#hes just like *crit noise* ‘let me paint you a picture!’

[carebewear]

Ignatz has somehow become one of my best units for this run I’m not sure if that means I’m bad at fire emblem or that I’m a fucking genius for making him my dancer

[mex-sickos]

Had our first dnd sesh in a while and good lord Jesus Christ holy shit what the fuck

It starts out with me going into the sewer because the city is on lockdown and while I might be a badass they have an antimagic field around this bitch and I do not think I can take a small platoon of robopaladins guarding the gate, so I go into the murky depths in one part “this is my best chance at not getting megalynched for being undead” (both megalynchings and being undead are normal for the setting) and my deuteragonist is entering from the opposite side (trying to get in) and I’m not a fuckign square who makes the dm work for story beats. So the first encounter of the night kinda paints a picture of how it’s gonna go, in that I get spotted while blasting open a sewer grate with my gun because I’m a rabbitperson pipsqueak and even if I’m a vampire I’m not moving a grate the size of me (it’s on me for not making the vamps stats higher, if it makes you feel any better both charisma and dexterity are maxed out) but I make up for that by, after some mild antics involving me pretending to be a scared child and falling down the hole with the robopaladin who came to check on the blasting noise, ended with me gunbutting his head off rock em sock em style with a crit (if that sounds bullshit to you just wait cause it was a massive hot night for me). After a bunch if rp I won’t get into because let’s be real playing elder scrolls arena irl is just as interesting as it is playing it unironically, we end up in a cabin with a blind man and end up convincing him (more like he convinced us to play along but) that we were his long dead son who had learned to split himself and also received head trauma so we didn’t remember our own fathers name (before we start feeling things for this guy I wanna make it perfectly clear, we got to this cabin through a creepy tunnel in the sewers with bodies fused into the walls and upon entering he immediately addressed me as Samuel even though my character is a small girl so I’m thinking he might be cursed) but the thing is this guy is a SERIOUS alchemist and he refuses to lose his son to something trivial like a little head trauma, so he brews up a potion TO GIVE US ALL OF SAMUELS MEMORIES, and let me tell you this dude was a hydra killing Omni sexual time magic having claymore wielding badass whose final memory was seemingly getting cut down in battle protecting the village that presumably this old man lives(lived?) in, and when we take the potion it was like we were living his life so both of these two undead adventures believe in part that they are Samuel and even though this is our first time meeting we both agree that we have to find the guy that killed us and kick his ass- but first our father informs us that ghast (the main antagonist of the storyish he’s also kinda my homie but also not because I was his creators (old and powerful necromacer who harassed us the entire first campaign) babysitter but regardless he’s a murderhoboing douchebag and if he knows where our father is he isn’t safe, so we take the key he offered us to help us powerlevel (the dm said I was right when I essentially called it the trial of the master sword) where we had to go down a 10 mile tube (zoulma my oomfie is a Druid so once we figured out the gimmick was unnecessary after getting riddled with holes it was essentially just a three hour cruise to the bottom) and then we’re immediately given the setting equivalent of a full rest in a bottle and told “get ready chucklefucks”, so we’re spirited out of the room and into an arena where we’re told we gotta fight three rounds (Btw they know our names and who we are even though neither of us are particularly famous), the first one is skeletons which we ofc crush, the second one is three bulette where I open the round by ripping one of them in half turn one followed by zoulma charming one of the two remaining ones to kill the other, at which point we are like “this is gonna be easy” so when they tell us we have six options for the last round i sight unseen say “we’re gonna take number four” (this story will continue in the reblogs sorry for this being so long)

[orderofthedyingstar]

RECAP: SESSIONS 12-13

SESSION 12

After an hour of pacing and avoiding the subject, Jun finally starts talking about his past in So’Joh: how he was raised in an orphanage before being taken in by a wizard (Toji), then came to work at the Cobalt Keep when he was twelve years old. He notes that he caught the attention of the Royal court by predicting an assassination attempt (doesn’t specify on who) and ‘blowing the assassin up’. Jun also supplies the name of the Emperor (Qu’ni-lihil) and his advisor, Nirah, a warlock. He clarifies that he traded his heart when he was fourteen years old to Nirah’s patron, the Faceless One, in exchange for access to powerful divination magic. When he was sixteen, he spared Inigo and Umbra from a death sentence at one of the entrances to the Underdark (Death’s Road), something he’d done with a few other prisoners. He then says that he the left the keep a while after the Emperor’s youngest child died at ten years old after following him to the entrance to the Underdark, something he failed to prevent. When Rhododendron asks Jun more about his heart, he says that the Faceless One having a piece of him means that they can scry on him at any time, and says that even though they’d always kept up their end of the bargain he isn’t a very good diviner any more - because he ‘tried to erase his own memories’ and destroy his old spell book.

Jun: “It didn’t work, so I put myself to sleep for five years.” 

