#background art is inspired by a photo I took from a road trip

[localcreamery]

I bring you a drawing I once intended to shade and color the lineart but since then haven't finished it. This one has been sitting around for a while so I thought to finally instead post about it.

Here we see Ailbhe and Primrose having a wonderful time on a trip to the ocean. They found a good spot to rest and cuddle under a pine tree together. Ailbhe even made outfits for the occassion!

[twistednuns]

July 2023

Four days in the Manú Rainforest. This trip really didn't start out ideal when my phone fell out of my bag, straight into the river. The crazy thing though: when we went river tubing, Ángel checked the spot again and found it! It had been in the river for two days and it still showed signs of life. Incredible. What I learned: I need to stop looking for distractions, trying to use other people to manage my emotions, and seeing my life trough a camera lens. // More good stuff: Ron teaching me Sanskrit in the van. / All the amazing plants and wildlife we saw on our daily (and nightly) jungle treks. A sloth mama with her baby. All kinds of monkeys and birds (red and green macaws, oropendulas, blue-headed parrots, even a small toucan). Ants in all colours and sizes. An agouti and a bush rat. Big spiders, a small snake and the tiniest frogs. A cayman. Ancient parasite trees, Palo Santo, erotic roots, exotic flowers. / Ángel's telescope and binoculars. / My room with a 360° view. / Regular visits from a tame peccary lady. She enjoyed scratchies behind her ears like a dog and rubbed against our legs. / That full moon night at the lake, a background of jungle noises: howling, croaking, squeaking. Magical. / Chef Jeff's delicious food. / The crazy little kitten at the lodge. / I got along very well with Agathe and Teva. They're going to send me their photos from the trip! / Lessons on hyperindependence: "You know, when I offer you help you should really take it." / Enjoying the boat ride and the view over the rainforest with low-hanging clouds. / Reading a whole book in one go on the way back.

Laura class about the foundations of Human Design. I even booked a reading with her.

Raw vegan cheesecake at Café Kula. I've tried three different ones so far!

Meeting Winni, one of the owners of SolSeed. Such an inspiration. I would love to create a space like that.

Joining a laughing circle one evening. It was an absolutely ridiculous experience. Imitation, accents, animal noises, laughing at tough life events, declaring thumb wars, pure comedy. So glad I took a hit of that spliff before the event.

Another breathwork session with my girl Ari back in Pisac. Going to higher spheres during the retentions. I didn't draw the Past Lives card again but Breakthrough and Ripeness. Afterwards we talked for a long time. About our plans and experiences, Human Design, plant medicine, this and that. I can't wait to meet her again some day.

A Human Design reading with Laura.

Painting intuitively with watercolors and charcoal. Drawing tarot cards, weaving their meaning into the painting. Explaining the ideas to the others in a sharing circle. It felt so nice to just sit down and paint, have access to art supplies on the road.

My second experiment with plant medicine at Ayasana Wasi. It was a very intimate ceremony with Magnus and Lynn from the Netherlands and our hosts Pia and Luca. I felt a lot of sympathy and gratitude for everyone. Luca's sound bath was incredible and Pia basically brought me back to reality. After the ceremony, all four cats explored the maloca and Kali (my favourite) enjoyed cuddles and conversation. My experience is quite hard to integrate because I was shown pure bliss and it felt like I'd died and come back to my human form. What is even real anymore?

Another otherworldly massage with Raphael. Dhruva had already done an amazing job the week before but Raphael really put a lot of time and love into it. I felt cared for and caressed like a cat at some point.

Vida Vegan saved me on a nasty travel day by holding on to my backpacks for a few hours! It was lovely to meet Eric and Jacqueline for the last time and eat some delicious tomato soup. Their food always looks like straight out of a Michelin star restaurant. And I tried llullucha for the first time. Enya's Sail Away on the radio. Green apple soap.

Actually being able to sleep on the night bus after a grumpy evening. Arriving in Puno (still sleeping so the driver had to wake me up), the hotel allowed me to check in at 6am. Grateful.

A boat ride to Uros, the floating islands of Lake Titicaca. Meeting two cats / taking the cat boat.

Buying strawberries, blueberries, a clementine and a lúcuma at the market. An afternoon nap, dreaming of being in the Andes.

Looking at old photos. Realising how much beauty, love and abundance there is in my life. I can't wait to go home. Anticipation.

Frank Zappa's genius.

I treated myself to another Clear Minds Meditation Club hoodie and a longsleeve from Rip'n'Dip.

Taking an early bus to Copacabana. Biting into sour tutti frutti gummy tubes - the taste reminded me of BumBum ice cream. Finally feelt like updating Instagram. Instant feedback from my friends. Sitting on the right side: The view was gorgeous. Hills, wide open fields and Lake Titicaca in the background. So many animals. Mainly sheep, alpacas and cows, but I also saw a kitty and a pig family with lots of little piglets!

I fell down on my way to the hotel upon arriving in Bolivia and hurt my knees. But I moved into my gorgeous little bungalow (stained glass windows, domed ceiling, view over the lake), lit a fire, made cinnamon tea and a hot water bottle. Ate snacks in bed/ordered food and had a video call with Do. She even shared her Netflix password with me and prescribed watching Gilmore Girls. Slow travel. I might stay another night.

The view from the waterfront. Isla de la Luna against a snow-covered mountain pass. Little ducks with pastel blue beaks. The soothing sound of the water.

Stumbling upon a cute souvenir for Do. Treating myself to two pairs of earrings and a necklace. Helping the lady in the shop change the chain, having a lovely little conversation. Learning about ametrine/bolivianite, a mixture of amethyst and citrine. Two of my favourite crystals. Now I really want to get one. A cute souvenir for myself.

Egg and cheese sandwiches. Ordering too much passion fruit juice. Getting it to go in an empty water bottle. A cherry popsicle with gelatin.

A bright and inspired morning before leaving for La Paz. A shower (hot water!), snuggling up in bed, discovering a career coach I really resonate with. Feeling light, positive, happy. Grateful, aligned, realizing that I have all that I need and more. That I need to work on shifting my focus away from the perceived scarcity and see the abundance there is in my life.

The photo Do sent me of the knot she'd finally made into a cherry stem. Mit dir ist gut Kirschenessen.

On the bus to La Paz. Super pretty views. Even seeing nandus. Listening to a gratitude mantra (Jhené Aiko - 'alive & well'). Going on a deep dive into Human Design unconscious charts. I created a birth chart for my design date and according to that my unconsciousness presents as an Aquarius (with quite a bit of Aries mixed in). I resonate so much with that!

David Bowie - Modern Love

My room in La Paz had heating and two big windows overlooking this crazy city and the mountains. I could lie right by the window and bask in the morning sun. And they had real baguette at breakfast, not only that empty, airy bread they usually serve in South America.

Walking through the streets with Rem. Eating my first tumbo at the mercado. Learning about the famous prison at Plaza Sucre where you have to pay rent but can bring your whole family. Bolivian superstition and turbulent politics. Dehydrated potatoes. We walked into a church and they had the same painting of Bisexual Jesus as that store in Belize. And the Virgen de los Remedios wore a blue and magenta dress with silver glitter stars. Catholicism really hits different in the Americas.

Accidentally ending up in a vegan restaurant with a fancy tasting menu. They served me five courses for only 100 bolivianos. I would have never expected this! And right after lunch, I went to the art museum and I was such an amazing experience! Usually I'm a bit disappointed when it comes to art museums around here but this one was top notch. Inspired.

I had fun watching a Cholita wrestling show from the balcony. The smell of sweaty plastic clothing reminded me of children's carnival parties. Now that I think of it, that was a very smell-focused day in general. Chewing gum on the bus reminding me of my teenage years, going out at night. A whiff of someone's cooking strongly reminding me of my grandma's kitchen.

Browsing the stores at the Witches' Market. They had all kinds of amulets, spells, powders and potions, herbs and incense. My backpack is full of obscure objects now. I wonder if they'll let me through customs.

I treated myself to a beautiful ametrine and a piece of an agate geode.

Only ordering food that doesn't exist on the menu in an Indian restaurant. A delicious choice. The owner called me princesa and I kinda liked it.

Warm Bounty porridge: coconut milk, dark chocolate, too much sugar.

Spending my last day in La Paz riding the teleférico up to El Alto. Amazing view of the mountains and the cemetery. Trying to find one of the famous Cholets I ran into a big parade for La Paz Day! I saw a store for Cholita skirts, browsed cheap cosmetics stores and enjoyed a bottle of cold sparkling water (I'd been searching for that for hours).

Ice-cream testing: the winner is clearly the sour fruit popsicle. Second place: a scoop of creamy cherimoya at the train station. Loser: Canela shaved ice. Tasted like the coating of Big Red chewing gum with a ton of sugar. Inedible.

I LOVED our tour through the Uyuni salt desert. It must have been one of the most fascinating and diverse places I've ever seen: crunchy white infinity / fun photos: "I'm a snack!" and asanas on an elephant trunk / finding the Bavarian flag at the salt hostel and a big Rallye Dakar sign / my lovely company - Bismarck, Leo and the girl gang: Hannah, Satoko, Tas and Verity / all the animals I saw: foxes, vicuñas, viscachas, flamingos - even a cat at Cactus Island / red wine and snacks at sunset / laughing so much together, comparing MILFs and cougars, listening to Babymetal on the road / the breathtaking vistas of the desert valleys, huge rocks, marvellous lagoons, volcanoes / a lava field that looked like the surface of Mars / bulbous green coral (?) formations / Burning Man vibes at the train cemetery, the Road to Nowhere (well, actually train tracks to Chile) / geysers and a hot spring that saved my toes from freezing off //

Stargazing in the Atacama desert. I've never had such a clear view of the Milky Way before. And for the first time, I saw Saturn through the telescope - the rings were clearly visible! There were tons of shooting stars coming down. Magical.

A cute little tienda with handicrafts made by local female artists. A lovely denim jacket and a very fluffy and adorable dog. Big boi. I cuddled and played with so many dogs in San Pedro. Highly unusual for me. Pretty ceramics and jewellery stores. Inspiration everywhere.

Witnessing an encounter of two cowboys on their horses on a street corner.

Touching a big meteorite a the Museo del Meteorito. Making a wish.

The thinnest possible crescent moon with a circular Earth shadow.

Going on a bike tour to Garganta del Diablo with Hannah. We even had to cross a river so we took off our boots and pushed the biked through the water. Quite an adventure. The walk through the canyon was longer than expected and in the end a steep mountain waited for me. I'm kinda proud of myself for turning around halfway, taking into account my bad knees and difficulties climbing down. Riding back during Golden Hour was lovely - the harsh shadows of the rock formations along the river and the desert trees made the landscape look like an African savanna in a way. We rewarded ourselves with a big batch of ice-cream.

Visiting my 40th country - Chile. Getting out of the Bolivian border scam with a firm no. Entering a different world. It's fascinating how a virtual line on a map can create such opposite realities. Chile is such a rich, western country and a striking contrast to Bolivia in many ways.

Listening to my emotions. Booking a flight home. I feel so much better already. I let all my friends know that I'm coming home and we're making plans for the summer. I need to soak up some love and sunshine. It was tough beating the fear of missing out on an opportunity to see the Galapagos islands or go diving in the Caribbean. But I'll see it as something to look forward to - now I wouldn't really be able to enjoy it anyway.

Many cats on my street in Santiago. A cat cafe just around the corner! They even offer yoga classes. My very cosy bed. Hard to leave. Entering a big Chilean supermarket. Feels like home already.

Discovering waacking, a dance style with dramatic arm movements.

Retail therapy. I bought so many pretty little things in Santiago and I love them all! Especially the lipgloss from the kids department with a glitter star snow globe on top.

The taxi driver with two Freddy Mercury figurines on his dashboard who played Living on my Own for me on the way to the airport.

Jodie Foster's space travel experience in Contact made me cry.

Being back. Hanging out with Manu, goofing around. Cuddling, making food for each other, getting way too comfortable around each other. It's so nice not to be alone for a change.

A lemon ice cream flavoured smoothie. Butterbreze and Yogurette (lemon buttermilk!).

Survival of the Thickest - what a stylish, empowering show. FUN.

An amazingly empathetic Thai massage from Ploy. I'll be back.

An ice cream walk with Raphael. Meeting Do for the first time in months. It was really good to see her!

I ordered the "kiddie party" ice cream and wasn't disappointed: two lollipops, gummy candy and rainbow sprinkles.

Being able to move back to my apartment earlier than planned. Doris helped me so much with the move! We had breakfast together at IKEA and ice-cream in LA. She defended me against my brother. Talked some sense into me. I'm very grateful! After I returned the car, Manu ordered my favourite pizza for me and let me sleep on his sofa one more time so I wouldn't have to go back to my absolutely chaotic flat.

Café Mozart, fancy drinks and the Barbie movie with the Friendzone.

[critter-of-habit]

i adore your art so so so much, it's stunning. please share some art advice, esp. in regards to painting/rendering? also what's your art process and do you use references at all?

Take a look here - it’s all the ‘process gifs’ I’ve made and you can see all steps I generally go through on an artwork!

When it comes to painting/rendering don’t be afraid to use lots of layers - if you want to try something out when painting but you’re worried you’ll mess up what you’ve done so far, duplicate the layer so you have a backup! I do this a lot.  Some small pictures I might only have 4 or 5 layers in the end, but I’ve hit 130 layers once 😬

I use references all the time and I absolutely encourage beginner artists to get comfortable using them too! Referencing life is how you learn to draw it. What I tend to do if I have a definite concept in mind is draw as much as I can from memory, and then if I’m not confident with the proportions I’ll find a similar posed reference photo and compare the two to make sure it’s accurate enough (or, take a photo of myself if I can’t find something perfect! I generally do this for hands)  If I’m drawing backgrounds or objects I’ll look up references first because I’m not as confident with those - sometimes I’ll get a whole collection of references together first, like with the ‘space road trip’ picture I did, I looked up a bunch of different ship cockpit interiors first and took inspiration from all of them to get the look I wanted.

[thorsstorms]

Abroad Pt. 19

Summary: Being the Hemsworth Kids’ Nanny, you were vowed to keep it strictly professional for their sake, but do the stolen glances go unnoticed between you both?

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: y’all know I’m a bitch for angst by now right?

A/N: @hildehuffles this ones for you. ALSO. THE YOUTUBE CHANNEL IM TALKING ABOUT IS YES THEORY. I was in Venice a couple weeks ago, and felt like adding in a little get away like I had done. I told no one I was going and literately hopped on a plane with an Airbnb secured. #SeekDiscomfort also one of the best trips to LA I had ever taken. 10/10 recommend. 

Masterlist

Your eyes were glued to the generously sized television screen mounted on the wall, holding the flimsy bottle of water tight in your hands. The conversation took a swift turn with only a sentence spoken and it was the two of you dressed at the premier that was painting the background. You knew she was only doing this to tease him, and the sly comments he made in turn settled your nerves.

“So Chris… Who? Who‘s that?” His eyes were drawn to the monitor, not startled at all by her outburst but calm, with a telltale pink tint creeping up and a squinty eyed smile trying to stay buried.

The crowd whoops in retaliation.

He stayed silent a moment more, staring at the monitor, thinking of a way to answer until the crowd calms down. The comedian looks mischievous, obviously taking pride in his suffering though she knows exactly who you are now. The crowd doesn’t need to know that detail. She only means to tease, it’s who she was!

He folds his hands, rubbing them together before simply saying, “I have never seen that woman in my life.” Obviously joking. 

“Oh come on!” she pushed, glowing eyes with a smile stretching across her cheeks.

“Yea, yea. That is my girly-friend, you could say. It’s-It’s weird to say that because I feel like she’s more than just a girlfriend, you know?” He glances again back at the large picture behind him before running a hand down the side of his face, focusing back forwards. He knows you are just watching the screen, glued to the screen at that, in the green room. He didn't know what you were thinking! It could go one of two ways in his mind. Absolutely silently losing your mind or laughing in retaliation to his discomfort of not knowing what to say. Hopefully the latter.

“Oh! I know.” She jokes, full on laughing at him while he smirks but stares daggers playfully. She knows you were more than just a girlfriend in his mind now, but how could he resist the shot of you meeting and hugging Ellen Degeneres and not stick the ring up and snap a photo of the moment while you were faced away? She was a trustworthy person, or so he hoped. Not proven wrong so far.

“Okay, Okay,” she settles herself. “So tell me, where did you find her?” She was keen to the details.

“Uhh- The internet,” he says without missing a beat. You almost choke on your own spit at his fast response, not knowing whether to laugh or crawl into a hole. But the crowd loved it, laughing. He sure got a kick out of the response, thinking he, himself, was funny. Loser.

“You are joking.” Ellen says, dead panning him.

“No, no really. My, uh, my manager found her for me.” He continues on, deceiving the crowd. Depriving them of the whole truth.

“Oh my god, Chris,” you mutter to yourself in the quiet room. Ellen got a kick out of that even more, stopping him from continuing down this road. He obviously was not going to give straight forward answers.

“Okay, okay.” She switches to a different question. “So…” She dragged out for an effect. Maybe just to make him squirm.

“Oh no,” he mumbled. She just had a look, a look that told that she had so many wrong questions under her sleeve.

“You filming something Chris?” The crowd slowly grew to giggle when he didn’t answer. Just stared her down trying not to react.

“Do you have, like, anything I can answer?!” He burst with a chuckle, wiping his palms on his thighs. “I’m just in town, and agreed to come see you and you treat me like this!” His smile was bright while she muttered apologies, laughing at his distress.

The interview eventually calmed down, them playing a rapid fire game afterwards. You finally settle into the couch to watch the interactions.

That was so not as bad as it could have been. He knew what he was doing during interviews anyway, or you had hoped.

~

You slept in the next morning, only waking to acknowledge that he was leaving for the day. This was a free day to yourself and sleeping in as long as you wanted seemed like the best way to start.

He left you with a mere kiss on the nose before he trudged out the door. The night before was yet another dismissal and it left you flustered and annoyed as all get out, so the day to yourself was the best present around.

Regardless of how much you thought you wanted a calm day, you were texting him by noon, telling him you were bored. By the time he replied, a mere 45 minutes later you were already sucked into YouTube. You found a new channel that piqued your interest and were easily four videos in.

“Sorry princess. Come with me tomorrow?”

You read the preview and sighed, ignoring it for the moment and pressed play on the video again. These guys in the videos were entertaining... inspiring, even.

By the time the fifth video started, their names were easily remembered. What sparked interest even more was the fact that they are based out of Venice Beach, a mere 45 minute drive through LA, on a good day at least.

The video of them walking the sidewalks interviewing strangers that were bold enough to go on an adventure made you want to feel the same sun they were obviously surrounded in. The couch had been your home for the last hour, a window open to let in some light, shining gold streaks through the room, but it wasn't enough.

The rules that plagued yourself were on a repeat in your head as you clicked on another video, then another, and another. You were not supposed to be spending too much time staring at a screen. You weren't supposed to drive, or go out on your own because you are still healing. You're not supposed to be in such sunny areas it could hurt your eyes still. Don't do this, don't do that.

It is suffocating. Infuriating that the list of long don'ts probably repeats through Chris’s head like a mantra, that's why he won't touch you. That's why he won't let you touch him.

Anger slowly flowed through your mind as you started to lose focus on the video playing. You closed the app and opened google maps, staring at the words ‘Venice Beach’ in correlation to where you were stuck inside, across the city. It was like torturing yourself. A silent battle of wanting to just go, go and then think about it later.

You slowly rolled your shoulders back as you sat up on the cushions of the couch that were not as comfy as you had hoped. The time on the lock screen taunted back at you. You could go and make it back in enough time to be home before Chris got back. You scoffed at the thought. He wouldn't be happy, but you were an adult. A very capable adult who can make their own choices. Staying in your bubble of Byron almost makes you forget your own sense of independence. He doesn't get to decide what you can and can't do.

The bathroom light shone a tad brighter than the natural lighting in the living room, eyes squinting quickly at the flush. You moved to the sink to wash your face, pulled a hair tie to braid your hair, and picked out some clothes.

Double checking for your wallet and phone in your purse brought on second thoughts. You never answered his text. He probably wouldn't notice for a while anyway. You pushed away the small ache of neglect that settled inside, it wasn't his fault. He was working. It’s when he wasn't working, that's when brush offs hurt the most.

Checking your makeup again in the mirror to make sure the covering was adequate over the blueing bruises, you made your way out, pulling the door behind you after ordering an Uber to Venice.

Los Angeles wasn't all the glitz and glam that movies made it out to be. You learned that pretty fast last time you all had been here, with the kids. Having a temporary place in Burbank meant crossing the city often, though a quick commute for Chris. The studios were not but a 6 minute drive away. Ideal, yes. But fun, no.

The drive seemed quick, the driver was slightly chattier than what you thought was normal but you were not complaining. You may have just had a week with more adult action than you’d had in the last few months combined but you were never one to be impolite. You didn't say much, only that you've never visited Venice before and didn't know why, so you just said ‘why not?’.

When the vehicle came to a stop and a moment of regret flushed forward, but you pushed it back quick. Going by yourself was not the worst thing in the world. How else were you going to be able to see what you wanted to see? You didn't know anybody here in L.A. other than Chris. It wasn't like you could call Miley up and ask her to stroll around town with you. Well, you could. But - not like this.

You adjusted your own sunglasses as you walked the last block towards the water. The art on the walls were bright and gave off calm vibes. A skateboard whizzed past you quickly, catching you off guard. You sidestepped to the right of the sidewalk and watched him ride past you and others, closer towards the shops. Clutching your bag closer to your body, you continued, rounding the corner to what was familiar from the videos you had been so enamoured with.

Towering palm trees. Bikes, so many bikes. So many skateboards. You looked around a moment after making sure you were out of the walk way, admiring the ease of the people around. The skatepark up on the hill and the art lining the sidewalks it was all what you hoped to see from the video.

The shops were cute, making your way through a few. So many surf shops and all you could think about was guilt that Chris didn't know you left the apartment. Everything reminds you of him. A fire fight started in your brain - consisting of respect you had for having a partner versus having a sense of independency. You didn't have to disclose every footstep, you never expected him to, at least.

The spiral of your thoughts continued as you strolled across the sidewalks, leaving behind the shops. You took a seat in the grass overlooking the busy basketball courts and pulled your phone out. Ignoring the warmth on your shoulders from the sun, you checked for any notifications and were met with none.

Did you have a right to feel the way you were feeling at the moment?

Was it selfish? Was it hormones? Forget that.

But were you chalking it up to be something more, just a spiral of thoughts when he wasn't there to discredit them? Your clouds caused a moment of zoning out as you pondered.

You both spent all day yesterday together, he even made you dinner, working in the kitchen with music playing while you watched him from the couch. Admiring and happy to see him. A glint in your eyes that stayed, unsubdued. A girl can't help but be worked up when she had gone so long without him, pregnancy hormones were no help to the cause. All you wanted was for him to acknowledge what you had been repeatedly showing off.

You were horny.

There was no other way to put it. And a healing head injury was not going to magically make the want disappear, even if it seemed to have made the want disappear from himself. The thought made your stomach clench, remembering when he turned around and caught you staring at him with lustful, shameless eyes.

He knew the look. He knew it very well. But what happened when his eyes met you made your blood run cold, your feet quickly allowing you to leave the room so the hitch in your breath wasn't caught by his ears.

He had looked away from your gaze with a sigh, turning his back to you. Another word didn't leave his mouth until he had come to find you in the bedroom to tell you that dinner was ready. He stopped himself from pushing open the door when he heard you talking. The sadness in your voice, clouded with tears as you spoke to whoever was on the other line.

“We had such a good day, I had such a good day,” you corrected. “But, but I just-” you stopped a moment, taking in a shaking breath to gather your thoughts. He looked at his feet, bowing his head when the upset nature of the phone call settled in his mind.

“I just miss him so much Bri, and I feel like he just doesn't see me. I feel -”

Your speech was cut off by yelling through the line of the phone. You sucked in a breath and it came out in a shudder, trying to calm your own emotions. He didn't know what she was saying but it silenced you. He felt heavy with guilt that he was the source of your anguish. He needed to stop being weak. He was scared to hurt you but here he was, causing you pain repeatedly until he was the source of your tears. He didn't know if you were crying or not, but he could feel the pain and confusion behind your words.

You started to wrap up the call. A sting of “I know”s and “Okay”s spilled off your tongue and he made his way back to the kitchen, hoping you wouldn't feel upset if you knew that he was listening.

He stood plating the stir fry when you made your way back into the room with a grim smile, peaking at him and muttering ‘thank you’.

You remembered how he led you to the couch and played a random movie on the TV while you ate. He pulled you close to him when you both cleared you plates. The rush that had flooded through you made you blush. You sat there snuggled to him for almost an hour before you both headed to bed and he didn't touch you again.  He said all the right things, but words were hard at having such a meaning when his actions were iffy.

“I love you.”

“I'm glad you're here with me.”

“I missed you.”

“I love you, so much,” he would say with a rub on your arm.

A small kiss to your temple and you rolled on your side away from him, closing your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, he felt a bit of his heart break away when he watched you reach for the blankets and tug them to your shoulders, seeking them out for warmth rather than himself.

The empty notification screen mocked you, clicking the phone off once again. You looked up at your surroundings to admire the feel. It was busy, but not uncomfortably so. The skatepark behind you was bustling, and so were the basketball courts in front of you. But right there, where the grass was a soft green and you leaned against the raised plateau behind you, it was serene. Fairly quiet for the crowd around, but it was as if the sound didn't carry. The seagulls above were gliding, and the faint clicks of skate wheels hitting the ground blurred into the background noise of music coming from the shops.

It was a good spot to think. Something you have alway done far too much of.

The buzz in your hand had you snaping your head towards it, a dull ache spreading down your neck at the swift movement. The message had you jumping to your feet, making your way to the corner where you were dropped off.

“Almost done here. In the mood to go out for food?”

~

He beat you home, only by a minute though it seemed. As you were stepping out of the car and thanking the driver, your phone started ringing. You declined, tossing it into the mess of a purse you had as you made your way inside to the elevators, favoring talking to him in person instead.

The ride up seemed to go by faster than any other time before, allowing your nerves to revv in the light of Chris possibly being upset. The padding of your shoes made it to the door, your hand pushing it open.

His eyes met yours when the door opened and unsurprisingly the first words out of his mouth were, “where were you?”

“I just needed to get out for a bit,” you acknowledged lightly, setting your purse on the counter tops. You didn't meet his eyes, turning your back and digging for your phone. His voice was laced with curiosity, not expecting you to not be there when he arrived, even if you were only off by a mere minute or two.

“Where did you go?” He asked, keeping his feet planted. You turn to see him. He truly had just gotten here, a bag still thrown over his shoulder and shoes still on his feet. His brows furrowed as you met his eyes and then diverted from them again, absentmindedly rubbing your temple where bruises were covered.

“I went to Venice Beach, I haven't been there before and I just want to walk aro-”

“How did you get to Venice? Did you go by yourself?” He worried on with a malice tone. Your ears were growing red as he spoke.

