#buy kitsch instead

[kinjedl]

A new migrant's perspective on how Tumblr works

So, basically, how Tumblr works is this:

We are all, all of us, in a series of caves. Some of the inhabitants of the caves have dug little holes or access routes to the surface, where strange things like blue tweeting birds dwell. Some of us have fled here from a site the alien rules, and a few of us are splitting our time between their weirdly bright and shining domes and our comfy moss-covered holes.

From within your cave, you can dig tunnels. Some people choose to dig tunnels up to the top of other peoples' caves just to observe. Occasionally they might sneak down and steal a choice morsel to drag back to their own hoard, sometimes they just observe. Some tunnels don't lead to the caves owned by other individuals, but instead to dumping grounds where people shove copies of things that they think are related to a single topic. There's no actual rules to that, per-se, it's just a sortve rule by collective consensus about what kinds of things should go in that cave. Sometimes things get shoved in there which don't really belong, but that's fine too.

Some people cultivate their caves to reflect their own specific sets of interest - maybe their hoard has a theme, a motif, a genre. Some people just grab whatever looks shiny and show it off to whoever comes by to look.

When you find something that's interesting, you can - and should - grab it and run back to your cave and put it on display. As everyone knows, piracy isn't stealing, since it makes a copy, so the original is left untouched. That's how things spread down here. There's no real pacing to it, so sometimes someone will make a thing, show it off, and no one will notice that it's there until later, at which point it might take off running through the caves as everyone grabs a copy. Sometimes it does that in fits and starts. Sometimes it hits a particularly nutrient rich patch of the caves and grows way out of control, far beyond its original creator's intentions. Like a slime mold that hit a big ol batch of protozoa. The slime mold thing is probably more accurate than it should be.

The point isn't the spread, though. Tumblr works opposite of how most other big content sites like Facebook and Reddit and Twitter work. In all of those, the point is to yell at the top of your lungs and get as many people to hear you. If you can't get enough people to hear you, you might spend billions to buy the platform and try to buy more of an audience that way, because the audience is the point.

On Tumblr, instead, the audience is irrelevant. The treasures you can bring back to your cave are the point. The point is to hoard and collect and grow your shinies. It's nice to show them off (because who doesn't like it when their hoard is admired?) but it's the having and the getting, not the giving.

it's more work than reddit or facebook or twitter, because no one is out here trying to tell you what should go in your hoard. Everyone everywhere else has strong feelings on what kind of kitsch and treasures and knickknacks you should have. Here, you have to dig. You'll find a lot of trash in the process, but you have the choice of where your tunnels lead, and which garbage pi... other people's hoards you're sifting through, so it's a friendly sort of grubbing in the dirt that feels comfy once you're used to the muck.

I like it here.

[yamirexic]

mr plant and argos on kill mas (xmas)

mr plant:

if you hate christmas:

you both hate this shit

it's all tRaDiTiOn, kitsch and cliché

you only care about argos's presents and actually love the present part

you guys are literal kids

doing everything anti christmas (not red, green, gold, instead blue, black, white, and silver)

you play metal and do weird poses to it or just headbang (mr plant sometimes just stands there and smiles)

slipknot, korn and some moany deftones are your shit

also some muse and nirvana

you are total rebels and punks (burning fown christmas trees, ripping apart shit, breaking decoration etc.)

if you love christmas:

you'll have a hard time with him but argos will definetly help

buys meaningful presents

bakes and bakes and BAKES AHHHHH (insert corey taylor scream)

argos:

if you hate christmas:

he'll awkwardly slurp his barszcz (polish/ukranian red beet soup)

will try to cheer you up to love christmas

doesn't really work though

is in shock when you spill red wine on purpose, eventually catches up though, total madness

you getting madder, and madder AND MADDER

will wrap a soft blanket around you and cuddles with you while watching some random german christmas movie junk (cause they're the only ones that are actually good)

if you love christmas:

baking, cooking and slurping together

annoying mr plant with your junk and mass of decoration

it's a mess honeyyy

there will be flour (and blood) all around the place (it's a reference to a german christmas song or rather a parody of it)

you can see which side I'm on

[booksandabeer]

TV Round-Up | Jan-Feb 2024

One of my "goals" this year is to keep better track of things I read/watch/listen to (well, other than fanfic) because I'm getting old and forgetful and there's just so much stuff. And isn't this what ✨blogs✨ are for? Due to The Worst Flu in the History of the World, I've been watching a lot of TV recently, so let's start with that:

Barry | Started watching this on a whim about a week ago, am now already on season four and completely losing my mind over it. Why the fuck did no one tell me how good this show is? I mean, I know a lot of people love it and it has received a fair amount of critical praise and awards attention, but that in no way prepared me for just *how* good it is. It's unlike anything else I've ever watched; I wouldn't even know what to compare it to. Maybe Breaking Bad /Better Call Saul, but not because it's thematically or even tonally similar, but because, just like with the Gilligan shows, you never know what the fuck is going to happen next. It takes some WILD swings but until now every single one has landed for me. Season one was very entertaining, season two really hooked me, and season three was mind-blowingly good: It's the showrunners—and the show itself—slowly turning towards the audience until they're looking them right in the eye, and going 'See? This is what we’ve been doing all along. You felt safe in the assumption that this is a comedy, but really, none of this was ever truly funny to begin with; you simply chose to laugh about it. And what does that say about you?' MASTERFUL.

Masters of the Air | Given that I'm a Band of Brothers superfan, I'm the primary target audience for this...and yet, 4 episodes in, I cannot muster up more of a reaction than 'eh, it's fine?' The first warning that this would be a bit of a disappointment came in the form of the overlong opening credits sequence, which is dripping with patriotic kitsch (and yeah, if you already thought that was one of BoB's flaws, believe me, you are not prepared for this). Everything is too clean, too glossy, there's an artificial sheen and a flatness to it that prevents any real immersion into the story. It doesn't help that I do not for a single second buy baby-faced Austin Butler (still doing the Elvis voice!) as a tough USAF major, leading his men into aerial battle. Callum Turner and Barry Keoghan are slightly more convincing in their roles, but it's all giving 'Boyband Goes to War.'

The Curse | I've watched four (?) episodes of this now and I'm not sure if I'm going to stick with it. It's not a bad show at all, but essentially, it's the Succession problem for me all over again. Just like Succession, The Curse is very well acted, produced and directed; it's sharp and funny in that relentless 'secondhand embarrassment' way that you either love or hate (and I don't love it), but in the end, it's a show about terrible people doing terrible things to themselves, each other, and—because they have so much money and power—to the world at large. And I just don't know that I have the energy or the desire to watch them do it for 10 hours—especially when it's often presented in such an irritatingly smug way.

True Detective: Night Country | This is a bit of a weird one. There are a lot of things that I like about this season. The two female leads radiate with impressive presence individually and have great chemistry together; the set design feels both authentic and telegenic; there are brilliantly staged atmospheric and/or body horror sequences (I love The Corpsicle!). And yet there are also a lot of things that don't really come together for me; subplots or characters where I'm left to wonder why they were included at all? Like, Christopher Eccleston, good to see you sir, but why are you even on this show? Everything hinges on the final episode which will (hopefully) reveal that a lot of the elements that are not quite working for me now were in fact not evidence of bad writing, but instead either clever misdirections or hints towards an explanation that is both surprising and satisfying. I sure hope for the latter.

The Fall of the House of Usher | Look, there's no nice way to say this, so I'll just say it: I hated this. It's silly, trashy tv masquerading as a prestige drama. It certainly looks expensive and it has some good or at least beloved actors in it, and...yeah, no that's all I got on the positive side. Not to bring up Succession again, but it really felt like the brief here was 'Succession but dumber and with more gore and sex and mystery!' I made it through 2.5 episodes before admitting to myself that I didn't care about any of the characters and was almost spectacularly uninterested in the central mystery. This was the second TV show that I've started watching based solely on one (1) tumblr gif-set. Unfortunately, it was not nearly the delightful surprise that IWTV turned out to be.

_____________________

Back in early January, I also finished the fifth season of Fargo (excellent performances by Juno Temple and Jon Hamm; overall very good season even if some of the narrative threads felt unresolved; the puppet theater sequence remains an absolute highlight) as well as the third season of Slow Horses (just highly entertaining spy tv; Unlike its protagonists, everything about this show exudes competence and yet no one seems to take themselves too seriously. Kristin Scott Thomas as "Darth Tavener" is magnificent—as is her character's wardrobe. I love this show and I hope they'll renew it forever.)

