we’ll still need to walk to the spaceport shuttle.”

Ernesto frowned. Normally the look of having a scrunched-up brow and the corners of their mouths turned down means that a human is unhappy - usually upset, worried, or angry. But Sillik had been around Ernesto enough to recognize that this particular frown was one he made when he was thinking very hard about something. If he continued doing it long enough, he might stick the tip of his tongue out of his mouth as well. “I’m gonna do it,” Ernesto finally blurted out. He gasped a bit like he was surprised at his own declaration. “Oh my stars, I’m… I’m gonna do it!” He started walking into the shop, the rest of the group following after shooting each other amused looks. Sillik followed, a bit confused, but happy to see what tattoo Ernesto was so excited about getting.

That was how Sillik ended up in the fairly well-lit tattoo shop. He got himself comfortable in a chair off to the side as Ernesto talked with the tall human behind the front counter. The others joined him, except Carol, who paused a bit behind Ernesto while wearing the same frowny-thinking expression on her face. “Carol,” Steph laughed lightly, “you thinking of getting one too?” “Hmmmm…” Carol tilted her head as Ernesto turned to look back at her, “Uh, maybe not right now, actually.” She shuffled over to the line of chairs as Ernesto followed the tall human behind the counter and to some cushioned chairs where Sillik assumed the body art was done. He watched intensely. Thankfully the shop was small enough that he could clearly see everything. The shopkeeper, who must have also been one of the shop’s artists handed Ernesto a clipboard of papers for him to sign. One of them must have been for him to sketch out the design he had in mind. From the way Ernesto explained it as he drew, it seemed like it was indeed very simple. If the artist had even an ounce of skill that the painter of the building had, Ernesto’s “tattoo” should look lovely.

Sillik spent the next few minutes just looking around at the art painted on the shop’s interior walls. It was the same style as the artwork outside but with different designs. There were a few more of those “tatu” creatures that popped up here and there. It was a fun design overall. He might just look into getting something done himself. Maybe not here, but back home. After all, who knows if the paints they use in a "tattoo" is safe for duib skin?

“So what made you second-guess yourself on getting one yourself?” Steph questioned. Sillik turned back to his companions. Carol steepled her hands to hold them under her chin and sighed. “I want one, but I’m not a hundred percent sure what I want. That, and I really, really don’t like needles, so that’s kind of the big issue.”

Needles? Wait. Not paint? What kind of body art is a tattoo that needs needles?! Sillik’s head shot toward Ernesto and the tattoo artist sat together in the chairs just as a buzzing noise started up. Sillik saw the artist holding a small gun-looking device up to Ernesto’s arm, and Ernesto wincing slightly as the point of the device made contact with his skin. Normally, Sillik considered himself very level-headed, which was a good quality to have when you worked closely with humans on a regular basis. Even still, he felt his jaw drop as shock spread itself across his face. Was there a needle on the point of that gun thing? Had Ernesto been injected with something? Thoughts flashed around his brain as he stared. “Carol, Steph,” Sillik kept his voice from squeaking, “what, exactly, is a tattoo? What’s going on?

“Oh,” Steph chirped cheerily as ever, thankfully unaware of just how distraught Sillik felt at the moment. “Tattoos are ink drawings that are injected into the skin. That makes them permanent.” Sillik stared at her, then over to Ernesto. “But… but doesn’t that hurt?” “Yeah,” Carol looked over to Ernesto like she was searching for something. “He might have given him some lidocaine cream, but I’m not really sure. Don’t a lot of tattoo artists not like using it?” She asked Steph. “Depends,” Steph looked over to Ernesto and the tattoo artist who was already doing good work on the design. “I doubt he bothered, the arm is one of the least painful places to get a tattoo.” “Isn't the most painful place the armpit or something?” “Why would someone get a tattoo in their armpit? What would you even put there?” “I don’t know, I can think of a couple really funny ideas.”

Sillik gaped at them but then turned back to watch the tattoo process again. Ernesto wasn’t crying out. He looked like he was in pain, but he had personally seen the human get injured in what seemed to be much “smaller” incidents and had had much bigger reactions. Like when he stubbed his toe three cycles ago. What is the deal? Humans and how they react to pain in different ways is so weird!

Steph must have noticed his attention had gone elsewhere again and thought it funny to add, “You know, this method of getting a tattoo is much less painful than it used to be, back in the day.” Of course it was, Sillik thought. Still, it was something that he felt needed more of an explanation, so he looked back at her and waited for her to continue. “There were two different ways, at least that I know of. One was with just a really sharp needle dipped in soot or seal oil or whatever and then the person giving the tattoo just poked you over and over and over to get it all under the skin.” Steph enunciated the “over and over” part by miming holding a needling and poking at Sillik like she was an old-timey tattoo artist. “Another way,” she continued, “and in my opinion, this one seems like the most uncomfortable way to do pretty much anything, was pretty much sewing the tattoo into your skin, with a needle pulling along a thread that had been dipped in dye. And again, the dye back then was either soot or seal oil or what have you.”