“Yes I went by myself, who else would I have gone with?” You hissed at him. You could already feel your hands shaking. You knew you had worked yourself up today while you were out and were just waiting for the point to start a fight. Still completely confused on whether he deserved it or not, but you were beyond frustrated.

“I don't know anybody here! I have one friend who I barely see! Yes! I went by myself. I needed to be around people. I'm lonely!” You raised your voice at him. He stepped towards you with his hands out when your defense shot up. You crossed your arms around yourself protectively, delivering a sign of needing to be comforted, even if by your own arms.

“I'm sick of being by myself!” You told him as he grew closer, watching with pained eyes as you laid it out for him. “I just - God I don’t know. I just - I needed to get out and do something.”

“Hey,” he calmed. “Im right here.”

“No, Chris!” You pushed his outstretched hands away from your own. “You're not.” You took a deep breath while he stood speechless, catching an eyeful of the hurt you were carrying on your shoulders.

“Princess,” he pleaded, waiting for you to take a look at him but your eyes were wandering to any surface but his.You couldn't get the right words out to say. It had always been like this when you grew frustrated, your own vocabulary runs from your thoughts. You grew silent as a tear finally fell from your eyes but was quickly wiped away by his own fingers. When you didn't protest his touch he took that as a good sign. He muttered your name in surrender.

“What do you want me to do?” He watched for a reaction. “Tell me what I can do.” He was at a loss. Spending more time apart than together was a strain that was eerily familiar and it pressed down on him so hard he was ready to beg for understanding. He wanted to understand what he could do to make this better but what you said next caught him off guard, rendering him silent and confused.

“Do you love me?”

His eyes burned at the yearning of your question. The watery eyes that flicked to his in search of an answer. His lips were dropped open at the turn of events this evening had taken. He thought about this evening all day. He was going to let you choose the place for dinner and shower you with dessert, with love, and affection to make up for what he had overheard. He wanted to show you the beautiful diamond that had your name written all over it and ask a very important question.

He was too quiet, mulling over how he had gotten to this point while you stood with uncertainty, continuing on your quest of finding answers.

“I know I'm starting to look different,” your head bowed at the revelation that he might not like what he sees. “And we are so far apart alot, but I'm still me.”

He spoke your name, drawing himself from his silent trance, wanting you to stop now and not speak another incredulous word.

“My face,” you whispered sadly. “It will go away in a little bit...” The whole in your chest was opening, grabbing a hold of your voice and refusing to let another word out.

“Baby, stop,” his words filled the empty void when yours ceased. He eyed a hand of yours making its way to your neck, a sign of discomfort. He stopped it in its tracks and pulled you to his chest.

His arms cocooned you, holding you far too tight to be comfortable, but you needed it. To feel he was there and there with you. He pressed you head to his chest with the revelation of disregarding his own hesitancy of somehow hurting you with his touch. His heartbeat melding with your own as you froze, slowly melting your guard until tears wet his shirt.

If his goal was to keep you from harm, he failed. It was proven when you released the tension from your shoulders against his grip. His words repeated until you showed signs of listening. Words of reassurance and love. Words filled with apologies and pleads for you to forgive him for causing you this pain. He was naive to think of you in such a way. To make up a version of yourself that was weak or fragile. He lost sight of the fire you have in your veins when happiness emits from your aura. The glow you have when your body shakes from laughter. The strong independent girl that rounded the corner of his kitchen and introduced herself without a glitch of uncertainty. But here you were asking for reassurance and he knew it was his own fault.

You cried in his arms, letting him carry your weight from the room before he sat down on the bed and let you take a moment to breathe, curled atop his knees and listening to his voice.

“Hey,” He said, lifting a hand from your shoulder to run over his face, drying the wetness that plagued his own skin. “You are so beautiful that it takes my breath away. Perfect. And I mean in every sense. You will always be perfect. Princess I never want to hear you say those words again. You are so perfect. And always will be. We have a little baby growing.” You took a deep breath, picking your head off his shoulder and reaching down to lay a hand over the swell in your tummy.

“A baby!” He said, laying a hand over your own, though waiting for you to meet his eyes again. “You will look different, princess, and I will be here and love every single minute of it. I promise. No doctor appointments with Bri, I will be here. And this,” He brushed your hair away from your face, fingers lingering against your scalp. Your head tilted up and basked in the touch.

“This I take responsibility for. It eats me up inside, but you still take my breath away. Every time, and always will.” He watched as you looked at him and listened intimately to what he was saying. “And I want to be the person you go places with. You can go alone if you like,” he added, “but I will never not want to be by your side. Do you understand me?”

You look on a second more, gauging his expression and contemplating his words before you nod. “No more tears, please.” His hands moved to cradle your face, thumbs clearing the skin and in a flash his lips met yours. Filled with promise, he kissed you like you wished he would for days. You craved his taste and was letting you have it, finally feeding into the small fire in the pit of your stomach.

“I love you so much,” he whispered against your lips.

“I have something I want to show you,” he admitted, pulling away. A deep, clarifying breath escaped your lungs and he rubbed your back in turn, reaching in his pocket for his phone with the other hand.

His fingers fumbled across the screen, having to reenter the password twice. You looked away and laid your head into the crock of his neck, closing your eyes. Whatever it was, surely it could wait while your heart mellowed to a regular pace.

The peace was cut short when he whispered your name again, drawing your eyes open. He pushed his phone from his hand and into yours.

“There’s an album right here with your name on it.” You looked on at his camera albums listed on the bright screen. “And I want you to look through it.” He was certain with his words, urging you on.

“Why?” you asked, looking back up at him.

“I love you so much princess, I just want to show you, I want for you to know it and never question it again.” His sincerity was clear, nodding back down towards the phone in your hands. You opened it without a word and clicked on a photo. It was nice, from a few months back, but neither you nor India were looking towards him. She sat in front of you on the kitchen counter, clearly way past her bedtime. Both of you sneaking a bowl of ice cream but what stood out was the smile adorning both of your faces. Crazy hair and slightly sunburned cheeks laughing at each other. You remembered the night clearly, both of you having a private running joke to see how much ice cream you both could eat before Papa notices and “makes us eat salad for dinner”.

You sneaked a look up at him after glancing at the photo, “You know we sneak ice cream all the time, right?”

“Sure do,” he laughed in return. “Keep going.”

You looked back down at the phone and swiped to see another. A photo snuck from the doorway while you rested your head in your hand, elbows on the table as you watched the boys write something out on some paper in the homeschool room, reaching out with the other hand to point at something on Tristans’ sheet.

The next one was you sitting at the foot of the couch while India stood tall above you trying to put a braid in your locks while Sasha sat on your legs with a book in his hand. It was serene, calm. You pressed down on the picture to watch the Live, a short clip of fingers tangling in your hair and Sasha's voice reading aloud. You stifle a smile at it.

The next made you suck in a breath. You were sleeping in his bed at home, the sheet barely covering you. The curve of your back disappearing into the sheets, obviously sleeping in the nude, unaware of the camera pointed at you.

“Chris!” You teased, looking at him. And smirked and shrugged his shoulders, encouraging you again to continue. You brought your attention back to the photos, swiping through more and more. There were many and you kept going at a steady pace until another caught your eye.

You brought the screen to your eyes to examine it, brows furrowing in curiosity. Sasha’s room, although slightly messy, was easily recognizable as you lounged on the bed in the background, lying next to the boy.

Fingers trapping a small ring with an identifiable glow thrusting off the jewel perched atop. The pads of your fingers zoomed in on the object, at the same time, fairly sure your lungs stopped working.

You quickly swiped to the next picture, though the same ring adorned the foreground.

This time you stood against the bathroom counter brushing out your hair.  The circle of jewelry resting around his own finger, reaching just below the first knuckle before it got stuck. You stared at the daring ring, resisting the urge to look at the man whose chest was pressed against your shoulder, whose arm rested across your back, rubbing gently, urging for you to continue.

You covered your mouth at the next one, fingers resting across your lips in astonishment. The bare skin of your shoulders were accented by the waves of your hair falling over them. Eyes closed, rested against his chest in search of sleep. He was cheeky, smiling in the photo, showing off a glowin diamond on a ring far too small for his own fingers.

The next picture was another of the same nature. Then a photo of you reaching for a glass in the kitchen. One of you sleeping on a plane. One of you naked, behind the blurred glass of the shower doors. One of you staring intently at your phone while standing at the counter. One of you standing in the mirror, examining, no - admiring the form of your growing baby.

You knew Chris was up to something, fidgeting after taking that photo, looking guilty as all get out. A brief watery laugh escaped as you reached that one.

The next was hilarious, Ellen with her face over your shoulder, with a surprised look, staring right at the camera. She knew!

You looked up at him, waiting for an answer to these photos. He just smiled and nudged you till you finished. There were more, a few more, as recent as this morning before he snuck away to go to set.

“It’s for you, love,” his voice whispers against the skin of your neck, lowering his lips to press a kiss where he knows you melt no matter the circumstance. An arm tightened around your back as he leaned forward and reached under the mattress, pulling a hidden box from the crease. You glazed at it as he switched hands and then brought it to you, flipping it open.

It was there, in person and not in a photo, demanding attention is the slyest of ways. It was beautiful, extravagant with an essence of simplicity. Words were caught in your throat as you stared at it, slowly blurring from your vision from unwelcome tears.

“Will you marry me?”

[thelioncourts]

title: the mannequin gallery fandom: captive prince pairing: damen/laurent rating: mature words: 9758 for chapter eight (8/?); 51050 all together

Damen was good at keeping himself busy, and that was a great thing because he liked being busy.

It turned out, however, that it was a little more difficult to accomplish a nonstop business, especially for almost an entire week, without Nik. It wasn’t impossible by any means, but it was more difficult. After all, Nik was a constant presence, had been since they were school children playing kings and knights on the sand while Damen’s stepmother watched on. Him not being around felt different.

Still, Damen had plenty to do while Nik was off attending photography sessions, lunches that were more planning than eating, and dealing with the multitude of models that would be walking the runway tomorrow. There were photos to be edited and posted from their time in Cortina and their brief week in Berlin, there were longtime sponsors to be called, such as Damen’s favorite supplement company over in New York that truly had the best tasting protein powders, EAAs, and pre-workout on the planet (rumor was they were coming out with collagen peptides soon too and Damen couldn’t wait to get his hands on those), or the company they got their luggage from; and there were potential sponsors to email to see if a partnership could be worked out on terms preferable to both parties. It was a full-time thing, truth be told, especially navigating the time zone differences Damen did his best to be cognizant of.

So yeah, Nik wasn’t around, but Damen was good at keeping himself busy.

It wasn’t going to be necessary after tonight though. Today at three on the dot was the dress rehearsal for the show, scheduled so they had plenty of time to fix anything gone wrong with enough time for the models and crew to get home and rest before the big day tomorrow. Damen, of course, was going to both the rehearsal tonight and the show tomorrow. He had been told that Charls had yet one more suit for him to wear that the man was ecstatic about getting around Damen’s shoulders. It all meant that Damen’s next two days were packed and, after those days were said and done, Nik would be back on his side and they could leave Paris.

And as much as Damen was enjoying Paris and all its sights, he was ready for new scenery. After the show tomorrow it would be time to start planning their next place. Damen was already thinking about Spain and then maybe a trip across the ocean to Canada. It’d been a while since they’d had a chance to really go on an adventure.

With a click, he sent out one last email to a wireless headphone company that had contacted them last week and then he leaned back in the chair he was sitting on and took in the view.

He had decided to do work out on the balcony of their hotel room. Part of him had wanted to go out, settle in at a cafe somewhere, and pretend to be Parisian for a few hours, and the other part of him knew that, had he done that, he would have been too distracted by everything around him. But here on the balcony wasn’t such a bad deal. He had the sounds of car horns, engines, murmurs—  and sometimes yells — in a variety of languages, and the gentle rustling of the air to be a sort of white noise that kept him grounded and focused.

But now his work was done and he could look, could take in the sky that was a blank slate of gray, could take in the people cautiously walking around with umbrellas already out in case it rained, could take in the insane increase in traffic on the road leading into Paris Fashion Week.

Damen was in the middle of keeping a mental tally of every person he saw pulling luggage out of a car to stay in the very hotel they were staying at when the door opened.

The first thing Damen was hit with was a sense of déjà vu. Over his shoulders, Nik had two black garment bags that Damen could only assume had each of their names written in gold upon. The second thing Damen was hit with was one of the said garment bags as Nik threw it and it landed on his face.

“What’s this?” Damen asked, holding the bag at an arm’s length. It was heavy, the fabric inside a kind with a weight to it that Damen immediately was worried of getting hot while wearing.

“Your outfit for tomorrow. Beware, it’s just as gaudy as the one last week,” Nik said. He hung his own bag on a hanging attachment between the two closets in the room.

Damen snorted. “At least it should be our last gaudy outfit while we’re here.”

“Oh, mine isn’t gaudy, just yours,” Nik said. “I have to be inconspicuous as I’ll be up around the stage. My outfit is just a black suit with a black undershirt.”

“What? And I’m getting stuck with some atrocity that’ll make me wish I couldn’t see in color at all?”

[Continue on AO3]

There hardly was time to dwell on his new Charls’ creation, however. Now that Nik was back, Damen’s busy two days finally began. They had early lunch plans at Massale and it was going to be a sprint to get from there to the space where the show was being held for rehearsal at three. Only the gods knew how long the rehearsal would be, but at a minimum it was going to take near three hours.

“Does the rehearsal have a dress-code?” Damen asked as they exited the hotel. He looked down pointedly at his outfit which consisted of the black joggers he’d been lounging in all morning, a crisp white tee, and a zip-up black jacket with white stripes down the arms and circling his shoulders. Nik looked him up and down and then made a face.

“They didn’t say anything. I’m wearing this,” he said, motioning to his own outfit of light wash jeans and a dark blue tee. “Besides, I don’t think they’re going to care at the rehearsal. You’re not exactly who they’re focused on today.”

Unsurprisingly, lunch was delicious, but some of the enjoyment of its deliciousness was lost as they truly did have to sprint from the restaurant to a cab that got stuck in actual lunchtime traffic for so long that they put a handful of bills on the center console and, once more, sprinted. This time they sprinted all the way to the Grand Palais, the stage for the show tomorrow. They made it on time though, walking in with Nik’s photography pass and its fine print stating that he would have a manager with him, and they even appeared to beat Charls who wasn’t flitting around in an anxious tizzy quite yet.

The Grand Palais des Champs-Élysées, commonly known as the Grand Palais, was an immaculate building located in the 8th arrondissement of Paris and could be seen from the Eiffel Tower. Built at the end of the 19th century, the building was a masterpiece of classicism and art nouveau. Its classicism could be seen in its stone facades, columns, and friezes, and it was the intricate metalwork that structured the famous glass ceiling that showcased its art nouveau touches. It was a stunning building, its attraction as a tourist sight obvious, and Damen smiled at how fitting it was for Etoile to have their show here.

But the Grand Palais’ artistry was almost a second thought when the set for the show came into view. Neither Damen or Nik had known that fashion shows created entire sets, like a stage production, for their shows. It made sense, Damen thought later. Oftentimes, these fashion lines had tangible themes to them. The set designer for Etoile had told Nik and the other photographers about several of their past shows, some of which included fashion lines centered around clothes inspired by Itay’s romantic rues, clothes inspired by Riviera cruises, and clothes inspired by the alpine winters. The set for the alpine winters had been covered in something to give the appearance of snow, that’s how much work was put into an Etoile show. But even knowing that, Damen and Nik were taken aback by the extravagance of the scene underneath the glass ceiling.

They recognized what it was an imitation of right away. After all, it was one of the few places they had traveled to here in Paris in those earliest days of getting to the city. In front of them was the Palace of Versailles’ Hall of Mirrors.

Chandeliers had been assembled to hang, each one an endless shimmering of crystal and gold and light, and their light glinted off of all the gilded gold statues and reliefs adorning the walls. Marble columns lined the Grand Palais, making it appear like a hall, and between each column was a golden arch. In the true Hall of Mirrors, there were seventeen of these arches. On one side of the hall were arched windows that overlooked the gardens below. Across from these windows were mirrors, the very mirrors this hall received its name from. For Etoile’s show, every archway held only a mirror.

It was beautiful and something worthy of royalty to be seen within. And it wasn’t done. There were men hanging paintings from the ceiling, hanging them in the way the chandeliers were, but they were not centered; the paintings were being hung over the archways as though they were lining the walls, and Damen recognized they were paintings like what decorated the ceiling in the Hall of Mirrors. Paintings of Louis XIV’s greatest early triumphs.

“They don’t play around do they?” Nik asked rhetorically, his eyes scanning the hall in disbelief.

“Haven’t you been practicing with this all week?” Damen asked back, his voice holding the same kind of disbelief Nik’s eyes held.

“In separate pieces. I mean, they’ve had us practicing shooting in front of mirrors, in front of reflective surfaces, in front of light backgrounds, and then all of that combined. But I didn’t expect it to be this,” he paused, “extra.”

Damen laughed and put a hand on Nik’s shoulder. “Really? After two weeks of being around Etoile and you weren’t expecting something this extra?”

“Nicolas, there you are,” said an older man suddenly -- an older man who was definitely flitting around in a tizzy while Charls was absent to do so — with a thick French accent. “The photographers are meeting in the dressing rooms alongside the models. You will need to be practicing how you will move from there to the stage as unobtrusively as possible.”

“His name’s Nik,” Damen said even though it wasn’t him who had been addressed. He was smiling, but anyone that knew him, Nik as a prime example, would be able to see the way his shoulders had tensed, would be able to see the way the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Nik reciprocated Damen from moment’s ago and put a hand on Damen’s shoulder instead.

“I’m sorry?” the man — Audin, one of the other designers, though Damen couldn’t remember if he designed set or clothing — asked, sounding anything but sorry.

“His name’s Nik. It’s not short for Nicolas, but Nikandros. It’s a Greek name.”

“Of course,” Audin continued. Damen didn’t miss the way the man looked at Damen’s clothes with distaste. Then he was gone, walking as though knowing with utter certainty Nik would follow. Damen made a sound.

“It’s fine, Damen,” Nik said, his hand still on Damen’s shoulder. “You settle in to watch, I’ll go do what I need to do, and then we’ll be done for the day.”

“I can’t wait to get back on the road,” Damen said. His shoulders were still raised.

“Me too. It’ll be nice for some normalcy.” Nik paused for a moment, and then said quieter, “I’m sorry for throwing this on us.”

“Hey, no,” Damen started, pulling back. “This is incredible for you. I just wish it wasn’t like —” Damen used both hands to motion at the everything around them.

“It really hasn’t been that bad. Sure, some of the older guys aren’t the nicest, but no one has been outright cruel. Yet.”

“Not even Laurent?” Damen asked, eyebrows raised.

“Laurent has been completely professional. The biggest issue with the models has been Ancel. And he’s just inappropriate,” Nik said, mouth twisting. Damen’s shoulders fell back to their normal hold after a second.

“I think a redhead might be good for you,” Damen said.

“Hell no,” Nik laughed, and he was walking too, following the direction Audin had just left. “I’ll catch up with you after.”

Damen spent a few minutes walking around and taking in the art that transformed the Grand Palais into the Hall of Mirrors, but after some walking he found a seat and sat down in it to wait for the show to begin. He waited, and he waited, and he waited, and nearly drained his phone battery in the process. There weren’t many people out near the front where the show would be, mostly a few assistants given tasks of perfecting every minute detail. Damen was beginning to fear that something had gone horribly wrong and they wouldn’t be able to get out of here for some time, but just as that worry was festering, the lighting changed and a voice rang out over the Grand Palais.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the voice started, its pitch low and breathy, its French accented heavily. “The French Revolution began in 1789. We, the people of France, had grown tired of the disparages between our King and ourselves. There was struggle, and pain, but we emerged victorious from the battles and slowly began to make our country what it is today through hard work and dedicated leadership that focused on bettering each citizen. Now, the great places, like Versailles, are for the people, just as they were always by the people. Though we relish each day in our freedom, we keep the beauty of the past alive by embracing it through every step we take in our great country. Today, we bring the beauty and elegance of that timet to you. Please welcome Etoile and its spring line entitled The Regency.”

There was a lot Damen could have said about the show. In the grandeur of this mock Hall of Mirrors, the clothing on the models truly appeared to be something made for the kings and queens of the days of a monarchy, where royalty was more than a symbol of the past, a romanticized view of history, but true rulers that relished in their greatness. Like the hall, many of the models were wearing golds and whites that were both glamorous and yet a camouflage, making them appear as glittering decorations that walked center until filing back against the mirrored ‘walls.’ Damen was struck by the interesting lines of the shoulders on many of the outfits, half of which were straight and wide, almost reminiscent of the 1980s shoulder-pad fad, and the other half of which were puffed and large, like a woman’s dress may have boasted in popular fashion in the past centuries. But then, at the end, were the stars of Etoile’s show.

Draped in blood reds, these models were clearly meant to be the kings, the queens, the princes and princesses of King Louis XIV’s rule. They stood out amongst the hall, amongst the other models, each dressed in the same color of the very throne that sat in the very same palace miles away. The first person that came out was Aimeric in a chunky red sweater that made him appear daintier than he was. Deep red velvet pants complimented it, especially as they ended just below his knees in a loose fit, bringing it together as a modest outfit worthy of all its attention. Then came Ancel, who stood out with his hair to match, in a red dress littered with cutouts that showcased freckled skin in all different places. Most prominent was the bearing of his sternum that begged for all eyes to look center. And lastly, Etoile’s face, was Laurent DeVere dressed in an outfit for a prince. Covered neck to toe, it was tame and utterly sensual all at once, no doubt due to the golden corset that cinched in his waist to almost nothing, that gave him such an untouchable look, that matched the crown upon his head dripping in rubies that brushed his forehead.

His crown was the only crown in the show. Etoile knew what they were doing. His beauty was unmatched.

Laurent walked like he’d been born on the runway. His footsteps fell to the barely-there beat of the music playing over the Grand Palais, his strides were long and they accentuated the length of his legs. His back was straight, his core tight, and it made him look taller. His shoulders were back and down in a way that took the attention away from any breadth and instead put the attention on the elegance of his neck and all the way to his face that was beautiful and the ultimate eye-catcher of the entire show. The jewels embedded into his crown were nothing in comparison to his eyes.

But beyond that actual magic of the show, of how beautifully it all came together, Damen was struck by how short it was. For some reason, he had assumed this show would be a long event, something to take up the entire day. Only fifteen minutes after the voice first rang out to introduce The Regency did the show come to a close, each model strutting to the front of the set, smiling instead of holding their faces in that high fashion seriousness as they brought up Laurent’s uncle for his own recognition. He was, after all, their boss, creator, and the genius behind the line.

The music died off and the lights came back on, blinding after the subtle lighting, to bring attention to the final product that was the show. Laurent’s uncle clapped his hands together once, the sound reverberating off of all the surfaces in the room to provide a near echo, and then he began to speak.

“Charls,” he started, voice loud and face relaxed. He looked ginormous on stage next to all these models, many of whom were so young they hadn’t grown into who they would be. “How were things on your end? Any complications?”

For the first time since Damen got to the Grand Palais nearing two hours ago, he finally got to set eyes on Charls who had apparently been peering at the show from one of the marble pillars nearest to the front of the mock Hall of Mirrors. He was physically flabbergasted, his hand at his heart as though begging it to stay in place, his eyes brimming underneath all the lights.

“Oh,” he said, and then he stopped to compose himself. “Oh, everything was perfect! You’re all perfect, your outfits were perfect, this set — !” He stopped again, taking in a deep breath. “This is, by far, the best show Etoile has ever done, and our past shows have been tremendous feats of beauty. Sir, you have truly outdone yourself. Your vision remains unparalleled.”

Charls was bowing at the man that was center stage. It was quite a sight, the man surrounded by models he had honed, all wearing clothes he had brought to life. Everyone began clapping, and Laurent’s uncle took the praise humbly, his smile small and his acknowledgment gracious.

“I believe that, since we have plenty of time given the perfection of everyone here today, we should celebrate. Dinner tonight at Restaurant Le Meurice Alain Ducasse. On me, of course. We’ll begin soon, say no later than seven, so our lovely models can be well-rested and beautiful come tomorrow’s show.”

As the man went to leave, clearly still having much work to do for tomorrow’s event, he was followed by more applause. Some of the models even cried out lilting thank yous at his exiting frame. Charls took his place center stage, his eyes still adoringly fixed on where Laurent’s uncle had disappeared, and then he began giving out a list of times that needed to be remembered by all parties involved for tonight and tomorrow morning.

“As we have just been told, dinner will be an early event tonight. Models, if you are not out of the restaurant come after nine, I will delicately throw you all out myself as I need you all in your rooms and resting! Regarding tomorrow, our show will begin at 10:30. Yes, we did, in fact, get Chanel’s envied time slot given their grievances of last year. As we are the first show of tomorrow, we need to make a lasting impression to last attendees through the other eight shows they will be viewing throughout the day. That means I need everyone, and I do mean everyone, here no later than 7:30. Does everyone understand?”

There were murmurs of agreement, a few excited squeaks from gods-know-who, and then the crowd of models, photographers, makeup artists, hairstylists, set designers, clothing designers, assemblers, assistants, and all others involved in creating such an elaborate show dispersed. The only two left on stage were Charls and Laurent, Charls’ hands unable to stop touching the crown on Laurent’s head, the fabric at his wrists, the stitching at the hem.

Damen was just getting ready to find where Nik and the other photographers had disappeared off to, assumingly back to the dressing rooms, when he felt a hand tug at the arm of his jacket, not kindly whatsoever. He turned, unsure of what to expect, but what he found was definitely not anything that would have come to mind.

“For reasons that don’t make any sense to me,” began the child from Etoile’s office — Nicaise, Damen remembered Laurent saying — without preamble, “you are wanted.”

“What?” Damen asked with an aborted and incredulous sort of laugh. “What for?”

“I’m not your fucking errand boy,” Nicaise said, spat, “Go find out or don’t, I don’t care.”

Damen was so taken aback by the language from someone, something, so delicate and small that it took him a moment to get his feet underneath him to follow Nicaise’s already moving feet. He gave one last sparing look to the set with its mirrors and marble pillars as though he could will Nik’s presence from where he was still meeting with the photographers, but Nik didn’t appear and Damen was off following where Nicaise had disappeared to, out a set of double-doors with large, flat golden handles.

The Grand Palais consisted of three separate areas: the Galeries Nationales, the Palais de la Découverte, and the Nave. The Nave was where the famous glass ceiling was, was where Damen had been since he had arrived earlier in the afternoon, and Nicaise had disappeared into the Galeries Nationales, located in the east wing of the building. The Galeries Nationales was often the sight of major art exhibitions and even when there was no exhibition it was brimming with all kinds of artistry. Today was no exception. The art was similar to the art that made up the entirety of the building, a display of classicism and art nouvea. But Damen didn’t have time to focus on that, not when Nicaise’s curled head was twenty yards ahead and showing no signs of slowing down.

Eventually, however, Damen’s long legs and his full grown height put him at the advantage to catch up, and he was right at Nicaise’s heels just as the boy began to slow his pace. It was right in front of a painting that Damen couldn’t see due to it being blocked by Laurent’s uncle.