[bisexualchrissycunningham]

daffodil, nutmeg

daffodil 🌼 do you have siblings? if yes, in what ways do you think you’re similar to or different from them?

I do indeed! I’m the baby of the family - my brother is 6 years older, and my sister 4. My brother and I have inherited our parents’ anxiety, though it manifests differently. We're both childless and single and so stuck in our ways that will probably never change.

It's harder to find common ground with my sister. She's got a cozy middle class life in the suburbs. She and my brother-in-law wanted me to move to her city, and I wanted that for awhile too (my niece and nephew are there) until I spent a few months living there during Covid and realized it's extremely not the place for me (super politically conservative, big car culture while I'm a public transit user, the downtown core is dead after 6pm, what was I even gonna do there!!!) and according to my mother, she's bitter that I didn't choose it over where I ended up and we've barely spoken in months. So I guess one of the major things we have in common is that, just like our parents, we do NOT open up about any simmering issues we've got and simply let them fester instead.

nutmeg 🌰 (i know that's not nutmeg, leave me alone) how’s your room/home decorated? do you have a specific theme or style going on?

Okay, here’s the thing: I moved into my place in May and I still haven’t done much decorating. I've got my stuff! They're just mostly in boxes, or just sitting on the floor cause I haven't put shelves up.

I started collecting lots of cute silly kitsch awhile back - vintage lamps, lots of unicorns and flamingos and turtles. Cute vintage pink shelves for the wall lined with colourful tropical wallpaper. Most of my basic furniture is white, but everything else I buy in bright colours or patterns, lots of pink, purple, rose gold. Eventually I wanna go for a very maximalist look - vintage hoarder cat lady chic, as my old roommate put it.

Ask me things!

[theohonohan]

Finding sculpture

Years ago I read a web page written by the curator Ine Gevers that drew a distinction between the "supraindividual/evolutionary" and the "individual/aesthetic". The page is gone from the internet and I have only my fragmentary notes to go on.

I think it's a useful distinction, although, like all distinctions in art history, it's a bit tendentious. Supraindividual/evolutionary phenomena are things like the Interstate system, while the individual/aesthetic describes art, things like painting or sculpture. Of course, the Interstate system was shaped by individuals, and art works are conditioned by collective processes. Land art, in its attempt to compete with landscape and infrastructure, is particularly dependent on resources beyond those of an individual artist:

“Sculptors are this weird, freakazoid group. I met Michael Heizer and the first thing he said was, “It’s a fucked-up profession.” I said, but you made City. What else would you want to make? And he said: “I wish I’d been a rock star. Anything is better than sculpture.” It’s like Fitzcarraldo trying to build the opera house. You drag everybody through this craziness. Public sculpture is incredibly democratic. You are giving it to people. I can’t make that money back. People don’t buy a ticket.” (Thomas Houseago)

In art history, I expect the supraindividual/evolutionary to be a matter of periodization, and the individual/aesthetic to be a story of an artistic career. Any given object can be seen as a representative either of the period that it belongs to, or of the production of a single artist.

It's worth reading things against the grain – taking something that looks like an example of a particular "style" and interpreting it, instead, as an individual work, or taking something that seems to be a work of art and interpreting it, instead, as a typical product of its time. As an example of the former strategy, which I would call "finding sculpture", one could look at the ornamental aspects of pre-modern woodworking and attempt to particularize it and recover the personal creative impulse behind it. The latter strategy entails generalizing about the piece's relationship with some impersonal Zeitgeist or Kunstwollen.

A cartwheel or a vardo might have ornamental woodwork, the result of skill with a spokeshave, akin to other forms of turned and carved treen. A canal narrowboat might have decorative paintings in the roses and castles genre. From the supraindividual perspective, these things might seem like kitsch, wasted labour or frivolity. From the individual perspective, it's more likely to seem like self-expression or creative freedom, no matter how valuable or worthless the object seems to be. Ironically, it's the supraindividual perspective that is snobbish about creative value, and the individual one that affirms human agency. Which perspective deals with the ethical and which with the expressive? I think each is a bit of both.

Baroque architecture, which art historians have characterised as "broad and heavy" (Wölffin), and "raw and deviant" (Burkhardt), produced buildings which were both individually (aberrant) and (collectively) products of a recognizable style. For me this state of affairs calls into question the usefulness of the evolutionary/aesthetic opposition. Can a style be aberrant? Is it possible for individual makers to inherit unorthodox traits from the spirit of the age?

Katharine Fritsch's 2004 sculpture Frau mit Hund plays not only with scale but with the relationship of sculpture to kitsch and individual creativity.

The sculpture is 1.75 m tall, and the woman and her dog are each monochromatic. Apart from the surprising scale, it is as if eccentric sculptures made of sea shells had been dipped into matt paint. This decision by Fritsch promotes the objects from kitsch into sculptural form. It is a kind of generalisation, which is appropriate to the (supraindividual) interpretation of the source objects as representatives of a particular kind of cultural production. Fritsch lists the materials of the sculpture as polyester, iron, and wood (along with paint). We're not informed about the authorship of the original piece (surely it exists?) but we can speculate that it was Victorian. By suppressing these personal details, Fritsch plays with the notion of the supraindividual tides of fashion and style, simultaneously foregrounding her own personal eye for form and adherence to the norms of contemporary sculpture.

[thebibliosphere]

There are actually lots of people who sell stuff successfully on here, usually drop ship stuff.

They’re just not disclosing it as ads, which they are supposed to do, and instead it's marketed in a very Tumblr-esque way which can be summed up as “omg guys look how CUTE this is” followed by a different account underneath going “omg found it!!” and it links to a drop ship site with the item(s).

And the link usually has an affiliate tracker in it, which you may or may not be able to spot unless you’re familiar with them, which is also something you are legally supposed to disclose.

I used to get a lot of offers from around 2016-2020 to sell “moon lamps” on here, y’know those orb lights that look like a moon? Yeah. I was offered a higher kickback to make it look like I wasnt posting an add because these sellers know Tumblrites don’t like ads.

They wanted it to look as organic and hyped up as possible and then I’d just so happen to be like “omg you guys it's on sale” and post a link. Which is skeevy as shit and also illegal af in the US.

It’s like the insta/tiktok girlies saying “link in bio” to get around saying “here’s a product I make money on if you buy it” because they want to sound like your friend because people are more likely to impulse buy stuff if a “friend” is recommending something.

They’re also trusting that everyone knows “link in bio” means “affiliate link” which is technically not enough of a disclosure but whatever.

This is why I tag all my own book promos with “affiliate links” because depending on which storefront you buy Hunger Pangs from, I may get a kickback from the vender which I do to help mediate the fees I lose from distribution. It’s not much—literal pennies in some cases—but I’m still legally required to state it.

It’s also why when I do post products I use or like, I make a point of letting people know I’m not an affiliate and not sponsored because despite the legal ramifications these people are flirting with by not disclosing their affiliate status, I want to be fully transparent with my followers when it comes to me trying to sell them things.

Y’all keep my lights on by reading my work and through my ko-fi and patreon. I am not about to risk that trust for the sake of some shitty vibrator sales from a sketch-ass drop shipper who wants me to pretend I’m not selling you things.

So, yeah. People do successfully sell stuff on here. A lot of us small indie creators sell our own work all the time.

But there are also drop-ship sellers on here who get enough of a kick-back from affiliate links to make selling cutesy kitsch stuff worth their time on here. They’re just making sure you don’t know you’re being marketed to.

It never fails to amuse me when I get “hello influencer” emails wanting me to push questionable products to my followers.

Like worstie, I can barely promote my own published book without wanting to curl up and die.

The fuck makes you think I’ll shill your discount wish shit?

[trickster-whim]

Chaotic photograph session of the stuff I got from goodwill because my house has been taken over by giant boxes of bean bag stuffing, and it's too dark out to take photos outside. Why don't they just cut out the middle man, am I right?

Anyway, on to the things I bought:

First up, I've been looking for scarves to use as gift wrapping, and I liked this green dramatic flowery one.