Rhododendron: “Five years?!” 

Verrix: “How are you still so tired if you slept for five years?”

Jun hedges around a definitive answer when Rhododendron asks how he got in touch with the Faceless One, and continues to insist on accompanying the party to So’Joh. Rhododendron runs through the list of everyone in the party who is wanted in So’Joh - which is everyone but her and Marlee.

Rhododendron: “Nice. I’m also not wanted in So’Joh…that I know of?”

Verrix: “Yet.” 

Marlee: “The fact that you had to specify So’Joh is a little worrying, but I don’t care enough to ask any questions.” 

Verrix: “We’ve all been wanted in multiple countries, it happens.” 

Marlee: “EVERY SINGLE COUNTRY on the continent, Verrix. EVERY. SINGLE. COUNTRY.”

Rhododendron continues to ask Jun about the danger of him coming along with them, but he insists that he’s fine, and points out that he doesn’t look the same as he used to. (Rhododendron and Jun spend like five minutes sort-of-not-really-flirting until she realizes that they’re wasting time. I really don’t know how else to word it they’re really that ridiculous.) The party leaves the cave and heads down the mountain, Rhododendron and Verrix unsuccessfully trying to get more information out of Jun, with Rhododendron trying to get him to understand why he’s so insistent on staying with them. The party rests about two hours away from Brackenwood, with Inigo taking the first watch. Unfortunately, he isn’t paying very much attention and the party gets attacked by several large lizard-like creatures (they can’t identify them but I’m pretty sure they’re drakons?). They manage to finish them off but Marlee and Rhododendron sustain quite a few injuries, and the party returns to their rest.

The next day, the party heads to Brackenwood, but are unsure where to begin looking for traces of Umbra and Raz. They also decide to try and buy/steal some horses and a cart, pooling all of their gold together and attempting to come up with a plan. While discussing Umbra, Marlee asks Verrix if they’d seemed like they were using ‘wizard magic’, to which he says that the blood magic looked learned but the rest of it didn’t. The party walks through the town, with Verrix ripping down some posters of himself in various disguises; he keeps an eye out for posters of tieflings, but there aren’t any with the name ‘Jun’ on them (Jun catches him looking). There aren’t any wanted posters of Inigo. The party checks a few of the shadier areas/taverns in town for signs of Umbra, going into a tavern Verrix recognizes as the ‘Blue Goat’. Verrix and Rhododendron try to ply some information out of the bartender, who plays coy until they bribe him after which he tells them that Umbra and a dwarf passed through a few days ago but didn’t stay, and that they have ‘special spell components’ for sale if the party’s interested. Rhododendron notices that Jun is distracted by some painted depictions of a figure holding worn and broken weaponry on the back wall of the bar, a set of scales in the background (Zelia). Marlee is also looking at the pictures with some interest, although not with the same apprehension that Jun seems to be; Inigo is squinting at it with some confusion/recognition.

Marlee asks about seeing the temple in town, which is an old one dedicated to Laoteng. Both Rhododendron and Jun are less than excited about this, considering how the last temple went. Nonetheless, Rhododendron wipes the visible blood off of herself and the party enters the temple, which is much nicer than both of the previous ones since it is neither abandoned nor previously buried. The temple is fairly large, lined with statues where people used to pray including a massive statue of Laoteng herself before a big pool of water at the back of the temple. Marlee splits off from the party to sit in a pew by herself for a while. When Rhododendron asks, Marlee says that the temple does kick people out during the time when it used to be night, as a way to honor the old traditions. 

Rhododendron, looking at the pool of water: “I’m morbidly curious. It probably wouldn’t work, right?” 

Jun: “It definitely wouldn’t, and I’m not just saying that because I don’t want you to do it. It’s cause…I don’t want you to do it.”

Despite what happened in the other temple, Rhododendron still wants to try to explore this one because she knows that there’s something about her bow that still isn’t working right. Rhododendron fills Marlee in on how her bow has affected temples of Laoteng in the past, and says that she wants to try and use it on the pool in the Brackenwood temple. Marlee isn’t opposed to the idea, but doesn’t see any real benefit to it, although she is impressed that the bow was stolen from the Queen. Marlee insists on taking Rhododendron shopping before they do anything else, and they get her three fancy outfits - including one really pink, frilly dress. While the party is in the rich district, Verrix swaps his old cloak for a brand new fancy black cloak (“pristine”, 23 sleight of hand) and absolutely nobody notices. The party gets some horse feed and Verrix wheedles a deal out of the cart salesman - although Verrix almost forgets about the feed until Rhododendron reminds him (this leads to several horrible feet jokes and Verrix being a little concerned that that horses are going to try to eat his feet). The party gets ready to go to the temple, but elect to leave Marlee and Inigo behind - Marlee because she’s too loud, and Inigo to keep her company.

Marlee: “Ugh, FINE! But we’re not bonding!”