“Damen,” he began as a greeting, not bothering to turn and face Damen as he came to a stop just a few steps behind him. “Or do you prefer Damianos?”

“Damen is fine, sir,” Damen said. His thumb hooked into the soft fabric of his joggers’ pocket in an attempt to stand casually.

“Damen it is. How did you enjoy the show?”

“I enjoyed it very much,” Damen said, mind whirring. “I was floored by the set design. It truly brought a line titled The Regency to a different level.”

“And the clothes?”

“Stunning as well.” Damen hesitated for only a brief moment. “I’m afraid I don’t know much about fashion, sir, so I hope you can forgive me for being at a loss as to what I could say. It’s not my area of expertise at all.”

The man finally looked away from the painting on the wall, a classicist painting that looked almost like a Poussin, and he smiled at Damen as though utterly amused and appreciative of Damen’s honesty. Then he said just that.

“It is refreshing having a person admit such a thing. Too often do I have men attempt to talk in circles in order to appear as though they know what they’re talking about.” He was making intent eye contact when he changed the topic and it was as though the change twisted his face into something different. Damen didn’t know what to make of it. “But there are several areas you do have expertise in.”

Damen cocked his head. The man smiled again.

“I must confess,” he started, “that I was curious about you and your friend, Nikandros. Of course, we as a company had done basic research on him during his application process, but given the influx of applications we receive there simply isn’t time to do an in-depth look at each candidate. But, as I said, I was curious after meeting you both that first day. You were both quite unlike anyone that has been involved with us here at Etoile.”

At a loss, Damen didn’t say anything in response. He didn’t know what to say. Luckily the only person who seemed to be making a big deal out of it was Nicaise who rolled his big blue eyes with the force of his entire little body.

“Your father owns a business in Greece. Akielon Tech. It’s a billion dollar company, Damianos. And not just any company, but an arms-producing company. According to several articles dug up in our search, you were the preferred heir to take over the company one day. Yet,” the man trailed, still looking at Damen with an intensity, “you’re here in Paris as your friend photographs a fashion show. How is that?”

To say that this was an unexpected conversation would be an understatement. Damen knew that a basic search of his name would bring up, nowadays, his Instagram and Youtube accounts, and no doubt the other social media accounts he held, all alongside some articles he and Nik had been featured in regarding their travels. He also knew, however, that searching his name would lead to Akielon Tech and all that it was — which was more complicated than just an arms-producing company as its focus could be found in the specific area of cybersecurity and other technological aspects of military weaponry. It wasn’t a secret, but it also wasn’t something he brought up in casual conversation and, when one was only in places for a week at most, almost all conversations were casual.

“I wasn’t ready to settle into an office for eight hour days the rest of my life,” Damen said slowly. “Not then. Not yet. I took a gap year, as expected, and things got away from me. From us. I thrilled in discovering new places, in revisiting places and finding beauty in the familiarity, in meeting new people and experiencing things I would have never experienced in a boardroom. And I still thrill in those things. Until that thrill begins to fade, I don’t see why I should change what’s working.”

“I assume your father is displeased by this,” Laurent’s uncle said, turning to face the painting once more.

“He’s not ecstatic with the decision, no,” Damen admitted, “but he’s gotten better with it. Or he’s completely resigned to it. I’m not actually sure on which of the two it is and I’d rather not know if I’m being honest.”

“Does he fund your adventures across the globe?”

“No. He helped pay for my gap year as a sort of graduation gift, but it was made quite clear if I wished to continue traveling it would be up to me. Nik and I have made it work. Those earliest years were a little rough, but we really have lucked out with sponsorships turned partnerships.”

Just as Nicaise had tugged on Damen’s sleeve without preamble did the man begin walking, motioning with his heavily ringed hand for Nicaise to follow. The boy plastered himself at the man’s side, his own glittering rings shimmering as his arms swung at his sides. Damen looked around once, twice, as if waiting for a sign as to if he was to follow or now.

“I have a proposition for you, Damianos.”

Damen followed. Nicaise turned around to watch him as he caught up with the two of them, and when Damen was back in step, Nicaise faced forward once more, his tiny jaw clenching.

“Etoile is quite a successful company. Globally, we’re renowned for our clothing, and our models are some of the most sought after in the business. But, like all successful companies, we’re looking to expand. In today’s day and age, the best way to enhance one’s self is to expand social media presence. That won’t always be the case, but it is right now.” He was still walking, the exit from the Galeries Nationales and back outside just ahead, but he was walking slowly. Damen was grateful for it as it allowed him to try and process the meaning of the conversation. “Though we have a wondrous team, we do not have the social media expertise that we should. Yes, we have all the accounts that are expected, and yes, there are posts on plenty of those accounts, but we lack the experience to make it what it needs to be. I would like for you to join Etoile as a social media manager.”

They had just reached the doors and were pushing them open when the man said that last sentence and Damen almost tripped at the threshold at the unexpectedness of it all.

“What?”

Nicaise audibly scoffed.

“I would like for you to join Etoile as a social media manager,” the man repeated. “You would be in charge of running what is and isn’t posted on our social media accounts, you would analyze daily, weekly, monthly, and yearly statistics, you would assist in navigating partnerships with other brands, you would help us script videos for any and all occasions, whether it be photoshoots with magazines, interviews during fashion week,” he motioned around them, “and, eventually, as Etoile grows, you would be one of the many needed voices as we begin our own magazine. But keep that last part under wraps for now.”

“Sir, I —”

“You would be based here in Paris, of course, but traveling is part of what makes this industry so desired. There are the Big Four cities that host two fashion weeks every year, those cities being Paris, New York, London, and Milan, but there is also a growing fashion scene in a dozen other cities. Those cities, ones like Shanghai, São Paulo, Sydney, Dubai, Tokyo, and many others, are hosting their own fashion weeks now, and Etoile is itching at the chance to attend those as well. And if any of our models are to be in a magazine, you could be needed anywhere in the world. Last year, my nephew was in Vogue’s September issue and the press surrounding that was enormous. He was in six different cities in just one month.”

As he had talked, he had kept moving towards a sleek black Rolls-Royce whose back passenger door was being held open by a stoic man that definitely wasn’t Jord. Damen had followed until his toes were at the curb of the street.

“You’ll have to forgive me again, sir, for not knowing what to say,” Damen started after it became evident the man was done speaking. “I didn’t expect this. My mind is still trying to process it all.”

The man smiled.

“I don’t need an answer today. We haven’t even begun to talk compensation, though I can assure you the number will be higher than whatever you’re currently thinking of. But I want you to think about it. You would still be able to do what you do in any spare time, you would have the means to travel on your own when nothing was scheduled, and you would be a wonderful asset to Etoile while doing so.” The man nodded once at the stoic driver holding his door open before sliding into the seat. Nicaise boosted himself into the car and slid in as well. His feet were a foot above the car floor.

“I will think about it.” Damen paused again. “I’ll have to tell Nik we’ll both be employed. He won’t know what to think about that.”

“Oh,” the man said, his voice almost sad. “I’m afraid this deal is only for you, Damianos.”

And just like that, all mind whirring and processing came to a sudden halt. Like he’d been for most of this conversation, Damen was speechless, entirely unsure of what to say besides ‘What?’ or ‘Excuse me?’ or —

“Nikandros is a talented photographer, I don’t want you to mistake my intentions there,” he said. “But Etoile has plenty of photographers ready for work who are specialized in high fashion photography. I don’t think that’s any reason to fret, however. You’ll make plenty of money working for us that neither of you will know what to think, and he will have opportunity to expand his work with the constant events occurring here in Paris. Think of how that will grow his own resume into something even more impressive.”

It was clear the conversation was over as the driver was slowly beginning to shut the door. Damen got one last view of Nicaise’s dangling feet and glittering rings as the boy waved in the rudest way Damen had ever seen anyone wave. Then the man said six words just as the door was closing, his voice prompting.

“We’ll talk after the show tomorrow.”

Damen watched the car drive away, its windows darkened so it was impossible to see the figures inside, and he took in a deep breath that had his chest rising so high that his sweatshirt pulled tightly, if only for a moment. Then he retraced his walk from the Galeries Nationales back to the Nave, all in a near daze, and he found Nik waiting for him with a questioning expression on his face and his camera hanging at his hip.

“Where’d you disappear off to?” Nik asked.

“It’s a long story,” Damen said, shaking his head slightly in disbelief at what the last twenty minutes or so had brought on. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. I don’t even know how I’d begin talking about it right now. Let’s talk about this instead.”

“This is starting to feel overwhelming again,” Nik said. He wasn’t pressing Damen’s disappearance and Damen was grateful. He had a lot more processing to do, a different kind of processing than what he had thought he would be doing, and he didn’t want to ruin Nik’s mood before the show tomorrow. This wasn’t the time for that.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve been watching the floods of people coming here all for fashion week and it’s as though it’s finally becoming obvious to me just how big this all is. These events are immortalized through their pictures, Damen,” Nik said and he pushed his hair back.

“Nik,” Damen smiled, easing back into something he did know the answers to, “I don’t know what else I could say to tell you how great you are and how great this is all going to be, so I’m just going to ask you to focus on enjoying dinner tonight and trying to remember everything about tomorrow. This really is a once in a lifetime kind of thing and no one is going to be there to immortalize it for you except you.”

Nik didn’t say anything else, just let out a whistle of air that lessened the tension of his body, even just a little bit.

“Are we going to have to dress up again tonight? I’m so tired of suits.”

They did, in fact, have to dress up again tonight. A quick search of Restaurant Le Meurice Alain Ducasse showed them two things; the first thing was that the restaurant was, quite literally, just three buildings down from their hotel, and the second thing was that it was a two Michelin-starred restaurant. Damen dramatically groaned before he pulled his own suit — the only one he actually owned — out of the room’s closet where it had been hanging since they unloaded their bags. As he tugged it on, he suddenly heard Laurent’s voice in his head saying “My uncle hates black suits. He says it’s the most boring color of suit a man could wear and, as you know by now, Etoile is anything but boring.” He smiled, and he smiled even wider when Nik came out wearing a classic black suit as well.

“We can survive one more dinner,” Nik said.

“We can,” Damen said, though his statement sounded less convincing.

“No fighting any old French men that mispronounce my name.”

“I’m not making any promises there.”

“I know you think stuff like that is a big deal,” Nik said, adjusting his tie so the knot was a little looser, “but it’s not. A lot of the people at Etoile are like that, and they’re like that to everyone. Even each other.”

“Just because they’re like that to everyone doesn’t make it okay.” Damen opened the door for the both of them. “If you’re working, you’re part of what keeps everything turning the way it should. The least they can do is learn your name for that.”

“At least he didn’t call me Nikki,” Nik grimaced. A flood of memories came to them both at the name and Damen grimaced as well.

“Kyra was the worst. Nikki!” Damen imitated in a high voice, the hard ‘k’ sound clicking in a purposeful manner. “She tried all sorts of weird nicknames on me too. Dami, ‘Nos. She even tried to call me Big D one time and I shut that down real fast.”

“I think Vannes might start calling you that if you’re not careful around her,” Nik said with warning.

“Let’s hope we can live the rest of our lives without that ever happening again.”

Restaurant Le Meurice Alain was the most Etoile appropriate restaurant Damen could have imagined. Its interior was almost reminiscent of the set design for the show tomorrow, like a tamer Hall of Mirrors with similar white and gold walls, chandeliers, crystal, and grandiose paintings on the walls. It turns out, Damen wasn’t far off at all in that comparison as he quickly found out upon running into Estienne , alone, that this restaurant was inspired by the Salon de la Paix in Versailles. He found out a lot more he truly wasn’t interested in, such as the man that had interpreted and designed the restaurant, the restaurant owner’s philosophy, and the way in which Restaurant Le Meurice Alain truly embodied classic French cuisine. But Damen eventually got away, only to find the restaurant flooded with the very same people from the rehearsal, all of which cleaned up quickly and quite nicely.

Nik had been swept away by a group of antsy people the moment they had been escorted into the room with the white table cloth covered tables and crystal glasses upon every surface, and Damen gave him a wave before he found his attention diverted once again by a hand tugging at the arm of his jacket.

Nicaise.

“That suit is hideous,” Nicaise said, that very unpleasant sneer on his face.

“At least I don’t have to click my heels three times to go home,” Damen said, not missing a beat as he pointedly took in Nicaise’s glittering white dress that complimented the glittering jewels in his hair, all pulled together by rubied shoes that had laced up straps at the beginning of his tiny ankles.

“What?” Nicaise asked.

Damen had no idea how a face so young could look so haughty.

“The Wizard of Oz? No? You’ve never seen The Wizard of Oz?” Damen asked incredulously.

“If you’ve watched it, that means it’s probably made for toddlers. My tastes are more sophisticated than that.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Damen said honestly. “But you should check it out. It’s a classic.”

“No, a little black dress is a classic.”

Damen couldn’t help the laugh that exited at that. Nicaise didn’t seem amused at all and actually appeared to get almost angry that Damen was. “What are you laughing at?”

“You. Who taught you to talk the way that you do?”

Before even Nicaise’s quick wit could respond, Laurent’s voice said, “That would be me.” Nicaise visibly seethed.

“That would not be you,” Nicaise said. “I don’t take after anyone but myself.”

Laurent was dressed in a suit that almost matched Damen and Nik’s own. It was a classic black suit with a white undershirt and black shoes. There were a few notable differences though, namely the silk of the lapels and the lack of tie given that the white undershirt was left unbuttoned just enough to be considered a tease with the skin that it revealed. Nicaise clearly wasn’t a fan of the suit. He had the exact same unpleasant sneer on his face looking at it as he had Damen’s suit.

“If you say so,” Laurent said dismissively.

“I do.”

Nicaise’s arms crossed over his chest in a display of defiance, though Damen didn’t truly know what the boy was being defiant about. But then he turned his head to look at somebody or something across the way and it made the jewels in his hair sparkle like rain landing on dark asphalt underneath the lights of a city at night.

“I can’t be seen with you two and your horrid excuses for formal wear,” Nicaise said after a moment. “I’m going.”

“I bet if you ask nicely tonight, someone would let you sip from their wine. You’re almost old enough now, aren’t you?” Laurent asked.

If a look could kill, Damen was certain Laurent would have fallen over dead on the spot. But Laurent was unfazed, staring back with a deadly and steady stare of his own until Nicaise clenched his fists and stormed off to do whatever it was that fourteen year olds did at events such as this one.

“What is it you want with Nicaise?”

Immediately Damen felt ten steps behind in this conversation. There was something in Laurent’s tone as he asked the question, something that would have scared a man that wasn’t Damen.

“Excuse me?” Damen asked, unsure if he had heard correctly.

“What is it you want with Nicaise?” Laurent asked again, his accent coming out heavily on Nicaise’s name.

“I think it’s more what is it he wants with me, and I’m fairly certain the answer to that is merely to insult,” Damen said. Confusion was evident in his voice. “He came over here to tell me how hideous he found my suit.”

Laurent didn’t say anything, but the way he was scanning Damen’s face made Damen feel as though he was being interrogated for something he hadn’t even done. But after a moment, Laurent seemed to relent, settling back on his heels. A server walked by with a tray full of glasses of deep red wine and Laurent grabbed one. Damen didn’t know why exactly, but he was surprised when Laurent took a long, deep drink from it.

“What did you think of the show?” he asked Damen, any and all malice from his previous question dissipated, and then he took another drink.

“It was beautiful,” Damen said, trying to keep up with today’s continued whiplash. “Your uncle has quite an eye for beauty.”

Laurent took another drink after Damen said that. “Indeed. But did you really like it?”

“I was telling your uncle today that I don’t know much about high fashion,” Damen admitted for the second time that day. Laurent finished the wine with one last final long and deep drink. His lips were tinged red close to the seam of his mouth.

“I don’t think anyone thought you knew much about high fashion to begin with. I don’t mean that as an insult either, but merely an observation of your repetitious fashion habits yourself.”

“What do you mean then?” Damen asked. He silently quirked an eyebrow when Laurent grabbed a second glass of wine from another server’s tray as they passed, leaving his old one in its place.

“I heard what you and your friend wore to your first meeting with my uncle. It’s all anyone at Etoile could talk about for days upon your arrival. Then today you wore,” Laurent paused as if trying to remember and he took another drink from his glass then. “You wore joggers. You wore black sweatpants to an Etoile dress rehearsal.”

Unlike when Nicaise spoke, Laurent didn’t necessarily sound offensive. He sounded more like his uncle here, amused by what Damen was saying even if Damen wasn’t trying to be funny. Damen almost preferred Nicaise’s tone.

“Wait, you saw what I was wearing today?” Damen asked instead of letting whatever else Laurent was saying get into his head. He asked it lowly, smiling with a flirtatious smile that came without thought, but Laurent’s blue eyes only flicked away.

“It’s a little difficult to miss the singular person wearing sweatpants while everyone else is dressed for the runway. Quite literally, I might add.”

“I’ll pretend it’s because you couldn’t take your eyes off of me.”

“You pretend that to be truth and I’ll pretend like I can actually eat any of this food tonight. Deal?”

“What do you mean you’ll pretend you can actually eat any of this food tonight?” All casual flirting — the kind that came naturally to Damen’s charm — died at Laurent’s sardonic tone as he struck their imaginary deal.

“Look around you,” Laurent said, lifting one elegant finger to circle the room. “The only people you’ll see eating tonight will be those who work behind the scenes. Everyone else will nitpick at their meal, pretend to eat whilst they prattle on about how overrated Prada’s show will be, and the models won’t eat a thing.”

“Why?”

“To be thin for all the cameras tomorrow. Haven’t you ever seen photos after the Victoria’s Secret show where all the models are picking up In-and-Out the second the show has ended? You seem like a guy that would be familiar with at least that. I haven’t eaten since yesterday. No water either. It makes my collarbones sharp and my cheekbones sharper. All the things the critics will care about beyond the clothes themselves.” Laurent was nearing the end of his second glass. “Thus explaining my diet of alcohol.”

“You’re just going to feel like shit tomorrow though,” Damen said, a worried furrow between his brows at, well, everything Laurent had just said.

“Mmm, no doubt. But after tomorrow I can sleep for the rest of the week if I choose and I very much might choose.”

Damen opened his mouth to respond, to ask about something, or comment on something, but there was an occurrence across the room that had clearly captured Laurent’s attention. From the side, his eyelashes were endless.

“I’m off to placate a fourteen year old before he stabs someone with a fork. I’ll probably grab more wine on my way.” Laurent handed Damen his current wine glass and said over his shoulder, “Enjoy your meal,” before he faded into the throng of people, leaving Damen’s head absolutely spinning.

“What the fuck.”

No one was around to hear it.

“Dude,” Damen started, aware of the crowd now all around him, when he found Nik again. “I can’t wait to get out of here and tell you about my day. You won’t even believe half of the shit that’s gone on.”

Nik looked up at him from the table he was seated at alongside Jeurre and Charls who were having a horribly deep conversation in slurred French. “What the hell could have happened today? We’ve been together half the day. In fact, today’s the first day we haven’t been in separate places all day since last week.”

“I know, but it’s been,” Damen huffed, “a day. I didn’t know I’d be getting stressed out while you were doing the work.”

“Well, dinner is supposed to start in about five minutes if my shoddy French is correct. We’ll talk later about whatever has you all frazzled.”

“We might want to snag a bottle of wine or five before I go into it because it’s seriously that kind of day.”

Nik’s shoddy French was correct though and they were once more treated by courses of food being set in front of them, all delicately plated and each one more delicious than the next. Impossibly, Damen found himself looking for Laurent in the crowds of tables. When he found him, he watched as Laurent did exactly what he said everyone would do. Damen watched as Laurent’s fork moved his food around on his plate, but never once left its surface to his mouth. Damen watched as he drank more wine. Looking around at others, Damen found none of Laurent’s fellow models eating either. It was unnerving, and by the third course Damen found his own appetite had dwindled into almost nothing.

After the entré of silk grain veal, Jeruselum artichokes, and ceps, people began to get up and wander again. Damen caught sight of Nicaise’s sparkling curls as he talked to Laurent’s uncle and received a gentle pat on the cheek before he was herded out the doors by the same stoic man that had driven the two earlier. It made sense as it was nearing nine.

Nik seemed to get along with Talik and her manager especially well and the three were in a conversation that was far over Damen’s head. It was something about lighting, coloring, and the disgrace of it all in regard to those with warm undertoned skin, so Damen skirted around the perimeter of the restaurant hoping to run into Jord. His no-nonsense attitude Damen had had the pleasure of meeting on a few occasions was something he thought would allow him to end his day on a semi-decent, non-dramatic note. But then he saw Laurent and all ideas of that vanished.

Laurent was in the place Nicaise had just been minutes before, talking to his uncle in a way that looked extremely calm and collected. But Damen could see he wasn’t quite as put together as he appeared, could see the way his finger kept tapping at his own leg incessantly, could see the flush of alcohol or anger or both across his ears, face, even the top of his chest underneath his white shirt. Laurent’s uncle did appear extremely calm and collected, however, and there were no signs he was anything but. He was regarding his nephew with patience, listening to whatever Laurent was saying, but Laurent was clearly displeased by the responses he was getting. Then, like it was in slow motion, Damen watched as Laurent turned on his heel and headed determinedly to the door to leave.

Damen saw him stumble. It was just a wiggle really. But Damen saw him stumble, and it was enough to have Damen following.

He cast one last look back at Nik, hoping Nik had seen, hoping Nik would at least see him so he could signal some kind of ‘I’ll be back’, but Nik was listening to Talik who talked louder with her hands than her voice.

Out the doors and on the sidewalk, Damen looked around once, twice, ignoring the welcomeness of the cool air, before he found Laurent leaning against a one-way street sign at the corner. Laurent’s eyes were closed, his head tilted back against the dark metal, and his chest was rising and falling just fast enough that it didn’t look quite natural. Those eyelashes Damen had briefly admired earlier were swooped against the apples of his cheeks.

“Hey.”

Laurent’s eyes opened instantly.

It was more obvious up close how drunk he was. There was a flush to his cheeks, to his ears, to the top of his chest that was most definitely alcohol, and there was a something unfocused in his gaze, as though finding Damen with his eyes required too much effort. Damen wondered how he had kept his balance so well on his own.

“Let me walk you home,” Damen said, taking another step closer.

Head still tilted back against the street sign, Laurent smiled. It wasn’t the small smile Damen had seen on him exactly twice in the few times they had met, but a full smile that reached all the way up to his eyes. Had this been almost any other circumstance, Damen would have told Laurent with all the genuineness in the world that his smile was truly the most beautiful smile Damen had ever seen in his life. But there was something unsettling about it with how today had gone, with how Laurent had just been before he had left the restaurant, with how he had been in his conversation with Damen before that.

“If I wanted someone to take advantage of me drunk, I would go off to one of the hundred parties being held tonight to kick off fashion week,” Laurent said.

Revulsion was like a punch in the gut, quite literally so like one that Damen took a physical step back. “What? No, Laurent, I just want to walk you to your apartment.”

Said apartment was across the street and three buildings down to the right. It would take five minutes, and that would mostly be due to Laurent’s expected stumbling. Still, Laurent made no effort to move, choosing to stay and watch Damen with a wary eye.

“One doesn’t leave the world of silks and bared skin unscathed. Chivalry, my dear brute in shining armor, is but a mask.”

Damen wondered, only for a moment, how Laurent was talking like that in his drunken state, but the deep-seated revulsion that Laurent thought Damen might do something awful to him was heavy. Looking around at the throngs of people still about and the cars still driving on the road, Damen couldn’t let his offer go untaken.

“Let me at least help you cross the street and watch you get into your building.” He put both hands up in a display of surrender. “I won’t follow, I’ll stay right here, but let me watch.”

Laurent’s gaze was still wary and a bit unfocused. “Why?”

“Because you’re beautiful and drunk and people are awful sometimes.” It was another heavy thing. “Plus, if anything happened to you I bet it’d be a nightmare for tomorrow’s show and Nik’s worked too hard for that.”

It took a moment, a moment in which Damen started pulling reasonable arguments to the front of his thoughts in case Laurent continued to be against such a simple request, but Laurent pushed himself away from the sign and swayed ever so slightly before settling.

“Fine. But just across the street.”

“You have my word,” Damen said, making a show of crossing over his heart.

Cast-iron will alone seemed to fuel Laurent into a briefly sober mindset, just long enough for them to cross the street without any issues. Damen knew better than to touch him given how the conversation had been going, but he kept one hand lifted and ready just in case Laurent actually fell. Once on the other side, the side of Laurent’s building, Laurent seemed to be entirely done with talking. He looked at Damen, sweeping over him as though he would find an answer to something, and then he left without so much as a wave or nod or goodbye, goodnight.

As Damen promised, he stayed put on the sidewalk and only watched as Laurent headed toward his apartment so steadily that Damen wondered exactly what Laurent’s alcohol tolerance was. It was only when Laurent reached the entrance that he looked back at Damen. It was one last look, maybe to see if Damen had kept his word, and it lasted only a second. Then he was gone, into the building and, assumingly, up the elevator to his apartment.

Crossing the street once more, Damen stopped at the same one-way street sign Laurent had been at and leaned against it, head tilted back in the same fashion to breathe in the chilled Parisian air. He was tired of trying to think, to make sense of a damn thing that had happened today. All he could think about was how there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world that would get him and Nik both through explaining today’s events.

And gods forbid Nik had any drama of his own.

[mab1905]

84 Questions

original: 

https://fuckyeahsurveys.tumblr.com/post/61049002526/84-questions

1. Put your music player of choice on shuffle and list the first 10 songs

Someone New (Hozier)

Cactus Tree (Joni Mitchell)

Budapest (George Ezra)

And Dream Of Sheep (Kate Bush)

Nancy Mulligan (Ed Sheeran)

And Then She Kissed Me (St. Vincent)

Level of Concern (Twenty One Pilots)

Lovefool (The Cardigans)

Best For Last (Adele)

Video Killed The Radio Star (The Buggles)

2. If you could spend a week anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? Would you take anyone with you?

Japan. I travel a lot and it’s been on my list for a while, I would really want to go to the Hayao Miyazaki/Studio Ghibli theme park, if it ever opens that is. I would bring my best friend, Layla. I also would love to go to Amsterdam again.

3. What is your preferred writing implement? (eg. Blue pen, pencil, green pen) 

My ink nib cartooning pen (similar to a quill, but without the feather)

4. Favourite month and why? 

October, not too hot, not too cold, and of course, Halloween!

5. Do you have connections to any celebrities (even minor)? List them.

Nope, met several, got to true connections though. 

6. Name 3 items you could pick up from where you are.

My iPad, my Leatherman Multitool, my collection of David Bowie postcards.

7. What brand logo is closest to you currently?

The Apple logo

8. Do you ever play board games or other non-computer games? Got any favourites?

Chess. Card games like Solitaire, Black-Jack, and Castle. A game that I can’t remember the name of but it’s essentially a board-game version of Capture The Flag. Mostly Chess.