I didn't know where else to photograph it, so I just threw it on the fridge. It went right into the cleaning pot anyway. My sister's birthday is Monday (I'm writing this on Saturday lol), so I have to get it cleaned and dried before then.

Another awkward shot, but this apron was really my style!

It's from Reprime, I guess, not a brand I'm familiar with. I've been looking for an apron either for painting or cooking, or both, and this one was $1.50, is one of my favorite colors, and has a cool zippered pocket as well as two open ones, so I kind of needed it.

Ooo, bad photos. I found this sheet that's half white with dino prints and half blue with dinos (like, just straight up half-and-half, no border or anything). I really liked the look of the dinos, so I want to whip this into a skirt. It was also only $1.50, so even if that plan falls through, it can live in my stash for a while.

The next stuff is a group photo because of tumblr's dumb photo limit, but it's lotsa stuff.

The Sailor Jupiter was a big surprise, I gotta say! I don't remember if I had Jupiter as a kid, but I did have some of the senshi, so a 90s Irwin Sailor Moon doll was really nostalgic to find.

Of course she's uhhh bald. The cashier saw her and went, "Wow, she's been through it," and I couldn't agree more. Her legs are a little sticky and stained, and the battery in her back was bad, so it's likely that her hair just fell out. I could reroot her, but I don't have hair on hand and I don't remember where my rerooting tool is, so she might get a wig instead. I haven't decided!

She was arguably overpriced at $6.50, but she did have her gloves, shoes, and necklace, and I wanted her, so she was my big splurge for the trip.

Ooh that shadow. My kitchen is a terrible place for photos ooh.

Jupiter having her Catwoman moment.

Anyway, I love little plushies, and I saw a bag full of McDonald's plush and pound purries (it's stylized as Pound Pur-r-ries on the tag, but everyone just writes purries so idk) and I had to bite. The McDonald's plush are 1997's Animal Pals, and I think we had the moose when I was a kid? Also the Internet says the bottom one is a brown bear, but I know a wombat when I see one.

Kinda funny that the plushies and Jupiter are both marked 1997. The plush are also in good condition, and they fit right in into my tiny plush collection!

The book was mostly a response to my constant impulse to buy vintage or antique books that cost a dollar. I also love poetry, but these poems are... let's just say not my style. I haven't finished the book, but my favorite so far is "Cat".

The twins have a bunch of toys, many of which make noise, and they love chasing their tails. The only thing is they aren't allowed out. They're indoor babies and also trapped in their baby house mostly.

And lastly, I have such a hard time resisting Halloween kitsch, so when I saw these adorably terrible hanging sign things, I just... I needed them.

They also glow in the dark!

I think I might put them in my window, and it's not lost on me that I passed on a trans flag but had to buy these. It's a compulsion.

Of course, I bought kind of a lot and spent kind of a lot of money, but things are really going on around here, and getting out of the house was a necessity. And I can't say no to things.

Also, interestingly, they've started a bag tax at goodwill! It's the first time I've seen that in Arizona; mostly cashiers are baffled when I pull out one of my dozen Halloween bags because I really don't like plastic bags. Bag taxes are pretty annoying, but it's good practice to use some sort of reusable bags. We've gotten a few from restaurants free with purchase, and libraries. The Halloween ones mostly from target, which used to have a whole bunch of cool stuff. Not anymore, though. Not anymore...

Ok bai!!

[concerthopperblog]

Review: Karen Jonas- The Rise and Fall of American Kitsch

There's a duality in Karen Jonas' The Rise and Fall of American Kitsch that keeps things interesting throughout. On the surface, much of the album is an upbeat celebration of America's obsession with kitsch, a Norman Rockwell portrait of a '50s household. But beneath that is a commentary on the same consumerism bred in that era and the late-stage Capitalism that it bred in today's society.

The inspiration for The Rise and Fall of American Kitsch was Jonas' viewing of Baz Luhrmann's 2022 biopic Elvis. Listening to the album, it's no surprise that the “King” of American kitsch, the subject of a million tacky velvet portraits, was a major influence. A rockabilly core runs through many of the album's twelve songs.

The album's best song is the humorous “Online Shopping.” With a doo-wop backing vocal and snap percussion, the song is an ode to an introvert's favorite thing, e-commerce. Jonas revels in her awkwardness in every word of “Online Shopping.” “I don't think I wanna leave my bathtub,” Jonas sings, “have you seen the crazy shit that happens?” Later she faces everyone's worst restaurant nightmare, “the waiter told me to enjoy my food / I looked right at him and said 'thanks, you too.' / Now I'm eating takeout in the nude.”

“Buy” is the album's shortest song and it’s most catchy. With a folksy acoustic guitar strum, Jonas details everything she sees in magazines and movies and finds herself inspired to buy. But the impulse to buy comes at a price, as her domestic life suffers from her daydreaming (“there's dishes on the counter / there's dishes in the bedroom”). A friend tries to get her into therapy for her problems but she decides instead to “buy a Lazy Boy to sleep away my day.”

There are some moments of pure unfiltered kitschy fun on The Rise and Fall of American Kitsch. “Plastic Pink Flamingos” is three and a half minutes of honky tonk ode to every trailer park's favorite lawn ornament. “Let's Go to Hawaii” channels not only Elvis in his movie period but also a major Jonas influence, Jimmy Buffett. With an island stroll, Jonas plays the part of a neglected vintage housewife trying to convince her workaholic husband to take an adults-only trip to Hawaii. “I'll wear a bikini,” she croons to her spouse, “let me pour you a drink.”

The spoken poem “American Kitsch” is Jonas' one shot at our societal need to buy that doesn't wrap itself in a veneer of positivity and vintage kitsch. It details the tendency to follow trends, piling more and more stuff up that is “forgotten, but not gone.” Later she says “Consumerism is our national religion” and it's hard to argue with her.

Elsewhere on The Rise and Fall of American Kitsch, Jonas goes full rockabilly on “Four Cadillacs,” tries on tinges of Southern gothic on “Shake Bump and Grind Show,” and explores the darker side of Elvis' story with the cautionary story of a pill mill on “Dr. Nick.” The album covers a lot of ground, dark and light, without ever losing its sense of humor.

[noisycowboyglitter]

"Funny and Festive: Discover the Hail Santa Pentagram Ugly Christmas Sweater"

The "Funny Ugly Christmas Sweater Hail Santa Pentagram" combines traditional holiday kitsch with irreverent humor and occult imagery, creating a provocative and attention-grabbing garment. This unconventional sweater subverts the typical cheerful Christmas themes by incorporating darker elements in a playful manner.

Buy now:19.95$

The centerpiece of the design likely features a pentagram, a five-pointed star often associated with occultism, cleverly integrated with Christmas motifs. Within or around the pentagram, the phrase "Hail Santa" appears, a cheeky play on words that sounds similar to a certain other phrase but refers to the jolly gift-giver instead.

The sweater might incorporate other humorous elements such as demonic-looking reindeer, elves with pointed ears and mischievous grins, or candy canes arranged to form pitchforks. Traditional Christmas colors of red and green could be paired with black for a more ominous feel.

Buy now

This type of sweater is designed for those with an edgy sense of humor who enjoy pushing boundaries and sparking conversations at holiday gatherings. It's perfect for ugly sweater contests, alternative Christmas parties, or for anyone who wants to inject a bit of subversive fun into the holiday season.

While definitely not suitable for all occasions, this sweater appeals to those who appreciate dark humor and enjoy playfully challenging conventional holiday norms. It's a statement piece that combines the ugly Christmas sweater tradition with a rebellious twist, sure to elicit laughs, raised eyebrows, and plenty of attention.

Small Christmas gifts are thoughtful tokens that capture the spirit of the season without overwhelming the recipient or breaking the bank. These compact presents are perfect for Secret Santa exchanges, stocking stuffers, or as additional treats alongside larger gifts.

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Popular small gift ideas include scented candles, artisanal chocolates, festive ornaments, or miniature bottles of premium spirits. Practical items like stylish keychain tools, pocket-sized hand creams, or travel-friendly tech accessories are both useful and appreciated.

For a personal touch, consider customized items such as monogrammed handkerchiefs, engraved keychains, or photo keepsakes. Book lovers might enjoy pocket-sized editions of classic novels or inspirational quote books.

