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phoneybeatlemania-bit-the-dust · 3 years

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i think this is one of the quotes anon was talking about: https://thegilly.tumblr.com/post/29568742275/the-beatles-and-me-by-neil-aspinall-scanned

(Link) (CW eating disorders)

That magazine article actually breaks my heart - the way that he’s legitimately torturing himself is just so upsetting. And in reading about John dieting the way he did, I can especially empathise with him because ive had a lot of the same experiences.

Some points I took note of from the article are:

1. John ate one meal a day, which was steak with a large salad - that means he was probably eating less then a 1000 calories a day, and id guess he was maybe only getting about 800 (?) calories a day at most with that diet. 800 calories or less is literally starvation.

2. ��John wont even look at bread” - this is the definition of an ‘unsafe food’. People with restrictive ED’s do eat, but they tend to have “safe” and “unsafe” foods. I suspect John considers bread unsafe because he knows its a binge food, and a food that he thinks will cause him weight gain - again, its just so sad that he would put himself through this misery. I also think that he probably felt meats were probably relatively safe for him to eat.

3. He had two different suits - one for when he was at his normal, healthy weight and another for when he had lost weight. He would bring them both on tour with him because his weight would fluctuate so much.

4. His regular weight was about 159lbs; apparently he was around 139lbs when he died (at least, thats what a quick google search tells me, so I don’t know how true that is. But certainly he was far thinner by the time he died).

5. “Right before a tour, he’ll do everything he can to lose weight” - this appears to speak especially to the theory that Johns ED might have been sparked largely by the pressures of fame and publicity.

6. “John hardly touches his salad, and he wont even look at the other boys eat.” - He’s eating the most miserable meal on the planet guys :’(

7. “John begins to look at me apprehensively. He has hunger pains in his eyes! Finally, when he is about to “break down” I…pull out the meat sandwiches.” - He was in actual, physical pain because he was so hungry.

8. “John takes the meat out of the sandwiches and eats every tiny sliver he can find. Then he stuffs the leftover slices of bread into a bag, which I take from him (so that he wont break down again and eat those).” - I would constitute this behaviour as a “binge”, because to me a binge is not based necessarily on the quantity of food you eat, or the amount of calories you take in, but more so about how in control and contented you are during and after eating. John wasn’t in control here, and its because its his bodies natural reaction when its in starvation mode.

9. “[Johns] main complaint is ‘How come Paul never gains an ounce — and he eats twice as much as I do?’”

10. “John is sure some kind of curse is set on his head — or is stomach as it were!”

Im not going to judge everyone for seemingly not making any real efforts to help John recover from his ED, because I don’t think ED’s became something that the general public were aware of until about the early 80s with Karen Carpenters death - and its taken years for people to even really begin recognising that a lot of men also suffer from ED’s! And so im not going to criticise them for not recognising that John legitimately was displaying symptoms of an ED, but I do think its just really sad that they were all watching John starve and torture himself, and couldn’t really do anything about it. And because they weren’t recognising him as mentally ill here, they probably all just accepted his diet as a bit of a laugh, whilst still knowing there was something more sinister underpinning it.*

(*I wonder however what Paul might have thought about all this, because we know that Paul was prone to being a sort of caretaker for John, and in a lot of ways “mothered” him. I feel like Paul would’ve recognised that only eating one meal a day was a problem, and maybe sort of laughed it off a bit because he couldn’t have known it was a legitimate mental illness - but also, I hope he would try to encourage John to eat. Id like to hear him talk about this in an interview someday, though I doubt anyone would ask him about this stuff)

This is just genuinely one of the most depressing things ive ever read about John, and if its a topic you feel comfortable reading id encourage anyone to give it a read (although if you think it could be damaging for your mental health, id say avoid it!).

And overall, im just really surprised that no biographer appears to have ever really spoken about this topic in a nuanced manner.

#cw ed #cw anorexia #cw eating disorder #john lennon ed #john lennon #johns psyche #this just makes me so so sad #he reminds me so much of ME #and thats just sad #like reading about seeing hunger in his eyes #<<< i know that pain!! i know that hunger!#@sergeantpeppa

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meet-me-in-the-kitchen · 4 years

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I’d love to know why you think ready for it is about harry

Great! So. There’s this book Taylor’s been an avid reader of for years, and it’s called Furious Love. It’s biographical and based on the relationship of Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. These were two extremely famous people whose relationship was on-and-off and they were essentially built to fall apart and fall back together (haha, OOTW reference). Several of Taylor’s songs are based off moments in this book, going as far as Red’s IKYWT “a new notch in your belt is all I’ll ever be” is a quote from Elizabeth Taylor. Anyway, Styles and Swift’s relationship closely parallels that of Burton and Taylor’s. Many of Taylor’s songs in 1989 have lyrical references to B/T.

Now, many believe Taylor is referring to Joe Alwyn as her great love story, which can be understood, because they use the lyric “he can be my jailer, Burton to this Taylor” as in JAYLOR, their ship name. However, in the beginning of Furious Love there is a quote from Eddie Fisher, Elizabeth’s husband at the beginning of her infatuation with Richard, claiming he feels like her “jailer” and this is a prominent quote of the book. Perhaps she’s referring to Alwyn as her Eddie Fisher, when Styles is being referred to as Burton?

Additionally, there are the more obvious lyrics that don’t really require much context. “Younger than my exes” Harry is the youngest of her prominent exes. “I keep him forever like a vendetta” a vendetta is a prolonged quarrel of sorts, maybe referring to the on-and-off presence of one in the other’s life? The songs being unspoken conversation? “If he’s a ghost then I can be a phantom” this would be responding to Two Ghosts when Harry refers to them both as ghosts.

And throughout the song there’s the feeling that she doesnt and can’t have who she wants. “In the middle of the night, in my dreams. That’s when I get to be with you” it’s impossible for the time being otherwise. They’re the Burton and Taylor of this generation. if they get together in public, there’s havoc. “I know I’m going to be with you so I take my time” in my mind this is a response to Harry’s written songs about Taylor, “Someday” and “Something Great”. When they’re older and less sensationalized, maybe they have a chance together.

Anyway, that’s just my take.

#haylor

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axiasprompts · 4 years

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Harrow the Ninth Sentence Starters