Rhododendron, Verrix, and Jun sneak around the back and Rhododendron picks the lock, berating Verrix and Jun for not being able to do it despite being arguably shadier. This time when Rhododendron aims an arrow at the pool, it takes all of the light in the entire building with it, blinding everyone. As the three of them descend the staircase, they see that the walls are lined with eerie, faceless humanoid statues.

Danny: “These vibes are rancorous, bro. Like, rancid. Straight up.”

SESSION THIRTEEN

Upon further examination of the humanoid statues, the group sees that they have strange straight lines sticking out of the tops of their heads, and that they’re in a crouched position…

Rhododendron: “What do you think is sticking out of the backs of their necks?” 

Verrix: “I dunno, I’ve never made a statue. I don’t know if that’s required or not.” 

Rhododendron: “Jun, I don’t like these.” 

Jun: “O-oh, yeah, I don’t either, they’re very creepy. Let’s just leave.” 

Rhododendron: “N-no. No! We are here for a reason.” 

Jun: “The lights flickered out, all these weird body-shaped things, we’re still in the first hall continuing on…Nyvarstra, if you can hear me, I know I don’t really pray, but uh…” 

Rhododendron: “Isn’t that sacrilegious in a Laoteng temple?” 

Jun: “……What’s she gonna do, be mad?” 

Rhododendron: ”I…I feel like there’s a point there, but it seems kind of rude.” 

Jun: “I mean, she’s never offered me her protection.” 

Rhododendron: “Well, you took a deal with a devil.” 

Jun, obviously annoyed: “A lot of us have made deals with a lot of different things, haven’t we?”

Verrix takes a good look at the statues, finding them long undisturbed and…softer, than normal statues, along with a faint magical aura to them. Rhododendron tries to look around for traps, but only senses something horribly off with the creepy not-statues.

Rhododendron: “We should be careful around the statues, obviously.” 

Jun: “Uh…are they statues?” 

Rhododendron: “Please don’t say things like that. Like, clearly, yes they’re not statues, but keep that to yourself.” 

Jun: “They almost look like, um…(failed INT check) well, I don’t know what they look like, actually. Magic?” 

Rhododendron: “I think even Verrix parsed that one out for himself.” 

Verrix: “…Thanks. How many spell slots do you have again?” 

Jun: “Not enough.” 

Rhododendron: “He was talking to me.” 

Jun: “I know.” 

Rhododendron: “Hey!”

The group takes a moment to desperately wish they’d brought Inigo and/or Marlee for a meat buffer/extra healing, especially considering how this temple already seems worse that the previous temples. They also get concerned about how dangerous all of these temples have been, seeing as they were supposedly made in Laoteng’s honor. The group tries to sneak down the hall, but Verrix (CRIT MISS) tries and spills everything out of his bag, also ripping his BRAND NEW cloak.

Verrix, tearfully: “My expensive new cape…I worked so hard for it…” 

Val: *cackling*

At the noise, four of the statues stand up, and the things on the back of their necks light, making them look like big human-shaped candles. Verrix shoves everything back into his bag and puts out the Light he’d cast for Rhododendron. Watching the candles, he army-crawls over to the other members of the party and away from the lit statues - Rhododendron refuses to turn around and look at the statues Verrix has disturbed. They manage to sneak down the rest of the hall without disturbing the other statues, and enter a new room with a pool of water in the center and a statues of Laoteng looming over it. There are three exits from the room, two doors to the right and left and a doorway in the back with a staircase leading downwards, the faint sound of rushing water in the distance.

Rhododendron wants to shoot the pool last after investigating the other rooms, finding the one to the left full of bookshelves and tapestries. The books aren’t written in a language Rhododendron recognizes, and most of them are in poor condition. Rhododendron manages to sneak around the animated suit of armor patrolling the room, and finds that the tapestries depict a Holy Knight wielding a silver bow - and that an empty silver quiver is stored in the room. The knight in the image is a mid-height drow wearing some sort of leather armor…they’re depicted slaying drakes, owlbears, and a cluster of sick-looking people. They have red streaks coming out of their eyes and mouths, but Rhododendron cannot remember what the name of their illness is, although it’s a common horror story told to children across the continent. 

In the next room, the group finds crafting supplies that seems as though the people who once frequented the temple were trying to make another silver bow unsuccessfully. Verrix is able to recognize the illness despite depicted on the mosaics in this room as the Crimson Death: during the first week you get feverish and sick, then you start bleeding out of your mouth/nose/eyes for two days, and then you die. It was a horrible plague that occurred a while ago, said to be a curse from Nyvarstra.  The group decides to go through the middle doorway and down the stairs, which are once again flanked by the creepy humanoid candle-statues on one side all the way down. A large waterfall rushes not too far from the staircase down to a pool far below.

Jun: “Don’t trip.”