Small gifts can also focus on experiences, like single-use face masks for a spa night, packets of gourmet hot chocolate, or seed packets for garden enthusiasts.

Buy now

The key to successful small gifts is choosing items that feel special and thoughtful, despite their size. These presents prove that good things often come in small packages.

[faunina]

yessss, the chintz poem and translation, two things that I love!!! I've already seen a couple of german translations in the notes, but I wanted to give this a try myself

Das Frauchen füllt sein Haus mit Tand

Um der Sache treu zu bleiben, fick ich ihn am Boden.

Thankfully the jump from one germanic language to another means I can keep the sentence structure practically as is. Now for the word choices:

Das Frauchen: a diminutive of "Frau", which can both mean simply "woman" as well as "wife". I thought a diminutive nicely expresses what the narrator thinks of her (aka not much, he doesn't consider her a serious rival because altho he might not have the vows and the rings and the marriage, the husband clearly prefers (fucking) him). I was thinking of using "Fräulein" first, which is also a diminutive but nowadays used chiefly derogatively, but this gets tricky because Fräulein historically referred to unmarried (usually young) women, making it ambiguous enough that it could instead be talking about a young daughter that has taken over leading the household or something. Further points: I chose "das" instead of "sein" because I would have to choose one or the other AGAIN in front of "Haus", and I wanted to avoid the repetition, and emphasizing that it's HIS house but "the woman" (derogative) felt more poignant than HIS woman but "the house" (neutral). Final point: "Frauchen" is also commonly used to refer to the female owner of a dog! Which could imply that the narrator thinks the wife has her husband "on a leash", since it's his house but he's clearly not putting his foot down regarding what she does with it

Tand: one of the many, many german words for "useless worthless pretty little things that are a waste of money". There's nothing innately exotic about it and maybe "Kitsch" would be a better translation for the cultural context of chintz, but I just liked it better :P Tand also has a bit of a more elevated feel to it because it's quite an archaic word. Whether you use Kitsch or Tand doesn't change the syllable count either, but I think I just like the harder consonants of Tand to end the first line with

Um der Sache treu zu bleiben: definitely a tricky one!! "to keep it real" is a crazy difficult concept to translate (as others have mentioned), so this phrase is maybe closer to "to stay true to the spirit of things", which brings up a whole barrage of bew questions - what "spirit of things", the chintz? The Fakeness that the wife injects in every facet of her marriage? I think I like that idea best - her husband fucking other men in their shared home is CERTAINLY not the spirit that the wife is TRYING to embody, after all she's trying to keep up appearances of a wealthy and "everything's good and fine" kinda life. The narrator however sees how she invests in this lifestyle by buying an overflowing amount of cheap imitations and goes "alright, you want fake? I can give you fake. Fake fucking marriage, watch how faithless and debauched I can make your husband". And another fun thing: You can "stay true" to the spirit of things, but "treu bleiben" is also the phrase you would use to express that you are, for example, staying true to your partner. Which, you know. Precisely not what is happening here.

The rest of the the line ("fick ich ihn am Boden") is basically just a word for word translation of "I fuck him on the floor" - english "fucking" and german "ficken" stem from the same roots etymologically and are similarly crass words for sex. I used the contracted "fick ich ihn" instead of the proper "ficke ich ihn" both for a more colloquial, vulgar tone and for the syllable count, and "on the floor" is maybe more properly rendered as "auf dem Boden", but again, "am Boden" fits better vis-a-vis syllables.

Lastly: meter! The original is of course an almost perfect, even iambic pentameter. My version isn't, but I still love how it ended up - the first line is just four nice little iambs, but the second line consists of SEVEN trochees.

I don't think I was quite able to translate the extreme tonal shift between the two lines as it exists in English, and the consonantal alliterations didn't entirely carry over either, but now thanks to the shift in length AND meter, it's still JARRING to read this and try to jump from one line to the next.

Finally, I'd like to give shout outs specifically to @sympathischeufos for the "am Boden", because I was definitely inspired by their use and explanation of it in their translation. And also @tainbocuailnge and their translation for the use of present tense in the first line!

Translation thoughts on the greatest poem of our time, “His wife has filled his house with chintz. To keep it real I fuck him on the floor”

It’s actually quite tricky to translate. Because it’s so short, each word and grammatical construction is carrying a lot of weight. It also, as people have noted, plays with registers. “Chintz” is a word with its own set of associations. Chintz is a type of fabric with its origins in India. The disparaging connotation is from chintz’s eventual commonality. Chintz was actually banned from England and France because the local textile mills couldn’t compete.

Keep it real” is tremendously difficult to translate – it’s a bit difficult to even define. It means to be authentic and genuine, but it also has connotations of staying true to one’s roots. Like many English slang words, it comes first from AAVE. From this article on the phrase:

“[K]eeping it real meant performing an individual’s experience of being Black in the United States. As such, it became a form of resistance. Insisting on a different reality, one that wasn’t recognized by the dominant culture, empowered Black people to ‘forge a parallel system of meaning,’ according to cultural critic Mich Nyawalo…The phrase’s roots in racialized resistance, however, were erased when it was adopted by the mostly-White film world of the 1970s and ’80s….Keeping it real in this context indicated a performance done so well that audiences could forget it was a performance.This version of keeping it real wasn’t about testifying to personal experience; it was about inventing it.”

One has to imagine that jjbang8 did not have the origins of these phrases in mind when composing the poem, but even if by coincidence, the etymological and cultural journeys of these two central lexemes perfectly reflect the themes of the poem. The two words have themselves traveled away from the authenticity they once represented, and, in a new context, have taken on new meanings – the hero of our poem, the unnamed “him”, is, presumably, in quite a similar situation.

Setting aside the question of register, of the phonology, prosody, and meter of the original, of the information that is transmitted through bits of grammar that don’t necessarily exist in other languages – a gifted translator might be able to account for all of these – how do you translate the journey of the words themselves?

In my translations, I decided to go for the most evocative words, even if they don’t evoke the exact same things as in the original. The strength of these two lines is that they imply that there’s more than just what you see, whether that’s the details of the story – what’s happening in the marriage? how do the narrator and the husband know each other? – or the cultural background of the very words themselves. I wanted to try and replicate this effect.

Yiddish first:

זייַן ווייַב האָט אָנגעפֿילט זייַן הויז מיט הבלים

צו בלייַבן וויטיש, איך שטוף אים אופֿן דיל. zayn vayb hot ongefilt zayn hoyz mit havolim.

tsu blaybn vitish, ikh shtup im afn dil

This translation is pretty direct. There is a word for chintz in Yiddish – tsits – but, as far as I can tell, it refers only to the fabric; it doesn’t have the same derogatory connotation as in English. I chose, instead, havolim, a loshn-koydesh word that means “vanity, nothingness, nonsense, trifles”. In Hebrew, it can also mean breath or vapor. I chose this over the other competitors because it, too, is a word with a journey and with a secondary meaning. Rather than imagining the bright prints of chintz, we might imagine a more olfactory implication – his wife has filled his house with perfumes or cleaning fluids. It can carry the implication that something is being masked as well as the associations with vanity and gaudiness.

Vitish – Okay, this is a good one. Keep in mind, of course, that I’ve never heard or seen it used before today, so my understanding of its nuances is very limited, but I’ll explain to you exactly how I am sourcing its meaning. The Comprehensive Yiddish-English Dictionary (CYED) gives this as “gone astray (esp. woman); slang correct, honest”. I used the Yiddish Book Center’s optical character recognition software, which allows you to search for strings in their corpus, to confirm that both usages are, in fact, attested. It’s a pretty rare word in text, though, as the CYED implies, it might have been more common in spoken speech. It appears in a glossary in “Bay unds yuden” (Among Us Jews) as a thieves cant word, where it’s definted as נאַריש, שרעקעוודיק, אונבעהאלפ. אויך נישט גנביש. אין דער דייַטשער גאַונער-שפראַך –  witsch – נאַריש, or “foolish, terrible, clumsy/pathetic. not of the thieves world. in the German thieves cant witsch means foolish”. A vitishe nekeyve (vitishe woman) is either a slacker or a prostitute. I can’t prove this for sure, but my sense is that it might come from the same root as vitz, joke (it’s used a couple of times in the corpus to mention laughing at a vitish remark – which makes it seem kind of similar to witty). I assume the German thieve’s cant that’s being referred to is Rotwelsch, which has its own fascinating history and, in fact, incorporates a lot of Yiddish. In fact, for this reason, some of the first Yiddish linguists were actually criminologists! What an excellent set of associations, no? It has the slangy sense of straightforward of honest; it has a sense of sexual non-normativity (we might use it to read into the relationship between the narrator and the husband) – and a feminized one at that; it was used by an underground subculture, and, again, the meaning there was quite different – like the “real” in “keeping it real” it was used to indicate whether or not someone was “in” on the life (tho “real” is used to mean that the person is in, while “vitish” is used to mean they’re not). It’s variety of meanings are more ambiguous than “keep it real”, which can pretty much only be read positively, and it also brings in a tinge of criminality. Though it doesn’t have the same exact connotations as “keep it real”, I think it’s about as ideal of a fit as we’ll get because it’s equally evocative of more below the surface. I also chose “tsu blaybn vitish”, which is “to stay vitish”, as opposed to something like “to make it vitish” to keep the slight ambiguity of time that “keep it real” has – keeping it real does< I think, imply that there is a pre-existing “real” to which one can adhere, so I wanted to imply the same.