9. A musical artist you love that isn’t well known

St. Vincent? I’m not sure if she’s well known or not.

10. A musical artist you love that is well known

David Bowie. 

11. What is your desktop background currently?

A picture of Apollo 11 accompanied by the words “It won’t fail because of me”

12. Last person you talked to, and through what you talked to them

My best friend Layla, through the iMessage app.

13. First colour name you can think of that isn’t in the rainbow

Salmon

14. What timekeeping devices are in the room you are currently in?

My iPad, my computer, my collection of vintage stopwatches

15. What kind of headphones do you use?

Sony, wireless, noise canceling, over-the ear 

16. What musical artists have you seen perform live?

Twenty One Pilots, Sylvan Esso

17. Does virginity matter to you?

I guess? I think it’s important, it’s certainly some kind of ‘milestone,’ but I don’t think it should be treated like the scale of a persons ‘purity.’ It’s important because it’s sex, and (hopefully) that means that you’re sharing a consensual, intimate experience that feels fucking great for both (or all, if it’s more then two) participants.

18. What gaming consoles do you or your family own?

Z e r o, although I’m hoping to buy a PS4 at some point so I can play Detroit Become Human.

19. What pets do you have? What are their names?

Juno is my cat, she is an adorable grey tiger-striped shorthair. She’s got little white mitten-paws and it’s absolutely ridiculous.

20. What’s the best job you’ve ever had?

Doing tech at a local theater

21. What’s the worst job you’ve ever had?

Teaching art to little kids (I like kids but it was just exhausting)

22. What magazines do you read, if any?

The New Yorker, and the National Geo if I’m like, waiting in my doctor’s office or something.

23. Inspiration behind your URL?

It’s just my initials and a year from the Edwardian era

24. Inspiration behind your blog title?

It’s just my initials 

25. Favourite item of clothing?

My reddish-brown knit sweater vest and my floral bow-tie (often paired together)

26. Are you friends with any exes?

I made a very conscious effort to cut my exe out of my life… we were not happy for a very long time to say the least

27. Name at least one book you loved as a child.

Strega Nona, it’s about an Italian witch that makes great pasta in a magic pasta pot. My dad would read it to me and my sibling in Italian.

28. What’s your native language? If that language has distinct regional variations, which variation? (eg. AU English, US English)

US English

29. What email service do you use?

Gmail

30. Is there anything hanging on the walls of the room you are currently in?

So many things. Here's the list:

A giant David Bowie poster, a plaque that says “David Bowie IS,” five David Bowie postcards, a giant Abbey Road poster, all of my patches from summer camp, polaroids of me, my friends, and my family (including my cat), ticket stubs from concerts and plays, two trail markers that I took off of fallen trees on two important cross-country backpacking trips I went on, playbills from a bunch of broadway shows I’ve seen, a poster that says “Stonewall was a riot,” a DC Comics poster, a Pink Floyd poster, a few paintings of mine, and a painting that I got for free from a street artist I befriended in Rome when I was twelve

31. What’s your favourite number, and why?

16, 24, 21, and 8, some numbers make me uncomfortable, but these are just very soft and light and nice 

32. Earliest moment in your life you can remember? 

A rocking chair with fruits painted on it sitting in a dark room and my great grandfathers brown leather loafers (I remember early early stuff in just images or stills, not full moments)

33. What did you have for dinner yesterday?

Pasta with shrimp

34. How often do you brush your teeth?

Usually twice a day, but I’ve been waking up later and later and sometimes forget in the mornings

35. What’s your favourite candy/chocolate?

I don’t know the name of it but it’s this chocolate bar that is stuffed with caramel, hot chili flakes, and crunchy bits of baked tortilla. It's one of the greatest things I’ve ever tasted.

36. Have you had other blogs on Tumblr? Do you have any other blogs currently?

I used to have one but I deleted it because I never used it

37. If you were suddenly really hungry, what would you choose to eat?

I would probably walk into the kitchen, realize that too eat something I would have to muster the effort to cook something instead, and then decide to just have a glass of milk instead.

38. What fandoms would you consider yourself a part of?

Downton Abbey (primarily Thommy)

Chernobyl HBO (as well as the Leonid Toptunov/Sasha Akimov subfandom)

Lord of The Rings and The Hobbit (books and movies)

CrankGamePlays

Buzzfeed Unsolved

Star Trek TOS

Philosophy Tube

The Dark Crystal and The Dark Crystal: Age Of Resistance

39. If you could study anything, what would it be?

If I had the energy to fully wrench my life in a completely different direction I would like to become a professional scuba diver and study the ocean. I already am a scuba diver, but it’s a hobby and not something I’m able to do very often at all.

40. Do you use anything on your lips? (eg. Chapstick, gloss, balm, lipstick)

I’ll wear chapstick if I have a cold

41. How would you describe your sense of humour?

Intellectual and dry

42. What things annoy you more than anything else?

People who think they’re better than everyone else and people who recognize a fault in themselves and then refuse to work to change it

43. What kind of position are you in at the moment?

I’m laying on my bed, hunched over my laptop

44. Do you wear much jewellery?

Occasionally I’ll wear a necklace or a few rings. I have a lot of non-traditional bracelets (I literally just have pieces of canvas and industrial tie-line wrapped around my wrist). I’m a gay guy and I like to sort-a walk the line between feminine and masculine (often leaning more towards the masc side), so it really depends on my mood.

45. Who is the leader of your country, currently? Any other levels of government with leaders? (State, region, province, county, district, municipality, etc)

A cheese-pizza flavored pringle is currently POTUS and every day the thought of that tears away at a piece of my soul. 

46. Last 3 blogs on your dashboard, not including any of your own

@shochmonster @velvet-of-the-night @panicsheerbloodypanic

47. What do you carry your money in?

My pocket, I have a wallet and I don’t use it

48. Do you enjoy driving? Why or why not?

It’s fine, don’t love it don’t hate it

49. Longest drive you have ever been on?

Three days

50. Furthest away from home you have ever been?

Went on a trip to Switzerland to visit family, I think that’s the farthest but I’m not entirely sure.

51. How many times have you moved house?

Twice

52. What is on the floor of the room you’re currently in, not including furniture?

Five paintings, stacks and stacks of books, boxes filled with stuff (mostly more books), plates, glasses, cutlery, clothes

53. How many devices do you own which can access the internet?

2, and iPad and a computer

54. Is there is anything that is guaranteed to always make you happy?

Listening to music

55. Is there anything that always makes you sad?

Thinking about my past for too long

56. What programs do you currently have open?

Google drive, I’m writing

57. What do you associate the colour red with?

Blood and fire

58. Last strong smell you can remember smelling?

Shrimp and butter

59. Last healthy thing you ate?

Three green olives and a handful of bean sprouts

60. Do you drink tea or coffee, and how much per day?

Used to drink coffee like it was life support (which it essentially was), now I’ll have the occasional cup of tea.

61. What do you associate the colour blue with?

Birds and rain

62. How long is the closest ruler you can find?

I don’t think I own one

63. What colour pants/skirt/etc are you currently wearing?

I am wearing olive green corduroy slacks

64. When was the last time you drank water?

30 minutes ago?

65. How often do you clear your browser history?

Never

66. Do you believe nude photos can be artistic, rather than erotic?

Nude anything can be artistic, it can also just be normal, eroticism is in the eye of the beholder.

67. Ever written fanfiction for anything?

Yes dear god so much fanfiction.

68. Last formal event you attended

I genuinely can’t remember, I am have extreme social anxiety and don’t go to events like that unless I absolutely have too

69. If you had to move your birthday to another date, which one would you choose and why?

I don’t care about birthdays

70. Would you prefer to be at a beach or in the countryside?

Beach, I love to swim, I’m also a surfer

71. Roughly how many people live in your town?

Uhm… eight times the number of people who live in the state of Montana and that doesn’t count daily commuters and tourists (New York City is essentially just a tin of sardines, except inside are 8.399 million sardines)

72. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you?

No, but three of my friends were born on the day just after my birthday.

73. Favourite place to shop? Can be a certain store or a place where there are multiple stores

The Strand Bookstore, L Train Vintage, any antique shops in the town of Hudson, New York 

74. Do you have a smartphone? What kind? If you don’t, do you want one?

I used to have an iPhone 5SE but then it stopped working after a few weeks of quarantine and I haven’t gotten a new one (I’ve had it for about 5-6 years so it makes sense)

75. What is your least favourite colour, and why?

I don’t have a least favorite color, but my favorite color is prussian blue

76. How do you spell grey/gray?

Grey

77. Go to your dashboard and describe the image shown in the radar section (below the “Find blogs” link)

It’s anime fanart for a show I’ve never heard of

78. What difference is there between how many followers you have, and the number of blogs you follow?

3

79. How many posts do you have?

219

80. How many posts have you liked?

619

81. Do you post mainly reblogs, or your own content?

Mostly reblogs but I do my own content as well

82. Do you track any tags?

No, just blogs

83. What time is it currently?

10:39

84. Is there anything you should be doing right now?

writing

I’m not quite sure who to tag so it’s just open to anyone I guess?

[theliterateape]

Hell in a Handbasket

By David Himmel

SHE TAKES ONE LAST LONG DRAG FROM HER CIGARETTE. She pushes the smoke past her gleaming teeth and full lips and crushes the thing beneath her boot. Her black coffee has finally cooled to a barely drinkable temperature. She takes a sip as she enters the radio station. Another fucking morning show. This one in San Francisco. It’s still dark out and, between the cigarette and the coffee and all of the whiskey she drank last night, she has the worst morning breath in recorded human history.

She didn’t have time to brush her teeth. She overslept and was rushed out of her hotel room by Gavin the tour manager. The clothes she had worn at last night’s show were strewn across the floor. Gavin threw the jeans and Superman t-shirt at her as she struggled to get her naked body out of bed. She didn’t have to fuss with makeup or her hair; she looks the same at five in the morning in the grips of a hangover as she does at eleven at night when she’s in the grips of stage lights and adoring fans.

Way back before she was famous and had dreams of being interviewed by radio deejays, it didn’t matter what you looked like as much. The listeners couldn’t see you and the deejays looked just barely put together themselves. But today, everything is visual, and if this show is anything like all of the others, they’ll be recording the interview for the radio station’s YouTube page. She hates the beautification and objectification of women in the entertainment industry. However, she sees nothing wrong with not wanting to look like hammered rat shit, which is exactly how she feels. This morning, as she has been most mornings this past year, she’s self-aware enough to be thankful for her easy-to-manage looks.

Gavin makes the introductions in the studio. She smiles her big, brilliant smile—the one that makes men and women fall in love with her—and begins to charm the three morning show hosts.

“Good morning. I’m really happy to be here,” she says into the microphone. Her mouth is dry and it tastes like a circus floor. She reaches for the bottle of water one of the hosts handed her when she walked in. She thinks she should have had a piece of gum instead of that cigarette.

“You’re wearing a Superman t-shirt,” the fatter of the hosts says. “Are you a fan of the comics?”

“This isn’t a Superman t-shirt,” she says. “It’s a Supergirl t-shirt.”

“Hear, hear, sister!” says the woman host.

“And yes, I’m a fan of the comics.”

“For those of you just tuning in, we’ve got Jane Hadley in the studio with us this morning,” the thin host says in a well-rehearsed broadcaster’s voice. “If you’re not familiar with Jane Hadley then you’ve likely been in a coma trapped in a mine shaft for the past year. Her debut album, Hell in a Handbasket, is this year’s runaway hit and iTunes’ most downloaded album ever. Right now, Jane Hadley is a bigger deal than Taylor, Adele and Beyoncé.”

“Combined,” Fat Host says.

“And she’s performing a sold-out show at Decker Hall tonight,” Thin Host continues.

“But don’t worry,” Lady Host says, “if you didn’t get tickets for the show, we’ll be giving a pair away a little later on this morning. And I think—Jane, correct me if I’m wrong—that these tickets also include a backstage meet and greet.”

“They do,” Jane says. “I’ve even got my Selfie-Stick for photos.”

“Did you bring that Selfie-Stick with you this morning?” Fat Host asks. “I’d love to get a photo with you. You have to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen this early in the morning.”

Jane smiles and laughs a hearty laugh that not even the most high-tech lie detector test could determine its authenticity one way or the other. “I didn’t bring it but I’m sure we’ll find a way to take a photo without it.”

“And you’re going to play a few songs for us this morning, too, right?” Lady Host asks.

“I brought my guitar and will even take requests.”

The three hosts celebrate over this surprise. Thin Host says, “You hear that, K–POP listeners? The beautiful and talented, Goddess of Rock Jane Hadley will be taking your requests for a live, in-studio acoustic session! Don’t go anywhere. You’re listening to the Manic Morning Show on 97.1, K–POP.”

Thin Hosts glances at Fat Host who taps a series of buttons on the control board and clicks a wireless mouse linked to the monitors. A station bump plays followed by a commercial break beginning with an ad for a local diamond dealer. The hosts take their headphones off.

“Do people actually listen this early?” Jane asks as she also removes her headphones.

“Not anymore,” Thin Host says.

“We’ll replay everything with you in the eight o’clock hour,” Lady Host says.

This is not how Jane saw her life. For one thing, she never thought she’d be a smoker. But divorce can promote bad habits as diversions from the heartache. And for another thing, she never thought she’d be divorced at thirty-seven years old, though she was only thirty-five when it all happened, which only makes it worse. She is too young to be divorced and too old to only now find herself at rockstar status. Unfortunately, without the divorce, the fame and fortune—and morning radio show interviews—would have continued to elude her.

Before she was Jane Hadley, the rock ’n’ roll singer/songwriter—the Goddess of Rock, bigger than Taylor, Adele, and Beyoncé combined, she was Jane Hadley, the folk ’n’ roll singer/songwriter who never sold more than a thousand albums and a few hundred t-shirts. Before she had a #1 album flying off the shelves and being downloaded to the Cloud by millions, and an entire merchandising department, she was just a girl who played in a few bands: the Stargazers, Rosie’s Dream Catcher, Jane and the Jaded Cowboys.

None of these were good band names and she knew it. But she liked the music they made. Sweet, folky, only as loud as the all-acoustic gear would allow. All her bands looked the same. Jane played rhythm guitar and sang lead. The lead guitar, keyboard, upright bass and percussion were played by men. This wasn’t intentional, it’s just how things played out. They sounded similar, too, although each incarnation sounded more practiced than the last, a byproduct of age and gig experience.

The Stargazers was her high school band. It lasted long enough to play mostly Simon & Garfunkel covers at a few garage shows and the school’s Battle of the Bands. She formed Rosie’s Dream Catcher in college with her then boyfriend, keyboardist Matt. They recorded one CD of ten original songs. They sold all one hundred copies for two bucks a piece by the time the band, and Jane and Matt, split three years later.

She wonders why they are waxing intellectual about Kurt Cobain and the meaning of “Smells Like Teen Spirit?” She just wants to plug tonight’s show, play a few songs, maybe answer a call and give vague, recycled answers about what inspired her to write the album. Instead, she’s bemoaning about the trappings of fame and denying any intention of making an album that will last the test of time. How Gen X of her. How Fiona Apple of her. How awful of her.

Jane always figured that if success in the music business was ever going to come to her it would have been with Jane and the Jaded Cowboys. It took her a little while to become comfortable with her name being segregated from the band name. She didn’t want to be a Diana Ross or Gloria Estefan but Adam, the guitarist, thought they should capitalize on the gender difference and put their radiant leader out front while her boys backed her up. Adam was a marketing major in college and while he was a gifted guitarist, his real talent was in hype.

Jane and the Jaded Cowboys were prolific. Their songwriting was a science. Jane would come to practice with lyrics ripped from her many tattered Moleskin journals and a tune she thought worked with the words. From there, all five would flesh the thing out until they had a nice little folky pop song. They were a good team and their musical tastes and abilities complemented each other well.

With the freedom provided by quarter-life adulthood, they toured a lot in the sixteen years they were together. They earned fans but none who would bleed for them, really. They played the festivals and a few of the storied concert halls spread throughout the country. They headlined some shows and shared the bill with acts that would go on to the kind of fame and success that Jane and the Jaded Cowboys were chasing but never caught up to.

Because being in the band didn’t pay a livable wage, everyone had real jobs. Jane tended bar at Queen Lizzie, a hipster hotspot in Chicago where the drinks are overpriced and the customers happily overpay. She hated the place and the customers but the money was too good to walk away from. She was able to afford the necessities: instruments, rent, food, clothes, tour van, gas money for the tour van and Moleskin journals. She even managed to save a fair amount and really hack away at her student loans. Not that her degree in art history was worth more than the paper the degree was printed on.

The songs she wrote reflected her life. They featured themes of loneliness, desire, road trips and regret. The songs weren’t bad. But they weren’t great either. Their most popular song among their few loyal fans is called “Photographic Art History.” It’s about wasting time and energy. One critic, writing for an online publication about the lineup of a summer festival in Chicago, described Jane and the Jaded Cowboys as, “a band that makes perfect background music for the perfect lazy day of napping.” On the band’s Facebook page, Adam spun the opinion by posting the review and writing, “IndieRock.com says ‘Jane and the Jaded Cowboys makes perfect music for the perfect day!’”

Jane hated the hype. But it was the best her band ever got.

And speaking of hype…

“Rolling Stone called you the voice of women of this generation,” Thin Host says. They are back from commercial break. “That seems like it could come with a lot of responsibility. Do you feel responsible to speak for your generation?”

Since Hell in a Handbasket dropped, many critics had echoed Rolling Stone’s claim. Jane used to see herself as a Joni Mitchell type, or Carole King or Carly Simon. Women from a very different generation. And one that isn’t hers. She isn’t even sure which generation the critics are talking about. At thirty-seven years old, she’s no longer part of the youth culture but she’s too young, still, and new to fame, to be a music veteran. And in the entertainment industry, the young and the old were the major markets. Everyone in the middle is white noise. Jane feels that if she’s the voice of any generation right now, it’s the White Noise Generation. But she can’t say that.

“First of all, it’s an insanely flattering thing to say about someone,” Jane answers. “But it’s also an insanely broad generalization and a little presumptuous. I didn’t make this record to be a statement about women or for all women or anything like that. And if we look at music history, we don’t ever really know how representative a musician was or wasn’t to her generation—or his—until the music has had time to mature and that generation, or whatever, has adapted from it in some way.”

“Well, take Kurt Cobain. In a way, your situation is similar to Cobain’s,” Thin Host says. “He was considered the voice of Generation X right out of the gate. And he was dead before his music and his generation really even had a chance to—what did you call it?—mature. But everyone was right. Kurt Cobain was, and still is considered to be, the voice of his generation.”

“So if you don’t already have a heroin addiction, you better get on that,” Fat Host says.

“No, then she’d just be compared to Courtney Love. And no woman wants to be compared to Courtney Love,” Lady Host says.

“Yikes. God no. That’s even worse than being compared to Yoko Ono,” Jane says.

“There are so many awful women in rock ’n’ roll,” Fat Host says.

“You named two,” Jane says. “The awful men in rock ’n’ roll still outweigh us twenty-to-one.”

“And that’s why she wears that t-shirt,” Lady Host says.

They all have a laugh as Jane glances at the clock on the studio wall. She’s booked for an hour. It’s only been eleven minutes. She wants to go back to sleep. The coffee isn’t working. She considers what it would be like if she did start using heroin. It’s cheaper than booze, cigarettes and even coffee. And on the road, it’s often easier to get.

“Okay, I understand that you’re reluctant to accept your influential role in today’s culture,” Thin Host says.

“It’s not a reluctance,” she says.

“A rejection then,” he says.

“No. I mean, they’re just songs.”

“But don’t you want your songs to mean something? Isn’t that what every artist wants?”

“Sure. In a way. This album means what it means to me. I can’t control what it means to anyone else. It’s nice that it’s been so well received. I’m touched that people are finding their own meanings in the songs.”

“So you’re saying that the song, the first single, ‘Onward,’ isn’t symbolic of the woman’s place in today’s society.”

“I think Hemingway said something about the foolishness of trying to include symbols in your work on purpose,” Jane says.

“So no.”

“‘Onward’ is a song about my ex-husband moving out of our apartment and me, a woman, having to make sense of what he, a man, had left behind. If that is perceived as anything other than that—”

“I understood it as a break-up song,” Lady Host says.

“But things can be perceived by any number of people in any number of ways. That’s the great thing about art. Let me ask you guys a question. Since you brought him up, what does ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ mean to you? What’s that song about?”

“Making trouble,” Thin Host says.

“Cheerleaders,” Fat Host says.

“Disaffected youth,” Lady Host says.

“All I ever think about when I hear that song is deodorant. That song is a deodorant jingle to me. Because when that song came out, I was eleven years old and Teen Spirit was the brand of deodorant I used.”

“Commerce,” Fat Host says. “Cobain is rolling over in his grave.”

“Nah,” Jane says. “He knew damn well what he was doing when he titled that song. He was being funny—Oh crap, can I say the ‘D’ word?”

The hosts laugh. “Yes, ‘damn’ is allowed. ‘Crap,’ is not,” Thin Host says. They laugh some more then he presses on. “Symbols or not, this album is incredible.”

“Thank you.”

“I doubt that you’d call it a concept album.”

“Not in the traditional meaning of concept album, no. I mean, it’s not The Wall. But it was conceived by specific events. There’s a theme.”

“It’s a break up album,” Lady Host says.

“It is indeed a break up album. A break up and all of the, um, crap, that comes with it.”

She knows she sounds like a pedantic blowhard. They are baiting her into it and she is too strung out on exhaustion and weak coffee to resist. She wonders why they are waxing intellectual about Kurt Cobain and the meaning of “Smells Like Teen Spirit?” She just wants to plug tonight’s show, play a few songs, maybe answer a call and give vague, recycled answers about what inspired her to write the album. Instead, she’s bemoaning about the trappings of fame and denying any intention of making an album that will last the test of time. How Gen X of her. How Fiona Apple of her. How awful of her.

But after two weeks of horrendous heartbreak, isolation, and alcoholism, Jane had come to one conclusion: right or not, fuck Keith.

She is saved from falling deeper into these asinine rock critic musings when the hosts go to break again. They’ve cued listeners to call in with questions and requests. The first three callers request “Onward,” to no one’s surprise. Jane pulls her guitar from its case and gives it a gentle tuning. She gets the familiar sinking knot in her stomach as she does.

Her departure from acoustic folk to electric rock was the best way for her to get through the pain of her divorce. It allowed her to turn the deafening sadness into rollicking anger. And every time she plays these songs with an electric guitar and her banging, thrumming, clanging tour band alongside her, she becomes more and more removed from the origin of the source material. She’s healed each night. And in quieter moments in between cities on the bus, when she finds herself descending toward that sadness and regret, she can listen to the album at top volume through her headphones and relive the anger and gravitate toward getting over the goddamn thing.

But there’s no escaping the raw bones of truth when she plays the songs acoustically on radio shows like this. She wanted to bring the band with her and at least have a bigger sound so the songs weren’t so stripped down and she didn’t feel so naked. But her management vetoed it. The fans wanted Jane Hadley naked. And that’s what they were getting. And every time she tunes the guitar to play “Onward,” she is rocketed into a wretched reverie of when she first tuned the guitar to write the song.

Keith had just closed the door of the apartment with his last box of stuff under his arm. It had been the first time they’d seen each other since he asked for a divorce two weeks before and fled to wherever he had been staying. Jane spent those two weeks crying, substituting alcohol and cigarettes for meals, sleeping on the living room floor because she couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping alone in their bed and didn’t feel that she deserved the comfort of the couch. She was emotionally destroyed and she thought it best to destroy herself physically, too.

He said some pretty nasty things when he left. There were accusations of infidelity because she played songs that weren’t about him. He blamed her for his inability to secure a steady and well-paying gig because she was not supportive enough. He called her a manipulator and a user and chastised her for having more friends than he had.

None of these accusations were true and he was clearly taking his own self-loathing out on her. How could someone’s likability make her unlikable? Keith had found a way. The two therapists they had seen every week since getting married eight months before, called it projecting. Keith denied it and Jane believed everything he said.

But after two weeks of horrendous heartbreak, isolation, and alcoholism, Jane had come to one conclusion: right or not, fuck Keith. Watching him leave with a box of his mother’s old stained Tupperware was enough to pull her off of the floor and begin writing music again. “Onward” became Jane’s life’s statement of purpose. And as the first single and the album’s first track, it became the album’s statement of purpose, too. And thus, it became a generation of women’s statement of purpose.

She didn’t even have to write the lyrics down and work them out in her notebook like usual. She just played and sang and it all came together. She scribbled it down once she was done and the song, at first, resembled every other song she had written. Soft, slow, melancholy. She didn’t want that. She wanted something different. Because the same old song hadn’t done her much good for her career or her internal struggle. She didn’t feel soft, slow or melancholy. She felt hard, fast and fucking pissed. She dusted off her electric Gibson and amp and played the song faster and louder. She felt alive again. She felt angry. She felt inspired.

She lit a cigarette and played it again. She recorded it and upon listening back, she heard a voice she didn’t recognize but loved. The chorus made her smile, even though it felt strange on her face.

You took my love And let it burn Scorched and ashen I move onward

✶

SHE MET KEITH LESTINGHOUSE AT A SHOW IN PEORIA, ILLINOIS. He was a videographer and had been hired to document the headlining band, the Dandelions, who a year later would win the Grammy Award for Best New Artist. Keith’s art direction in the documentary was lauded for its grit, the way it “captured the essence of budding rock ’n’ roll success,” according to some well-respected blogger somewhere online.

She found Keith smart and funny, and thought his patchy beard and thin, lanky body made him handsome. He seemed to genuinely like Jane’s music and her band. And he seemed to like her. By the end of their first date, they realized that they had been a match on each other’s online dating profiles.

“Why didn’t you ever send me a message?” she asked him.

“Why didn’t you ever send me one?” he replied.

He was a feminist and she liked that about him, too.

Six months in, they were engaged. Two months after that, they were married. It was a small ceremony held in her parents’ barn at their farm in Dowagiac, Michigan. She wore cowboy boots with her consignment wedding dress, he wore black Chuck Taylor sneakers with his new suit from an online custom clothier. An hour before the wedding, Jane cried all of her makeup away when Keith requested that her father not walk her down the aisle. Well, he didn’t have any family at the wedding, therefore, her father’s obvious presence was her way of rubbing it in that he was an estranged son. Jane conceded. Then Keith decided that it was okay for her dad to walk her down the aisle after all. This was the first crack in the façade of perfection Jane had placed Keith behind. Then, at the reception, Jane and the Jaded Cowboys played a song she wrote just for Keith, just for their wedding. Drunk, he mistook it for a song about some other guy and stormed off into the Dowagiac fields. Jane—the consummate professional—finished the song then ran into the fields after her husband. When she found him, he continued accusing her of infidelity until she managed to convince him otherwise and they screwed right there in rows of soybeans.

He moved into her place. His video equipment crowded and nearly ousted her music equipment. Space in the small Chicago apartment was the crux of their Cold War—Keith acting like Reagan with his finger constantly on he Button and Jane acting as Gorbachev, desperate for some kind of peaceful and reasonable resolution.