Thank the stars Sillik had been serving around humans for a couple of solar cycles now. If he had learned all this from the start, he would have thrown up. Though he felt like if he kept watching Ernesto getting his tattoo, there was a good chance of that happening still.

He spent the next hour or so staring at his feet as thought of why humans do the things they do until Steph and Carol decided to take pity on him and offered to take him to look around at the other shops on the street while they waited. Carol put a hand on his shoulder as they guided him out of the shop, “Don’t worry about it Sil, like I said, I don’t like needles either.” Sillik nodded as they stepped back into the sunshine on the street. He didn’t say anything about how he didn’t actually have an issue with needles. At least not for medical uses, for which he was used to seeing them. But injecting ink deep into your skin? Something about the idea just made him shiver. He wished Steph hadn’t told him about how tattoos used to be done. He’d never get that out of his brain.

Why can't humans just do normal, painted-on body art, like sane people?

[antisocialxconstruct]

RE: the spotify post you reblogged and your tags about owning your music again.

I wanna do the same...but...how??? Where do you buy music nowadays? CDs arent really a thing anymore, i cant buy digital versions that I can keep. Records are making a comeback, but like the process to get that digital????

Do you know/have any insight on where to actually buy music (to own it) and legimately supporting artists??? Thats not streaming???

This is such a good question and honestly I WISH I could hit you with a bunch of reliable links 😭

I feel like I've heard some criticism of Bandcamp as well, but two things they definitely have going for them is 1) a lot of indie and non-English language artists are on there, and for a lot of them it may really be the only sorta-mainstream platform where they can sell music directly to fans, and 2) musicians still get like an 80% cut of sales (I think), and you can download real, actual MP3 files that are Yours and can be copied and transferred and preserved.

I also think it's worth looking up individual artists that you want to support. Most of them have websites, and often (though not always) they have online shops where you can still buy their music directly, along with other merch. If they're selling merch but not CDs or downloads... idk, you could pirate their music and then buy a shirt or an enamel pin or something, that's still materially a lot more useful to them than streaming their music on spotify especially if they're not very well known what with that whole "you only get paid if you're already famous" policy.

Also depending on where you live it's still worth checking out brick and mortar music stores! Contrary to how it feels, CDs really are still A Thing, and stores that sell vinyls are likely to also still sell CDs, even if the selection may not be y'know... the entire broad wealth of music you can find on the internet. But in this era of streaming, I would imagine physical music stores could use all the foot traffic and sales they can get, so you're supporting musicians AND local businesses. (Just remember to mask up 👍)

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Thanks to needleslace for sending this lovely 1939 brick cottage in Jackson, Mississippi. 4bds, 3ba, $229,900. There are some very interesting things inside, (as well as the peace sign on the door), but it's priced so right, it has a lot of potential. Firstly, I love ivy-covered cottages, but the bushes need trimming and the weeds need pulling.

This house is in desperate need of staging. The round entrance hall can be absolutely stunning, and it's just "there," nothing special.

There's a nice big living room with double doors to a sunporch and a beautiful fireplace. Clouds are very hard to paint and the ceiling looks like an amateur just smeared some paint swirls up there.

Sadly, the ceiling artist also hit the fireplace, but that can be painted over.

Fancy grilles were added to the doors, but it's a cottage, so I like the plain window panes.

This is the porch that the doors open to. It needs staging to look more appealing. It's so dark, too.

Some people don't like galley kitchens, but they're named after ships kitchens and were developed b/c the layout is very efficient. I think it could use a little brighter backsplash.

There's a counter dividing the dining room which is spacious and has pretty, built-in corner china cabinets. That big window is beautiful- it needs a beautiful garden to look at.

Love this arched doorway and curving stairs together.

The guest powder room tile looks like a DIY.

Beautiful round landing. and arched doors. Love how you can see the chandelier.

I don't know if this is the primary bedroom, but I think it is. If it's not, then they didn't include it in the photos.

Because of the date and style of the house, original bathrooms will be small, standard 3pc.

This looks like an attic bedroom and buyers will see that it's hot up here b/c there are 3 fans lined up.

The best part of the house is the castle staircase to the basement. Look, it's so recent, they haven't even cleaned the mortar off the floor.

It looks like they're about to put new tiles on the hearth of this great fireplace.

Nice big finished basement.

And, there's a newer bath down here, too.

For the price, this house has so much potential. The brick patio needs a weeding, and it will be beautiful.