The rest is straight-forward. “Shtup” is one of a few words the Comprehensive English-Yiddish Dictionary (CEYD) gives for “fuck”, and I think it has a nice sound.

Ok, now Russian

женой твой дом наполнен финтифлюшками

чтоб не блудить с пути, ебемся на полу

zhenoy tvoy dom napolnin fintiflyushkami.

shtob ne bludit’ s puti’, yebyomsya na polu

In order to preserve, more or less, the iambic meter, I made a few more changes here – since Russian, unlike Yiddish, is not a Germanic language, it’s harder to keep the same structure + word order while also maintaining the rhythm. I would translate this back to English as:

“Your house is filled with trifles by your wife. To not stray off the path, we’re fucking on the floor”

So a few notes before we get into the choice of words for “chintz” and “keep it real”. To preserve the iamb, I changed “his” to “your”. This changes the lines from a narration of events to some outside party to a conversation between the two men at the center. Russian also has both formal and informal you (formal you is also the plural form, as is the case in a number of other languages). I went with informal you because I wanted to preserve the fact that his wife has filled his house not their house, as someone pointed out in the original chain (though I don’t think that differentiation is nearly as striking in the 2nd person) and because it’s unlikely you’d be on formal you with someone you’re fucking (unless it’s, like, a kink thing). I honestly didn’t even consider making it formal, but that would actually raise a lot of interesting implications about the relationship between the speaker and the husband, as well as with what that means about the “realness” of the situation. Is, in fact, the narrator only creating a mirage of a more real, more meaningful encounter, while the actual truth – that there is a woman the husband has made promises to that he’s betraying – is obscured? that this intimacy is just a facade? Is there perhaps some sort of power differential that the narrator wishes to point out? Or perhaps is the way that the narrator is keeping it real by pointing out the distance between the two of them? there is no pretense of intimacy, the narrator is calling this what it is – an encounter without deeper significance?

Much to think about, but I actually think the two men do have history –  i think the narrator remembers the house back when it was actually only “his house” and was as yet unfilled with chintz. We also don’t know what they were calling each other prior to this moment. This could be the first time they switched to the informal you. 

Ok moving on, I originally translated it as “твой дом наполнен финтифлюшками жены”. Honestly, this sounds more elegant than what I have now, but I ultimately though removing the wife from either a subject or agent position (grammatically, I mean) was too big a betrayal of the original. The original judges the wife. She took an active role in filling the house. If she were made passive, that read is certainly a possible one – perhaps even the dominant one – but it could also read more like “we are doing this in a space filled with reminders of his wife and the life they share” – the action of filling is no longer what’s being focused on. Why do I say the current translation is inelegant? I feel you stumble over it a little, because it’s almost a garden path sentence. This is also an assset though. “Zhenoy tvoy dom napolnen” is a fully grammatical sentence on its own, and it means “Your house is filled by your wife” – as in English, the primary read is that the wife is what the house is full of. If the sentence makes you stumble, perhaps that’s even good – we focus, for good reason, on the relationship between the two men, but in a translation, the wife is able to draw more attention to herself.

Ok, chintz: I chose the word “финтифлюшки” (fintiflyushki), meaning trifle/bobble/tchotchke, because it, allegedly, comes from the german phrase finten und flausen, meaning illusions and vanity/nonsense. Once again, I like that the word has a journey, specifically a cross-linguistic one.

Keep it real: this one, frankly, fails to capture the impact of the original, in my opinion, but allow me to explain the reasoning. “Stray off the path” implies, again, that there is some sort of path that both the narrator and the husband were on before the wife and the chintz – and one they intend to continue taking, one that this act is a maintenance of. It brings in a little irony, since the husband very much is straying from the path of his marriage. “Bludit’“ can also mean to be unfaithful in a marriage (as, in fact, can “stray”). The proto-slavic word it comes from can mean to delude or debauch – they want to do the latter but not the former.

As for register – “shtob” is a bit informal. I would write the full version (shto by) in an email, for example. The word for fuck, yebyomsa, is from one of the “mat” words, the extra special top tier of russian swears, definitely not to be said in polite company (and, if you are a man of a certain generation or background, not in front of women; it’s not that the use of mat automatically invokes a male-only environment, but if we’re already thinking that deeply about it. But while we’re on the topic, i will say that in my circles in the US, women use mat much more actively than men (at least in front of me, who was, up until recently, a woman and also a child).)

Ok i think that’s all the comments i have!

[mayanaisnin]

Citizen Kane

By Roger P. Smith

ESSAYS

—

DEC 3, 1984

Since the dawn of the sound era, an estimated 25,000 feature-length films have been produced—and that’s in the English language alone. When, in the early 1960s, an international group of film critics were polled as to their “number-one film of all time,” Citizen Kane was in first position. The repetition of this poll in the early 1970s and once again in 1982 produced the same result: Citizen Kane was a solid first each time. Even more important than the opinion of critics is the opinion of audiences. They too, decade after decade, have ranked Citizen Kane as their favorite film. For what truly sets Kane apart from every other film commonly called a “masterpiece” is that it’s also an enormous amount of fun.

If one thinks about it, the very idea that there could be unanimity of opinion on such a subject as “the best movie ever made” is absurd. Not only have different generations viewed movies differently, but groups within each filmgoing generation seek different things. Some search for an aesthetic experience; others look for social relevance; still others rank storytelling as the ultimate purpose of a film; and yet another group believes insight into human psychology is the special province of film. Citizen Kane’s accomplishment is, simply, that it achieves greatness whatever one’s perspective may be.

Despite the fact that Citizen Kane can’t truly be called “art”—or perhaps because of it—its greatness is undeniable. While some critics have gone so far as to call Kane kitsch, such people tend to regard estrangement from popular entertainment as proof of worth. In stylistic terms, the film is an amalgam of many forms of popular entertainment—the historic radio plays, the breakneck pace of vaudeville comedy, the cheap emotions of pulp fiction, the phony drama of the newsreel, the cartoon-like, larger-than-life quality of the characters. It is these “popular” qualities which underlie the film’s extraordinary claims on our attention.

While numerous individual elements of the film are truly artistic—cinematographer Gregg Toland’s deep-focus camera work leaps to mind—those elements are subservient to what was presumably Welles’ original purpose, and certainly his ultimate effect: to grab the audience from the very first frame and take it on a breathless rollercoaster ride through early twentieth-century America, leaving it at the end of the trip exhilarated and spent, but begging for more.

As for the social relevance of Citizen Kane, it—like the film’s art—is there when needed but always subjugated to the film as grand entertainment. At the time of Kane’s release, social commentators (particularly on the Left) felt the film failed to inveigh sufficiently against the abuse of wealth and power by such as Kane/Hearst. Instead, it tells the audience what it already believes: money doesn’t buy happiness. While the absence of a desire to transform human consciousness may bother some, for most of us Kane-as-Daddy Warbucks, lonely despite vast riches, is a far more engaging character than the malefactor of great wealth some would have him be.