Two weeks later, they were in therapy. The only discussion they could have without Keith’s demanding a therapist’s intervention was about what they’d have for dinner. It helped that Keith’s veganism limited their dining options. Keith was a volunteer for Greenpeace and convinced Jane to sell her 1967 Pontiac GTO. It was left to her in her grandfather’s will. It was her grandfather who taught her to play guitar and encouraged her to pursue a career in music. He was a sound tech for bands like the Byrds, Leslie Gore, the Lovin’ Spoonful and even the Beatles once. Anywhere she had to be, Keith told her, she could ride a bike, walk, run or use public transportation, if she must. And that inspired the second song on the album, “Red Meat Wishes and Gasoline Car Dreams.”

You’re sidewalk stalking Good people on God’s green earth I honk and rev my motor And slide back a Quarter Pounder

Still, Jane loved him. But what Jane loved more than Keith was love itself. Though she was never far from her friends or family and had an incredible bond and unwavering trust with her bandmates, Jane feared being alone. Alone in that romantic sense. It was that fear that empowered her to stay with Keith, which left her otherwise powerless. And that’s where “Distracted by Loneliness,” the album’s third song, came from.

Covered in hearts Well wishes from friends and family Their undying love can’t compare to the misery you give to me I’d rather be lonely with you than never alone again

✶

WHEN THEY RETURN FROM THE BREAK, JANE PLAYS “ONWARD.” Fat Host cues up another recorded caller and the conversation they had with her during the break.

“Hi, Jane. I’m Claire. I think you are so talented.”

“Hi, Claire. Thank you.”

“I just broke up with my boyfriend of three years.”

“This ought to be good,” Fat Host says.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Claire,” Jane says.

“No, please, it’s for the best. I was miserable. We both were. Your album inspired me to leave him. Funny thing was, it was his record. He bought the album.”

“Men love her, too,” Thin Host says. “Is there a song you’d like Jane Hadley to play?”

“I’d love to hear ‘Two Week’s Notice,’” says Claire. “I quit my job last week, too. This song inspired me to do that.”

“This song isn’t about quitting a job,” Jane says. “It’s about the abortion I had.” The studio goes quiet—never a good thing in radio. Jane recognizes the silence and quickly readjusts her response. “But, uh, sure thing, Claire. Let me know if you need a reference or anything.”

The recording ends and Lady Host throws her finger at Jane like a stage manager would on the set of a live news show. Jane plays the first chord and sings “Two Week’s Notice.”

It’s not something I am ready for I’m sure neither are you I’ve already got a child I can’t raise two It makes no sense to drag this out It’s the right thing to do I’ve already got a child That child is you

“I’m not really sure how that song would inspire someone to quit their job,” Thin Host says when Jane is done playing. “I bet you get a lot of that. You know, people mistaking the intentions of your songs for something else.”

“Like we were saying earlier, that’s what happens with music and art,” Jane says. “People listen to music in different ways. Claire, I guess, doesn’t listen to the lyrics all that closely. And that’s fine. I just hope she find a new job soon and lands on her feet.”

“Guess you can’t judge a song by its title,” Fat Host says.

“We’re going to take another quick break and we’ll be right back with more music by request from our in-studio guest Jane Hadley, who is performing at Decker Hall tonight and we’ll be giving away that pair of tickets to see her. You’re listening to the Manic Morning Show on 97.1 K–WOW.”

There it is, the missing piece to Jane and Keith’s old fight, his calm condescension. Finding herself in familiar territory, she habitually lights a cigarette in her mouth.

They never take calls live on-air. It’s a recipe for disaster. You could get a Baba Booey or a suicide or someone who just wants to yell “Fuck” on the radio. Answering calls off-air lets the hosts screen and edit the calls for the best possible radio. Fat Host takes the next caller.

“Hi, Jane. Since you’re single, maybe we can hook up after your show tonight. I’m hung.”

Fat Host immediately hangs up on the caller.

“Hey, wait a minute,” Jane says. “Maybe he was cute.”

She’s joking but only a little bit. Among the whiskey and cigarettes, her after-show parties have been filled with men. Lots of men. At least one every night. The show in L.A. had two, the one in Salt Lake had three.

Two more calls, both women, both requesting “Onward.” The third call is a man.

“97.1, Manic Morning Show,” Lady Host says.

“Jane?” the caller asks like he was calling Jane directly and not a San Francisco morning radio show.

“Hi, do you have a request for Jane Hadley?” Lady Host tries again.

“Jane. Are you there?”

“Okay, weirdo, goodbye,” Lady Host says as she signals Fat Host to drop the call.

“Wait,” Jane says. Lady Host looks at Thin Host who nods as a sign to let Jane play this one out. “Keith?”

The three hosts look at each other with confusion before Thin Host chimes in, “Jane, you’ve got a friend here in San Francisco. And a K-WOW listener to boot!”

“Keith is my ex-husband.” The three hosts drop their jaws and sit back in their chairs like they’re ready to watch the unbelievable, certain shit show commence. “Keith, what are you doing?”

“I was listening to the radio and heard you.”

“What are you doing in San Francisco?”

“I’m living with my brother.”

“You have a brother?”

 “I have three brothers.”

“Three!? Why didn’t you ever say anything? Why weren’t they at the wedding?”

“My family is complicated.”

Jane is stunned. She, too, is now sitting with her mouth agape in disbelief. “So you’re living here now?”

“For the moment. There was a job, so…”

“What’s the job?”

“It’s a documentary about San Francisco suicides that don’t take place on the Golden Gate. There’s a large population of suicidals that is overlooked because of the attention that the Bridge gets. It’s tragic. And these people aren’t even polluting the bay when they kill themselves. It’s an important topic.”

Thin Host jumps in again. “So, Keith—Keith, right?—would you like to hear a song by Jane Hadley?” Jane shoots Thin Host a look that says, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Let’s hear that one about abortion again.”

Jane cringes. She is no longer stunned, now she’s pissed. Of course she never told him about the pregnancy. By their third date, it was clear that he had baby fever. Because Keith had such a foul and complicated relationship with his own family, he was desperate to build a new one. And though Jane wasn’t opposed to being a parent someday, she was in no immediate rush, but also knew, deep in her gut, that Keith would make a terrible father. That having a child would provide him with another person to manipulate and break down until nothing was left but a desiccated husk of a human. He would do to his child what his parents did to him and what he had nearly done to Jane.

Jane and the hosts are frozen but the digital phone recorder rolls along.

“Can I hear it? Can I hear the song about you killing my child?”

 “Whoa!” Thin Host says as Fat Host laughs in shock.

“She didn’t kill your child,” Lady Host says. “She’s the mother and she has the right to make any decision she wants related to her body.”

“I agree,” Keith says. “But in the interest of true sexual and gender fairness and whatever, doesn’t the father have a right to know and at least be part of the discussion? When were you pregnant, Jane? Were we married? Because if so, then you absolutely owed me that.”

Lady Host defends her. “She doesn’t owe you anything.”

“No, he’s right,” Jane says. “I probably should have said something. I agonized over telling you about it for two weeks before.”

“Oh, you agonized, did you? That was my child.”

She can hear his special brand of angry panic in his voice. She knows she should have the deejays hang up. But that anger and panic of his was always delicious bait to her. She can’t help herself from engaging. “It wasn’t a child, Keith. And if it had been, it would have been ours. And that, that right there is why I didn’t tell you. I mean, I knew I couldn’t keep it because of your selfishness and controlling impulses. I would have had the abortion twenty minutes after I peed on the stick but I held off, debating if you should be there with me. But I knew that you’d never agree to it and that the idea of it would only lead to this.”

“And what’s this?”

“You accusing me of killing your child.”

Thin Host speaks up. “So Keith, what do you think about the rest of the album?”

“I didn’t know she could play electric guitar.”

There it is, the missing piece to Jane and Keith’s old fight, his calm condescension. Finding herself in familiar territory, she habitually lights a cigarette in her mouth.

“Uh, Jane, you can’t smoke that in here,” Fat Host says.

She exhales a large cloud of smoke emphasizing it with two small rings at the end. “I’ll make you a deal,” she says, “you promise not to air this and I’ll put it out.”

“It’s just that, well, it’s a federal regulation that you can’t smoke inside of buildings. It’s nothing personal. Hell, we all smoke,” Fat Host says.

“Promise me.”

Fat Host looks at Lady Host and Thin Host. Thin Host nods and fat Host says, “Promise.” Jane snuffs the cigarette out on the bottom of her boot. She walks to the small trashcan across the studio, drops the cigarette in and pours a few ounces of coffee on it for safety. She returns back to her microphone and puts her headphones back on.

“What do you want, Keith?” she asks.

Silence.

“Keith? Are you still with us, Keith?” Thin Host asks.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“What is it you want, Keith?” Thin Host asks again as if Jane’s voice was the problem the first time.

“I want you back,” Keith says.

Jane bursts out in laughter. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” The hosts are shocked. “Sorry,” she says to them.

“It’s okay, we’re not live,” Lady Host says. She leans over to Fat Host and whispers, “Bleep it out.”

“Duh,” Fat Host whispers back.

“I’ve missed you and I have a new therapist out here who says that I’m ready to be in a relationship with you again.”

“Then sue your therapist for malpractice,” Jane says, “because he’s a fucking quack.”

Fat Host holds up his arm to grab attention and says, “We are coming out of break.” He turns on his microphone, does a quick station I.D. and lets the audience know that Jane Hadley is in the studio and that they’ll be back with more from her, then plays music. As he finishes and the red ON-AIR light outside of the studio door turns off, Gavin, Jane’s tour manager storms in.

“I think we’re done here,” he says. Everyone ignores him. This is something he’s used to so he shrinks back out of the studio.

“Jane, I—”

“Shut up, Keith. It’s not happening. But I’ll put your name on the will call list at the door tonight if you want to come see the show.” She looks at Fat Host. “Hang up on him.”

Fat Host again looks around at his co-hosts for a confirmation. They both deny her request. Jane sees this and as Keith begins pleading to her in a breathy panic, she stands up, throws her headphones on the console, walks around to the control board where Fat Host is sitting and rummages around with her eyes for the phone. “Hang up. Where is it? Hang up on him. There’s nothing more to say.” Fat Host uses his bulk to keep her away. “Okay then, I guess you don’t want those backstage tickets to my sold out show tonight for your listeners. I guess you’d rather fuck with me than keep a promise to your listeners. Fine then.”

She walks back around to her guitar and coffee, puts the guitar in its case, throws the nearly empty coffee cup into the trashcan. She lights another cigarette before storming out of the studio, the station, and into the parking lot where Gavin is waiting.

“I need a drink,” she says.

It’s barely past six-thirty in the morning so Gavin suggests hotel room service. Jane agrees. She admits that after a few mini bottles of Dewar’s and Tanqueray she’ll be ready for a nap.

✶         

IN THE HOTEL ROOM, GAVIN SLEEPS IN THE DESK CHAIR WITH HIS FEET PROPPED UP ON THE DESK, a small bottle of gin delicately rests in his curved fingers of his dangling arm. It’s eight-thirty and Jane lays drunk in bed. She’s tuned the nightstand clock radio to 97.1 FM, K–WOW. The idiots are playing the phone call with Keith. They’ve bleeped out her cursing. They’ve edited it to make her seem more erratic than she thought she had been. She’s pissed about it but she knows that this is only going to help her reputation and lead to more album and concert ticket sales.

She fumbles for her phone and calls Keith. After recording Hell in a Handbasket, Jane set out to remove any traces of him from her life. She built a fire in the alley behind her apartment next to the dumpster burning anything associated with their time together. Photos, a pair of his socks she loved to sleep in, the Dandelions t-shirt she bought at the show the night they met, that stupid crystal duck he gave to her on their first Christmas together. She never understood the significance of it. He was so excited to give it to her, so proud of himself that she never bothered to ask him why he thought she might like it. Of course, the crystal duck didn’t burn, so Jane smashed it to pieces with a hammer. The one thing she didn’t do during her Keith purge was delete his contact information from her phone. He answered her call before the first ring finished.

“Come to the show tonight,” she says to him.

“Do you want to get back together?”

“No. But I want to see you. Actually, if you can, come to my hotel right now. I’ll text you the address.”

She hangs up before he can respond and sends the text. She knows she has made a destructive decision and that there is no way any of this will end well. But that’s not what Jane wants. Keith has reopened her wounds as easily as if they’d never healed at all. Jane wants to bask in the familiarity of the disrespect and jealousy and anger that defined their relationship. One more chug of the poison, she tells herself, then she’ll be done. She’ll even delete him from her phone.

Keith texts back that he’s on his way. Jane wakes Gavin up and kicks him out of her room.

“You called Keith, didn’t you?” Gavin asks.

“I’ll see you later,” she says, closing the door in his face.

She picks up her guitar and writes a new song. It comes to her as easily as “Onward” did. Maybe even easier. She realizes that Keith is her muse. The thought of that is a good reason to open another mini bottle of whiskey. Maybe she won’t delete him from her phone. Just in case her creativity ever runs dry.

This is not the type of musician or person she thought she’d be but it’s the one the music industry needs, the one her generation needs—whatever generation that is. And certainly, it is the one she needs to be in order to remain being anything at all.

[ignis-scientia-estrogen-brigade]

~ISEB in Japan: A Photo Journal~

If you’ve been following me on Twitter lately, you’ll know that I’ve been traveling through parts of Japan the last couple of weeks with my Ignis Play Arts Kai figure in tow. I posted a few pictures over there during the duration of my trip, but those barely scratched the surface of everything I got to do while in Japan. So I thought I’d put together a blog post of my journey while it was still fresh in my mind, featuring everyone’s favorite strategist in what I’ve been dubbing my Great Final Fantasy XV Adventure of 2019!

[Image-heavy content + commentary under the cut]

A brief backstory: I’ve wanted to go to Japan my entire adult life. For years, I’ve watched friends make the trek while I’ve been stuck at home with a severe case of FOMO. The only thing that ever stopped me from going was money (or a lack thereof), so I made the decision last summer to buckle down and sock away every dime I made to make it happen. My only concern before hopping on the plane was that I had missed the wave of FFXV popularity by about a year, but I would quickly learn that—other than not getting to eat any of Ignis’ recipes at the Square Enix Cafe—I had little to worry about.

Literally the only reason I brought my Play Arts Kai figure was so I could take this picture of Ignis at the Citadel (a.k.a. the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building), which was the very first place I stopped at on my first full day in Tokyo. The building + the surrounding plaza, while not 100% accurate, is a fairly impressive facsimile of the one in the game. It’s located in Shinjuku, which also boasts a lot of similarities to Insomnia. Having finished Episode Ardyn mere hours before jetting off on my trip, it felt like I had stepped off the plane and right into the game!

There just so happened to be an Animate right near the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, so I popped in to get a feel for what kind of FFXV merch I’d be able to find two years after the game’s release and a year after its height of popularity. Turns out, there was quite a lot of swag to be found! Truth be told, I’ve never been one to chase down official merchandise (unfortunately my job doesn’t really afford that luxury), but I gave myself special permission while on vacation to buy anything I wanted. So I did! Including everything you see above. ^^;;

The next thing I did was take the train to Ginza to meet Lyle/@landscape-gonna  (@landscape_gonna on Twitter), and I simply cannot say enough nice things about her. If you don’t know who she is, there’s a 99.9% chance you’ve seen at least one of her Ignis costumes, and they are A. M. A. Z. I. N. G. We had chatted a bit previously on Twitter before I went full-on stan mode, asking her if she'd be willing to meet up with me (a total stranger) to have lunch and talk Ignis and Final Fantasy. Not only did she say yes, but she gifted me with copies of her incredible cosplay zines and was not the least embarrassed when I busted out my Play Kai Arts figure in the middle of a busy Japanese dessert restaurant haha.

See? Zero embarrassment here.

We even did Noct’s ultimate pose! In public!

I can’t begin to articulate how special meeting Lyle was for me—being brought together from opposite sides of the world to share in our love for Ignis/FFXV is a memory I will cherish my entire life. So Lyle, if you are reading this: どうもありがとうございます ! ٩( ᐛ )( ᐖ )۶

Lyle wasn't the only friend I had in Japan. Another friend of mine, Asuka (who happens to be well-versed in anime/video game culture), volunteered to be my guide through Ikebukuro/Otome Road the next day. Quick otaku lesson: Kbooks is a chain of stores that specializes in the resale of licensed merchandise. For example, if you missed out on some of the limited availability items from the Movic and the Square Enix Cafe collaborations, you might be able to find them at a Kbooks. Otome Road in particular has something like seven different Kbook shops in a 3-block radius, each one specializing in different products (sports anime, idols, cosplay, etc). I, of course, beelined for the video game shop...

...which is where I found this fucking thing:

I’m not gonna lie, I almost bought it. I just didn’t know what I would do with it besides scare the living daylights out of people when they least expected it lol.

Yoooo Adam I found ya boi in Ikebukuro

We popped into the cosplay Kbooks shop since it was right across the street and I found an Ignis costume for sale! Please enjoy this picture of me pretending to come up with a new recipeh (since this is likely the closest I’ll ever come to cosplaying as Ignis).

One of the things Asuka introduced me to was Hanami (picnic under the cherry blossoms, basically). I had timed my trip to coincide with the blooming of the sakura, and the experience of being in Japan during that time was indescribable. I took a bajillion pictures of the sakura while I was there and unfortunately none of my photos ever quite captured the beauty and magic of them in person, but here’s a lil’ pic of a tree in bloom at Yoyogi Park (with the Movic Ignis charm I bought at Kbooks earlier that day).

Another item on my Japan checklist was to stay at a ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) in Hakone, a town famous for its onsen/hot springs. Nothing in Hakone is cheap (at least, not during peak sakura season), and I had spent an absurd amount of money on a night at one particular ryokan with a private bath (shy husband haha). The private bath could only be reserved in 30-minute increments, and by the time we finally rolled into Hakone the bath we wanted only had one slot available for the rest of the night. So what did I do?

If you said, “Waste the first 15 minutes of your 30-minute, super-expensive onsen experience taking the perfect Ignis-in-a-hot-springs photo” then you would be absolutely correct lol.

I actually wasn’t planning on taking a bunch of photos of my Ignis figure on this trip, but after my husband tucked Ignis into my futon while I was in the bathroom, documenting my trip vicariously through Ignis ended up taking on a life of its own. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I popped back over to Tokyo after my stay in Hakone, which is when I finally got to make the Great Nerd Pilgrimage™ to the Square Enix Cafe! Had the FFXV collab been going on while I was there, I might’ve forked over the cash to eat at the cafe, but I opted to skip out on lunch so I could spend more money in their shop. They still had a small collection of FFXV merch...

...including this acrylic Ignis stand that I wanted but thought I would never own after failing to find it at Kbooks earlier in the week. Huzzah!

Also, I just feel the need to let everyone know that this is what the outside of the Square Enix Cafe in Tokyo looks like lmao.

Our next stop was Kyoto, which we arrived in on Gladio’s birthday (April 2nd). Unfortunately I didn’t have time to draw anything for his b-day, but we did stop for a Nissin Cup Noodle in honor of Gladio!

One of the most memorable moments of my trip was when this boating incident happened, and it requires a little bit of backstory. On my first full day in Kyoto, I attempted to field two of the most popular tourist destinations in Kyoto: the bamboo forest in Arashiyama, and the Fushimi Inari Shrine. Both places have their beauty and historical significance, and I suspect during the off-season are inspiring sites to behold. In my case, both places were absolutely swarming with tourists, which really put a damper on my enjoyment of them. Defeated, I followed a local canal back toward my hotel, which is where I spotted a miniature boat enthusiast controlling a boat that looked eerily similar to the Royal Vessel. I pulled my Ignis figure out with the intention of simply taking a photo of the boat in the background; when the man saw me holding my figure and fumbling with my phone, he flagged me over and gestured for me to put Ignis in the boat. I wish I had documented how it all went down a little better, but as I was literally wheezing with laughter, the above was the best I could capture.

One of the more off-the-cuff decision I made was to dress in kimono for a day while in Gion (Kyoto). As the cherry blossoms were at their height during my stay there, you couldn’t sneeze without hitting someone who was dressed traditionally for the numerous festivals that were taking place throughout the city. As a white foreigner, I initially had reservations about wearing a kimono (for fear of cultural appropriation), but I did everything I could to be as respectful and reverent whilst wearing the garb (and the rental shop was certainly happy for the patronage). It was an amazing experience and I would definitely do it again!

Speaking of being respectful, I made it a point not to take pictures of Ignis while visiting any shrines (because nothing screams ‘douchey American’ quite like whipping out an action figure on sacred grounds), hence why I don’t have pictures of any of the major shrines we visited in this post. I did, however, spot this miniature shrine arch in an alleyway, and thought it would be okay for my equally miniature strategist to pay his respects.

Literally, a tiny shrine in an alleyway. I suppose even alleys have their deities!

Osaka is about 20 minutes away from Kyoto by train, and since I had already traveled all the way out to Kyoto, I went the extra few miles to stop by the Square Enix Cafe in Osaka. They actually had a smaller selection of FFXV merch than the one in Tokyo and I didn’t end up buying anything, but I would’ve never stopped wondering if I had missed out on something if I hadn’t gone and seen it for myself!

My last day in Kyoto was a week into my trip, and I still had five days left to go. After walking ~10 miles every day (no joke, I have the GPS screenshots to prove it!), I was really starting to feel the grind. I’m sure Ignis was also desperate for an Ebony after being lugged around in the bottom of my purse for a week lol.

Back on the Shinkansen (bullet train) to Tokyo!

Weeeeeee (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

Said hi to Fuji-san!

Stopped for a delicious matcha parfait! (Shout-out to my husband who never once got annoyed with me whenever I busted out my figure in public spaces lol)

This was without a doubt the craziest and most unexpected find of any of my merch runs. I had gone to the video game Kbooks in Ikebukuro earlier in the week and had sifted through all their Ignis merch with a fine-toothed comb. This particular Movic charm was one I had been on the lookout for, but it was a rare pull even when they were readily available a year ago, and the only Ignis charm I came across in my first trip to Kbooks was the normal Ignis one (see my Hanami pic). I had no real reason to return to Ikebukuro after I got back from Kyoto, but on a whim I went one last time and BAM—this guy was hanging out there in his lil’ baggie, just waiting for me to get my grubby little hands on him. Jackpot!

All in all, I spent way too much money and I couldn’t be happier for it. The only thing I couldn’t find for the life of me was the Ignis cologne by Movic, but after searching through several Animates and Kbooks, I began to suspect it might be an online-exclusive item that wasn’t available in stores. (Which was probably a good thing for me cause I was already stretching my budget to the limit by this point haha.)

On my last night in Japan, I went back to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building—only this time I went at night when it was all lit up! I also went up to the observation deck on the 45th floor (something I didn’t know you could do the first time I was there) and enjoyed a fantastic view of nighttime Insomnia Tokyo. It was the perfect bookend to a perfect trip, and my heart is absolutely overflowing right now with love for both Japan and Final Fantasy XV!

[nanowrimo]

30 Covers, 30 Days 2018: Day Fourteen

Every November, during National Novel Writing Month, thirty professional designers volunteer to create book cover art inspired by novels being written by aspiring authors from around the globe. Why? To encourage new, diverse voices, and help build a more creative world.  

30 Covers, 30 Days is presented in partnership with designer and author Debbie Millman. Read more about these NaNoWriMo 2018 novels-in-progress, and the cover designers, below.

The Girl and the Guardians

An Experimental novel being written this November by NaNo participant Annette Oakley in the United States.

Ellie Sigurd's always been intrigued by her Icelandic heritage. She's read books, took basic Icelandic in university, and scoured the web for photos, but she's never been allowed to visit. Every time she's tried, her family has shut her down, refusing to tell her anything about her history--not even her grandfather's name. They're scared and superstitious, and she doesn't know why. After graduating from university, Ellie rebels, taking a solo trip to Iceland to pursue answers to the life-long questions she's had about her heritage. It's there she meets Katla Rosenburg, a wild, adventure-loving native with dreams of taking a "road trip to end all road trips" around the country. She talks Ellie into letting her tag along as a local guide, and it's fabulous and fun ... until things start to go wrong. Ellie discovers her grandfather was murdered, despite what authorities had claimed for years. Locals talk about a family curse--an ancient bargain with the land spirits they claim she must fulfill. Katla starts to grow distant and warns Ellie to never stray from the main road. And then there's the wooden doll of an old woman following her wherever she goes, begging her to pick it up... Begging to show her that sometimes, the folklore women tell their children to keep them in bed at night? It's all real ... and coming for her.

Cover designer Richard Ljoenes shared an alternate cover version and some notes about the design process:

“The photograph is by Russian photographer Andre Ermolaev. It depicts a Volcanic river in Iceland. I thought the beauty and forcefulness of it was a perfect way to capture not only the dramatic Icelandic scenery throughout the book, but also old Icelandic folklore and the violent family curse—the ancient bargain with the land spirits. I hand-lettered the type to be somewhat fitting of young person and their journal entries during the main event—the road-trip through this raw and rugged land. Outtakes included designs using photos of Icelandic mountain roads against the backdrop of Aurora Borealis, which also suggested some of the spiritual/supernatural qualities of the story, but ultimately felt a bit too familiar.”

Stay tuned for new covers every day of the month!

If you’re interested in entering your novel to the 30 Covers, 30 Days program, check out the instructions here. Don’t forget, November 15 is the last day to submit.

Cover Designed by Richard Ljoenes

Richard Ljoenes is a Designer and Art Director based in New York City. He primarily works on book covers and illustrated interiors, but his background also includes advertising and corporate identity. Ljoenes’s design and art direction has been awarded and recognized by The One Show, Type Directors Club, Communication Arts, The Cannes Lions Awards, Art Directors Club, Graphis, Print Magazine, How Magazine, and Graphic Design USA who named him a designer to watch in 2018. He has worked on over fifty New York Times Bestsellers. Ljoenes currently runs his own studio and is available for projects.

You can find Richard online at www.richardljoenes.com and on Instagram @richardljoenes. 

[blackphoenixalchemylab]

Lilith’s Winter Travelogue: New Perfume Blends

In winter of 2017, we used our savings, blew our collective airline miles, and maxed out our credit cards on a trip to Paris, Salzburg, and Berlin so that we could attend a Krampuslauf, visit the Christmas markets, and help Lilith practice her French in realtime. I’m pretty sure that we’ll be paying off that trip for the next decade, but it’s all worth it. We travel with our daughter Lilith as much as we can; we take her to conventions and business trips and trade shows, we take her on road trips and weekenders, we have taken her to as many cities, states, and countries as we could manage.

I want her to meet people who are not like her. I want her to hear voices that are not like her own. I want her to see history alive and vibrant surrounding her. I want her to see, hear, touch, and understand. I think she could stop here and do miracles. The following collection is a perfume scrapbook of these warm family memories, which we set aside to share during the coldest winter months. Lilith and Brian (our Doc Constantine!) have contributed scents and stories to this series. You can find Ted’s scrapbook of the trip there, too!