" [X], please don't be in such a hurry to die." "You came to warn me? You came to warn me /now/?" "[X], No one is coming to save you. Not God. Not [A]. Nobody." "Dying is for suckers." "Let them /weep/ to speak of us." "Forgive me... And give it hell, children." "Hell spat you/me back out. Fair enough." "Surprise me. My body is ready.” “You see, I am insane.” “You were a walking sacrament.” “You’ve thrown up again, [X].” “I am nothing. I am pointless, I am unmanned.” “And even I can admit that your eyelashes are delicious.” “Before you do anything I am quick to reassure you that you will regret: I have a message for you.” ““Your only settings were power-vomit and murder.” “You, yourself never had power over anyone else, but you misused it violently.” “I will not suckle at your bootheel.” “Hiss.” “You are trying to start a fight with me to get out of the fight I am trying to have with you, which is a painfully domestic tactic.” “You’re the one who investigated my tonsils.” “Oh, no, the lava.” “Stop xem, xe’s using theorems!!” “Already, you are being too loud.” “You never did possess an imagination.” “I can’t kiss you back. My lipstick’s perfect and I refuse to smear it.” “The infants are awake.” “I never got a what-for in school.” “Phwoar.” “Your indefatigability in the face of ancient death becomes you.” “I have never been good at attracting indulgent fathers.” “I made it. It’s vile.” “Tonight, I am afraid to die.” “I am afraid of myself. I am afraid of going mad.” “Ah! Finally, my biographer!.” “Get out of my way, you miserable ass.” “You have rendered yourself unlovable, [X].” “If they’re opinion isn’t worth a fart in a hurricane, try to imagine how much less I value yours.” “My teeth are extremely white and I brush assidiously, so I see no problem showing them off.” ““Do you ever wake up and think to yourself, When did [X] become this grovelling slime?” “God help us both, because we are surrounded by wolves.” “I hadn’t thought to scare the living wee out of them with, They’ll eat you alive, starting with your feet.” “I’ve always hated you, you dreary, repetitive leg.” “[Xe’s] you’re responsibility, not your punching bag.” “[X], who did you bury?” “Eat up, there’s nothing to you.” “You knew the whole time that [Z] died at their command.” “God is a dickhead.” “Let me give you a list of my favourite meals so that you can get them interestingly wrong.” “I can’t live this way. I cannot live this way. I have nowhere to go. I have nobody to turn to. I am a nonsense.” “[X], when was the last time you slept?” “How I crave your honeyed words.” “I still get an erotic charge from snakes, sorry to say.” “I can’t tell if you’re a once-in-a-lifetime genius, an insane imbecile, or both.” “You brood over everything. You read unholy omens in the way people say good morning.” “Relax. I haven’t invited you to an orgy, [X].” “I once watched that man fight a city. The city didn’t win.” “That was never three glasses of wine.” “Let me introduce you to the special world of companionship - I will reveal everything you do, contradict you at every turn, and hold back your hair in the morning.” “An absolute bombshell. Though maybe not quite such a bombshell as your mother.” “Old people should be shot.” “You know, for... sex reasons.” “Your understanding of flesh and spirit magic is execrable.” “How God takes - and takes - and takes.” “You speak in riddles, old man.” “I could not get drunk on it if I tried. And how I have tried.” “It is dreadful t be shown a monster’s pity.” “I hated the sexy parties.” “That’s a muffin.” “I merely want to put you in jail.” “What would I know, I’m only God.” “I would like to remind you, infant, that I also hated you on sight.” ”You were party to a tragedy based on a misunderstanding.” “Why do you care if I suffer?” “I am hugely bored of hearing all my flaws.” “Time to absolutely fuck you up.” “Someday, I’ll marry that person. It might be good for [xem]. Probably not, though.” “I acknowledge myself as a cruel disappointment.” “I hope [xe] gets boiled alive in oil. I hope [xe] falls into a hole with a crowd watching. I hope someone takes a large pair of secateurs to the muscles at the backs of their heels... I would buy tickets.” “You stand like a damn fishhook.” “Excuse [xem], please, [se] sucks.” “They did not legitimately try to give us mumps. My little brother gave us mumps.” “Forget the ferns.” “Pool of blood: check. Air so hot: check. Surrounded by big and illicit bones: check.” “Fuck. Fuck. Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Help. Yuck. Aaaargh.” “Goddamn it, I told you to lift weights.” “Hell of a party trick, [X], I mean, damn.” “You could always leave everything else behind, but you never got rid of being so absolutely fucking goddamn sad.” “I’m very obviously attracted to y- no, damn it, this is just sad. This is garbage.” “I was weak. I was always weak, [X].” “I was, and am, a grown person, and you both were neglected children.” “I don’t know how you dealt with these unbelievably old bastards.” “{Xe] can’t help being so fantastically, dorkily noble.” “I am sick of roses, and I am horny for revenge.” “Do you want your ass kicked now, or do you want your ass kicked later, or both?” “I did it for ultimate power - and posters of my face.” “You’ve got two short minutes left before I punch you right in the butthole.” “Why, your fist is so big, and my butthole is so small.” “You hating me meant more than anyone else in this hot, stupid universe loving me.” “[X], if you persist in making jack-off motions when I am talking, I will show you what your kidneys look like.” “What can I say? I love a little gall on gall.” “Ah, the romance I have been awaiting all my life. [Z] always said it would come along... or at least, [xe] once said I would go to hell and get fucked.” “I might lie down and see if this fixes itself.” “Fancy footwork, shitbird.” “But I still don’t know why I’m talking in meter.” “Chickenshits don’t get beer.” “I’m so sorry, [X]. I wish it were different. I am so tremendously sorry.” “Oops! It’s me again, never doing what I’m told.” “I can’t believe you feel like you’re in position to demand things of me.” “There is no such thing as forgiveness. There’s only bloody truth, and blessed ignorance.” “Go to hell, Ma/Pops.” “Not yet.”

#sentence starters #rp meme #inbox meme #the locked tomb #harrow the ninth #htn spoilers #long post

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sinsbymanka · 4 years

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Thank you so much @princessvicky01 for donating! I loved the opportunity to write Cullen pining over your lovely Annabel! And I always love writing Varric being snarky and awesome. Thank you!

I’m not longer accepting RAINN Commissions but you can see the ones that are already finished in this series on AO3. Thank you to everyone who has supported me!

Title: A Minx by Any Other Name Pairing: Cullen Rutherford/Female Inquisitor, Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford & Varric Tethras Rating: T Content Warnings: Pre-Relationship, Mutual Pining, Varric offering advice Read on AO3

Like a natural disaster, sometimes the signs of the Inquisitor’s arrival appeared before Varric saw the woman herself.

First, all the sound seemed to fade out, sucked from the world itself. Then, just as suddenly, it erupted like a menagerie of chirping birds infested the courtyard instead of the finest and most boring Orlesian nobility.

Finally, Varric’s whole operation came to a screeching halt. The quill of the scribe on his left went suspiciously silent. The solicitor over his shoulder stopped blathering. Varric held out another sealed message to the messenger on his right but it remained in his hand instead of being whisked away.

He waited one heartbeat. Another. Then he lifted his eyes to take in the spectacle himself.

He’d always preferred his ladies closer to his size, and highly unobtainable regardless, but he could see the attraction.

Annabel Trevelyan had a presence. He watched with a biographer’s critical gaze as the Inquisitor shared a smile with one of the gardeners, offered her own crisp salute and a cheerful grin to a soldier, then let out a peal of laughter at some private joke Dorian made at her elbow.

It wasn’t like Varric was going to actually write a book about the Inquisitor. He’d only done the first one about Hawke because… well, it was Hawke. Minx didn’t need an author to explain her life or her actions when everything she touched turned to gold.

Except maybe, someday, she would. And if she did, who better to capture her than one of the people at her side through thick and thin? Through horrible forest and equally desolate deserts?

Who better to write her than a friend?

If that was the exact argument he used to convince himself to write Hawke’s story, he’d never admit it.

Instead, he coughed politely until his messenger turned their attention back to him. Varric waved the message in his hand, lips twitching.

“Sorry messere.” The kid said, flushing pink. “Will there be anything else?”

“We’ll call it a morning.” Varric offered, waving away the other two members of his crew. They dissipated in a moment, leaving Varric alone with his thoughts and observations.

And with no distractions, he was able to notice all the brilliant details of the courtyard. The flock of Chantry sisters knitting in a corner. One of Nightingale’s spies slipping along the gabled rooftops. The Commander of the Inquisition standing, slack jawed, in the door of the chapel with his eyes fixed on their Inquisitor.

Just what the story he definitely wasn’t going to write needed. A romance.

Varric closed his ledger and stood, ambling over to the human. “Nice day for a morning, isn’t it?”

His joke flew right over Curly’s head. The human wrenched his gaze from Annabel. “Varric. Yes. Good morning.”

“Crazy idea. But have you ever considered… talking to her?”

“To who?”

The blushing gave Curly away. Varric fought to keep his expression from outright smugness, settling for a mild amount of self-satisfaction instead.