Rhododendron and Jun spend a few minutes arguing about whether or not you should die trying to help someone else in the party, and then the party tries to sneak down the staircase. Rhododendron fails to sneak, alerting five candles to her presence - Jun tries to put them out but this just aggravates the candles further, and the trio scrambles down the rest of the staircase as the candles’ heads turn towards them. The candles explode just as the party gets to the bottom of the staircase, obliterating their only means of escape. The party stands near a small cave entrance at the base of the waterfall, at the edge of a small pond there doesn’t seem to be any outlet for all of the water.

Jun: “We’re done going downstairs. No more downstairs. No more downstairs.” 

Rhododendron: “The downstairs could lead upstairs though?” 

Jun: “Downstairs could also just keep leading downstairs until it leads to the Underdark.” 

Rhododendron: “What is it with you and thinking that things lead to the Underdark? That’s so far down, you know that, right?” 

Jun: “…Right.”

The party finds a Ring of Water Walking around the cave entrance, and then proceed onwards to a larger room in the back. It has a large pool of water with statues of Nyvarstra and Laoteng on the far side, and between them is a figure kneeling their head bowed, arms chained to both of the statues. They have a large pair of skeletal wings.

Rhododendron: “Maybe he’s nice…”

Jun is very against waking the chained angel, and Rhododendron sneaks around the angel to take a look at another mosaic behind them, but is unable to decipher anything. Verrix suggests swimming in the pool to figure out its properties - and then the trio realizes that the water in the pool is completely black. Rhododendron throws a piton with Light cast on it into the pool, which gets completely submerged in the darkness, the light snuffed out. Rhododendron lies to the group that they’re just going to turn around and leave the pool and the angel alone, and turns to shoot the pool right as they’re leaving - causing the room to plunge into pitch black darkness. Before Verrix can cast Light, the angel breaks free of their chains and summons a magical sword of fire, spitting out something vulgar in Celestial.

Verrix: “Uh, he sounds mad…” 

Jun: “Oh, he doesn’t sound mad at all Verrix, he sounds very friendly.”

The angel beheads both statues of Nyvarstra and Laoteng, crumbling the heads to dust.

Verrix: “They’re just statues, they’re not gonna hurt you. Do you just really not like statues, is that it? I swear we didn’t put those there.”

In broken Celestial the angel cusses out the goddess and any who would help them. Rhododendron and Verrix try to put on brave faces and snark back at the angel as they back away from the angel - who is much taller than even Marlee. The angel accuses Rhododendron of pretending to be a Champion of Dilong, saying she lacks purity. Rhododendron suggests that they try to swim across the pond, but Jun says that he can’t.

Rhododendron: “Why are all of the angels we’ve met just huge fucking assholes?” 

Verrix: “Hey.” 

Rhododendron: “Like you’re not a huge fucking asshole.” 

Verrix: “What about Inigo?” 

Jun: “So no exceptions.”

Without any other choice, the party engages the angel in combat. Rhododendron sends up a prayer to Dilong for guidance in combat, and the arrow strikes true causing the angel to howl in pain. Verrix makes the mistake of getting within melee range of the angel, who practically gores him with its greatsword (instantly halving his health), baring its fangs at him. Jun turns Verrix invisible, and the angel chases the group to the edge of the pond before releasing a wave of necrotic energy at them. Jun is knocked prone but Rhododendron and Verrix manage to stay standing. Rhododendron tries to talk the angel down, but they’re too far gone. Verrix senses that the fallen angel might be weak to radiant damage (too bad they didn’t bring someone with Divine Smite, huh), and he pulls out his wings to deal out some extra radiant damage to the enemy. After a few more attacks from the party as they whittle down its health, the angel gets annoyed with Verrix’s radiant damage and tries to attack him, but cannot reach him - so they grapple Rhododendron instead out of sheer desperation.

Rhododendron, choked: “If you wanted a hug you could have just asked.”

Verrix and Jun try to hit the angel, but Jun’s spells keep fizzling out. They spend a few rounds unable to do any real damage to the angel without risking injuring Rhododendron, who keeps making jokes at the angel about taking her out to dinner first as she’s slowly choked out. Verrix casts Burning Hands directly in the angel’s face, melting and crumbling their face. The angel shatters in a hail of light, covering the party in goop. After cleaning off the angel goop, Rhododendron gives both Verrix and Jun a chocolate - Verrix ends up not having any immediate effects, while Jun screams and coughs up blood.

Rhododendron: “Are you okay??” 

Jun: “No. I think that chocolate tried to cast a love spell on me. Tastes like coconuts, though.” 

Verrix: “Is that gonna happen to me??”