++ LILITH’S WINTER TRAVELOGUE

A BALMY 26 DEGREES

These three are far braver than I am. It was snowing buckets and the wind was whipping across the Fuschlsee, but these maniacs still went into the outdoor hot tub.

A wintry spa scent: green tea, aloe, eucalyptus, icy lemon, and French sage.

ARC DE TRIOMPHE CARROUSEL

Once the site of a guillotine that rolled the heads of thirty-five people during the Terror, now the site of a triumphal arch dedicated to Napoleon’s military victories of 1805.

Also: my family is ridiculous.

A sharpened blade, a pinch of snuff, a blast of gunpowder, and a pop of strawberry bubblegum.

AT THE KRAMPUSLAUF

I know I’ve talked about Lilith’s experiences with Krampus for years, so I hesitate to reiterate them here. She loves Krampus. Her love for Krampus easily equals her love for Santa, so in 2017, we took her to the Gnigl Krampuslauf in Salzburg (which we memorialized in our 12 Lashes From Krampus and Perchtenläufe series). She was enraptured. She was charmed by the wee little kid Krampuses, the Perchten, the switches, and the chains. She loved the snow and icicles, the roadside cider vendors and the bitterly cold air. I love this photo; it really seems to encapsulate her joy that night: the sparkle in her eyes and her bursts of laughter.

Ice, leather, and snow warmed by a steaming stein of children’s glühwein.

BEARS OF BERLIN

Even in utero, Lilith had a full head of hair. She looked like a Monchhichi when she was born, and from the moment I first saw her, I called her Bear. She’s my Baby Bear, Bunnybear, Bearington, Beanie Bear. I made up bear bedtime stories for her – we still tell each other bear jokes all the time. Every time I see a bear video or meme, I save it for her, my little Princess Bear.

While we were in Berlin, we made a point of taking photos with as many Buddy Bears as possible. They’re intended to symbolize peace, tolerance, and understanding between religions, nations, and cultures worldwide, and Lilith knows how important that is – especially now.

Sweet buttered rum, brown musk, wildflower honey, tonka bean, labdanum, and clove.

BEWARE: PICKPOCKETS!

Brian: “Lilith is always up for staging a hammy, fun photo. Here, I’ve found a Distracted American Child at Weihnachtsmarkt am Alexanderplatz and am very subtly and skillfully picking her pocket.”

Lilith: “We saw a sign on the ground that said Pickpockets! – and me and Unkie decided to pose like what the picture looked like. He let me pickpocket him for real after we took the picture and he let me keep the money.”

Neon pink grapefruit, lemon peel, petitgrain, and peppermint, all crunchy with sugar crystals.

BYE, AUSTRIA!

Lilith: “Nooooo! I don’t want to leave Salzburg!!!! I loved how it snowed, and I loved the food. I piled up on bread, mostly, but the bread was really good. And honeycomb. And bacon and sausage and eggs. I loved the outdoor hot tub thingymajigger. Being in a spa when it’s so cold outside is fun. I love the Christmas markets and I got unicorn and bat stuffy heat packs which is so cool.”

Brian: “I agree with Lilith’s sentiment on this. All the cities we visited were great, but Salzburg was the most charming. I loved the Christmas markets in Berlin, but Salzburg was… – quainter? I loved the gruff and distant replies we got to questions we posed to locals. I LOVED THE KRAMPUSLAUF. You can’t beat a Krampuslauf. Plus, I got a fancy hat. A legit fancy Tyrolean hat. I love that hat.”

This scent? Sachertorte.

C’EST ICI L’EMPIRE DE LA MORT

Our trip to the Catacombs was bittersweet. Lilith was touched by the beauty and poignancy of the experience, but also horrified by the stories of people getting lost underground.

Lilith surrounded by the ghosts of six million Parisians: damp black moss, grey sandalwood chips of bone, and winding sheets of balsam, ambergris, nagarmotha, and frankincense.

CATHEDRALE NOTRE-DAME DE PARIS

Lilith meets the Gargoyles of Paris: stone and ancient incense, beeswax and lavender smoke. 

CREPE AUX FRAISES

Lilith’s first genuine Parisian crêpe!

Strawberries, whipped cream, confectioners sugar, vanilla bean, and orange zest.

DIE JUNGFRAU

Brian: “She’s my Mini Me.”

Lilith: “This was me and Unkie posing for a picture with a play thing going on in the background at the ice rink in Alexanderplatz. I didn’t understand it because it was all happening in German, but it was fun!! I love my Unkie so much. He’s like my older twin. We have the same birthday and we are both year of the Rat. Mom is a stinky ol’ Tiger. Anyway, I just love him so much.”

Virgo’s sacred lavender and mosses with thyme, chamomile, lemon balm, and fig.

ELLE EST HEUREUSE

It was pouring rain and bitterly cold, but this smile kept me warm.

Wrought iron lattice and sparkling amber lights.

FIRST MORNING IN PARIS

We were exhausted, hungry, and batty from travel, but Lilith made herself right at home. She’s a born traveler, and takes just about everything that happens on a trip in stride; she’s as comfortable in a hotel, hostel, or airport floor as she is at home. Just before dawn on our first morning in Paris, I tried to talk Lilith into putting on a coat and watching the sun rise with me, but she’s didn’t bite.

Burgundy oudh and crushed velvet musk with a misting of lavender.

GALERIE DES GLACES

Lilith in the Hall of Mirrors: marble and gilded bronze, Venetian mirrors and a drop of poison.

GORDIAN HAIRMOP

Brian: “It’s something we always do when we’re on a trip, ever since she was really little. She complains constantly about how Beth brushes her hair, and I honestly enjoy the challenge of brushing her mop. It’s like that knot Alexander had to undo, except on my niece’s head, and I don’t have the option to cut it. Plus, her hair looks really nice when it’s done right.”

Lilith: “Every time we’re on a trip together, Unkie brushes my hair for me. I hate brushing my hair. Also cuz mom says I don’t do it thoroughly and I miss parts in the middle. I think there are pictures of him brushing my hair in every city we’ve ever been together. He brushes my hair way better than mom does.”

A warm scent, mahogany-dark: spiced teakwood, coffee bean, bourbon vetiver, styrax, tobacco, and oakmoss.

HELLO, SALZBURG!

Inspired by the deep purple hues of the night we arrived in Austria: icy air, plum musk, and blackberry with a beam of amber light.

HOHENSALZBURG FORTRESS

An absolutely stunning view of the Baroque historical district from high atop the Festungsberg.

A shiver of iced chocolate and white amber.

LA BASILIQUE DU SACRE COEUR DE MONTMARTE

Perpetual adoration of the Blessed Sacrament has been continuing uninterrupted since 1885, and I wanted Lilith to see the monstrance where the Blessed Sacrament is held.

An incense for the Maid of Orléans: red rose beads, frankincense, lily of the valley, iris petals, red labdanum, and steel.

LA JOCONDE

There is nothing mysterious or enigmatic about my kiddo’s smile. Her joy, laughter, and good cheer radiate delight and are impossible to eclipse, even when she’s jetlagged and exhausted.

Bright Italian bergamot, pink grapefruit, sweet California sage, and glittery white musk.

LE CARROUSEL DE MONTMARTRE 

Spinning merrily at the foot of Sacré-Cœur, this is one of twenty permanent carousels scattered around Paris. Just down the road, Lilith watched street hustlers play Three-Card Monte and ply the old gold ring scam.

A swirl of color against a rainy backdrop: golden amber and blackberry oudh with pineapple, tobacco absolute, cinnamon leaf, bay, sweet vetiver, and red apple pulp.

LILITH DE MILO

A lesser-known work of art in vibrant 21st century polychrome: vanilla cream, coconut, fossilized amber, and white sandalwood.

LILITH’S FIRST ICICLE

The only icicles we get at home happen when we have a fridge malfunction.

Plucked from the walls of Hohensalzburg Fortress: a glassy frozen snowdrop with whipped cream and glacial musk.

MOMMY’S LITTLE M16 AGENT

Lilith learning the art of spycraft at Deutsches Spionagemuseum.

A pre-teen superspy’s secret identity: white pear, apple pulp, golden musk, and fossilized amber.

MORNING AT FUSCHLEE

Salzburg is so goddamn beautiful.

Chilled white tea, freesia, and bergamot blanketing skeletal branches. Winter wind brushing across still waters.

NEPTUNBRUNNEN

Brian: “No one else would come out onto the rink. It was just Lilith and me skating, and Beth and Ted were trying to get pictures. I was trying to teach Lilith to skate while dodging penguins and other tourists. There’s a pretty funny photo of Lilith falling and me lunging to catch her, and the funny part is that it’s angled in a way that almost looks like I’m pushing her down. We skated together a ton that night, and she insisted that we go back again the next night.”

Lilith: “I’ve ice skated before when I was littler with a thingy, but this is the first time I really learned how to ice skate. Unkie helped me when I wasn’t using the penguin and he skated me with a lot and helped me learn how to do it. I fell down a lot, but that’s fine.”

Sugared chestnut and powidltascherl.

OU SONT LES JOUETS S’IL VOUS PLAIT

Lilith’s French teacher is a lovely, kind, radiant human being, and always so generous with her time. Before Lilith left for Paris, she helped Lilith put together a cheat sheet of phrases that Lil knew she’d need for the trip.

Où sont les jouets, s’il vous plaît? French vanilla, strawberries, and raspberries.

OVERLOOKING THE GARDEN

While we were at Versailles, there was a bomb threat on the premises, and we were unable to see the garden due to the evacuation. It’s difficult to convey how challenging and heartbreaking it has been to explain things like this to Lilith, from shooter drills at school to bomb threats in palaces. We live in difficult times.

A perfume of hope for a brighter tomorrow: sun-dappled amber, yesterday’s rain, and fresh-cut grass.

PANTHEON!

All right, so we only saw the Panthéon for a moment because Lilith wanted to hurry the hell up and get some crêpes, but I can’t with this smile. It’s THE BEST.

An incense for Sainte Geneviève, patroness of Paris: iris root, frankincense, and violet leaf.

PERSPECTIVE

Lilith’s guide at the Louvre was attempting to explain the difference in perspective between Medieval and Renaissance art by utilizing paintings of the Nativity and the Adoration of the Shepherds from both periods, and it fell a little flat when he assumed that she knew what the paintings depicted and she hadn’t a clue beyond the fact that they were paintings of a lady holding some baby.

Oops? Sorry, mom!

The scent of failing to pass on a Catholic education to the next generation: spilled sacramental wine, a splatter of vermillion paint, Bible leather, and a puzzled cherry chypre.

POTSDAMER PLATZ TOBOGGAN

Brian: “Now this shit was fun. When we arrived in Berlin, we stopped by the Potsdamer Platz market for a few minutes on our way to the hotel, but we didn’t stay for long because we were all exhausted. We check into the hotel, and I open the curtains in my room and Lilith and I see the lights of the market… and this ride, this alpine slide, that we must have walked right by in the dark. Lilith and I knew we had to do it first thing in the morning.”

Lilith: “There was a humongous slidey thing where you sit in a pool thingamajiggy and slide down it. And you have to carry your pool thing up the stairs. Ok, so DAD had to drag it back up the stairs for me. Anyway, I went on it a bunch with my Unkie and my dad, and mostly mom took photos. AS USUAL. This was one of my favorite things in Berlin!”

A tube of black rubber sliding wildly down a whoosh of white musk and white oudh.

SCHEITERHAUFEN VOM BOSKOP APFEL

Okay, this isn’t a photo of Lilith, but it IS a photo of a dessert I had on the first night in Salzburg. It was delicious and amazing and perfect, and it gets its own scent.

Baked apples in cinnamon cream, with a blueberry and raspberry garnish.

SNOW BEAR

Lilith put on my boots to run out into the snow this morning in her pajamas. Ich wünsche dir einen guten morgen!

Pink cotton candy snow, tuberose, plumeria, melon blossom, green tea, lavender, and a shiver of white musk.

SNOW OF THE GRAVESTONES AT PETERSFRIEDHOF

Lilith at Petersfriedhof, the oldest cemetery in Salzburg. As the bells of Stift Sankt Peter tolled around us, we wandered through the graves and the catacombs that date back to Late Antiquity.

Benedictine incense drifting on a frost-chilled December breeze.

SNOWFLAKE-SHAPED SNOWFLAKES

We’re such ridiculous LA rubes. We were standing outside our hotel laughing, oohing and ahhhing, and taking photos of snowflake-shaped snowflakes, when an Austrian fellow walks up to us and says, “Snow.” I told him that we’re from Los Angeles, so snow is super exotic to us.

He nodded and walked away.

The awe and wonder of a couple of Angelinos marveling at the snowy snowness of the snowflakiest of snowflakes: golden amber, California sage, white tea, and sunny Matilija poppy speckled with snow.

SQUELETTE ET FANTOME

My two favorite spectres, haunting the apartments of Paris: white musk, graceful lavender, blackcurrant, teakwood, and cacao.

SWING CAROUSEL

Brian: “I’m not afraid of heights, but I am reasonably afraid of landing, and I have what I feel is a legitimate concern about rickety old carnival rides. I kinda hate carnival rides, but I’ll do it for Lilith.”

Lilith: “Mom says this ride is called a Swing Carousel, but she also calls it a Barf Ride. She wouldn’t go on it, but my dad and my Unkie did. We went on it, and it’s pretty much where you’re sitting in a flying seat. When we were stopped, I couldn’t reach the ground with my feet. I love this ride. The swing is kinda like one of those baby things you have at the park, with the bar for the babies. It’s like those swings, but crazy and way up high. We ate cheesy hot dogs and got hot chocolate right next to the ride, too.”

Bright orange peel and osmanthus with polished cedar, rings of burnished amber, sweet incense, and gingerbread.

THE HOHENZOLLERN CRYPT

Beneath the Berlin Cathedral lies the Hohenzollern family crypt. It is the final resting place of many of those who shaped the history of Berlin, and is one of the most important dynastic burial sites in Europe, with roots reaching back through centuries.

The memory of an 18th-century perfume from the royal houses of the Holy Roman Empire drifting through marble-white walls: white bergamot, clementine, lime peel, grapefruit, blood orange, neroli, lavender, thyme, and tobacco.

THE UMBRELLA INCIDENT

Travel brings educational experiences that you just can’t predict. We visited the German Spy Museum in Berlin on a whim, and Lilith learned all about the history of espionage, data encryption, cryptography, and cypher machines, poisons and truth serums, and the strange and clever artifacts of Cold War spycraft. For me, the most interesting part was the Stasi’s collection of scent samples of German dissidents. For Lilith, the best part of the museum was dodging beams in the laserparcours, full Mission Impossible-style.

Here, Lilith is inspecting the poisons exhibit after watching a reel about the Bulgarian umbrella.

Leather shoe phones, the gleaming metal of a M-125-3 Fialka cipher machine, a femme fatale’s heady, dark perfume, and a breath of castor bean accord.

THUTMOSE’S NEFERTITI

While we were at the Ägyptisches Museum und Papyrussammlung, I desperately wanted to see the Nefertiti bust and share the moment with Lilith. There’s a story behind why the bust is so important to me, but that’s for another time. Suffice to say, I was overwhelmed with awe and joy, and a kind docent told me that we could take a photograph from the doorway as long as we didn’t use flash. This blurry mess is my best attempt!

Myrrh steeped with cardamom, cinnamon, and sweet wine, streaked with lines of labdanum kohl, and gilded with crushed ambrette seed, a copper oxide musk, and accords of lime spar and iron oxide.

TRAVEL BUDDIES

Brian: “Here, we’re en route to Frankfurt Flughafen and then off to Berlin. It’s always fun to travel with Lilith. We’ve been on a lot of trips together, going all the way back to her first trip out of LA when she was 1. We went to New Orleans that time. We’ve traveled for work and we’ve traveled for fun, and everything is a little bit more interesting when I’m with this kid.”

Lilith: “I remember being in a t-shirt in the freezing cold here because I took my jacket off in the airport because it was so hot. I love travelling with my Unkie.”

A reinvigorating travel survival oil containing essential oils of frankincense, lemon, eucalyptus, peppermint and rosemary. Leave it to the Virgos to have a practical oil here.

UBI BENE, IBI PATRIA

Lilith once told me that home is wherever her loved ones are. My sweet girl, may you always be surrounded by those who love and support you.

White musk and lavender, frankincense and amber incense, sugar cookies, rose petals, and Florida Water.

VIRGO SNOWBALL

Brian: “Our first morning in Salzburg, I wake up to the sound of something thudding against the window. I look outside, and Lilith is out in the snow throwing snowballs at our door. So, I put on all my snow gear – mittens, hat, boots, overcoat, the whole pile of stuff – as fast as I can, and I go outside and I realize this kid is in her just in her long johns and her mom’s snow boots, standing in the snow laughing. Beth comes out yelling for her to put her snow clothes on and to get out of Beth’s boots because she was getting snow in them. She gets changed, and we run around snowball fighting.

“There’s another story – an inside joke – that if my feet get cold wherever we are, we have to go home. But I’ll save that for another time.”

Lilith: “You can’t tell in the picture, but I’m in my jammies here under my coat and stuff. Me and Unkie had a snowball fight. We tried to build a snowman, but it very much failed. Unkie got me a lot with the snow, but I got him back!”

A scent the color of the sun rising over Lake Fuschl: a joyful lemon ginger cologne with a touch of bay leaf and white tea.

WEIHNACHTSMARKTE

The first Christmas market that we visited in Berlin was at Potsdamer Platz. We were completely wiped from the day of travel from Salzburg, but we were stubbornly determined to at least step into the market before collapsing into bed.

The scent of brightly frosted lebkuchen, warm mutzenmandeln, and chocolate-drizzled, marzipan filled schneeballen.

YULETIDE AT HEATHROW

Honestly, there are a lot of smells in any given airport that I probably shouldn’t translate into a perfume, but this particular scent was inspired by this radiant ribbon tree at Heathrow and the joyful little girl standing in front of it.

Sparks of snow-white musk dotted with shining bulbs of blackcurrant, plum, and lavender.

ZONKED IN PARIS

Even the most intrepid adventurers get sleepy.

Coffee, coffee, and more coffee for the grownups, and vanilla ice cream to en’sugar the kiddo out from her stupor.

[mregalaphotos-blog]

Assignment 2: Journal

I have decided to just keep a continuous log with thoughts and ideas and if I explore an artist or concept deeper, I will mention it and make a write up separately. I will post them all at the end. I have had issues with Tumblr deleting posts while I type that out or submit this so keeping them in a document makes sense to me. Apologies for what I assume will be an incredibly long post.

DART 1130 Journal

Monday, March 18:  After presentation of our works, we got into discussion of Assignment 2, Make What Will Happen. We discussed multiple different aspects of making the photos unique. I was especially interested in double exposures as an approach. It would be a very difficult thing to do but could lead to interesting juxtapositions of images and ideas. I may explore that further in a deeper dive of the concept. An example of this using an outline to mix concepts is seen below in Andreas Lie’s work.

Friday, March 22: For me, I think nature photography is once of the more interesting and beautiful parts of photography. When you get out into nature, you are no longer shaping the world but experiencing it. The only purely human element in the image and the experience is yourself and the camera you are taking the picture with. The only things you control are how you frame the picture and what parts you choose to capture. I will do a few deep dives into nature photographers and what they draw inspiration from and see if any of what they mention resonates with me and my past and present experiences.

Saturday, March 23: The first nature photographer I will explore is Ansel Adams. A deeper dive will be posted when I post this all, but Ansel Adams is a photographer well known for his images of National Parks in the United States that led to a greater conservation movement because of their profoundness. As someone who has spent much of their lives traveling and hiking the parks, I owe a lot to him.

Monday, March 25: This week is study week for the Paddington campus. I need to expose some images for next week’s class to get a start for the project and be better prepared to develop film. I am going on surf camp this weekend, which I think would be a great time to get some cool and unique pictures. I can capture the human elements with one of my favorite places in the world, the beach. As someone who has grown up on the Gulf Coast of Florida, it has played a major role life and why I decided to study abroad in Sydney. Another interesting thing that I am exciting to take pictures of is sunrise. For most of my life, I have been getting sunsets on beaches as I have lived on the west coast of Florida. On my first morning in Sydney I woke up early (mainly due to jetlag) and figured out the bus system in order to go to the beach and catch sunrise. In many ways it was symbolic of a dawn of a new experience that would be very different yet share some similarities with my past. This could be an interesting thing to explore as it explores my new environment and how it relates to me.

Wednesday, March 27: Discussion of sunrise and sunset made me think I should look at some photographers who take pictures of sunrise and sunset themselves. I will do a deep dive into a photographer and his work and post more on him. Tacita Dean, whose video on chasing the green flash was an interesting introduction to the topic but I want to look into another photographer… After looking around on the internet I have settled on award winning photographer Paul Reiffer. He tells of a similar story to me where he was up early due to jet lag and so took an amazing picture of the Sydney Harbor, as seen below.

Additionally, I went into the campus gallery and checked out what they had. There was an interesting exhibit that played with various shapes and was supposed to tell a story. I had difficulty following along but it seemed like a very interesting storytelling feature in a 3D environment. Another collection showed these black and white pictures that would be most similar to what we are working on class. However, it appears that the artist also used/recreated images from video games or other similar works to make their pictures. In the end they looked pretty demented, but their ability to invoke that kind of response in me was an interesting feature of the art.

Friday, March 29: A short update but I checked out a camera for the weekend. They gave me the Nikon rather than the Pentax K1000. I will see how it goes because it is different from the short introduction we had to the camera. I will take 36 pictures and see how they turn out on Monday. While at Paddington I did a little research for the library activity and looked at Zoe Leonard.    

Monday, April 1 (pre-class): A little update on how the weekend went. I got a few candid photographs of some friends I made during surf camp. There are a bunch of good day time images of things like people, signs, birds, and the scenery. I was too exhausted from surfing to be up early enough for sunrise during camp. So, this morning I woke up early and bused down to Coogee and took some sunrise pictures at the beach and finish off the roll. I ran into some issues where it was very difficult to get the camera to wind a little over 20 images in. I rewound the roll a little and it seemed to fix whatever jam there was. Here is a picture from my digital camera from the morning.

There was a beautiful mixture of colors/lighting levels that I am interested to see how it turns out. I think I got some more of the sun in those photos compared to this one.

Monday, April 1 (post-class): In class we developed our pictures, and were supposed to create our proof sheet before the next week. I figured out why the camera lever was not working right when I was working on developing the pictures. I foolishly assumed that the roll of film was 36 frames, but it was actually 24. Therefore, the second half of the roll was double exposed at full exposure and was completely unusable. The reason I was not able to create the proof sheet was that I ran out of time. It took Maria and I a very long time with a lot of struggles to load our film in the complete darkness. By the time we were done we were quite behind the class. After all was said and done, I only had a few workable frames, all from surf camp. I think some got fogged while developing as well or there was some error or another.

Wednesday, April 3: I do not have much time to work on photography this week because I have major projects/presentation and an essay all due on Friday. However, I came into the photography lab to print the proof sheet so I was not completely behind for the coming week. A picture of it can be seen below. There are not many frames to work with and I am not sure I want to incorporate it into the final project but I will at least be able to use the pictures to learn the techniques involved in printing from negatives. 

Saturday, April 6: With a little respite from projects I continued to think about interesting ideas and concepts to explore for the final project. While browsing on the internet I came across this photo of a long exposure of a departing train.

It was a very cool picture to me because it expressed this movement of light with a dark background. You can see each point of lights distinct path as it travels. This made me further interested in long exposures and how it can allow you to see interesting things. In having a think about that it led me to think about the many images of the night sky I have seen where the Milky Ways and other stars are incredibly visible and beautiful. These are captured with long exposures and so I thought it would be an interesting concept to explore. Because of that, I looked into Milky Way and long exposure photographers such as Dave Morrow. These kinds of pictures could be a potential thing to explore as I am currently planning a road trip in New Zealand where at night I would be camping in places with very little light pollution. The addition of a thinner ozone layer means I would get pictures I would be unable to get back home in the US.

Monday, April 8: In class I was able to print two negatives from the roll. These were both done using a filter of 2, the largest aperture, and an exposure time of 4 seconds.

Image 1: My thoughts on this are that it turned out much better than I imagined. The lettering on the sign is backwards which I think was interesting and added a little flair to it. The contrast and coloration of it turned out pretty well in my opinion. I really like how the border looks. It gives it an almost 3-dimensional look as if the picture is solid and its own thing.

Image 2: This image was a little bit rushed. It is not as in focus as it should be. The actual image itself was of a bird, which at the time I was exploring using different shutter speeds similar to what we had seen in the first lesson on using the cameras. In the end I don’t think this is really what I wanted to explore in the project.

In class Izabela talked about the piece of paper you use to determine the lighting conditions and camera setup for night time photography with me and Nicole. It is good to know that there is a tool like that to use.

Tuesday, April 9: I needed to go pick up more film so that I could get a better roll of negatives to work with and develop next week. I made sure to verify that this roll had 36 frames to work with. It was the same Ilford brand and ISO 400 that we had used previously so things should be relatively similar.

Friday, April 12: I had some spare time so I thought I would check out a camera and explore Paddington and take some pictures. Unlike the previous roll I had no issues with the camera, both with cocking the lever or rewinding the film. I took pictures of various subjects, ranging from trees and shrubbery to cool things I saw along wall surfaces especially related to lighting. I also got some pictures of streets and street signs similar to the sign I had printed earlier. There was a cute cat that walked up to me so I got some frames of her as well. I will hold on to the frames and see how they turn out on Monday.

Monday, April 15: We discussed an interesting concept in class, the dodging and burning. Using those to block out subjects or only focus on one is really interesting. It explains how some images I have seen such as the bear one from a few weeks back get their distinct outline. This technique could be a very useful tool when it comes to double exposures, where you could use something like the outline of a building and capture nature in the second exposure.

We also took a trip the Art Gallery of New South Wales to see Izabela’s works. I really loved the prints she had on the metal surface. It added an extra element to the work where each leaf in the work had this little shine on it like it was capturing the sunlight and reflecting it even though it was just a picture. Another very interesting takeaway from the work that I enjoyed was being able to see the grains in the picture. It was blown up to an incredible size and so the details didn’t come incredibly sharp but instead you can see the texture to which the medium applied to the work. I also really enjoyed the way the images were presented in a 3D space, with the folds distorting our view as I imagine the view was distorted due to diving and having limited light. A lot of thought was put into the presentation of the work and added to it greatly.

On a separate note I did not know that we would have class off next week and class the following weeks when I was planning on traveling. Due to this I will not be able to attend class in week 11 so all future interaction with this course will be outside the classroom.

Thursday, April 18: I am leaving for Cairns until Sunday. Due to the lending policy I cannot check out a camera for this trip as I would have to return it on Friday. So, instead I will take what photos I can with my digital camera and just reflect on them. I will be seeing some wildlife there and then scuba diving. Another limitation of the camera is I cannot take it underwater so there is really no reason to bring it.