“Minx.” Varric jerked his head towards the Inquisitor’s retreating form. “I assumed you’d met in all those fancy war meetings, my mistake. Should I introduce you?”

“Maker’s breath.” Cullen rubbed at the splotchy red creeping up his neck. “I speak to the Inquisitor all the time.”

“Maybe that’s the problem.” Varric could have laughed. “Too much talking.”

“The Inquisitor is a lady of noble birth. I would not sully her reputation.” Cullen sounded as prim as his old Orlesian tutor, a stern grande dame of impeccable pedigree.

Humans.

“She’s always excited to get your letters in the field.” Varric offered.

Tension bled out of Cullen’s shoulders. His eyes sparked with something like hope. “My reports?”

“Not sure why.” Varric let out a long suffering sigh. “Grabs them right out of the scout’s hands. And she’s got a Fine Dwarven Storyteller right there, but she devours your reports.”

Which were dry as dry could be, in Varric’s opinion.

“She is dedicated. To the Inquisition.” Cullen replied smoothly.

“Sparkler said he’s caught her reading them at night. In her tent.”

Cullen nearly choked on his own saliva. Varric had forgotten how much fun meddling was.

“In fact. You should take her up to that big desk sometime where you write them. Explain your storytelling technique. I’m sure she’d be enthralled.”

“She visits my office often.” Cullen murmured forlornly, watching Annabel vanish from view back into the castle.

“Oh? Does she now? Should I be taking notes?”

“On business!” Cullen protested quickly, glaring down at Varric.

Varric didn’t return the heat of his irritation. Instead he offered a small, sad smile of his own. “Maybe consider making those visits a bit less business like, Curly. Before the world actually ends?”

Varric knew that flash of fear in the other man’s eyes well. “I can’t. I shouldn’t. She is...”

Varric didn’t bother to contradict the Commander. He knew better than most that ‘I shouldn’t’ meant less than nothing in affairs of the heart.

“She’s waiting for you to make a move, Curly.” Varric advised. “And she’s not a woman I’d keep waiting long.”

He clapped the stunned human on the elbow before ambling away, whistling an old song under his breath. He needed his journal and a quiet place to write.

Inspiration had struck regardless of his thoughts on the matter.

#manka's friend fiction #charity fundraiser #cullen rutherford #female inquisitor #female trevelyan #varric tethras

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fruitgoat · 3 years

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Running almost a hour late on food prep because I spent too long chatting with the assistant camp host. I told her I was going to be her someday and she only encouraged me. Best birthday present ever. I’d so happily be Camp Host/history researcher/cultural biographer/natural historian at pretty much any State or National Park. It’s like the biggest Dream Job I have. Particularly if I can hear and smell the ocean at least six months a year.

#I know you meant well #but now I’m spinning dreams in my head #and actually under the current administration I’d be willing to go for it

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richmond-rex · 4 years

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What do you think Henry VII remembers, if anything, of his other uncle Henry VI?

This is such an interesting question and something that I myself have been wondering, so thank you for providing me with the opportunity to expand my thoughts on here 🌹

We know that Henry VII only ever saw his uncle King Henry VI once during his life, when he was 13 years old. However, I’d argue King Henry must have caused quite a great impression on him, and considering Henry Tudor was old enough at that time, also a profoundly lasting one. So far young Henry Earl of Richmond had been living as a ward of his uncle Jasper’s enemies, the Herberts. By 1470 his old guardian, William Herbert, had been executed, and then, as the Earl of Warwick changed sides and brought about Henry VI’s readeption, Henry Tudor was returned to his uncle Jasper who took him to London to meet King Henry VI. That Jasper felt like acquainting his nephew with his brother denotes a special degree of closeness and advocates for his idea of family, in my opinion.

According to André, Henry VII’s court poet and self-styled regius historiographus, on 27 October 1470 Henry VI held ‘a splendid feast with the nobles and best men of the kingdom’ to commemorate his return to the throne. As the king was washing his hands, young Richmond was brought to his presence, and according to André, ‘the king prophesied that someday the boy would undertake the governance of the kingdom and would have all things under his own power.’ Polydore Vergil, a historian that began his service under Henry VII in 1506, wrote in his Three Books that in that 1470 meeting ‘the king... is reported to have said:’

“This truly, this is he unto whom both we and our adversaries must yield and give over the dominion.”

It seems not even Vergil lends much credence to this tale as expressed by his choice of words: reported to have said. As expected, this myth has largely been viewed as Tudor propaganda and indeed the episode has been immortalised in Shakespeare’s Henry VI part III. In the play, King Henry VI meets a toddler Henry Richmond (then escorted by Somerset), calls him ‘England’s hope’, and says Richmond was ‘Likely in time to bless a regal throne’. Given that King Henry VI had his own son Prince Edward as his heir at the time, it seems unlikely he would ever have said such a thing. However, if anything remotely close to that happened, then I agree with Leanda de Lisle in saying that it must have been King Henry VI taking Henry Tudor to be his own son Edward, who thanks to his imprisonment in the Tower he had not seen for five years (and would not ever see again). It’s absurdly sad to think King Henry VI would confound his nephew with his son but arguably also not out of the realm of possibility. We don’t know if Henry Tudor saw his uncle King Henry again, but it’s also not unlikely that he, his mother and uncle Jasper stayed at court for the feast of All Hallows’ (1 November) and All Souls’ Day (2 November).

If King Henry VI ever made such prophecy, wittingly or not, then it must have greatly impacted on Henry Tudor. Henry VII believed to have been chosen by God to, against all odds, become king of England. He once wrote about ‘the crown which it has pleased God to give us with the victory over our enemy at our first field’. Henry Tudor was reported to be very pious—he made pilgrimages to the shrine of St Thomas Becket at Canterbury every Easter, as well as frequent pilgrimages to the shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham and donations to the shrine of St Vincent Ferrer in Brittany. He also founded the cult of the Breton saint St Armel in England and boosted the teachings of St Francis by his patronage of the Franciscan order. He especially favoured the Observants (the Franciscans, also known as the Greyfriars), granting them annuities for the establishment of monasteries in England and abroad. It seems he also favoured staying at religious houses when travelling or going on progress around the kingdom.

Most importantly, Henry VII held a singular devotion to the Virgin Mary and his adoption of the red rose as his personal symbol—aside from dynastic reasons—had everything to do with the religious connotations of that flower. Henry VII could have associated himself with his uncle Henry VI by adopting his antelope badge, for example, but instead, he chose the five-petal flower associated with the Virgin Mary and the Passion of Christ. The Franciscans were noted for their devotion to the Passion, and Henry VII had come in contact with the Observants during his exile in Brittany. The rose had five petals like the five wounds of Christ—St Bernard of Clairvaux once stated: “As many wounds as there are on the Saviour’s body, so many roses are there! Look at His feet and His hands; do you not see roses?”

Forgive me for still going on a tangent about it, but Henry VII’s personal devotion to the Virgin Mary and the doctrine of her Immaculate Conception is exemplified in his Book of Hours, where a miniature shows a figure representing the king kneeling at a prayer desk before a vision of the Virgin as a baby held by her mother, St Anne (or, alternatively, The Virgin and the Child Jesus). His devotion to the Virgin was also highlighted in his rebuilding of the Lady Chapel (now Henry VII’s Chapel) at Westminster Abbey which I will return to in a moment.