Rhododendron is able to get a better look at the mosaic, which depicts the sun and the moon in balance with one another, equal in their power. Nyvarstra is shown empowering other deities while Laoteng is show in temperance to that, cleansing those that grew clouded by the power. The pool seems like it was restorative at one point. Rhododendron takes the Water Walking ring to scope out the area, but is unable to find anything. Verrix tries to use the ring to walk up the waterfall, but fails miserably. Rhododendron also attempts it but fails in the same way. After several more minutes of unsuccessful investigation of the waterfall, Rhododendron tries to use her bow to shoot at the waterfall. She debates praying to Laoteng or Dilong, since the angel mentioned something about him. She decides to pray to Dilong for help and guidance…(CRIT MISS)

The arrow snaps in half and falls into the water. Rhododendron, out of desperation, decides to try again - Jun suggests making a deal with the god, since powerful entities usually want something in return. Verrix suggests throwing a coin into the water, like making a wish. 

Rhododendron, embarrassed: “I fell asleep most of the time when I went to church with Raz. I tried to stay awake, but he has a very soothing…voice…And there’d be hymns. Really, really long hymns. Everybody’s lulling you to sleep.”

Rhododendron tries another prayer, admitting that she doesn’t know what to offer Dilong. After five long minutes with no response, the group sees a shooting star streak across the dark (underground) chamber, hitting the waterfall and submerging the entire chamber in water - Rhododendron opens her eyes in a bright white room, dry and glowing with a faint silver light. Rhododendron asks aloud if she’s dead, to which an unfamiliar voice tells her she isn’t. Dilong says that aren’t really interested in making a deal with her since they aren’t some hag or fey. Dilong advises Rhododendron to be careful about offering to make deals with strangers.

Dilong: “Not everyone’s that nice.” 

Rhododendron: “Are you..nice…?” 

Dilong: “Depends who you ask.” 

Rhododendron: “What if I’m asking you?” 

Dilong: “I dunno. Some people say neutrality isn’t really nice, but I say walking in the middle isn’t so bad.”

Rhododendron wakes to find herself standing in the middle of the pool in the room with three doorways above the broken staircase, Verrix and Jun passed out on either side of the pool. They’re all dry. Rhododendron sends up a quick prayer of thanks to Dilong, and looks through the bookshelves for information on Dilong. The only book she manages to find is written in Primordial, which Jun says that he can read but that it will take a while since it’s a difficult language to translate. The party finally leaves the temple, going to reunite with Inigo and Marlee. Rhododendron puts on her bright pink dress and Verrix uses his disguise kit to make her look like Donny.

They head back over to the cart, and Inigo has trouble remembering Donny’s name. Marlee tells Rhododendron that she looks ‘pretty bad’ before asking how the temple went. Rhododendron tells Marlee to get in disguise as well, and Inigo tries to come up with a fake name for Rhododendron.

Inigo: “Uh, Romeo?” 

Rhododendron: “Romeo is just me. Romeo is just Rhododendron.” 

Inigo: [CRIT MISS INT CHECK]

Rhododendron tries to check in on Inigo and the status of his memories, but he keeps dodging around her with cryptic and confused-sounding responses. He does manage to remember Donny’s name, and Rhododendron realizes that Verrix made her look like Donny - he ducks behind Marlee. After Verrix finishes Marlee’s disguise, she and Rhododendron come up with fake names and a backstory, with Marlee less than pleased to be on a date with fake-Donny (‘Barbra’).

Marlee: “Ugh, you couldn’t have been, like, hot?” 

Rhododendron: “Hey, I’m not like, ugly.” 

Marlee: “Okay. Couldn’t we be, like, siblings instead?” 

Rhododendron: ”No, we look nothing alike.” 

Marlee: “I know, I actually look nice.”

Marlee pouts as they start their fake-date, heading towards the stables. The stable master seems unswayed by their act, until Marlee (like every time she lies) starts strong and then takes it a little overboard with her threats by the end of her semi-lovelorn speech. She definitely implies they’ll be doing, uh, things on the horses. Marlee ends up taking two of the horses from a completely speechless and embarrassed stable master, and Rhododendron is torn between being impressed and mortified by Marlee’s insinuations. The two of them decide that their meet-cute is that Donny/Barbra/Rhododendron is a clumsy waitress who spilled some sort of non-hot beverage on Julia/Marlee and that they’re engaged with a very specific proposal scene courtesy of Marlee; they spend the rest of the horse ride figuring out the details of their fake couple as Rhododendron tries to bond with Marlee, and the end up circling back to where the rest of their party is waiting with the cart.

The party debates leaving - there is one major city left, and then just the Long Road between them and the capital of So’Joh. Rhododendron asks Marlee for information about Dilong, and she says that he’s the god of the Underdark, the stars, and guidance. She also lists of his holy days, like the Night of Wishes (in the middle of winter). She also supplies that his symbol is a falling star. Rhododendron fills her in on what happened in the temple, and Marlee sounds mildly impressed with most of it - but points out that she should have checked the quiver for a curse before picking it up and using it. When Rhododendron recounts the fight with angel Marlee tries to write an impromptu enemies-to-lovers story about it while she talks. (Verrix pretends like he isn’t eavesdropping the entire time while he guides the horses.) Rhododendron says the Knight/Champion of Dilong had the same bow as her in the temple’s depictions, and that every time she’d tried to pray to Laoteng she never really seemed to get a response.