I believe I know what I want to photograph for the final project. Izabela and I had discussed on Monday more about the self-reflection and relating the pictures to myself. I had previously talked about the sunrise and sunset and how they played a major role in my life and my trip to Sydney. So, I will try to capture sunrise in various places on various days with different subjects to illustrate my journeys and experiences with the first light of the day. I will get a long-term rental of a camera for New Zealand and try to photograph sunrises next week. I will bring two rolls of film and hopefully some of those 72 images will turn out well and I can help build a cohesive story around them.

Sunday, April 21: Just a few photos from the Cairns trip.

Monday, April 22: On Tuesday I will be leaving for New Zealand so I have just been preparing. I got an extended loan form singed from Izabela so I can check out a K1000 for a week. I went to Ted’s Photography and picked up two rolls of film to use, same brand.

Before I leave, I wanted to focus on a specific topic for once, which is how to take photos in a way that is aesthetically pleasing and have good compositions. A couple of rules, suggestions, and ideas will be shared in an accompanying post.

Hopefully I can use those rules to make more aesthetically pleasing photos.

Monday, April 29: Disaster has struck… For the past week I have been off the grid due to not having a phone plan while traveling and only being in a camper van during it so no Wifi. I ended up only taking one roll of photos while there due to a combination of sleeping in after exhausting days of travel as well as very poor weather preventing any picturesque sunrises. That would have been all good and fine and possible to work with but there was an issue unloading the film where it got fogged. I had pressed the release button and wound the film back up until it was loose like I had before. However, when I opened it up the film had not rolled up at all and the whole roll was a waste. There go all of those pictures from Wellington to Napier to Taupo to Waitomo to Tongariro to Wairarapa. I will attach some photos from my digital camera from the trip but obviously I cannot use those in the project. I had a lot riding on those so I am going to have to improvise and work fast to make up for the loss. I checked out a camera again to take more pictures. Here are some pictures from the trip that I took on my digital camera.

Tuesday, April 30: I woke up early to take the bus to Coogee beach to get some photos of sunrise. It was a beautiful morning to take pictures, with the lighting elements working out great and providing great layering and levels. I was really excited to use these photos. Sunrise had been a great decision to use for the project and I was excited to develop the photos and begin printing…

The same thing happened as before. I rolled it up, it got completely loose and so I was sure the film was ready to be taken out and of course no, it did not wind up and another roll was fogged. This was very frustrating.

So, I had to go to Ted’s again to buy more film. At this point I am running low on money and film is not cheap. I am also starting to run low on time as I was hoping to have had much more time for prints by then. I checked out a camera again because I am anything if not determined to get quality pictures of sunrise.

Wednesday, May 1: Taking pictures this morning was no issue at all. I had great pictures of sunrise, the cliffs and the waves and once again I was excited to develop pictures. Sunrise and its colors were even more beautiful than the day before and these pictures would turn out really well…

Everything changed when the light nation attacked. I had gotten back to the Paddington campus and everything was going well. Like always I was having difficulties loading the film into the reels. But I got it done and began the rest f the developing process. After the long time of doing so, the moment of truth came and I finally pulled them out of the container. They were all black. I don’t know when or how it happened but some light must have gotten on the film and ruined it. This was another day lost, but at least I had become even more cautious and I knew the routine. I could reasonably give myself Thursday to develop and get the first round of prints done and then Friday to reprint any with flaws.

As I was out of film, I was saved by Melvin who gave me a roll of his Kodak ISO 400. Tomorrow’s roll is realistically my last good chance.

Below is a picture of today’s sunrise.

Thursday, May 2: Things finally turned out much more positive. The bus I took ran late so I missed the best parts of sunrise but I still got some quality pictures. When I got to Paddington there were no issues developing the film. It was the best feeling I had in a while. So, I became very efficient in the dark room for the next couple of hours. I selected promising pictures from the proof sheet I made and started making prints. For the early sunrise photos I used a 2 filter for most of them as I already had some great contrast. When I got to later photos I found that that was not enough. I bumped it up to 3 and got much better variation in the blacks and whites. I was efficient and got many prints in.

At the end I checked the photos again and found little imperfections on the paper. They were minor marks that I wanted to rerun. It seemed like the paper was scratched at some point or perhaps the negatives had specks of dust on the. Either way I am going to rerun the prints tomorrow.

Another note and a point of concern was that as I ran my prints it was towards the end of the day. Those who had been printing earlier started saying that they noticed that the fixer was not quite working right and perhaps it had been used up or contaminated. It was changed by the resource center but not after I had run my prints. I will have to look at them tomorrow and see what I can do. Although not the greatest thing to happen, I am not extremely concerned as the slight pinkness may actually add to the images as they are of sunrise and those are the colors you typically see at the beginning of sunrise.

Friday, May 3: This is the last day I could print. I isolated 10 of the most promising photos from the day before and set out on reprinting those with the flaws I had noticed yesterday. I did see some slight pinkening from poor fixer so I will look at them later. Due to missing filters and interest in bumping up contrast even slightly more I went up by half for this days prints. Overall I was happy with they turned out. For those with better lighting there is great gradation and others with capture the essence of the first light show less of that and show more of the gray’s representative of their nature at that time.

Stylistically I like the slight pinks in the colors. They fit the theme well. Embracing the flaws is a good thing and letting them say something of the work helps add to it. Overall, I am happy with the reprints. I got a good effect of the sunlight on the water for parts of them

Now, with all of the prints done I need to focus on the presentation and putting them in a way where they relate great. I have quality images of sunrise and I have quality images of its effect on cliffs but the lighting looks very different because half is of the source and half is of the subject. Perhaps I will present them so as they are facing each other as they do in real life. The observers of the mare much like what I was in photographing them, as something in between them to see and interpret their interactions.

[thisfamilylifewelive]

Family Travel Itinerary: A Long Weekend in San Francisco

Last June 2019, our family spent my birthday weekend in San Francisco. In this post I share our long weekend itinerary exploring the City By The Bay.

Family Itinerary: A Long Weekend In San Francisco | This Family Life We Live

Day 1

We arrived on a Friday at about 11:00 am. Went to pick-up our rental car (Got a free upgrade to a Nissan Armada. Wohoo!) and was finally able to get out of the airport by 1:00 pm. 

Jollibee

Since hotel check-in was not until 2:00 pm, we decided to have lunch first. First meal in SanFo, Jollibee. #Priorities Born and raised in the Philippines, it brings back good childhood memories.

There are a lot of good restaurants close to the airport though. In my original itinerary we were supposed to have lunch at New England Lobster Market and Eatery. 

After lunch, we headed to our hotel to check in. We chose a hotel closer to the airport because they are way cheaper compared to hotels in San Francisco City proper. However, I won’t mention which hotel we stayed at as they didn’t fulfill my expectations. Yes, I matched my expectations to my price point affordability. Yet this hotel still did not manage to get to that level.

Once we we’re checked in and freshened up, we headed back out, this time driving towards San Francisco City proper. 

Painted Ladies

First touristy stop, the Painted Ladies. A row of painted Victorian houses, also known as Postcard Row, popularized by the sitcom Full House. The painted ladies are right across Alamo Park where there is a nice playground. So after a couple of pictures, the kids had about an hour playing in the playground. Then a couple more pictures before we headed to Lombard Street.

Lombard Street

This is the most crooked road in North America. Marc parked the car on top of the street and we walked up and down Lombard street for photo ops. 

It was the NBA finals at the time we visited, next game is being held in the Chase Centre. There was a red mustang convertible driving down Lombard Street bearing the Raptors flag as we we’re walking back up. I couldn’t help but yell, “Go Raptors!” #CanadianPride The occupants of the car yelled  “Go Raptors!” back at least.

Marc wanted to experience driving down Lombard Street, so we piled ourselves back into the car. He drove from the top of the street all the way down. Then it was time to visit the Palace of Fine Arts.

Coit Tower

Another SanFo touristy landmark is the Coit Tower. Anybody watch the movie San Andreas Fault? Yes, that’s The Rock. 

We chose to skip this place because I read a recent TripAdvisor review written by a mom, that says she doesn’t feel it was safe for young kids. Marc and I have actually been in the tower before, and yes, I wouldn’t feel comfortable taking Kaeden and Kenzie up there based on previous experience.

I did however take photos of the kids on Lombard Street with the Coit Tower in the background. 

Palace of Fine Arts

By the time we got to the Palace of Fine Arts, the kids were already tired from our adventure. Kaeden had a power nap in the car while Kenzie had an extended 30 minute nap on the stroller.

We took a lot of photos while walking around the Palace of Fine Arts. I think this was my favorite part of the trip because we were just having quality time with family while taking in the sights. 

Alioto’s Restaurant

For dinner that night, we had reservations at Alioto’s Restaurant, in Fisherman’s Wharf. I made the reservations online about a week before our visit. 

Dinner was superb! Nothing can beat eating fresh seafood with a view of the bay in front of you. 

Although, in all honestly, Marc and I still had a nightcap of Jollibee Chicken Joy. LOL

Day 2

Another reason we chose the hotel we stayed at was because breakfast was included. Nothing fancy, just your typical continental breakfast buffet spread. It prepared us for the day’s adventure. 

Golden Gate Bridge

First stop of the day was Golden Gate Bridge. We left the car in the lower level parking lot and walked all the way up to the bridge. Obviously, also took a lot of pictures along the way. 

You can cross to the other side of the bridge through the walkway underneath. The kids had a good time looking at the underside of the bridge. There was also an exhibit explaining the history of the bridge and the engineering design utilized for it.

No tourist tour is complete without visiting at least one gift shop. LOL We browsed but didn’t buy anything. My mom and Dad ended up buying some souvenirs. Did I mention that my mom, dad and brother were with us on this trip?

Barrel House Tavern

After spending almost half the day at the Golden Gate Bridge, we drove to Saulsalito for lunch.

On my original itinerary we were supposed to eat at Scoma’s. I mistakenly did not make reservations, and we didn’t want to wait 45 minutes for a table. So we walked up to Barrel House Tavern and had lunch there instead. 

Food and drinks were excellent. Calamari and mussels hit the spot. And the kids had fun sitting on a bar-height table.

Sausalito

After lunch, we walked around this beautiful sea-side town. Marc and I had been here back in 2012. We both remember it being smaller and quaint. Fast forward several years later, it has grown a lot, possibly due to the fact that it accommodates tourists from all over the world. 

Lappert’s Ice Cream

A visit to Sausalito would not be complete without trying Lappert’s Ice Cream. We treated ourselves to scoops of ice cream in waffle cones.

I love that they have different flavors inspired by places around the world. The kids definitely  enjoyed their scoop of ice cream while looking out to the ocean.

After enjoying our ice cream and a long walk, we piled ourselves back into our Nissan Armada and headed back to San Francisco. The kids enjoyed nap time while in the car.

Ghirardelli Town Square

Since dinner was still a couple of hours away, we spent some time in Ghirardelli Town Square.

There are a lot of things to do here. Several stores have interactive play for kids outside. And did I mention that the Ghirardelli chocolate shop gives generous samples?!

I think the kids went back a couple of times for chocolate. LOL. Marc and I may have also gone back for seconds, we won’t confirm.

After buying some Ghirardelli chocolate packs to take home, it was time to start walking towards Fisherman’s Wharf for dinner. 

Parking Tip

Since our rental SUV was quite tall, it was too high for the underground parking at Ghirardelli Town Square. So we opted to park near the park to the left of the square. There are a few spots there. However, parking is only for 2 hours. So just before we headed to dinner, Marc moved the car several spots down. There were more spots open then because our dinner reservation was booked for 7:00 pm.  

Cioppino’s

For my actual birthday dinner, I made a reservation at Cioppino’s, an Italian Seafood restaurant. Because seafood and pasta, how can you go wrong? 

The service was great but the food was okay. It wasn’t mind-blowingly good. Also the restaurant is slightly dated in appearance.

But the servings are massive. All of us had to take about half of our meals back to the hotel. LOL. But in all honesty the service was excellent. I wish I can remember the name of our server. 

Family Itinerary: A Long Weekend In San Francisco | This Family Life We Live

Day 3

We woke up bright and early on Sunday for our day 3 adventure. We were first in line at the breakfast buffet. 

Chase Centre

Marc wanted to watch an NBA finals game but ticket prices were ridiculous. So he just opted to drive up to Chase Centre for a photo op.

Security was tight though because of the NBA finals so he didn’t even have a nice photo. But at least he saw the arena. While the kids and I had some time to catch some sleep before we started the day’s adventure.

Cable Car

After we parked the car again in the same area near Ghirardelli Square, we walked over to the Cable Car station. Tickets for a 1-way trip cost $7 per adult.

We rode the cable car down to the downtown area. Kaeden and Kenzie at first were terrified, thinking they would fall off. But then they got the hang of it and enjoyed.

Downtown San Francisco

Once in the downtown area, we stopped by Starbucks for drinks. We walked around a tiny bit. There was a huge event happening, so there were too many people, and we are just not into that.

We took a few pictures and decided to head back to Fisherman’s Wharf. We lined up to take the cable car back. The line up was so long!

Senor Sisig

Luckily we spotted the Senor Sisig food truck near the line up. This is one of the most popular food trucks in San Francisco. Bonus that it’s Filipino cuisine based. 

We purchased a couple of orders of sisig and happily ate lunch while lined up. The kids had Burger King chicken nuggets and fries. Everyone was full by the time we boarded the cable car. 

Fisherman’s Wharf

We got off the cable car at a different spot where we initially boarded. So we left the kids with my mom & dad in Starbucks, while we walked to the car.

This time we parked the car underground in the building where Ross is. It was a $10 parking fee, but it was a hot day and the fee was for the entire day. 

After we met up with my parents and the kids at Starbucks, we headed down to the pier. At the pier we purchased tickets for the Bay Cruise, this is what we plan to do in the afternoon.

Originally we wanted to go on the catamaran cruise, but with the kids, we thought the boat cruise would be less stressful for us adults. LOL.

Since our cruise time was not until 3:30 pm, we decided to walk around the Fisherman’s Wharf area, take some photos, and try the famous fish and chips from The Cod Mother’s Fish and Chips. It’s our linner! The meal between lunch and dinner when you’re on holidays. LOL.

Bay Cruise

At 3:30 pm we lined up for our Bay Cruise. It took us around the bay area, near Alcatraz, under the Golden Gate Bridge and then back to the pier. We took A LOT of photos. Like really a lot!

It was fun to just sit back, relax, and have the boat tour us around. A nice break from all the walking we’ve done so far. The kids certainly enjoyed it!

Note that we specifically did not go to Alcatraz because Kaeden and Kenzie will not appreciate it. They’d probably just be scared if we go in there. The Bay Cruise went close enough that they can see it and we can touch on the subject but not delve too deep into it. 

Shopping

After getting off the boat, we headed back to the car and drove to Red Ribbon. This is a famous bakery for Filipino people. We bought a lot of pastries to take back home. There is no Red Ribbon in Canada yet.

Next stop, Target and Trader Joes. We stocked up on Trader Joe spices – Everything But The Bagel, Chilli Lime, 21 Seasoning Salute, and the coffee rub.

All of us got stopped at airport security, our baggage checked, because it was just full of spice blends. LOL

The kids were allowed to buy a $10 item in Target as a souvenir, obviously they each chose a toy. 

Isla Restaurant

For dinner on our last day, we decided to try a popular local Filipino restaurant. We chose Isla Restaurant through a recommendation by my Mom’s friend. 

Dinner was excellent! Definitely satisfied my Filipino taste buds. And they gave us a free dish because it was still my birthday week. Gotta love that!

Day 4

Our flight back home was at 12 pm. As usual we had breakfast at the hotel. Did a rejig of our luggage – each of us only brought one carry-on suitcase and a back pack, including the kids. So we had to distribute the pastries and spices accordingly. 

Dropped off the rental car and was surprised that there was no line up at security.

We were relaxing inside the airport about an hour and a half before boarding time. So we had time to eat a mini-lunch and let the kids burn off some energy before flying back home. 

I hope you enjoyed and picked up a thing or two from our long weekend family itinerary in San Francisco. If you want to see photos of our trip, head on over to our Instagram (@this.family.life.we.live). If you like what you see there, please follow us. We always appreciate new tribe members!

from WordPress https://ift.tt/2NzvZ9s via IFTTT

[utsukushiishoujomangas]

Trip to Japan recap! (Part 3 - Himeji, Hakone and Tokyo)

Hello all,

Here’s part 1 in case you missed it:

http://utsukushiishoujomangas.tumblr.com/post/164067970528/trip-to-japan-recap-part-1

Aaand Part 2:

http://utsukushiishoujomangas.tumblr.com/post/164134921428/trip-to-japan-recap-part-2-kyoto-and-nara

Our primary method of long-distance transportation: Shinkansen (Bullet train)!

We dropped off our luggage in Osaka and left to visit Himeji Castle, widely regarded as the best intact Japanese castle (survived 400 years through WW2 and the 1995 earthquake!), its original construction dating back to 1333 (rebuilt in the 1600s).

. (so that users on mobile can see the second picture)

.

The castle itself sits on a hill, making the views from inside spectacular!

The breeze through the windows is also very refreshing~

It’s a bit hard to get good pictures inside due to the sun’s glare.

The castle itself has 7 floors, all of which are accessible through very steep wooden stairs.

.

Sign at the entrance of the castle complex.

Back in Osaka!

We were too tired to go out explore Osaka, so we just grabbed takoyaki at Shin-Osaka Station (Osaka being known for street food style food; eg: takoyaki, okonomiyaki, etc). So no Dotonbori/Glico Man, Denden Town, Abeno Harukas, Umeda Sky Building, Osaka Aquarium, Osaka Castle, Hep Five Ferris Wheel pictures to show here… >.<

The next day we went to Hakone, a region known for its picturesque views (with Mount Fuji in the background if weather cooperates) and onsen (hot springs) within reasonable distance from Tokyo (1h30 from Shinjuku station) making it the perfect weekend getaway for Tokyoites. The bus ride winding through the valleys isn’t really a pleasant one (tight roads, many abrupt turns) but from what I understand, we passed through the old Tokaido road linking Tokyo and Kyoto. The road was once made for foot travel, not cars so that makes sense.

The view over Lake Ashi was worth it though.

.

Our hotel was in Ryokan style of traditional Japanese inns.

The price was indeed expensive, but it included a hearty Japanese-style dinner served in our room and a breakfast.

It was hard to take good pictures of the lake view owing to the sunlight glare, but it looked much brighter IRL.

We visited Hakone Shrine next.

.

.

.

.

Two of Lake Ashi’s famous sights, the floating Torii gate, along with…

The pirate ship! xD

The sight just outside our hotel.

No pictures of the onsen (for obvious reasons) but I can say that anime/manga portrays it accurately (other than the usual tropes surrounding it).

The next day we took a cruise on the aforementioned pirate ship, and managed to get a glimpse of Mount Fuji (the tall faded mountain in the distance). 8D

Odawara Station, where we changed to the Shinkansen.

Back in Tokyo Station, we passed by the Suica store. Suica is an IC card, essentially a rechargeable card with electronic money used mainly to pay for train/metro fares (transport fares are mostly based on distance traveled in Japan, so buying a ticket every time you go out is a huge hassle), but it can also be used in many stores. 

The penguin mascot is so cute. ^^

How Tokyo Station looks like from the outside.

We went out in Shibuya for supper. Here’s the famous Shibuya 109, that probably appears in every manga where the protagonists go to Shibuya for shopping. xD

The famous Shibuya Scramble about to unfold.

Mario-like go kart rides. Not sure if legal (foreigners driving vehicles on your streets without permits) but looks cool. :D

We then went to karaoke. Sooo cheap (360 yen per hour if I remember correctly; ~3.25 USD) and even the English song selection is better than those where I’m from, which is kind sad in a way. o.O

The next day we wanted to go to Mashiko, a little town known for its pottery, but got a bit confused on how to take the very local train there. Two young JR staff at Shimodate Station helped us out but after much lost time we decided to go back to Tokyo anyway. Here’s some pictures from your typical countryside Japanese train station.

.

.

Next up is Ueno Park. This is Saigo Takamori’s statue, a tragic figure in Japanese history. A samurai from Kumamoto Prefecture in Kyushu, he helped the Imperial faction win against Shogunate forces during the Boshin War (civil war between modernist forces advocating the restoration of power from the Shogun to the Emperor and the Tokugawa Shogunate). Thereafter, disgruntled samurai in his home province rebelled because their samurai privileges were being stripped. Takamori was personally against the rebellion, but eventually agreed to lead it and died in battle against the very forces he helped establish. He is the inspiration for Hollywood’s 2003 film The Last Samurai.

Ueno Park also has many museums, like the National Museum of Nature and Science, which has a nice whale statue in front. :D

We didn’t go there though, instead opting for the Tokyo National Museum, Japan’s largest art museum. The pavilion buildings are nice-looking.

No pictures from inside as that would drag this post on even more. :P

Back in Ueno Park.

The top of Ueno Station.

Views on the Shohei bridge, near Akihabara where we went shopping after.

.

I went to Yokosuka alone the next day, a city with a strong naval heritage (hosts a major Japanese and American naval base).

.

I went there for the Mikasa, a preserved pre-dreadnaught battleship from 1902. What can I say, I like naval stuff. I won’t post the other 1.1 GB pics of it I took. >:D

Night shopping at Akihabara again.

.

Next up is Senso-ji Temple, Tokyo’s oldest temple.

Tourist-filled, but Nakamise Shopping Street in front of it is a great spot for souvenir-shopping.

Our final day was spent mostly in and around Harajuku. First stop is Meiji-jingu, dedicated to the first modern (post 1868) Japanese emperor, Emperor Meiji.

There was a traditional Japanese wedding ceremony when we were there:

.

Many foreign tourists here, so you won’t be the only one if you hang your Ema wishing plaque here for all to see. ^^

No visit to Harajuku would be complete without a stroll through Takeshita Street. Very touristy. Pretty sure it’s no longer the “central point of Tokyo teenage culture” anymore like it’s advertised in all tourist brochures.

View on Shibuya Station from our airbnb apartment on the last day. Needless to say, I was very sad that day.

 Shibuya Station.

Hachiko and the Green Car in front of Shibuya Station.

I reached the maximum photo limit (30) while drafting this post, so I’ll make a final post with miscellaneous stuff about my trip (food, drinks, non-shoujo otaku stuff). So keep watching out for that one. Hope it was entertaining ^^

[lizcleavesillustration]

Horse and Art Research Program - Artist Residency in Barnag, Hungary, Summer 2017

When I first found the posting for the Horse and Art Research Program I literally choked on my morning coffee. I always thought that my love of horses and art were separate endeavors. That the crossover of both subjects was not possible, now before my eyes it was achievable!  This was something that I knew I had to do, that all of the choices that I made in my life lead me to this moment. 

I had never applied for residency before, so with the help of a few good friends I sent in my application. Honestly, I did not think I was going to get in. The Horse and Art Research Program only took nine artists and the residency was open to the international art realm. Then one early morning the email came, I read it twice just to make sure, I was accepted! Lots of screaming and dancing around the house followed!

 When I kissed my boyfriend goodbye and walked toward my gate at the Portland International Airport, I was scared shitless! I knew that I carried my own hopes for the residency but also the expectations of those who believed in the artist that I have become. I knew that I that I had to be the best, open-minded, loving, roll with the punches, creative, that I could be! Little did I know that I was not only going to learn about printmaking I was also about to learn how to live a good life.

(Photo © Liz Cleaves)

After a day of traveling through the sky, I touched down in Budapest International Airpot. Only knowing about five phases in Hungarian I started my adventure.With the help of Louisa Giffard another HARP artist who knew much more Hungarian than I did (Thank you sooo much!)  we made our way to the meetup point. 

(Photo © Liz Cleaves)

The village of Barnag looks like it came out of a fairy tale. There are two churches at either end of the main street and houses that are wiggled in between. The village is surrounded by farmland, woods and religious statuary that lovingly looks after its occupants. 

(Photos © Liz Cleaves)

All of the artists who were chosen were passionate about horses and art. We were from all different backgrounds and artistic styles. Yet we were able to merge into a collective unit that was supportive of each other’s studies. Jitendra Baoni ( India ), Kate Klingbell ( USA ), Veszely Beata ( Hungary ), Szmrecsanyi Marton ( Hungary ), Emilia Olsen ( USA ), Mark Ritchie ( USA ), Lousia Giffard ( Australia ), Liz Cleaves ( USA ), Lara Jese ( Slovenia & Schwitzerland ), Jennifer Pleydon ( USA ), and Karin Victorin ( Sveden )

(Photo By Veszely Beata))

Comming from an illustration background I wanted to visually speak through my art. Grief, Death and the Natural world was my focus but I needed to find a way to communicate these difficult topics. The answer came to me on the second evening of my residency. I decided to write a folktale about a girl meeting Death on the road and learning from the consequences of the chance encounter.

(Photo By Mark Ritchie)

I had never etched copper before and with the guidance of Professor Mark Richie, the illustrations started to come to life! 

(Photos © Liz Cleaves)

I also did a massive amount of drawing at the Horse and Art Research Program! Our hosts Beata and Marton are horse archers. Every morning they would practice and invited us, artists, to come and watch them. Many of us took this opportunity to do life drawing! 

(Photos © Liz Cleaves)

Afterwards, Marton and Beata would be very kind and to teach us more about horsemanship and archery. The horse is a reflection of your self. Horses respond to your actions and attitude. There needs to be a balance between you and the horse. One does not dominate the other. Archery is also a balance between your mind and your actions.

 When I was learning to shoot, I could not for the life of me hit the target (it was a giant hay bale!) That’s when Marton walked over and said “Don’t aim, just shoot” Honestly, it sounded too easy. So I took “aim” and let go and...missed. Then I listened to Marton and just let go of the stress of hitting the target and guess what...I hit the target! 

(Photo By Veszely Beata)

So the days rolled by with riding, archery, walks to castles, swimming trips to Lake Balton and making prints. Life slowed down and finally, I was able to pursue horses and Art at the same time in my life! 

Photo © Liz Cleaves

(Photo by Lousia Giffard )

(Photos © Liz Cleaves)

To conclude the residency our hostess Beata decided to exhibit all of our work in a Gallery Show at the barn! It was wonderful to celebrate the artistic success of the program with our hosts, the other participants, the horse archers from other tribes, the villagers from Barnag (the mayor came!), and the press! 

(Photo By Veszely Beata)

(Photo By Veszely Beata)

(Photo By Veszely Beata)

(Photo By Mark Ritchie)

Here is are the prints that I showed. I am still editing the bulk of the drawings and prints and will post more once they are digitally archived! I am thinking about making a little art book with the folktale in it..more to come!

Traveled the World Seven Times © Liz Cleaves

The Third Arrow © Liz Cleaves

Remembrance © Liz Cleaves 

In the spirit of performance art and printmaking, Beata came up with the grand idea of printing an image of Arabell (the horse) at the gallery show! The print came out fantastic and I think Arabell liked the art too!

(Photo from the Horse and Art Research Program)

(Photo by Lara Jese )

(Photo By Konkoly Merse)

On the last day of the program, our hosts let a few of us try horse archery at the canter. It was the ultimate balance between, my mind, actions, and emotions and the horse’s mind, actions and emotions. I was very nervous when I was walking Arabell to the post to start her down the track. Instead of keeping my feelings trapped inside I whispered to her “I’m scared Arabell, please take care of me.” She listened, knew and together we hit the target!