I’m not sure but I think it was Vergil who reported Henry VII as having said that religion was his ‘continual refuge’ during exile. His piety has been largely attributed to the influence of his mother Margaret Beaufort, herself also a very pious woman. But given how many years—and formative years those were—they spent apart, I imagine that Henry must have looked up to someone closer to him at the time, namely his uncle Jasper Tudor. We know that after the death of Catherine of Valois Jasper and his brother Edmund were raised by nuns at Barking Abbey, and that then at some point they joined King Henry VI’s court. According to John Blacman, Henry VI’s biographer and chaplain writing in 1485:

[…] and like pains did [Henry VI] apply in the case of his half-brothers, the Lords Jasper and Edmund, in their boyhood and youth; providing for them most strict and safe guardianship, putting them under the care of virtuous and worthy priests, both for teaching and for right living and conversation, lest the untamed practices of youth should grow rank if they lacked any to prune them.

Blacman also claimed that the king personally protected his half-brothers from sexual temptation by keeping ‘careful watch through hidden windows of his chamber’ (yes, I know). Like his uncle King Henry VI, Henry VII would also set a court that ‘maintained the highest standards of sexual behaviour’. Indeed, Retha Warnicke made an extensive compilation of scandals during the first two Tudor reigns and not a single case of sexual misconduct was found to have taken place during Henry VII’s time, marking his court as a decidedly different one than Edward IV’s had been.

Going back to Henry VI’s supposed prophecy, his words surely must have acquired a great weight in Henry Tudor’s mind by 1483 when he made his bid to the English throne. By that time King Henry VI had become a popular saint in England and even though Edward IV had tried to have him modestly—and somewhat obscurely—buried in Chertsey Abbey, Surrey, people had started to flock to his grave. A peasant claimed that Henry VI helped him when he had a bean trapped in his ear, which only popped out after he prayed to the king. Painted images of King Henry VI began showing up in churches around the country, like this one at Barton in Norfolk:

One of King Henry VI’s most ardent devotees was Henry Tudor’s mother Margaret Beaufort (Jasper’s feelings towards the cult are unknown) who had met her kinsman when she was about nine years old. When King Henry VI allegedly offered her the option of remaining married to Suffolk’s son or be remarried to his brother Edmund, Margaret says St Nicholas came to her in a dream dressed as a bishop, telling her to choose Edmund. Again, if this story is true or not, we may never know, but Margaret told that to her confessor John (bishop, then saint) Fisher—why would a famously pious woman such as Margaret Beaufort lie to her own confessor, thus committing a sin? It might be that the events took a mystical turn in Margaret’s imagination as a young girl, but that she associated divine intervention to hers and her son’s fate, and likewise to King Henry VI’s proposal, is clear.

It seems Richard III tried to control King Henry VI’s ever-growing cult by moving Henry VI’s body from Chertsey Abbey to St George’s Chapel at Windsor, a place where visitors wouldn’t have easy access to the king. Nevertheless, when Henry VII came to the throne he wholeheartedly encouraged pilgrimages to the place. Henry VII launched an official campaign to have his uncle canonised, with several petitions to popes Innocent VIII, Alexander VI and Julius II. Henry also ordered the compilation of a book of miracles worked by his uncle, and a biography of Henry VI was published in 1500 claiming that Henry VI had been ever pious and chaste during his life, towards his queen never behaving ‘unseemly ... but with all conjugal honesty and gravity’. Henry VII planned to have the body of King Henry VI re-interred at the heart of the new Lady Chapel he was planning at Westminster Abbey.

However much Henry VII enjoyed good relations with the papacy, especially Pope Innocent VIII, his campaign to have his uncle King Henry VI canonised never came into fruition. Henry VII decided for him and his wife to be buried at his new Lady Chapel instead, next to the tomb of his grandmother Queen Catherine of Valois. In his will, he stated his wish for his body to be buried:

“in the Chapell where our said graunt Dame laye buried, the which Chapell we have begoune to buylde of newe, in the honour of our blessed Lady.”

That doesn’t mean Henry VII set aside the memory of his uncle King Henry VI. He employed the same man that was overseeing the construction of the Lady Chapel at Westminster, Reginald Bray, to continue the rebuilding of St George’s Chapel at Windsor set in motion by his predecessor Edward IV (it came to be informally known as the Bray Chapel). The modest thirteenth-century chapel of Edward the Confessor was expanded into a vast cathedral-like chapel where, importantly, Henry VI’s body was placed alongside a famous relic, the fragment of the True Cross (a reliquary known as the Cross of Gneth) and the bones of John Schorne (revered for curing gout and toothache).

We may argue that Henry VII’s campaign to have King Henry VI’s canonised was fundamentally political (much like Richard II’s campaign for Edward II) as many historians have done. King Henry VI as a saint, combined with his supposed prophecy, would successfully contribute to the image of Henry VII’s reign as one chosen by God. When we put Henry VII’s religious devotion into perspective, though, his efforts to have ‘the glorious King Henry’ canonised take another dimension—in fact, there’s no doubt that in Henry VII’s eyes God had intervened in his favour. Henry VII’s will also stated his wish for an image of himself to be placed in St Edward’s chapel at Westminster, depicting him returning to God and the Virgin Mary the circlet with which he had been crowned at the Battle of Bosworth.

This is me purely speculating, but I think that even though Henry VII only came in contact with King Henry VI once in his life, his half-uncle might have exercised a great influence on him through his uncle Jasper. Jasper seemed to have been genuinely attached to his brother Henry on a personal level as well as devoted to his political cause. If Henry VI’s saintly qualities had been enough to impress Margaret Beaufort, it is very likely that they might have impressed young Henry of Richmond as well.

#ask #nuingiliath #henry vii #henry vi #sorry for going on a tangent

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tumbleranch-dorm · 4 years

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“I do not care what other’s say about their pointless excuses. Now.....focus on you’re work and GET MOVING!”

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TECHNICAL INFORMATION

Name: Clinton Hollingsbeck

Japanese: クリントン・ホリングスベック

Romanji: Kurinton Horingusubekku

Other Name:

C (Ferd)

Four-eye bastard (Eb)

Weasel (Leona & Ruggie)

Monsieur Occupé (Rook)

Sardine (Floyd)

Voiced by Jun Fukuyama

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BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Birthday: September 22

Starsign: Virgo

Height: 177 cm

Eye Color: Grey

Hair Color: Coffee Brown

Homeland: Town of Iron Pistol

Family: Father, Mother, Grandfather

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PROFESSIONAL STATUS

Dorm: Tumbleranch

School Year: Second

Class: 2-B Student no. 03

Occupation: Student and Vice Dorm Leader

Club: Boardgame Club

Best Subject: Magic Analysis

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FUN FACTS

Dominant Hand: Right

Favorite Food: Melted Butter Corn

Least Favorite Food: Toffee

Dislikes: Dawdle

Hobby: Preserve Mini Trains

Talents: Arithmancy

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UNIQUE MAGIC “TIME IS MONEY”

Manipulate speed of time: back, forth & freeze time from his pocket watch because that’s where his power source comes from. The effects will lasts within 5 minutes short or so depending on how much magic the user’s would hold a grip. Although, with much instability will consequently lead to have black smudges in his magic pen. This must always be guarded with him at all cost and of course, will not use for a personal gain.....especially fall to the wrong owner.

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PERSONAL INFORMATION

Clinton is a very intelligent and strategic individual able to solve problems both real life & magic without breaking his sweat that many claimed he’s one of the smartest student in 2nd year class which of his classmates immediately ask or approach him for cheat codes. He also had a strict attitude too strict to be exact but not a tyrant as Riddle taking the responsibility of vice, he would take this attentiveness and never overlooked from his duties too very serious claiming he’s a perfectionist doing the things in his own way to be exact perfect. Clinton would feel ashamed of himself or rather over dramatically won’t forgive himself making such mistakes whether it’s minor or not it must always be perfect for him! which most people find him very troublesome sometimes however he’s mostly calm.