It is in the telling of the story of Charles Foster Kane that the film transcends the limitations of popular entertainment and achieves greatness. That it does it through the devices of popular entertainment is irrelevant. From the first moment when the camera conspiratorially draws the viewer behind the giant iron gate with its “No Trespassing” sign, to the final moment when the sled is consumed by flames, every aspect of cinematographic art—photography, music, set design, editing, costuming, special effects—is assembled with a unifying vision into an endlessly fascinating portrait of a not-all-that-fascinating man.

The New York opening of Citizen Kane was at Broadway’s RKO Palace, newly converted from a vaudeville house, on May 1, 1941. While from the beginning the film’s extraordinary quality was recognized, it was not what today would be called a blockbuster. Its initial release earned RKO most, but not all, of its total cost—as Hearst-inspired fears of booking on the part of many exhibitors probably contributed to its failure to earn a profit. However, beginning in the 1950s, a series of releases brought the picture to the attention of a new generation of filmgoers. Most of them saw the film in grainy 16 mm prints in “art” houses. Despite all of the attention the film has subsequently received, few viewers have, according to Welles himself, seen the film as he intended it to be seen.

[copperbadge]

The third book in the Shivadh Romances, The Lady And The Tiger, is now available for purchase in print and epub! 

Already familiar and just want to buy it?

The Lady And The Tiger: Hardcopy | Epub

As with the first two books in the series, The Lady And The Tiger is $3.99USD for epub, $12.99USD for print; prices vary a bit by currency for the hardcopy but are generally between 12 and 17 of your local smackers.

Want to learn more? Read on!

Welcome to Askazer-Shivadlakia, a coastal micronation with one of the few democratic monarchies in the world, Europe’s only Jewish royal family, and a distinctly queer-friendly culture. The irreverent but earnest Shivadh people have recently elected a new king, and there are changes afoot for the country.

The Lady And The Tiger, the third book in the Shivadh Romances series, finds King Gregory III’s cousin and assistant, Lady Alanna Daskaz, transported across the border to Galia, a nearby micronation that claims she’s the heir to their throne. Bringing her best friend Gerald, Duke of Shivadlakia, along with her, Alanna sets to work figuring out how to escape becoming Duchess of Galia without destroying Galia in the process. Jerry, who has a complicated life at the best of times, is trying to solve a few problems of his own along with helping Alanna solve hers. None of this is made easier by the fact that Alanna’s had a secret crush on Jerry since they were at school together, and Jerry’s just starting to believe he might be someone worthy of the Lady Alanna.

Purchase The Lady And The Tiger: Hardcopy | Epub

Download The Lady And The Tiger: Free PDF

If you’re new to the Shivadh Romances, the previous two books are available here: 

Fete For A King introduces Crown Prince Gregory, who needs a caterer for his coronation and also could use a husband; it turns out he’s stuck with the American TV celebrity and kitsch connoisseur Eddie Rambler, who might want both jobs. Purchase Fete For A King: Hardcopy | Epub

Infinite Jes follows Gregory’s father Michaelis into retirement, and straight into the recording studio of nonbinary broadcast journalist Jes Deimos and Jes’s son Noah. Michaelis was just looking for a hobby; instead he might get a romance with Jes, as long as they can keep Noah out of trouble. Purchase Infinite Jes: Hardcopy | Epub

Download Fete For A King: Free PDF

Download Infinite Jes: Free PDF

[hxdonist]

"I don't have any problem getting action thank you." That much is true- he's left Heaven's Night a number of nights drunk in the company of a rail thin so-and-so with more sharp angles and cheap, plastic adornments than sense- a taste for the trashy he accredits to his mother- she'd sired him with America's premiere deadbeat after all. He doesn't look like the kitsch type, all dark clothes and carbon steel, but he'd sooner buy himself and Carmen a round of cheap vodka than anything top shelf. It is a direct anachronism to the expensive cigarettes he smokes and the life he abandoned. It's simply a matter of easily satisfied tastes. "So unless you're offering to find me a little company let's try being nicer to your favorite corporate burnout, shall we?" She winks, then shoots him a glare, and slightly-bucked teeth are exposed in a smirk all the while. "Ha. Meat. Good one. You do still need to sleep, though."

He's one to talk, a chromed-up chronic insomniac giving a lecture to someone chopped from the same cloth. He'll argue it's different when it's him. Their dark circles are matching half-moons, and as smoke tumbles from his lips, climbing the air behind the phantoms of self-destruction Carmen's exhaled, he takes in rumpled clothes and impressively sleepless bedhead. "Incredibly bold of you to be offering to pay me off when you look like you'd sell your soul for a nap right about now." He understands the concern, it doesn't mean he has to like it. Carmen's got enough to worry about.

In the same ways you are forced to remember she has been made to forget.

"Shit's not even that crazy- sure, it's weird, and isn't the kind of thing that gets my rocks off, which means cutting 'em was a miserable nightmare, Not my bag, but way, way tamer than the shit people usually bring 'round to me." Carmen's seen him on enough nights after the usual- shaking hands and haunted brown eyes. a job's a job but you never forget the sensation of being zeroed in a BT that's not been correctly dampened yet. He drinks hard, those nights, barely spills down the stairs to the basement to say hello. She looks more like him on those nights than she'd probably like to admit, right now.

"I know better than to move anything particularly gnarly in Mata Haris territory, I like living, contrary to what's certainly popular belief. If this dude had commissioned me for any of the heavy shit, he'd still be bitchin' at me about not wantin' to meet at my place." He's quiet, as Carmen settles against the building beside him. There's a balance- he can't remember the last time they'd both been of right, well rested mind together. He isn't sure he believes the insistence she's fine, but he's never been the guy to call her on it. "Ah, well, could think a' way worse company to have, I guess." he adjusts, tapping ash and watching it tumble to the ground beside well worn boots. "Might still be interested in the boots though. You sure they're my size?" He pauses, tacking onto the end "Both in the 'wearing' and 'shoved up my ass' categories." He would have made a filthy joke, normally, but instead, uncharacteristically, he sighs.

"I do live like, fifteen minutes from here, you know. If you ever get tired of sleeping at your desk or not sleeping at all, you're welcome to crash there. I hear my couch pulls out way better than half the dudes in this city."

And there's the filth, after a slight detour.

❝   𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.    ❞    Carmen responds with  that  same  shade  of  playful shit-talking  that  falls  along  an  exaggerated  snap  clipped  off  the  edge  of  Ikarus'  tone.    She  pauses  her  perusal  of their exchange as he swiftly reclaims the cigarette she stole seconds before ( and at least replaces with one anew, to which she rewards her trademark wink as she lights up ).    At his words,  she  squints  down.    Affront  hovers  around  the  hunch  of  her  glare but it's all just in good fun.    ❝    well, that's what happens when you work for a bunch of habitual circle-jerkers. plus a girl's gotta make ends meat.     ❞  

A sly  curl  makes its encore on  the  already  bent  edge  of  her  lips.    ❝    ━━━━    tis' the season and all.    ❞      it's a bad joke  that  she  bites  off  with  a  bitter  snort.    The  state  of  her  attire  shows as much.    Carmen's  fingertips  catch  in  an  untamed  bedhead  situated  atop  the  haggard  half-purpled  eyes  of  a  BT tech  who  hasn’t  seen  the  good  night  side  of  a  pillow  just  yet.    She’s  rumpled,  un-ironed,   slouching  into  a  place  where  she  knows  enough  about  the  person  she’s  staining  to  breath  a  sigh    —    no  matter  how  fleeting    —   of  RELIEF.    ❝    look,    ❞    Carmen  stalls,  ashing her cig.    ❝    i don't wanna be that person but i hope you're being careful.  i'll even give you some incentive.   probably  cover  your  dry  cleaning for a month,  your  uber eats,   HELL  ...    i’ll  even  throw  in  a  pair  of  new,   shiny,   never-before  tarnished  by  tokyo’s  dirty  laundry  doc  martens  just  so  i  can  shove  them  up  your  stupid  ass. just don't get caught selling any crazy shit, especially by soyala.    ❞  

The  exhale  that  spills  out  of  her  lungs  is  caught  halfway  between  stumped    &    the  battered  EXHAUSTION  hanging  her  elbows  to  the  tops  of  her  knees.    A  bump  of  her  shrugging  shoulder  turns  to the entrance of Heaven's Night.    ❝    but i'm good. ❞ If she wasn't, she'd be shit at admitting to it regardless. ❝ anyway, aren't you glad this smoke nickin' bitch came around to brighten your evening? you looked like you were struggling out here, respectfully.   ❞  

[thedarlinglimited]

South Street Seaport Style

It's gettin' fancy on Fulton street.