Marlee: “What made you think it was Laoteng’s bow, anyway?”

Rhododendron: “It’s silver. And I found it in the palace of the Queen.”

Marlee: “Oh, you’re so lucky to have me.”

Marlee also supplies that gods are ‘not a one way street’, and that their relationships with mortals tend to be give-and-take. Rhododendron finishes detailing her strange encounter with Dilong to Marlee, who claims that there’s some ‘romantic tension’ in that. Rhododendron wonders if there’s a possibility that it wasn’t Dilong, to which Marlee says that a Trickster might have tried to interfere but gods like Zelia and Sabio wouldn’t resort to that. She does warn Rhododendron that Nyvarstra wouldn’t be pleased about her meeting with Dilong, and repeats the well-worn mantra that she’s ‘always watching’.

Rhododendron: “There was this shooting star that hit the waterfall, and then we were all drowning.”

Marlee: “Oh, are you dead? Wait, you’re not dead - if you were dead I would sense it, and then I would have to kill you, ‘cause, you know, undead - can’t roll with that. You’re an abomination against nature and Nyvarstra doesn’t like that, so I’d have to Smite you.”

Rhododendron has Jun cast Identify on her bow again, to which he finds that her bow feels much stronger, not quite awakened but definitely not as dormant as it was before.

[collection81]

Interview: Elizabeth Glaessner, a painter living in Brooklyn, New York.

Before this visit, Elizabeth and I did not know each other but I had admired her paintings for years. I first encountered them in 2014 at PPOW, her NY gallery. Her work exists between abstraction and representation with dark human moments lurking within painted worlds.

It was important to me that the first studio visit in this series be with someone I didn’t already know but whose work interests me, partially because it functions in a realm outside of my own practice. I didn’t want to feel any personal familiarity with her work, or the comfort that comes with an inherent knowledge of that person or their process. This allowed me to be an open and inquisitive visitor.

I asked her a series of questions that address her studio practice and the associated struggles. We talked for about an hour about personal doubt, coping mechanisms, and book clubs.

The following conversations is excerpted from an interview on October 15, 2016 in Brooklyn, New York.

Where did you grow up?

I was born in Palo Alto, California and then moved with my family to New Orleans and then to Houston, Texas. I spent most of my time in Houston. Texas is another world; the landscape is wild. I’ve been in New York since 2007 so I do miss the wide open spaces. Driving across Texas is amazing, you can see and feel the landscape transform from a sticky swamp to a desert.

Houston also has a great art community. My mom is a painter, she taught at the Glassell School of Art,  which is part of the MFAH (Museum of Fine Arts Houston). It offers classes like the Corcoran, but there’s no degree program. They also run a highly respected residency program called the Core program.

When I was in High school, I was on the Teen Council at the Contemporary Art Museum in Houston and one of the things we did was visit the Core artist studios. Trenton Doyle Hancock was a resident at the time, so we got to visit him there. That was a pivotal experience for me, everything in that space felt very alive and unreal in the best way and you could see that he was living his work. He was totally committed to what he was doing.

What is the driving force behind your work?

I feel like I couldn’t not do it. Growing up, it was the one thing I could always get lost in. I really enjoy the act of painting; I love that part as much as I love thinking about the ideas or the narrative.

When I am making, the small pieces especially, I reference things that I’m reading or experiencing now but then also combine that with things that have stuck with me from my past. So it feels like a natural way to reflect on the present and the past. I develop a lot of the stories in an intuitive way. With the pure act of painting the most exciting thing for me is trying something new and then being surprised with what happens. That allows for some of the content to be dictated by the process.

What is your biggest struggle in the studio?

Right now it is the size of my working space. If I had more space, I might be doing more of the larger paintings at the same time. I like to work on a lot of pieces simultaneously. Sometimes there is a positive thing in not being able to though, it forces me to put things away, which stops me from overworking them.

Put the following terms in order of importance to your studio practice:

Form, Concept, Process

I feel like they all inform each other. I have been thinking a lot about what I want the paintings to say but they aren’t extraordinarily specific. I am not totally interested in having an idea and then making a painting to show that idea. I start with vague ideas, I’ll think about a specific mood or particular landscape or color, then I start thinking about the narrative. I ask myself if it will be a dangerous painting or a lighter painting. They’re still open for people to experience them in their own way.

Was there ever a time when you felt like you couldn’t keep making work? If so, what helped you to keep going?