With that seriousness, he does give off a solemn expression as if he’s displeased on something, well technically it is and that’s his natural expression which is mainly because his impatience and couldn’t forgive anyone who’d slack off from their respective duties. His impatience would grew more while he’d likely would teach someone a lesson of those who couldn’t do their job seriously especially to troublemakers. He’s also sane as Ferd, Clinton wouldn’t want himself to get involved in any unnecessary events except got dragged by others then ended up blamed for their cause which mostly the head and vice are the ones cleaning up the messes. His desperate wish of his peers needs obedience and this chaotic dorm to be NOT chaotic. He’d rather find friends who aren’t dangerously chaotic while in exchange, he’ll treat them less harsh but friendly towards them.

In secret, he has a cute side of him that he likes to collect mini trains and making DIY miniature land but he hides his embarrassing dorkish side from everyone’s beliefs and wouldn’t let his guard down when people have high expectations of him being the serious type or else he’d feel a bit vulnerable. The only one who knew about his obsession of trains is Ferd. Although, most people find him very odd everytime he shared his short-term predictions to anyone even to reveal someone’s plans when they’re in unusual situation. For example, If someone think about secretly causing mischief as drawing graffiti on the 7 statues then framing other students of doing it, Clinton was able to tell them the possibility of their devious scheme would end up badly as they found out the smudges of paint were exposed from their shoes which makes them to clean up the statues then get expelled from Headmaster Crowley. With that, he was well-prepared to prevent those troublemaker scheme after he warned them about the consequences. How did he predict the bad omen beforehand? Who knows. But it seems he have seen the misfortune outcome before

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BACKGROUND

His family, mainly his father (works as a CEO) and grandfather (a former president), runs their marketing cooperation “H. Beck” in Town of Iron Pistol. The cooperation used to be a big time industry but due to its recent bankruptcy, his father & grandfather were often busy leaving Clinton with his mother‘s care at home so his mother raised him wholeheartedly and the only parent who’s ever been there for little Clinton except between Clinton and his father had not enough time for father & son bonding then later on, both grew apart from conversing each other rarely except in dinner. It’s not that they have an argument but his father often caught up work over spending time with Clinton. It wasn’t last long when his father called out his mother to help him the issues in the company and without a choice to leave little Clinton in a caretaker’s care in the house. Being isolated by his parents affected him often studying by himself learning advance magic in order to work his best to gain much knowledge just like his parents without an interest making friends or enjoy any children s play at a young age. None of the family wouldn’t notice the loneliness he’s been through, thought it was ok for him without a complaint.

Until one day, his father luckily had a negotiation with the mayor of the town, who is actually Ferdrick’s father, to work alongside him in order to save the family’s business. Both fathers have slowly become close colleagues believing their cooperation won’t last but to continue their long-term business partnership. While for their sons: Clinton & Ferd had their first meeting which Clinton found & made ever first friend with the son of the influenced mayor then both quickly became friends. That time his point of view have changed him a bit thanks to Ferdrick’s companionships but still what he wanted his parent’s to take notice of him. Still.....it couldn’t be helped. At least this time Clinton’s grandfather was in turn to look after him. He did cared for his grandfather very much as he treated Clinton heart-kinded like his mother and like a real father to him, not like his real father who’s never been there. The most precious object that his grandfather gave to him is the family’s hairloom pocket watch.

According to his grandfather, the old pocket contains a powerful magic that enables to manipulate timespeed. So powerful that if you made a single change can cause the effect of the future. Every male heirs has to pass it on to the next heir, to be the keeper of the artifact. It was supposedly his father ‘s turn but didn’t get a chance due to his overwork and instead, he handed to Clinton. Not only to pass it on but to remind himself the pocket watch, itself has much love for Clinton from his family including previous generations

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OTHER FACTS

He’s twisted version of Mr. Wesley the businessman

Him and Ferd are childhood friends

The pocket watch was made by his grandfather

He secretly has a miniature land and collections of small trains kept in his room. It was just a rumor but no one ever confirms it

Other than his duty as vice, he does do other minor work like a househusband doing much of cleaning, cooking and fixing

Wants to become a businessman someday. He’s well prepared knowing how to manage finances and running a business. With that, he and Ferd had a good-term business friendship

Clinton can count money quicker with just a glance

He knows about all Heartslabyul’s rules because strangely he was fascinated by that

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst #twst oc #tumbleranch #tumbleranch oc #clinton hollingsbeck #clinton #twst clinton #Clinton’s profile #profile

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anonymoushouseplantfan · 4 years

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I hope Lainey spills the real tea on Meghan someday. She is one of the few people from TO who has real dirt on her, I’m sure. She and Shinan should team up for an exposé. Do you think she will ever finally see the light and turn on Meghan? The only gossip I have ever seen come out of Toronto is Shinan tweeting that Meghan was seen as a social climber while living there. The tea wasn’t even that hot, but it was finally something.

It will all come out, but the first step will be a royal biographer coming out with a book. Bowen, Morton and Lady Colin are supposedly all working on projects and hopefully we’ll see on in the fall.

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dweemeister · 4 years

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The count goes on...

I scarcely noticed it, but last evening with the publication of my write-up on Fanchon, the Cricket (1915), I hit 750 full-length film write-ups on this blog. As you may know, the write-ups are tagged “My Movie Odyssey”. You can access every single write-up via the blog’s index. Some years ago, when I was putting out these write-ups and watching movies at a faster pace than I do now, I jokingly put a target of 1,000 write-ups for myself.

As I approach nine years on this site, this blog is now three-quarters of the way to that coveted century mark, hitting baseball hall of fame numbers if that number was counted as home runs. It would not have been possible without the support - through likes, reblogs, shares, comments, and simple reading the write-ups - of my followers present and past, and of course family and friends off of tumblr. For every write-up you have interacted with, I hope you were introduced to new ideas and perspectives, the filmmaking process, and how each of those films fit (or may someday fit) in the grander context of the history of one of the youngest artforms.

I admit that, if this year-long lockdown was good for anything, it has inspired a run of some of my best write-ups here on tumblr. Very few of these were on 2020 films, as I felt sorta liberated from the pressures from watching the newest releases (who has that much money for all those streaming services?). If you’ve missed them, here are a few highlights from some of my “COVID write-ups” so to speak...

Movie Odyssey Retrospectives on the Walt Disney Animation Studios canon: A long planned-for project that never got off the ground until last spring (and thanks to a friend sharing their Disney+ account). Reviews have included Disney’s Golden Age films like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937; this was write-up #700); Pinocchio (1940); Fantasia (1940); and Bambi (1942)... (1941′s Dumbo was written on a few years ago). Cinderella (1950) was published last month; this series continues hopefully this weekend with Alice in Wonderland (1951).

A Letter to Three Wives (1949): One of the finest pieces of feminist Americana I’ve ever seen, all thanks to Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s directing/writing and the stupendous performances from the three leads.

Diego Maradona (2019, United Kingdom): It is not often I feature soccer on this blog anymore. But when it comes along in the form of a write-up? I could never be more excited. This is Asif Kapadia’s documentary on the mercurial, controversial, and inflammatory late footballing genius of Diego Maradona. I wish it covered more time, but one can’t argue its effectiveness.

Ordet (1955, Denmark): As someone who was raised in a Buddhist family but was not raised with religion, I have always been fascinated by but nevertheless perplexed by narrative art that delves deeply into religious faith - especially in terms of the Abrahamic faiths (Christianity, Islam, Judaism). Probably one of my best efforts on a movie surrounding faith.