I needed therapy today; but instead I chose bubblegum pink '80s nostalgia and Mollie Ringwald kitsch.

Heyyy 👋

So here's the scoop on The South Street Seaport in terms of style:

Funny Face bakery is an Instagram paradise; there's enough lavender silk llame and bon lighting to make me look okay even after a sleepless night with two toddlers (well technically they aren't toddlers anymore but most of the night is crying and cuddling so they might as well be) on a futon twin mattress. And e'rything glows. Even the cookies ...even the Larry David cookie.

Mure and Grand is a pink and groovy boutique that is perhaps the cutest boutique I have ever walked into- I could not leave empty handed. The sparkle and sass in that shop are at max capacity and entering with any sort of feels might result in a kind of xanax-like effect. Feeling anxiety? Buy a crystal-studded yin yang signet surfer ring. Magically it's all zen✌️ feeling single forevah? Worried about the apocalypse? Ate too many sugar cookies with Drake's face on it? He used to call me on my cellphone...now I eat carbs... Buy yourself a tee that says you cried today. Then wear it with a pair of really good boots. Put on some Cyndi Lauper channel Mollie in a pair of fancy schmancy shades and just have fun🕶

[ursie]

Do you have any Dick Grayson bday headcanons?

I think B would take him to the zoo!! I know everyone has these ideas for extravagant parties ect but I don’t either would go for that. I do 100% think B would take him galavanting for the day and when Dick is older he goes to the zoo just to check on Zitka (who I hc retired there). I think on rainy days ect they’d go to the museum instead so Dick could see the woolly mammoths :) I also think B gets him whatever new Pokémon game is out (whether it’s out for public or not is a different story) because Dick is definitely a Pokemon kid.

Like a hardcore one. His go to absolute fav Pokemon is Phanpy and it's name is Zitka

Like these hcs walk hand in hand w the fact I hc Dick as Autistic and he just really loves Elephants he's just very passionate about them. :) just. absolute special interest.

His room is just, kitsch stuff that he's collected from friends/family/travels. B supports his kids interests (and also buys gifts instead of saying ily) and just buys him Elephant toys like Dick just has shelves of ceramic/wooden/plastic Elephants be them realistic/cartoons and a special shelf that only has circus Elephants on it.

Dick's worse because B doesn't care about Elephants (or at least he didn't but he remembers every fact Dick ever told him and when he sees one he remembers Dick and 🥺💕 about his Baby) and Dick has given him dozens of toy Elephants, circus patterned ties/really circus/elephant aligned stuff over the years B just has shelves dedicated to things his babies have given him. He has a circus elephant paperweight at work that Dick painted and it leaves glitter all over his paper work but it makes them happy so it stays.

(He also has pencils w novelty eraserheads Tim gave him, a multi colored pen Steph gave him, pink floral stationary paper that's really only supposed to be for letters but it has Cass's favorite flower on it and she always smiles when she sees it (or is she just smiling at him?), He has magnets made of Damian's drawing, and bookmarks Jason made on rainy afternoon w Alfred from their flowers in the garden (and there's Cass's fav flower again). a really long paperclip chain Duke did when he was over and bored that B has yet to undo (and he won't) He's just. A dad)

Like I refuse to believe his desk isn't full of stuff like that he has been raising children for 20 years

[youmightfindyourself]

It’s Hard to Find a Good Lamp Donald Judd 1993

In the middle 1980s I wrote that in the middle 1960s someone asked me to design a coffee table. I thought that a work of mine which was essentially a rectangular volume with the upper surface recessed could be altered. This debased the work and produced a bad table, which I later threw away. The configuration and the scale of art cannot be transposed into furniture and architecture. The intent of art is different from that of the latter, which must be functional. If a chair or a building is not functional, if it appears to be only art, it is ridiculous. The art of a chair is not its resemblance to art, but is partly its reasonableness, usefulness, and scale as a chair. These are proportion, which is visible reasonableness. The art in art is partly the assertion of someone’s interest regardless of other considerations. A work of art exists as itself; a chair exists as a chair itself. And the idea of a chair isn’t a chair. Due to the inability of art to become furniture, I didn’t try again for several years. However, I’ve always been interested in architecture and continued to sketch ideas.

Of course if a person is at once making art and building furniture and architecture there will be similarities. The various interests in form will be consistent. If you like simple forms in art you will not make complicated ones in architecture. “Complicated,” incidentally, is the opposite of “simple,” not “complex,” which both may be. But the difference between art and architecture is fundamental. Furniture and architecture can only be approached as such. Art cannot be imposed upon them. If their nature is seriously considered the art will occur, even art close to art itself. The mistake I made with the table was to try to make something as unusual as I thought the work of art to be. Back of this was the assumption that a good chair was only a good chair, that a chair could only be improved or changed slightly, and that nothing new could be done without a great, strange effort. But the furniture slowly became new as I dealt easily with the reality. A good chair is a good chair. The particulars slowly created the general forms that could not be directly transferred. I can now make a chair or a building that is mine without trying to derive forms from my own works of art. After a few years I designed a pair of sinks for an old building that I bought in New York City and for which I’ve designed much subsequently. These were designed directly as sinks; they were not a conversion; I didn’t confuse them with art. The basin of the sink is an ellipse, which so far I’ve never used in art, instead of a circle, which I do use. I also designed a large table with chairs, somewhat like benches, to be made of folded one-eighth-inch stainless steel, brass, or copper. These were never made because the fourth floor of the building in which it was to be is very open, primarily two planes, floor and ceiling, while the table and chairs are very closed. The latter would ruin the space. I later made some bookshelves for the third floor.

I kept the building but moved to West Texas with my two children, where I rented a small house on the edge of town. The house was quartered into eleven-by-eleven-foot rooms. There was no furniture and none to be bought, either old, since the town had not shrunk or changed much since its beginning in 1883, or new, since the few stores sold only fake antiques or tubular kitchen furniture with plastic surfaces printed with inane geometric patterns and flowers. The two small children played and slept in one of the four rooms. In order to give them each an area of their own notwithstanding the one room, I designed a bed which was a closed platform of one-by-twelves with a central, free-standing wall, also of one-by-twelves. The bed was designed so that the lumberyard could cut the few different lengths to size and I could then nail them together in place. I liked the bed a great deal, and in fact the whole house, for which I made other furniture. Later, in a large place in town, I designed desks and chairs for the children using the same method of construction. More furniture developed from this beginning.

It’s impossible to go to the store and buy a chair. In North America since the “Mission” style became unfashionable in the 1920s and in England since the similar furniture derived from William Morris also became unfashionable, there has been no furniture which is pleasurable to look at, fairly available, and moderate in price. The only exception is the bentwood furniture developed by Thonet, which became less fashionable in the 1920s but has continued to be made until now by Thonet and others. This is still not expensive but it is not down the street in the store. The furniture designed in the 1920s by the well-known architects that continues to be made is expensive for most people, although not as expensive as the materials and the construction imply, and is hardly nearby to purchase. Neither is all of it agreeable. Mies van der Rohe’s is still the best and should not be considered as only a worn status symbol. As bad ideas should not be accepted because they are fashionable, good ideas should not be rejected because they are unfashionable. Conventions are not worth reacting to one way or another. Most of the other furniture in production, such as Breuer’s Wassily chair and Le Corbusier’s furniture, is an early civilized and almost forgivable sentimentalizing of the machine. The chairs of both architects are derived from the better camping and military chairs of the nineteenth century. Old good ideas made new and shiny are now a dismaying precedent. Sentimentalizing the machine is now a malignity of the century. This is present in most available furniture and in most buildings. It is extreme in Pompidou and Lloyd’s. In furniture this puerility is usually combined with the puerility of domesticity, the societal progress of the machine with personal progress in the society.