8,712 sq ft lot needs some work, but it can be a great yard and garden.

https://www.redfin.com/MI/Jackson/301-S-Brown-St-49203/home/102671090

[tainted-sweet-meats]

Im proud to announce that I am now an artist for South Street Art Mart brick-and-mortar store. You can now buy my merch officially from them. includes prints, stickers, and soon clothes. Things are selling out already on the first day so grab yourself something nice. link below Please support a queer own business only made possible by 2 lesbian women who make artists like me possible to sell. 40% of the money goes to funding other queer bipoc artists who sell here and keeps a local storefront possible. Run now get some stuff ! https://southstreetartmart.com/search?q=tainted+sweet+meats

things are already getting sold out omggg Also read tags, very important!!

[enchantedentries]

If I could, I would make journaling my career, but my little Etsy shop is struggle enough. I would love to open up a brick and mortar in my home town and sell local artist’s stationary and stickers. And it would also be a cafe and a library and there would be cats!

[trungles]

Your art brings me a sense of nostalgia for something that was never mine, but that I somehow miss all the same... I don't think I'm making any sense, but you have a beyond captivating style. Do you have a shop or any other way to support you?

My Patreon is where I make longer, more involved posts about my process. It's where I put most of my commentary and behind-the-scenes stuff, and I tend to post stuff from projects that I'm working on and haven't been released just yet. I'm working on writing more posts that are free to the public so people can subscribe to it like a newsletter without having to pay for it.

My INPRNT Store is where you can buy prints of my work. I love INPRNT's print quality. It's the best. Plus, INPRNT gives artists the biggest cut of any print service I can recall - 50% for art prints, 40% for canvas prints, and 30% for metal and acrylic prints. They're great.

My debut graphic novel, The Magic Fish, has won a bunch of awards, and I still find myself doing a lot of author talks and tours in new language territories for it. I'm immensely proud of it. If you can't buy it, please request it at your local libraries. Requesting and checking out books at libraries is a fantastic way to support authors because it encourages the library to keep it in circulation! This has become especially important nowadays since book banning efforts have occasionally swept this book up in their lists because of its queer themes and exploration of immigrant experiences. This book is available in English, French, Italian, Korean, Brazilian Portuguese, and eventually German and Spanish (I think?) as well.

My Tarot Deck, The Star Spinner Tarot, was my first project published through a traditional book publisher! It was the project I started right out of college to teach myself how to be an illustrator, so I'm still very fond of every image I created for it. I would try and order it through a brick-and-mortar bookstore if possible because there are a TON of knock-off decks circulating around the world for some reason. I've linked to Powell's here. There are two official versions, one in English and one in French (Le tarot des royaumes célestes).

[rocketorca]

Hi, I'm Amber!

I'm the Project Manger for Kobold Press. I am a co-owner of the ttrpg publishing company & brick and mortar store Cloud Curio (it has a tumblr too!). And I also do illustration and design work under rocketorca design, mostly revolving around lil goblins! I've been on tumblr since 2011 and I'm back baby!

It's been rough out here as an artist and small business owner with all the social media shake ups. T.T So I'm going back to my roots, tumblr & instagram. Though you can find me bluesky as well.

[tangledbea]

Have you ever worked for Disney in any capacity? Like at a store or a theme park or anything? Have you ever been part of the Disney “family”? (If you could even call it a family lol)

I heard anyone who works for Disney in any way gets some kind of theme park benefit.

I have never worked for Disney in any capacity. Disneyland is too far away from me for it to have been a viable job (I'm not driving 40 minutes to two hours depending on traffic to and from work to make minimum wage at what, it turns out, is a grueling job). I wanted briefly to work at the animation studio in, perhaps, the archives, but that literally requires an eight-year curator/librarian degree. Speaking realistically (as in I know my limits) and not modestly, I'm not a good enough artist to draw for them. I probably am a good enough writer, but I don't want to write professionally or else I'd have pursued it by now. And I never wanted to work at the Disney Store (when there were still copious brick and mortar stores) because again, minimum wage, but also retail. Yuck.

My mom worked at the Disney Store one summer when I was a kid (she was a public school teacher and they need summer jobs because they aren't paid while school's not in session), and I don't think she ever got any theme park benefits.

[kolajmag]

COLLAGE ON VIEW

Fiber Reimagined II

at Gravers Lane Gallery in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA through 20 September 2024. This exhibition is an ongoing in-print, online and brick-and-mortar exhibition designed to showcase new and exciting works of art using innovative and alternative materials and processes. Conceived of and juried by Fiber Art Now‘s creative team, there are no geographic boundaries as artists are challenged to interpret what constitutes “Fiber Reimagined”. The staff at Fiber Art Now were the first round judges and chose the works accepted for the in-print and online showcase. Gravers Lane Gallery approached the selected works from the perspective of curating as a physical installation, which is a much different mindset, approaching the physicality, materiality and creative design. Read More

*****************************

Kolaj Magazine, a full color, print magazine, exists to show how the world of collage is rich, layered, and thick with complexity. By remixing history and culture, collage artists forge new thinking. To understand collage is to reshape one's thinking of art history and redefine the canon of visual culture that informs the present.

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