Once Upon a Time in America (1984): Epic-length gangster films are intimidating to write on. They hail from a place and time that I am very removed from - and I wish to stayed far removed from - and are so often celebratory of the “necessary” violence that they depict. Not this movie. This gangster epic is filled to the seams with regret. And I hope I conveyed that as effectively as I ever could.

Kaagaz Ke Phool (1959, India): Some of my best writing has come from write-ups of films that were deeply personal, if not fatefully biographical, for the filmmaker involved. You got that with Guru Dutt in his final film - a Bollywood box office failure but now largely considered one of the greatest examples of classic Hindi cinema. And, for those in the know, this film did pretty damn well in 2020′s MOABOS.

Tokyo Olympiad (1965, Japan): Another sports documentary? Well, this is not your typical sports documentary. This is an official film of the Olympic Games. And, other than Leni Riefenstahl’s propagandistic Olympia (1938, Germany), this is the most artistically accomplished of them all. And perhaps among the most important. I contextualize this film as essentially marking the beginning of Japan’s reintroduction to the world - perhaps not cinematically, but in the realms of politics, sport, and broader culture,

Flower Drum Song (1961): Before The Joy Luck Club (1993), the most recent film with an almost all-Asian cast was this. An adaptation of a famous Rodgers and Hammerstein musical that is never performed anymore (various reasons), it was a revelation to see so many actors of Asian descent that I had seen in bit roles in other movies or television star in this production. Even if that meant the film was not terribly culturally specific or accurate.

Wolfwalkers (2020): Another visual and thematic triumph from the folks at Cartoon Saloon in Ireland. There’s more to animation than just the major American studios and anime, as I hope many of you will learn if you haven’t already. Multinational European productions and Latin America are coming to the fore - and bringing ideas and visuals that the aforementioned American and Japanese studios could never produce.

The Cave of the Yellow Dog (2005, Mongolia): One of the gentlest films I’ve seen in the longest time. It plays like a fable, and - critically - like a lesson in learning how Mongolian nomads live without ever feeling like a university lecture. Wonderful performances from the non-professional actors, and an ideal watch for children.

Yi Yi (2000, Taiwan): A gorgeous portrait of a middle-class Taiwanese family as they navigate life’s messy current at the turn of the twentieth to twenty-first centuries. A pleasure to reflect on, however difficult actually writing this review was.

Thank you for your goodwill, support, and good humor for the first three quarters of this journey to a thousand Movie Odyssey write-ups. The fourth and final quarter begins. Onward.

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ryanmeft · 5 years

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Movie Review: A Hidden Life

“You have to remember what you knew in a better hour.” So speaks Franz Jagerstatter, as he is held behind the walls of a Third Reich prison and heaped with endless emasculation and abuse for refusing to swear loyalty to Adolph Hitler, or fight in the German army. Before even being marched through the prison doors he has suffered much. His hometown spits at his feet, snubs his children and insults his wife. His own mother struggles to look at him. No one can be found to help with the work and so the days are long and full of toil. Those better hours seem few and far away. Yet they are there, in his mind.

Jagerstatter was a very real person. His film self, played with both stoic determination and singular emotion by August Diehl, is a typical Austrian peasant of the late 30’s. The film jumps around in time a bit, and we see him meet and steal the heart of Franziska (Valerie Pachner). They have three children, and they spend their days working the farm, helping their neighbors, playing games, and flowing with the cadences of everyday life in a rural Austrian mountain town. Franz reports for mandatory training with the army, but at the time thinks little of it: war is far away, and they are guarded from it by their hills like mountains and mountains that reach beyond measure. The Austrian landscapes have inspired many myths, and among them they build their own small-but-important one: that the war can be held off, that they can be happy. Franz and Franziska know, though, that sooner or later Franz will be called. As surely as they know this, Franz knows he cannot serve. It is against God and Jesus and the spirit of his own culture, but more importantly it is against him, for when the Nazis come to punish anyone who will not submit to their will, it is Franz, not his culture or his faith, which must take the blows.

Terence Malick has never made a film quite like A Hidden Life. Certainly, the impressions of his handprints are to be found, and in abundance. The camera relishes low shots of faces that tower above it, frequently contemplates the surroundings of the people and the untranslatable power of nature, and virtually all of the dialogue is thought, rather than spoken. Yet it has been the filmmaker’s modus operandi to exist within dreams---dreams based on his life, sometimes, but most often dreams based on a shared collective American consciousness. Tree of Life captured the small details of life in the American Heartland circa mid-century; The New World retold an essential American myth in Malick’s patented cinematic language. None of his films have ever been very concerned with linear plot, have never deigned to be constrained with reality, and certainly have always floated above physical pain---his characters drift and never touch the ground even when fallen, something his fans call genius and his detractors call tedium.

We may be surprised, therefore, to find this latest film prefaced by something we’ve never seen in a Malick picture before: that this story is based on true events. I settled into that idea, but I admit I inwardly scoffed at it. I was certain that when I left the theatre and did my research for this review, I would find there were not a few dissenters from the Nazis, that they were treated as terribly as might be expected, and that perhaps the general cadences of Franz’s lifestyle were true to the time. Instead I found that Malick, a man whose wandering mind and frequent cinematic deviations are core to his artistic identity, had stuck remarkably close to Franz’s true story. His identity, and his wife’s, were accurate. He did have three children. He was born and lived where the movie has him living. He trained on the bases where he trains, and even the specific prisons he was placed in are accurate.

One question I had was, why the attention to accuracy, when his fans would have forgiven him any transgressions---and indeed would likely never have known of them, since if you are seeing a Malick movie you’re there for the director and not the subject? The answer is that in every other respect than historical details, Malick has made a Malick film. If every daily movement and every minor character were found to be meticulously researched, it would still be true that Malick has painted them with the soaring brushstrokes of myth and timelessness, rather than the workmanlike attention to dry biographical detail that usually gets in the way of a good story in such films.

The first example of this is Franz himself. What he went through is true. The version of him seen on screen, though, is a deep philosopher, a man of very long thoughts who seems to contain the entire national identity of Austria in his heart, and who can look at a man and disassemble them into the things that make them tick, understanding the nature of everyone around him in moments. The real man left behind little writing and certainly never composed anything so grand as the musings given to him; most of what we can know is from the memories of his wife, who lived for decades after Franz’s death. The man seen on screen is a mixture of the real Franz---a simple man who could not tolerate evil nor make concessions for it, and who followed his convictions to the end---and the thoughts Malick has on this. Franz-Malick’s internal monologues are wide-ranging. He muses on the struggle to remain true in a world where ethics can be bought, sold and traded. He ponders the nature of God and how men can possibly tell themselves that such a being would condone hate and death. He gazes at the beauty of the land he is a part of and ponders how small he is in it. He has incredible faith in the basic good nature of people. When the local representative of the church (the late Michael Nyqvist in his final role) insists Franz must do his duty to the fatherland, Franz believes he is only afraid to publicly display his resistance. The audience is, I think, rather more doubtful.

These are themes that have animated most of Malick’s films. In some cases they are spoken out loud by tertiary characters. A church painter (Johan Leysen) decorates the local church with idealized images of Christ and Mary, but laments that he has not the courage to display their sufferings as they really were---someday, he says, he might. The local mayor (Martin Wuttke, who also played Hitler in Inglourious Basterds) is a hateful, drunken windbag who goes on long tirades against immigrants and Jews; since the horrors are taking place far from the village, he serves to give presence to the terrors Franz is rejecting. Complications and dissenting opinions are expressed by his mother (Karin Neuhauser), who cares little for current events but seems to believe Franz should serve as his father did, and his sister-in-law (Maria Simon), who both admires his courage and dislikes him personally, suggested to be because her own life has not gone the way she wished it. Matthias Schoenaerts and the late Bruno Ganz play representatives of whatever the Nazis have that passes as a justice system; they say mildly sympathetic things and Franz believes on some level they are hearing what he is saying with his protest, but ultimately they are indicative of the fact that when faced with evil, most people will go along.