(Photo By Mark Ritchie)

(Photo By Mark Ritchie)

(Photo By Mark Ritchie)

I cried a little when I started my journey back home to Portland, Oregon. A piece of my heart was left in Hungary. I learned how to accept death and find balance in life. I meet wonderful people who taught me to become a kinder more grateful person and I made good art that will hopefully inspire others!

Thanks for following along and support the love of the arts! None of this would have been possible without the encouragement that I received from my patrons! Thank you from the depths of my heart! 

Photo By Jenn Playdon

To learn more about the Horse and Art Research Program - Click Here! 

To see more pictures from my trip and keep tabs on new work check out my Instagram! - Click Here!

Read the other Artist’s Blogs

Lara Jese -  http://larajese.com/

Lousia Giffard - https://louisagiffard.wordpress.com/2017/08/29/horse-and-art-2017/

[lydiasonlinelog]

Exercise 3.2 - Trace

Robert Capa

Source: https://www.magnumphotos.com/newsroom/conflict/robert-capa-d-day-omaha-beach/ (1)

US troops’ first assault on Omaha Beach during the D-Day landings by Robert Capa, 1944

Capa’s photographs of the US forces’ assault on Omaha Beach on D-Day (June 6th 1944) are an invaluable historic record of the Allied invasion of German-occupied France, which contributed to the liberation of Western Europe from Nazi control a year later.

This event resulted in the loss of 2,400 American lives by the end of the first day. Capa’s legendary documentation of the event saw him join the soldiers as they advanced, experiencing the landing on Omaha Beach alongside them as he photographed the scene.

His art lay in risking where to be and when, in how he built and conducted the relationships that enabled him to be there, and in how he shaped and presented the narrative of events he witnessed.

His power as a communicator depended too on his mythic status as narrator, or more specifically, on being considered the ‘greatest war photographer ever’.

He combined exceptional courage in fully playing the role of the photographer-as-hero with a deep understanding of the value and purpose of doing so.

The following are quotes from Capa’s written account of June 6th 1944 titled Slightly Out of Focus:

"Waist-deep, with rifles ready to shoot, with the invasion obstacles and the smoking beach in the background - this was good enough for the photographer"

“It was still very early and very grey for good pictures, but the grey water and grey sky made the little men, dodging under the surrealistic designs of Hitler’s anti-invasion brain trust, very effective.”

“Above the boots and faces, my picture frames were filled with shrapnel smoke; burnt tanks and sinking barges formed my background.”

A week later Capa learned that his photographs were the best taken of the event. Due to a darkroom error, only 8 of 106 were salvaged, the rest were heat blurred. These were all captioned, “Capa’s hands were badly shaking”.

I think the fact that Capa has titled his memoirs Slightly Out of Focus would imply that he is satisfied with the motion blur that a lot of his pictures have. Although they have this blurred quality, they perfectly capture the chaos and the fear that’s within the atmosphere of the setting. These pictures would not be the same without the blur, they are emotive and thought-provoking.

Robert Frank

Sources: https://medium.com/photos-we-love/robert-frank-elevator-miami-beach-1955-jona-frank-for-photoswelove-8d90a2c38d1d (2)

https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2004/oct/16/photography (3)

Elevator Girl by Robert Frank, 1955

The elevator girl is stood between the two blurred figures, waiting for the man and woman to leave before she begins her next ride and for her to join the others in their purposeful march onward.

However, her posture suggests that before she moves on, she has to go up and down. She is stuck here in the elevator where she can create her own dreams in the hope that one day she can move on.

Jona Frank writes, “ She makes me think about a time when I was so stuck I just watched time drift past not knowing how or when I would join the accomplished and directed. I like to think she is not lost in the photo. Instead she is caught-up in a wide-eyed reverie.”

I think Jona Frank really captures the essence of the Elevator Girl in this quote as it can be seen as a failure to advance when the world around you continues to succeed and move on. It also has a sense of just waiting for the right moment to take hold of an ambition, which Frank desrcibes as her ‘wide-eyed reverie’.

Geoff Dyer also comments on this saying, “An elevator door is about to close, like a shutter that will open again, for a moment, not on another floor but in another building or another city.” This references both the physical elevator in the photo but also the spirit of the road trip that Frank took when he took this picture which is included in his photobook The Americas, published in 1958.

Frank’s intetntion was that, in some respects, he was travelling down the ever-same road as Lange and Evans. But, in doing so, he was not just observing how what is seen from and on the road has changed; he was actively bringing about a change in perception.

Frank had a fondness for what he called "in-between moments" which is shown clearly in Elevator Girl. He has stopped time to feature only his elevator girl and tell a stroy about her alone. The blurred figures have been captured to add narrative, but they are only mere accessories to the true story, which is that of the girl stuck in her mundane life.

The Americas is one of the most influential photobooks in photographic history which changed our conception of what a photograph could be.

Hirsoshi Sugimoto

Sources: https://www.sugimotohiroshi.com/new-page-7 (4)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rY3nGoZqw9U (5)

The Photo Book published by Phaidon, page 446 (6)

Carpenter Center by Hiroshi Sugimoto, 1993

Sugimoto says his work is a combination of concept and vision together. He thinks about what he will do and then imagines the way he will photograph the scenes.

In Theatres, Sugimoto decided to practice his photography by bringing his camera into the movie theatre.

He opened the shutter when the film began and left it open for 2-3 hours, whatever the length of the film is. When the end credits show up, the shutter is closed.

He has photographed entire movie images and then the film is processed. There is no movie image that shows, it’s just a white light left on the screen which highlights interiors of the theater and this reflects the light.

The people that were in the theater have disappeared. He wanted to say that too much information is really just “nothingness”. To show it, you have to have something surrounded by “nothingness” and in this case the movie theater is the case to hold this emptiness.

I see this series as an abstraction of what a film is. All of the components that go into this film are ignored and come across as being just merely incidental.

Sugimoto asks us how we should think of time. Most photography is instant and only deals with the here and now. However, Sugimoto has slowed time and held it forever within his pictures.

I think Sugimoto’s pictures are beautiful. He has shown the theater in a dream-like state which has proved it to be a fleeting experience. It holds only memories and stories and has no grasp on reality which shows the insignificance of a couple of hours within our entire lifetime.

Michael Wesely

Sources: https://wesely.org/2019/potsdamer-platz-berlin-5-4-1997-24-9-1998/ (7)

http://art.daimler.com/en/artwork/michael-wesely-potsdamer-platz-27-3-1997-13-12-1998-2000/ (8)

https://birdinflight.com/inspiration/experience/time-shows-ultra-long-exposure-in-works-of-michael-wesely.html (9)

Potsdamer Platz, Berlin by Michael Wesely, 1997 – 1998

The extremely long exposure times of Michael Wesely’s analogue photographs allow us to visually experience time and transformation. Between 1997 and 2000, he documented construction work at the Potsdamer Platz.

The exposures lasted up to 26 months which allowed Wesely to create temporal documentations of the process of urban development.

In his photographs you can see several individual moments all linked together which gives an overall picture of each stage of the construction process.

The buildings appear transparent which allow you to see both the scaffolding and the solid concrete.

Weather and time can also be traced by the movement of the sun across the sky burnt into the image several times over. This demonstrates the changing landscape both day and night.

His subject here is historically significant and highly symbolic. The site was condemned to wasteland and was cut in two by the Berlin Wall. When the wall fell it was the symbol of German reunification and the beginning of a new era at the end of the Cold War.

Wesely is the only one who achieves the shooting this long and produces quality, not light-struck shots. He keeps the details of his technology secret.

The photographer builds his devices for each project himself. “These are not pinhole cameras and not industrially made cameras. All the parts of the cameras are handmade, except for the wide-angle lenses”, says Wesely.

Using neutral filters and a very small diaphragm makes exposure thousands of times longer than usually. According to Wesely, he can make exposure endlessly long, 40 years if necessary.

To me, Wesely’s work is inspiring because this style of photography is a technique that takes patience. It is a process spanning over years with no certainty of what the outcome may be. However, if the image is successful, you end up with incredible shots that show architectural development and document the process like no other method can.

This image can not be seen by the human eye alone and it captures the changing universe in a new and informative way that will provide a historical reference in years to come.

Maarten Vanvolsem and Gareth Davies

Sources: http://kusseneerscom.webhosting.be/portfolio_page/maarten-vanvolsem/ (10)

https://www.luca-arts.be/en/nieuws/maarten-vanvolsem-experience-time-still-photographic-images (11)

http://www.imageandnarrative.be/inarchive/Timeandphotography/vanvolsem.html (12)

https://www.tickpan.co.uk/ (13)

Silent Move 12 by Maarten Vanvolsem, 2007

A linear camera rides past a parade of shops in Kingsbury, North West London by Gareth Davies

The technique of strip-scan photography itself is based on a partial exposure of the photo sensitive material, which is moving in front of the shutter or visa versa.

The technique is probably first used in 1843 in a panoramic camera, but it has since been used in all sorts of ‘scientific’ fields. A shift can be noted from the non-scientific use to the meta-photographic use of the technique in which photography itself is questioned.

With this meta-photographic use of the technique it becomes clear, that the generally prevailing thought about photography and time, can no longer be applied to this kind of photography.

The temporal component of the images, previously often ignored or reduced to a fraction of a second, now becomes the main subject of the images. Vanvolsem says, “ My work emphasises this notion of time that is inherently part of the strip images.”

This type of image is something which cannot be seen by the human eye without technology. Photos are often captured within a split second so this type of photography is trying to open up the view on photographic images.

What we see in these images is an evolving time with continuous changes along a horizontal line. This causes sharpness and blur and gives us the real importance of the photograph which is not the subject, but the dynamic time.

Silent Move 12 has a series of dance moves which is visible in the change of position. You get a front, side and rear view in one picture. I think this is an impressive style of photography which captures space as well as time and forces you to evaluate the preconception that time in photography has to be instant.

Alternatively, Garteth Davies uses slitscan to create panoramic photographs. He uses self built roatating panoramic cameras.

In comparison to Vanvolsem, his photographs contain far less motion blur and instead give the feel of compression instead. For example, in the image above, the cars and buses appear to be squashed and compacted.

I think I prefer Davies’ work because it captures a much longer chain of events occuring across a whole system of a location and really shows the character of a place. Vanvolsem’s images are far more fluid and I like the idea of a busy panorama without the chaos of motion blur.

Wong Kar-Wai

Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZ1fEC67GO4 (14)

Chungking Express by Wong Kar-Wai, 1994

On the opening scene of the film Chungking Express you get the feeling that you are in Hong Kong.

The most notable and recurrent technique used to dramatise moments in this film is step printing. This is where you shoot the scene in lower frame rates, then duplicate or triplicate them and project it at a normal 24 frames per second.

Kar Wai says, “it delivers something textured, it feels like it’s very speedy but actually it’s very slow.”

The point of this effect is to make it seem as if everything is speeding up while also slowing down. Two things are communicated visually from this.

One is that the subject seems detatched from the world around him and secondly when the subject is in slow motion it emphasizes the importance of that moment in particular.

Kar-Wai often requires his actors to perform as if they are in slow motion in order to drastically achieve this effect.

For Kar-Wai, time is always percieved differently, either objectively or subjectively. The speed of the frames and the manipulation of time are what allows us to appreciate and depreciate every moment. Time seems to elongate and isolate the characters in their own world.

A reader for A Void In Frame describes the film like this, “It speaks to the lonliness and the desperate need for company, an escapism of boredom, but at the same time it is a warning to distractions, the call for attention to things that truly matter in our lives.”

I agree with this statement as I see the motion blur in this film as the chaos of a busy life surrounding someone who already has their own business to contend with. You see the people passing by so quickly yet the character is there alone, progressing slowly.

Francesca Woodman

Sources: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/woodman-space-providence-rhode-island-ar00350 (15)

http://www.gerrybadger.com/francesca-woodman/ (16)

Space², Providence, Rhode Island by Francesca Woodman, 1976

This black and white, square format photograph is a self portrait of the artist. She is dressed in dark clothing and occupies an empty room with white walls. Light enters the room from the window shown on the right of the image.

Woodman appears to lunge forward in this photograph. She is oriented away from the camera and although her feet are in focus, the rest of her body from the ankles up is blurred and this obscures her face.

This photograph was taken in Woodman’s studio and she was experimenting with exposure time by setting her camera on a slow shutter speed and manipulating the light in order to capture the movement of her body, which blurred her hands and face.

This photograph is part of a series where all the images feature the artist’s body in a similar interior space. For this particular image she blurred and distorted her body, while in others she encased herself in glass display cabinets.

The title of the series, Space², indicates a concern not only with the dimensions of space but with the way in which space is flattened by photography.

Gerry Badger analyses her photographs. “Coupled with a dissolution of corporeal solidity, we have a voice which speaks longingly of fleeing from the earthbound confines of the flesh, bridging the gap between material physicality and immaterial spirituality, and giving poignant articulation to her own sense of mortality.”

In other words he believes that her photographs speak of breaking free of a space, specifically the body, in order to truly understand its workings both spiritually and with the perception of life and death.

It is also thought that there may be a feminist message behind her images too, and that Woodman believed the odds were stacked against her sex and no matter how she tried to escape the restrictions placed on her gender, she could only be truly free by art.

Badger sees the work of Woodman as combining ‘personalised psychodramas with the temporal and spatial displacements of long exposures and blurred movement.’ She commited suicide at age 22 and Badger believes her emotional state can be seen visually through the time and space she portrays in her work.

I think that Badger’s analysis of Woodman’s work may be correct. The fact that the room she is in is so bare speaks to me about an emptiness in this woman’s life and her blurred movement shows she wants to escape from it. I can also see the thought behind the feminist interpretation in that she is entirely blurred and obscured besides the high heeled shoes.

My work

Contact sheets

Final shots

For this exercise I decided I would photograph the same subject as my previous work so that I could compare the effects afterwards.

I photographed my sitter yawning again, but this time I used a slow shutter speed to capture the yawn in motion.

For these photos my camera was set to ISO-100, with an F-stop of f/36 and a shutter speed of 1 second.

I set my camera up on a tripod and as the subject opened his mouth I took photos until he had finished yawning. The pictures capture the yawn at various stages of the process.

On my contact sheet you can see that some photos have a closed mouth and some photos have an open mouth, but all of them show a transition from one stage into another. My contact sheets show some of my thoughts and the photos I selected and rejected.

By having a slow shutter speed I was able to capture not just a freeze frame of a moment, but a continuation of this and a development of a movement.

I altered the brightness slightly of my photos to correct the exposure and make them all the same in Photoshop.

If I compare the effects of a fast and a slow shutter speed, I can see that they both have different qualities. The photos using the faster shutter speed work nicely together as a set, because it makes an interesting collage of portraits but the photographs with a slow shutter speed work better individually, because they capture the whole sequence in one.

Hand written notes and print-outs:

Bibliography

D-Day and the Omaha Beach Landings. (n.d.). Retrieved from Magnum Photos: https://www.magnumphotos.com/newsroom/conflict/robert-capa-d-day-omaha-beach/

Frank, J. (2016, May 17). Robert Frank’s “Elevator — Miami Beach, 1955” — Jona Frank for #PhotosWeLove. Retrieved from Medium: https://medium.com/photos-we-love/robert-frank-elevator-miami-beach-1955-jona-frank-for-photoswelove-8d90a2c38d1d

Dyer, G. (2004, October 16). The road to nowhere. Retrieved from The Guardian: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2004/oct/16/photography

Sugimoto, H. (n.d.). Theaters. Retrieved from Hiroshi Sugimoto: https://www.sugimotohiroshi.com/new-page-7

Bryan, L. (2009, November 10). Contacts: Hiroshi Sugimoto 2. Retrieved from YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rY3nGoZqw9U

Jeffery, I. (2000). The Photography Book. Phaidon Press.

Potsdamer Platz, Berlin (5.4.1997 – 24.9.1998). (n.d.). Retrieved from Michael Wesely: https://wesely.org/2019/potsdamer-platz-berlin-5-4-1997-24-9-1998/

Michael Wesely. (2010). Retrieved from Daimer Art Collection: http://art.daimler.com/en/artwork/michael-wesely-potsdamer-platz-27-3-1997-13-12-1998-2000/

Gramovich, M. (2015, May 26). Time Shows: Ultra-long Exposure in Works of Michael Wesely . Retrieved from Bird In Flight: https://birdinflight.com/inspiration/experience/time-shows-ultra-long-exposure-in-works-of-michael-wesely.html

Maarten Vanvolsem. (n.d.). Retrieved from Kusseneers Gallery: http://kusseneerscom.webhosting.be/portfolio_page/maarten-vanvolsem/

Vanvolsem, M. (2015, March 26). Maarten Vanvolsem: The Experience of Time in Still Photographic Images. Retrieved from LUCA School of Arts: https://www.luca-arts.be/en/nieuws/maarten-vanvolsem-experience-time-still-photographic-images

Vanvolsem, M. (2008, November). Motion! On how to deal with the paradox in dance photography. Retrieved from Image and Narrative: http://www.imageandnarrative.be/inarchive/Timeandphotography/vanvolsem.html

Davies, G. (2019, May 14). Panoramic Photography by Gareth Davies. Retrieved from Tickpan: https://www.tickpan.co.uk/

A Void in Frame. (2017, March 15). Wong Kar Wai's Chungking Express - Speed and Time. Retrieved from YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZ1fEC67GO4

Ateer, S. M. (2013, November). Francessca Woodman Space², Providence, Rhode Island 1976. Retrieved from Tate: https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/woodman-space-providence-rhode-island-ar00350

Badger, G. (2012, September). Francesca Woodman. Retrieved from Gerry Badger: http://www.gerrybadger.com/francesca-woodman/

[harrysweeneyphotography]

How did photomontage add another dimension to Photography - By Harry Sweeney

Photo montage is the name for the process of gathering two or more photographs and, cutting rearranging and gluing them to make a new composite image, that is often photographed, copied or scanned to make it a seamless photographic print.  

Although the roots Photo montage can be traced back to as early as the mid victorian period with Rejlander producing what he called ‘Combination printing’ Photo montage and photo collage as we know it today was first developed in the early 20th century, In 1916 George Grosz and John Heartfield experimented with pasting pictures together, this technique was later named Photomontage.  

George Grosz wrote, “When John Heartfield and I invented photomontage in my South End studio at five o’clock on a May morning in 1916, neither of us had any inkling of its great possibilities, nor of the thorny yet successful road it was to take. As so often happens in life, we had stumbled across a vein of gold without knowing it.” This marked the beginning of using Photo montage as a form of modern art.

In the 1930s John Heartfield began using photomontage to tell a story, he produced book and magazine covers in berlin using photomontage and typography. He began producing political pieces that spoke up against and mocked fascism and the nazi party during the lead up to the second world war earning himself a spot on the Gestapo’s most wanted list. This is an early example of using photomontage as a weapon against corruption and policies disagreed with by the artist, a technique that has been widely used since. The invention of photoshop and other editing in recent years has made photomontage accessible to the masses.      

I’ve chosen to work with photomontage in this project as I am interested in how it can dissolve the boundaries a normal photograph has. For instance a normal photograph lacks the ability to show the viewer an object or event from multiple perspectives. Photomontage allows you to achieve this by shooting multiple perspectives before layering, and positioning them together to make a new piece.

In the production of my own Photomontages i’m hoping to discover that there are very few limits to what you can achieve with Photomontage. And if it allow you to add the dimension of time to your pieces. Im also interested in weather Photomontage can allow you to represent the third dimension by shooting the same object from multiple different perspectives rather than only one as a normal photograph does.  

Artist Research

The early photographer I have selected is Hannah Hoch. She was born on 1 November, 1889, in Gotha, Germany. From 1912 she studied in the Berlin School of Applied Arts and in 1915 went on to study at the Museum of Applied Arts in Berlin. Hoch was a pioneer in photo collage and photomontage and an important member of the Berlin Dada movement. Splicing together images taken from popular magazines, illustrated journals and fashion publications.

Hannah Hoch’s work focused on themes of gender and the political and cultural climate of berlin after the first world war in Germany. She expressed her opinions on major issues in a comical and artistic way through collage, something that was seldom seen before the dada movement in berlin.

The contemporary Photographer I have chosen is John Stezaker. Stezaker is an English photo-conceptualist/conceptual artist. He was born in 1949 in Worcester, England and continues to make art today aged 67/68. He uses pre-existing photographs such as old postcards and photographs of early Hollywood stars, and combines and juxtaposes them in a way that generates a new meaning, often eerie and surreal.

Hannah Hoch - Untitled, From an Ethnographic Museum (1930)

This piece was produced by Hannah Hoch in 1930 and is said to be inspired by a trip she took to an Ethnographic Museum. Its central figure is a black and white photo of non-western sculpture of a woman with a western photograph of a western celebrity from a popular magazine. One of her eyes is a larger distorted eye from a different photograph that gives the whole piece a more surreal and dreamlike feel that is typical of artwork from the dada movement. Although the central focal point is black and white and sepia tone, the background is a deep red which makes the figure stand out. The blue semi-circle at the bottom of the piece works like a plinth for the new statue she has created and works together with the red background as a second primary colour making the piece more eye-catching as a whole. The message that Hoch tried to put forward with this piece is about attitudes to women in Weimar Germany during the 1930s and the role of the ‘New Woman.’ The anonymous female body in combination with the magazine cut out challenges the objectification of females and the use of bold primary colours serves as a way of highlighting the importance of this issue.  

Pair IV, 2007 Collage, 19.5 25.2 cm

This collage was produced by conceptual artist John Stezaker in 2007. Its consists of an old black and white photograph of a couple kissing that was likely taken from an old hollywood poster or magazine. In the center where the couple meet stezaker has meticulously overlaid a landscape photograph of a river carving its way through a valley, to the left of the river is a boardwalk with a figure standing on it and looking out. John Stezaker produced this piece in response to his beliefs that this sort of portrait photography is a symbol of modern culture but juxtaposes this with the landscape to show its ever-changing nature. Although this piece is a simple combination of two photographs it generates a lot of meaning. I feel that the fact that the two people kissing are anonymous is significant as it objectifies them as nothing else but a couple. The river running through the center of the image suggests the depths of their relationship unknown to anyone else. Not only this but it could represent their differences that will never cease to bring them further and further apart just as a river carves through a valley.

COMPARISON

The most striking difference between these two photomontages is that Hannah Hoch’s has an abundance of bold colour, whereas the Stezaker piece has no colour but only black and white and sepia tones. However, both pieces pair black and white images with sepia images to give them an old fashioned and traditional feel. Another difference between the two pieces is that Pair IV simply pastes one image in the center of the other to change its meaning whereas Hoch’s piece has cut out objects from multiple different sources to generate a new and specific meaning. In terms of their composition these two pieces are somewhat different. Hannah Hoch’s piece has a central figure that is blatantly its main focus, in contrast to this John Stezakers piece has two main figures. The use of composition in both pieces influences what we think about their meaning. Hochs piece puts all our focus on the central statue whereas Stezaker’s composition straight away makes us consider the relationship between the two figures, this is made even clearer with the central image connecting them. There are both similarities and difference when it comes to the meaning of these two photomontages. They both have themes of gender and human connection. Stezakers piece focuses on the nature of relationships and how they are viewed by people and Hoch’s piece focuses on the role of the female in the Weimar republic and how they were viewed by people. I feel the Photomontages are successful in communicating their concepts and do so in a way that is aesthetically unique and pleasing.

CONCLUSION  

Writing my coursework essay has taught me a lot about John Stezaker and Hannah Hoch. Firstly that they both use photographs in an unconventional way to challenge what we think about the limits of photography. Hannah Hoch was one of the first to make use of multiple different images to generate meaning or express an opinion that she couldn’t with put forth a single traditional photograph. Not only this but she was doing this in 1930s Germany, one of the most significant times in modern history. I have learnt that John Stezaker being a contemporary artist, has simplified the photomontage that people like Hannah Hoch pioneered and uses it as a tool to express his opinions on modern day issues. It is clear that Stezaker, among others has been influenced by the work of Hannah Hoch as she revolutionised the combining of different photos to express an opinion. A clear link showing the influence Hoch has had on Stezaker is that they both make use of images from magazines and posters. Hannah Hoch made use of the popular press being released at the time whereas uses older archived photos from around the time of Hannah Hoch, making it clear that she influenced his style. I believe the work of both of the Artists has longevity. We can be sure that the work of Hannah Hoch does as it is still famous today, this is due to its historical significance and Hoch being an important player in the Berlin Dada movement. I think that Stezaker work also does as his style is very likeable and unique and the messages he sets out to put forth are timeless.

My work has been influenced by both of the artists I have studied for my coursework essay. I would say John Stezaker work has influenced me more so than Hannah Hoch’s. The way Stezaker matches and carries some of the lines from the initial image onto the image he pastes on top helps his pieces come together as a whole. I was very much inspired by this technique when producing my own photomontage. I was also inspired by the combination of black and white with sepia tones used by both artists.

In the production of my own Photomontages i have discovered there are very few limits to what you can achieve with Photomontage. It allows you to add the dimension of time to your pieces by taking pictures of the same object seconds, minutes or even years apart and pasting them on the same background. It also allows to to add the third dimension to your pieces by shooting from multiple perspectives and producing a sort of ‘net’ of the object in question this was a technique used by Cubist painters such as Picasso and Juan Gris in the 1920s that David Hockney bought into photography in the early 1980s.      

My own work

This piece is made up of two images that I shot on illford hp5 black and white film of a girl washing her hands. I took the two images in a bathroom in Paris. One of the images is landscape and shows the sitter washing her hands. The other image is portrait and reveals more of what the bathroom mirror is reflecting. I was inspired by David Hockney in the way that it is two perspectives on the same event, giving the viewer a better idea of the event in question, allowing them to feel more involved. I was influenced by both Hannah Hoch in the way that i combined sepia and black and white so the viewer can tell the images apart, but they still work well together. Similar to John Stezaker i made sure the line at the bottom of the mirror ran through both of the photographs to make the piece seamless as a whole. I feel this also changes the meaning of the piece. One image being sepia shows that the real world on the outside of the mirror is different to that inside the mirror, suggesting that all that we see of ourselves is our reflection in mirrors, and this may differ from the outside world and how others see us. 

This piece is made up of two photos i shot on colour film at cambridge leisure. One of the images is shot from directly in front of my friend standing and talking. The other image that i have placed on top of the first is shot from a side on perspective of the same event. Not only this but the second image is closer up and reveals some of the details of the scene, like his ring and the cigarette and can of coke he is holding. This combining of two photos allows us to get an overview of the scene whilst also viewing the details within it, something that cannot be achieved with a single photo. I was again very much inspired by the photography of David Hockney in this decision. I used the lines within each photographs and the creases in his hoodie to join them seamlessly as John Stezaker does using the drawstrings of the hoodie to differentiate the two images. I feel the meaning of this piece is about discovering the details of everyday life that usually would go unnoticed. This message could be compared to the messages of Ed Templeton who i was inspired by throughout my project.