#john moores painting prize 2014

[mortuarybees]

oh I just sent you an ask and then realized that you answered my question in a previous ask, so ignore me. (Though I do have another question about them getting married or at least choosing to be committed to each other forever). Thank you for this AU though!

THIS GOT LONG I’M SORRY. The chef suggests that this be paired with Mitski’s cover of Let’s Get Married, which actually invented the institution of marriage.

It looks like this:

It’s a balmy Sunday in April, 2014, and Aziraphale’s hands are clasped before him, forehead pressed to his knuckles. He’s nervous; he shouldn’t be, he knows, but he is. The pew is hard and uncomfortable, unforgiving–Crowley would laugh at that, and even as he smiles, the thought makes his stomach clench.

The service ended a while ago, but he likes to remain, reading through the echoing chatter until everyone has gone and he can have a word alone with Her. Praying in a room full of others feels obscene and vulnerable, like leaving the front door open for the neighbors to peak in.

Please, please, please, he thinks. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, praying, knows that if today is the day, he needs to go home before Crowley gets irritable and worried, but he wants to feel certain, the way Crowley had been.

(It looks like this:

Aziraphale likes gold. Loves gold; he grew up in an ancient and wealthy family, with so much money they’re casual about it, crystals dripping from chandeliers and fine tableware so old it belongs in a museum, and he won’t admit it–not now, especially–but he misses the elegance, the luxuries, misses a wardrobe full of Harris tweed and Burberry and Liberty’s. He likes gold, he would want gold, and Crowley is helpless to do anything but give him what he wants.)

It’s been a long time, Aziraphale thinks. He’s getting older–I’m getting older–he only gets one life. He’s the restless kind, what if he says no?

He asked first, he reminds himself, and then counters it by pointing out that last time, it didn’t mean much, to him. No, that isn’t fair, it meant something, but it wasn’t binding.

He doesn’t need to bind himself to you, he tells himself. He’s committed in every way he can. He’s never been the restless sort when it comes to us.

I’m overthinking this, he thinks, bemused, and as if God agrees with him, he hears the door behind him open, and Crowley’s relieved voice boom, echoing in the empty church and certainly disturbing the bad-humored priest, “Christ, there you are. I thought maybe the Rapture came and the rest of London was too godless to notice.”

Thank you, he prays. Amen. He turns around and smiles. “Crowley, dear. Would you like to sit?”

“Best not,” Crowley says, stopping at the end of the pew Aziraphale occupies. “Surprised I haven’t burst into flames yet, don’t want to push my luck getting comfortable.” He looks around and points at a painting of Saint Sebastian, posed in a rather un-agonized manner. “That why you come here all the time? An excuse to gawk at younger men?”

“Crowley,” he scolds, getting to his feet. He ducks his head to hide his smile and puts his hands in his pockets, toying with the small velvet box inside. “Please, dear, keep from blaspheming inside the church. Besides, you’re far better looking.”

“Damn right,” Crowley huffs, and he takes his arm possessively when he exits the pew, pulling tight against his side. He looks beautiful in the mid-morning light, hazy and soft, hair loose around his face, the stained glass painting colors on his pale face when he squints up at it as they leave. The face of John is mirrored perfectly in the lenses of his dark glasses for just a moment, and Aziraphale wishes he’d ever really tried his hand at art, just to immortalize in rich oil paint the rainbow of light on his face, the Beloved Disciple in his eyes, the swipes of glitter across his cheekbones, the black lace top under his leather jacket, pierced a million times over with all manner of pins over the years; he thinks if he wasn’t at peace before, this picture does it.

“You’re beautiful, darling,” he murmurs when it’s ended, when Crowley tilts his chin down, curls his lip against whatever blasphemy he was certainly thinking and it’s just him again. Just them, and God as far away as She always feels.

“I was kidding, angel,” he says, thumb stroking a reassuring line down his coat sleeve. “Ogle some guy all–” he gestures, quite theatrically– “shot up with arrows if you like. He’s dead, I’m not. I win.”

(It looks like this:

It’s 2000, and Crowley and Aziraphale arrived in London six months prior, alone and uncertain, refugees on a foreign shore. They both grew up in rural villages–wildly different experiences; Aziraphale’s family had an estate and he attended some posh boarding school on the moors, Crowley slept on a bus bench on more than one occasion–and the city is new and frightening and exciting. It seemed like the place for two young queer men to go, newly anointed adults forging a life together.