Yeah, there have been times when I question everything: the type of work I’m making, is the work important, etc. I’ve also had stretches where I fail a lot and I just keep making bad paintings. I make a ton of small pieces that no one sees. I was working on a huge piece earlier this summer, it’s a great example of a failure that took forever. It was haunting me. I would come in the studio and work on it every day and at a certain point I had to take it down, roll it up, and start new pieces.

This was my first large piece on canvas in a long time, and there was a lot of experimentation at the same time. I like to work fast and get it out and move on, but I got really stuck on this one. Sometimes I felt I had gone backwards that day, I would go home and obsess.

I take pictures in the studio and I would go home and look at the photos over and over again. I think a lot of it was figuring out how the materials I am used to working with on paper or panel worked on the canvas. I love working on paper, it is an amazing surface. Even though it takes a long time to prepare, it didn’t feel as daunting as painting on canvas.

I love the way wet media works on paper too, so when I was working on panel, that felt like the closest thing to the smooth surface of hot press paper. Canvas is more flexible, so when I wanted to bring some of the moments that occur in my other work into the large piece, it was a struggle. I learned that sometimes I’ll build up too much and then the piece dies. I just have to approach it differently. I put it away and work on something else, that’s how I deal with it.

Do you have any routines, rituals, or coping mechanisms that you use regularly in your studio practice?

If I am frustrated with a big piece, I will just sit on the floor and work on small pieces on paper. That feels like, comfortable, play time. I think that kind of stuff impacts my work a lot. Sitting on the floor I am immediately reminded of childhood, which can be very freeing. I also have a big table at my apartment, and sometimes do small pieces there, which is a totally different environment. It’s nice to go back and forth.

My studio mate and I usually listen to music and podcasts (though when I’m by myself it’s always music, I can’t really focus on anything else while I’m working). Every once in a while I’ll be listening to a weird station on Spotify and turn it off and realize that the music was putting me in a weird mood.

If I’m really focused, it all becomes white noise so I don’t immediately realize how it is affecting me. I like listening to This American Life outside of the studio, and recently I had it on while painting. This episode that was so fucked up, I had to turn it off and listen to it later. It was too intense.

Do you have any hobbies or interests outside of your studio practice that help keep you sane?

I run. I have been running forever, I used to run track in high school and my first year of college but it became too much with practices. I don’t do incredibly long distances but I need to do it or I become a terrible person to be around. Because I work a lot on the floor I have been noticing I’m getting back aches and pain, so I think it’s important to be physical. I’m also in a book club/crit group with some amazing artists and writers.

A friend of mine, Jessica Stoller, who went to Cranbrook started this womens crit group with a few of the other members while she was there and a lot of them ended up in New York. They’ve kept it up here and it keeps growing. We go to one person’s studio one day and then do the book club another day. We’ve read one of the Elena Ferrante books, a scandalous book called Tampa and just finished Americanah, which is probably my favorite book so far. The author, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, is an incredible writer.

We, as artists, are doing so many different things. We have our home life, our studio practice, day jobs, etc. and I think that if I don’t make borders or boundaries I will just feel completely overwhelmed. So my day job is completely separated from my studio practice. But home life/studio life is a gray area for me. I have not yet learned how to not let my art affect my mood outside of the studio.

Is there anything you would like to promote? Upcoming exhibitions, projects, passions?

I just had several small works on paper up in a group show at P.P.O.W. curated by Anneliis Beadnell. I’ll have a couple of pieces in some group shows coming up. One at SVA curated by Peter Hristoff and another in Chinatown. I’ll send out an email and post something on Instagram when it gets closer to the dates.

http://www.bmoreart.com/2016/10/inertia-elizabeth-glaessner.html

https://www.instagram.com/eglaessn/

[taylorwritesaboutthings]