God is mentioned often, for Franz Jagerstatter was a devout Catholic. The landscapes and beauty of Austria are an equal focal point. These two things seem to instill in Franz a powerful sense of something larger than himself---that if he should give in, he will have to answer not only to his maker but to the very land whose air he breathes and which the Nazis are despoiling. Jorg Widmer’s camera, certainly at Malick’s insistence, lingers on shots of the battered church as it does on towering mountains capped with snow and running with tiny waterfalls. It also takes time to lovingly film everyday activities---Franz and Franziska playing a game of cups and blindfolds with the children, a dirt-encrusted hand stroking Franziska’s pristine golden hair in a moment of emotional distress, a black shawl against the frigid mountain snows, the rhythmic patterns of bringing in the crops and keeping the buildings repaired. The movie, early on, exults in shots of the towering and majestic. As hate grips the village, it closes in, and in the first scene where the mayor goes on a bigoted rant while Franz maintains silence, it eventually squeezes the two men into a small alley, the wonder of nature compressed by hatred into a small world where a man can find little hope. Yet as Franz’s world contracts, his hope strengthens. The real man held onto something indescribable, and Malick has captured that something for us---at least, as much as film ever can.

Verdict: Must-See

Note: I don’t use stars, but here are my possible verdicts.

Must-See

Highly Recommended

Recommended

Average

Not Recommended

Avoid like the Plague

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All images are property of the people what own the movie.

#terence malick #a hidden life #movies #michael nyqvist #bruno ganz #august diehl #valerie pachner

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stretchjournalemerson · 4 years

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Must I Suffer To Do What I Love?: An Exploration of the Tortured Artist

By Graysen Winchester

My mom always told me that depression is like diabetes. It’s lifelong, manageable with proper care, and something you are born with. A few weeks ago, as I laid my head on the toilet, dry heaving any last ounce of self respect into an empty bowl, I wished that I was born with diabetes. I hadn’t eaten a real meal in days and the thought of food made me nauseous. I had just gone to the gym, a mistake. Trying to take proper care of myself was becoming impossible. And yet, I wasn’t sick with anything. I was just sad. The type of sad that infiltrates every aspect of yourself until you cannot see past it. The type of sad that turns your body against you until you cannot even sleep. You cannot even dream of a time where you didn’t feel like this.

Ever since I was capable of writing, I have kept a journal. You can find all of these journals in the top left cubby of my bookshelf. This cubby houses all of my secrets. If you open the notebook with the cover of yellow and blue watercolor flowers, you will find a collection of short stories that I wrote when I was around eleven years old. I know that I was eleven because I wrote the letter “a” in a very specific way when I was that age, the way that Malia used to write them, so I did too. The stories are all thinly veiled portrayals of my life, the main character always having two brothers and two parents going through a divorce, though their names were always changed. One of the first sentences in this notebook is, “She wasn’t sure why she was so sad, but she was.”

When we don’t have answers, sometimes we create them ourselves. I don’t know why I have depression, but I don’t want to be cursed with something for no reason. I don’t want to be held back by this affliction that I did not ask for. I don’t want to see the world as meaningless. I don’t want to be weak. So, for many years, I decided that I am sad because I will someday become a great artist. I assume that is why I wrote such sad stories when I was eleven. I needed some place to put my pain and have it be worth something. When my art was not dripping in melancholy and cynicism, I thought that it was pointless.

As I have grown older, I have come to question this notion of the tortured artist. Must I suffer to do what I love? Is this a glorification of something that is truly void of benefit? I know that I am not the first person to ask this question, nor will I be the last. I am not the best of artists, nor the worst of sufferers. There have been many great artists before me that have suffered a great deal from mental illness. You may be thinking of Vincent van Gogh and his severed ear, and we will get to that later. Indeed, the stereotype has its backing. But is there truly a connection between creativity and mental illness? Does all genius come from pain?

When I began to look into this world of madness and art, I found an article that I thought would be perfect, underlining the exact phenomenon that I was interested in. This article was Maureen Neihart’s "Creativity, the arts, and madness". However, as with most research into the subject matter, Neihart takes loose correlations, ancient knowledge, and anecdotes to produce conclusions that seem indisputable. She quotes the philosophical greats, saying, “Plato said that creativity is a "divine madness...a gift from the gods."” No one wants to dispute Plato, so you read on, eating it up. Then, she throws in Shakespeare, Freud, and a variety of scientific studies that have found correlations between creativity and mental illness.

After my initial reading, I was convinced that creativity and madness were mutually inclusive. Upon a second reading, I realized that it has a very shallow evidence base. The studies that are referenced are very dated. Neihart is a clinical psychologist. The article is written for educators and counselors, cautioning them to have patience with highly creative children. It is not written for the academic researcher or anyone that is interested in questioning the basis of this correlation. Yet, it is a source that richly documents the prevalence of the notion of the mad artist. However problematic the studies or logic may be, they document the intense and lasting curiosity that society has had within this area of study.

One of Neihart’s major missteps in constructing a connection between madness and creativity is the same misstep that many face when trying to find a link between the two. This misstep is lack of specificity. In her article, Neihart states that, “Creativity is defined as the production of something both new and valued. Madness is defined as self destructive deviant behavior.” These definitions are incredibly vague. Joscelyn E. Fisher, a Research Assistant Professor in the Department of Psychiatry at the Uniformed Services University, discusses this misstep in her article "Challenges in determining whether creativity and mental illness are associated." In the article, she points out that “creativity” is a broad concept containing multiple facets. Mental illness is also not a singular concept, with many symptoms, diagnoses, and diagnostic criteria. Fischer proposes that in order for a scientifically sound connection to be made, there must be much more specific, systematic, and thorough studies being done. Even then, because of the complexity of both factors, the statistical relationship is likely not going to be linear.

Countless studies in this area have failed in this way and with other flaws in methodology. While many studies have been done, none have provided conclusive evidence to prove the link (Green). At this point in my research, I began to feel as if the case was closed. There is no evidence to provide a link, so a link is nonexistent. And trying to prove this link might just be glamorizing an illness that so often leads to suicides, broken families, and insane amounts of loss. On the other hand, there is so much that is true that does not have scientific evidence to back it. There may not be sufficient statistical correlations, but there are human beings that have lived and breathed the narrative. These human beings have stories to tell that should not be ignored. There may not be a chart proving why, but there are many masterpieces in the world that have been born from darkest corners of the mind.

Sylvia Plath is one of the most notably mentally ill artists, an American poet who was hypothesized to have manic depression ("Sylvia Plath"). In 1963, she committed suicide at age 31("Sylvia Plath"). This was not her first suicide attempt, and many of her literary works focus on her fascination with death and her unbending cynism. When reading her poetry, I felt an eerie sense of identification with many of her poems. Her poem, “Never Try To Trick Me With A Kiss” spoke to a sense of hopelessness that I had never put words to.

Sooner or later something goes amiss;

The singing birds pack up and fly away;

So never try to trick me with a kiss:

The dying man will scoff and scorn at this. (Plath 16-19)

To me, this last stanza is the essence of depression, an acceptance of misery and a firm belief in the temporality of pleasure. To create a piece of art that is so representative of this experience is a kind of genius. These words feel like an echo in my mind. They haunt me and yet they make me feel less alone. That is the mark of great art, when you can reach into your own mind and cause someone else to reach inside their own. There is no doubt that Plath was tortured, and that she was a remarkable artist. Her pain drove her work, but it also drove her to take her own life.