Almost all furniture made since the 1920s and much before in any of the “styles,” “modern” and “traditional,” has been junk for consumers. As I’ve written, the ornate and overstuffed furniture of the last half of the nineteenth century, crowded into corresponding rooms, was not supplanted by simple and functional modern furniture. Instead, this was turned into Victorian furniture, also crowded into matching rooms. Decoration isn’t just applied; a chair is decorated. Modern, progressive furniture has been corrupted into the opposite. Primarily, “traditional” furniture, Victorian furniture, continues. It’s ordinarily what’s in the store. This is what most people have to choose from, whether in Yellowknife or New York. As in politics, this furniture is not traditional and conservative but is an imitation of past furniture. The appearance of the past represents status by invoking a higher class in the past than the purchaser is in in the present. The imitation old furniture symbolizes up and the imitation modern symbolizes forward. Usually the first is in the home and the second is in the office, sometimes one or the other in both, and seldom the reverse. Good office furniture is also difficult to find. The bizarre and complicated “modern” office of the rich executive, who has photographs on his desk of his wife and children in their traditional setting, is a summation of the surrounding corporate headquarters. Since he or his wife is on the board of the museum, it must look progressive, like the headquarters, but with a touch of tradition, for her, for upward mobility to the past, for something better than business, such as learning, although there is nothing better, and, generally for the gentility of art, which symbolizes all of these. Then, also, he may be on the town council, or he builds shopping centers, or he builds apartment houses, giving the people what they want, to go with the furniture in which they had no choice. Upward and forward, and lower every year, not only in architecture and art, but economically and politically, since reality is equally absent. Anyway, what kind of a society is it when you can’t even buy a chair?

Architects, designers, businesspeople, even politicians, say that they are giving the people what they want. They are giving the people what they deserve, because of their negligence, but they are presumptuous to claim to know what they want. What they want is what they get. An exception to imposing upon the public what they want, or perhaps a rare good guess, is the design of Sony television sets and other equipment of some other Japanese companies and of some European companies. This has no relation to traditional Japanese architecture, which is fortunate, because if it did the new version of the old would be just as debased as it is in the United States. Department stores in Osaka are floor after floor of kitsch, as they are in New York. And always surprisingly, and always everywhere, new Japanese and Korean architecture show no fundamental lessons learned from their past architecture, the same as in Paris. In the United States the television machine began disguised and continues as at once the myth of the machine and the myth of the old home. The Americans gave the Americans what they wanted; they didn’t want it. Neither did anyone else. In addition to the success of Sony’s design, there is the smaller success of Braun, whose design must be the model, somewhat better, as earlier usually is, for Sony’s design. A few months ago there was a curious article in Lufthansa’s magazine justly praising Braun and its chief designer, Dieter Rams, praising “German” design of course, but explaining that “German” design was now second to “Italian” design (consumer products are not where nations differ in design) but that Germany would catch up. This means become worse. “Designer” Italian furniture is the world’s worst. The only things as bad are the plastic bottles for liquid soap. It is an exception and a possibility that you can go down the street and choose a TV and enjoy looking at it when it’s turned off. In Texas, when I made the first furniture, I wanted a television set. This wasn’t down the street, but almost so, twenty-five miles away. All the sets were American, all were made of plastic imitating wood, some like your Anglo grandmother’s sideboard, some like your Italian grandmother’s credenza, some like your Latino grandmother’s aparador. I chose an Anglo set by Zenith. Again as usual, the design and the technology were congruent. The color was that of the first colored comic strip, printed during an earthquake.

Most of the furniture that I have designed remains fairly expensive, because of its methods of construction, and it is not easily available. We have made a serious effort to lower the prices but the furniture is handmade, basically even the sheet-metal pieces made by Janssen, one by one. These would be cheaper made by hundreds but still there would be considerable handwork. The wooden furniture cannot change. Lower prices require great numbers, which require a large distribution. This usually leads to the department store. The distribution of furniture, and of books, probably of most things, are monopolies against diversity, which eliminate exceptions and complication, which have an invariable scheme for production and for costs, and of course for appearance, and, for books, subject matter. For both furniture and books the designer and the author absolutely receive very little. The production cost of furniture is not as fixed as the cost of the designer, but it is low. The cost of the designer must have developed from that of real modern furniture, since the architect was always dead. The producer, not the factory, and the retailer, or both as one, receive the most money, some as profit, some for the expenses of the distribution and the salesroom. This makes an impossible price. And of course it seems that the middleman should get less. The larger the distribution the more to the middleman. Therefore the best method is a small distribution, which is what we do. And, importantly, we are the producers, which combines that profit and my profit into one, leaving only the retailer as extra. Our furniture goes around the world, but only one by one. Most things could be made in the area in which they are consumed, eliminating the big distributor, often one company charging for three functions, instead of two for one as in our case, charging three times as the distributor, the producer, and the manufacturer, that is, profiting as corporations. Almost anything they can do anyone can do anywhere. And obviously even cars and TVs could be made by any large city or small country. I have always thought it strange that there are no cars built in Switzerland. I have heard that there was once a company. Why should Texas import cars and trucks from Michigan? The oligarchy of monopolies of distribution prevents innovation, invents only restrictions, and raises blank walls. The flat and boring society is a maze of blank walls just above eye level. This prevents new and real inventions, so obviously there is no chance for only a new chair or a little book. The purpose of big business is to maintain its oligarchy rather than to do anything else, for example, to fulfill two of its biggest claims, competition and innovation. Efficiency is another claim, part of progress, efficiency for profit, not necessarily for production, and not for the public. Only in the mythical “progress” is there a suggestion of benefiting society. Most businesspeople think that such slight altruism is part of their advertising. And “free enterprise” is a slogan of the Pentagon.

Noam Chomsky writes:

Free trade is fine for economics departments and newspaper editorials, but nobody in the corporate world or the government takes the doctrines seriously. The parts of the US economy that are able to compete internationally are primarily the state-subsidized ones: capital-intensive agriculture (agribusiness, as it’s called), high-tech industry, pharmaceuticals, biotechnology, etc.

The same is true of other industrial societies. The US government has the public pay for research and development and provides, largely through the military, a state-guaranteed market for waste production. If something is marketable, the private sector takes it over. That system of public subsidy and private profit is what is called free enterprise.

My experience is that both furniture distribution and book distribution are impossible. On the other hand the art business is such a one-horse business that something larger seems better. But this is perhaps because the context for art is so weak. The only possible way, perhaps, to make cheap mass-produced furniture is to start with a construction cost and to design accordingly. At present we would have to debase the construction of the existing furniture for mass production. Beginning from a fixed construction cost still leaves the questions of too little to the designer and too much to the producer-organizer-wholesaler and to the retailer.

The roughly made pine furniture made by me and others in Texas was made first, with a few exceptions. So far this has not been made for sale. Next, well-made furniture in fine solid wood was made for my building in New York and then in small numbers to sell, as it still is. The wood and the craftsmanship make this the most expensive. In 1984 I designed some chairs, benches, a table, and some beds in sheet metal, which were painted one color to a piece. There were also a couple of chairs and a table made of copper. This was for myself but also was the first furniture to begin as furniture to sell. Since this was sheet metal and the construction is common, I thought it would be cheap enough to be used outdoors in public, but there is still too much handwork. Until then, except for the first pine chairs, all of the furniture was somewhat heavy. Five years ago I designed some light chairs and two tables in solid wood. These are simply but well made in Yorkshire. Similar ones were made recently for outdoors in galvanized steel and of granite, again heavy, and also in Texas in painted steel and of slate. A few years ago, first for use, then for sale, desks, tables, and a bench were made in Cologne of clear plywood. The sheets of plywood are cut as little as possible and are slipped together, interlocking, like a children’s toy, an old idea. These also, sometimes with the plywood coated commercially with a color, as well as chairs like those in pine, are made in New York.

I am often asked if the furniture is art, since almost ten years ago some artists made art that was also furniture. The furniture is furniture and is only art in that architecture, ceramics, textiles, and many things are art. We try to keep the furniture out of art galleries to avoid this confusion, which is far from my thinking. And also to avoid the consequent inflation of the price. I am often told that the furniture is not comfortable, and in that not functional. The source of the question is in the overstuffed bourgeois Victorian furniture, which, as I said, never ceased. The furniture is comfortable to me. Rather than making a chair to sleep in or a machine to live in, it is better to make a bed. A straight chair is best for eating or writing. The third position is standing.

First published: Donald Judd Furniture: Retrospective, exh. cat. (Rotterdam: Museum Boymans-van Beuningen, 1993), 7–21.

Donald Judd Text © Judd Foundation