start

i started a journal this year during spring semester for a class on diary fiction writing (basically writing whatever happens or didn't happen to you in a story arch kind of way) and so i thought i'd share some of what i wrote, and keep up the habit of writing by posting stuff here. well, here goes: 2-25 a simple shape. last thursday, i pulled on my pink lace skirt, pink knee high socks, a simple blouse, my converse, and pink pin earrings and wished everyday was valentine’s day. afterall, it was a holiday that qualified dressing up for no reason, frosting and chocolate, and love notes. not my love notes, but lost ones i picked up from street gutters and chipping window panes; arranging them on my desk, i read and inspected them intensely, then recorded who i thought it was from and whether it was a smart match. unfortunately, it wasn’t valentine’s today, but i felt the same curious hyperness as i engaged in critique. everyone was relatively quiet, pinning their work for display then folding their hands as they sat and stared. i didn’t feel like joining them today, so i stood beside the crit wall, gathering my opinions. my voice thrust forward, and was amiably joined by other comments, in agreement or disagreement. the comments did not mesh together into monotone, and we carefully picked apart each artwork until we were stopped by a brief applause, then restarted with renewed zeal for the following piece. it was somewhat tiresome, but i felt present and necessary so my enthusiasm was maintained. when i returned to my room, it was still controlling my movements through dinner, and i became queasy from stuffing too much cabbage in my stomach. writing my resume required another piece of energy, but it was returned with accomplishment, which i considered its equal. gratefully, i kept the crumbs left over and ranted with K about my own project. “i hope i never become like the astronaut in my illustration,” i told her as i traced my eyes along the edges of the ceiling, “outside him, the world is real and uncoordinated, but within his bubble, there are only simple shapes and solid colors.” “how do you know he’s not the one seeing actual things? he could be reducing it to its essentials.” “maybe, yeah, i guess he just seems more isolated and unrealistic since he’s in a picture.” “maybe his world is less stressful and overwhelming.” “it’s still not real. but, i don’t know, he’d probably be a better painter.” i had a limited wardrobe of pink things, and fridays were the tiring duo of cafeteria work then painting class, so i was lazy and stuffed my body into jeans and a black top. it was my first 8am shift of spring semester, and nearly all the staff called out my name with a friendly smile - not just the cook who calls me t-swizzle. my apron, which is effective for being ignored by the freshman diners, i tied around my waist with a subconscious gesture and went to work. the initial attention to my reappearance faded away as everyone refocused on layering sandwiches or frying eggs, and i listened to the shuffling of the cereal as i poured it. the cafeteria went still for a while; few people come for in-between meal times, so the tables became my territory again once wiped of breakfast debris. my view became filtered, i checked the milk level then checked it again because either memory abandoned me or i didn’t trust it. i thought i saw my own reflection like a ghost image in front of me. jolie, my shift manager, came into focus and said something about restocking the coffee. leaning close to the machine as i lifted the nozzle, my face enveloped and blurred itself with the coffee steam. as i turned away, the rows of lunch rush-hour began to fill the service area similar to a collage of cutouts with not enough negative space for its compositional benefit. initially, i felt exposed by the jagged repeating patterns and flickering hemlines. the crowded air soon became neutral, and i realized i had never touched it at all. my apron disappeared, or had absorbed into me completely, and i cataloged the eclectic line before the grill and along the salad bar like the crit wall from yesterday. although no sentences, or even words, were produced from my reaction. i didn’t say anything until painting class, when i readjusted to interpret a still life. my neighbor didn’t encourage the few words i hovered around him, so I easily shut up and painted. as i stroked the pastel colors with my brush, my senses gradually merged with the layers of smooth viscosity; while i was swimming in pink now, all i could feel was the coffee steam and a desaturated image of the crowded cafeteria. i resurfaced again after class, and i joined K and some friends from 15 west to watch a free movie screening. the movie was bluntly realistic - unlike the oldies where directors farmed wonderlands or bent stories into romantic arcs, it was a fabrication of non-fiction that i realized was pretty trendy now. in quiet awe of the main character’s tangibility and few lines, my voice rejected the opportunity to express my review of the film while walking back. between my and the character’s lips, there was a fragile thread, so i preserved it with my thin, plaid coat, while my body drowned out conversations with the white noise of cars and reflections on the canal. i sat in my room, still freezing, replaying the static score in my ear until i fell asleep. i woke like a piece of clockwork and stared into the mirror at my grey circles. something floated out of my mouth in a hollow tone, and K’s voice replied in a similar, contrived expression. i found myself immersed in my laptop screen for a few hours, glad to be productive but checked out. the ease of the morning soon hid away after lunch, at drawing class. i began quiet, still reminding myself to contain words like the movie character, especially since mine were much less meaningful. while i was separating my page with lines, the room became fragmented into angular areas of tension and unpredictably moving time. only the metal pins which i left out upon a stool held me somewhat connected to my classmates and the tormented white walls. wrapping my legs and mind with drowsiness and unenthusiasm, my sweatpants neglected me; they spoke only in a worn, pill-y texture and a muted tone of grey. my legs felt like temporary support beams, shifting while their roof was pummeled and eroded by an unexpected deluge. the upper, troubled part of my body tried to find refuge from a firmer foundation by hugging an actual pillar, while it shrunk beneath my XL sketchbook and pile of unbrushed hair. when my consciousness lifted slightly from fixating deep into the ground, it let my body balance while I glimpsed at someone’s sketches. they had interpreted my form, a flimsy figure clutching her sketchbook like a floatation device. an acquaintance’s judgement, a few days old, came whispering out of her mouth: “she acts like she’s a unicorn, always spacing out too, but no one dreams about her.” the words had floated in my atmosphere, then i inhaled them, and now they had reappeared, or had caused today’s clouds.  i wished for yesterday’s coffee mist, or thursday’s skirt, but they already disqualified as having been a part of me. i knew the words were probably true, so i told her, and the one on my ID card, and the one in the spacesuit in my illustration. standing in a closet, i exhaled them without crying. “you are normal.”