In biographer Jeffrey Meyers’ article, “Pursued by Demons: Creativity and Suicide”, he explores the lives of four artists that have taken their own lives: Jules Pascin, Arshile Gorky, Nicolas de Staël and Mark Rothko. He draws the conclusion that these artists “committed suicide not only to escape from pain but also to make a deliberate sacrifice for art.” Meyers investigates the tragic lives of each of these artists and speculates into what made them commit suicide. Each of the artists experienced a sense of alienation from society and held the belief that mental illness was a value to their art. This belief was confirmed by the culture that they lived in. Each of their artistic successes accelerated after their deaths. One of Rothko’s pictures has sold for $186 million, de Staël’s for $10 million, Gorky’s for $4.2 million, and Pascin’s for hundreds of thousands. The same is true for Plath, her success post-mortem was far greater than when she was living (“Sylvia Plath”).

This article offers a fascinating case study of four artists and how their relationship to their mental illness destroyed them. The Romantic view of the sacrificial artist in combination with the emergence of Existentialism bred a mindset within the artists that their mental illness is what fueled their art, and this is a belief held by consumers and producers of art alike. Meyers uses biography to demonstrate how popular culture and one’s own background can play a large role in how their mental illness manifests. If it is encouraged by others and believed to fuel their art, it is much more likely that the artist will harbor an unhealthy obsession with their own suffering. Even Meyers plays into this belief that their poor mental health contributed to their greatness. He writes, “If they had not been mentally ill, they could not have painted with such intensity and brilliance.” But did these artists create because of their illness or in spite of it?

Vincent van Gogh was yet another artist that was hypothesized to have mental illness, committed suicide, and became infintely more sucessful after his death ("Vincent van Gogh"). His artwork is hugely influential and recognizable to even those who know little of art history. His unique expressive brush strokes gave his paintings a dynamic vibrance. Throughout his life, van Gogh wrote many letters. These letters have been collected and published online by the Van Gogh Museum. These letters give great insight into the artist’s personal life. In letter 772 out of the 902 documented letters, van Gogh writes to his brother Theo. The two were extremely close, and Theo was very supportive of his brother’s artistic pursuits ("Vincent van Gogh"). In this letter, Vincent writes from the asylum of Saint-Paul-de-Mausole after he had cut off his own ear in a manic episode. He tells his brother how he is doing much better, and that he is no longer afraid of madness. When referring to his art, he writes, “The idea of my duty to work comes back to me a lot, and I believe that all my faculties for work will come back to me quite quickly. It’s just that work often absorbs me so much that I think I’ll always be absent-minded and awkward in getting by for the rest of life too.” (To Theo van Gogh and Jo van Gogh-Bonger. Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, Thursday, 9 May 1889). When he is finally calm and in treatment for his mania, van Gogh has a renewed ability to create. He paints the flowers in the garden. I think that a lot can be learned from this short reflection. In states of mental illness, creativity is not heightend but stifled. Artists create better when they are well. However, artistic pursuits can be consuming, and this could be what drives the artist to madness. Creation is an incredibly challenging quest.

In fact, maybe it isn’t madness that creates great art, but the label of “artist” that creates mental instability. Jérémy Sinigaglia, a political scientist with a focus in the sociology of artistic employment, would likely think so. In his article, "Happiness as a Reward for Artistic Work", he examines a field study done in Alsace and Lorraine in France where performing artists in this region were asked about the happiness resulting from their profession. Artistic occupations elicit some envy, as they are often considered the escape from monotonous labor. Therefore, artists are expected to be happy in their professions despite job insecurity. This article challenges this view, based on the responses gathered from performers in France. The first is that artists must have realistic expectations of what they can actually achieve. Sinigaglia writes, “even a limited awareness of the objective chances of success appears to reduce the psychological cost of failure.” Secondly, poor employment conditions make it a necessity for artists to find fulfillment in areas other than their professional life. Third, artists often feel as if they cannot express displeasure at their profession, since many others have it worse. Being unsatisfied in a creative field can seem like a betrayal to the basis of being an artist, since artistic work is supposed to be a liberation.

While this study may be specific to France in some ways, I feel that it can be helpful in digging into the mind of the artist. Choosing art as a career is a jump into uncertainty. This article provides evidence that perhaps creative professions can breed unhappiness. With constant job insecurity, fear of failure, and feelings that their dissatisfaction is not legitimate, perhaps the artist could become troubled due to the pressures that come along with the job and their place in society.

The question of the tortured artist is not a simple one, yet any good question rarely has a simple answer. Through my research, I have not found whether or not genius comes from pain, though I know that great art has been created from great sadness, and art as a whole should not shy from this vital human emotion. By living a life frequently dominated by sadness, it has given me a unique perspective of the world. But sadness is not a goal, just something that we live through and learn from. It is not a commodity, making art more valuable because of it. Sadness and art are undoubtedly intertwined. Art is a career that means uncertainty and unpredictability. Creation is extremely difficult. But mental illness is not genius. It is a disease that cuts lives short. It is ugly, not glamorous.

Artists should have a healthy relationship to their work and their mental illness. Not every artist is mentally ill, but those who are should learn to use art as a way to reshape their pain and share their experience, not fetishize hopelessness. We must find a balance between de-stigmatization and romanticization of mental illness and restructure the way that we see art and the people that create it. At the end of this research journey, I have learned to look at my own mental illness in a new way. It is not void of value and it does not make me weak. It is part of me and it is part of many people that I love. It is not responsible for my artistic success, but my art helps me see the nuances of it and of the human experience as a whole. I have depression, but I am not depression. I am an artist. When I create, I do so to heal myself and find connection. That should be the aim of creation, not a contest of who suffers most.

Works Cited

Fisher, Joscelyn E. "Challenges in determining whether creativity and mental illness are

associated." Frontiers in Psychology, vol. 6, 20 Feb. 2015,

doi:10.3389/fpsyg.2015.00163.

Green, Sarah, writer. The Myth of the Tortured Artist. Directed by Mark Olsen, PBS Digital

Studios.

Meyers, Jeffrey. "Pursued by Demons: Creativity and Suicide." American Imago, vol. 73, no. 1,

2016. Project Muse, doi:10.1353/aim.2016.0005.

Naar, Hichem. "Art and Emotion." Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

Neihart, Maureen. "Creativity, the arts, and madness." Roeper Review, vol. 21, Sept. 1998.

Davidson Gifted Database.

Plath, Sylvia. “Never Try To Trick Me With A Kiss.” The Collected Poems, HarperCollins

Publishers, 1981, pp. 319.

Sinigaglia, Jérémy. "Happiness as a Reward for Artistic Work." Sociétés Contemporaines, vol.

91, doi:10.3917/soco.091.0017.

"Sylvia Plath." Poetry Foundation, edited by Michael Slosek, Poetry Foundation.

"To Theo van Gogh and Jo van Gogh-Bonger. Saint-Rémy-de-Provence, Thursday, 9 May 1889."

Vincent van Gogh The Letters, Van Gogh Museum.

"Vincent van Gogh." Encyclopædia Britannica, 2020.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my mom for all she does for me and my growth as a human and as an artist. I would also like to thank Iris Michelson for help in revision. And finally, I would like to thank my professor, Mary Kovaleski Byrnes for her patience and kindness. From her, I have learned so much about the craft of writing and the passion for curiosity.

#stretch2020 #stretchjournal #researchessay #researchpaper

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