Aziraphale likes it, Crowley knows he does, he likes the museums, he likes the beautiful old buildings and the British Library, he likes taking walks in the park, and he likes having a home of their own, a home with Crowley. He tells him everyday, a comment here or there with a soft smile. But he’s wounded and mourning; he misses his family, and his new way of life is a bit of a shock. He won’t admit that it hurts, just sniffs and insists he knew it was coming, but Crowley knows him better that that. He loves London, but he can’t help but see the life he’s lost in every crevice of the life he’s found.

Crowley doesn’t believe in divine providence, but if he did, this would be the surest evidence of it: on his way home to their shithole of a flat with his first paycheck in his pocket, he passes the window of an antiques store, and sees it in the window. It catches the afternoon light perfectly and shines gold against the black velvet display; it’s a clunky old-fashioned sort of ring, with angel wings forming the band. Crowley has been thinking hard about this for years now, and it’s absolutely perfect.)

The sunlight outside comes weakly through the clouds, pale but just bright enough to avoid dreariness. Crowley relaxes once they step from the church steps and onto the sidewalk; his first boyfriend broke up with him with a vague and plausibly-deniable note in a cheap bible left on Crowley’s front porch when he returned home from a summer church camp, and Aziraphale thinks he’s always been afraid in the back of his mind that Aziraphale is going to come home from church someday and do the same thing, though he’s never said as much.

“I brought the rolled oats for the ducks,” Crowley says. “Figured we ought to stop in, since we missed last week. Otherwise they might mutiny.”

“Of course, dear,” Aziraphale says, and that had been his plan, but it’s all becoming so terribly real and sudden, isn’t it? He could wait just a little longer–

No, he can’t. They’ve waited long enough.

(It looks like this:

Crowley, ever-charming, talks the proprietor of the antiques shop into setting the ring aside for him. She’s suspicious of him, with his sibilant S and the pins on his leather jacket, but he’s wearing his work uniform, a perfectly respectable red polo shirt and black slacks, and he gives her a down payment and a long and terribly touching story about his college sweetheart that’s mostly true, apart from the gender of the lover in question.

The truth is, there are some things which can be easily done without, and some things that can’t. Aziraphale prefers fancy vintages from significant years and miraculous rains in the French countryside, but a £5 bottle from Sainsbury’s won’t ruin New Years. They can buy store brand cereal, the eggs discounted because one of them has been cracked, they can throw Aziraphale’s fancy embroidered throw over the pullout and hang richly dyed moth-eaten curtains from the theater department’s dumpster and pretend it’s the Hotel d’Alsace. But there are some things that must be done right, some things that cannot be done without, and he’s convinced that this is one of them. He could as easily propose with a plastic ring from the coin machine at their favorite bar, but Aziraphale is going to love this ring; even if he says no, pats Crowley on the cheek and says, “How romantic of you dear boy, but that’s not really what’s done, is it?” he’s still going to love it.

He’s secretive and vague about the extra hours and side gigs he takes on to make the payments. Aziraphale notices, he knows he does, he knows him too well not to, and he’s curious and a little alarmed, but he felt bad enough lying about where part of his first paycheck went without having to do it again every month when he stops in to make a payment on the ring.

It takes six months, but she finally hands it over, along with a comment about how she’s thought about it and she thinks it’s really rather noble, what he’s doing, and he best keep to it, best not break this poor girl’s heart, she’s read about people like him, giving it a go with nice girls for a couple years and then skipping out, sticking them with kids and a broken life. He rolls his eyes and says he’ll pass the message along to his boyfriend after he proposes, and saunters out, a skip in his step. It’s perfect; he’ll still wear it every day and admire it on his hand the way Crowley admires it now in the sun, and even if he says no–well, that would be a fine consolation prize.)

There is a bench they’ve been coming to for fifteen years now, so habitually the ducks flock to them when they arrive, flicking oats into the water. Crowley is catching him up on the fight he missed while he was out (the walls are thin and the neighbors provide endless entertainment with their incessant and bafflingly banal bickering; it’s a proper extended universe, their family disputes, and the mother-in-law is visiting, so it’s been an exciting weekend), and Aziraphale is trying to listen, he really is, even though he insists eavesdropping and gossiping aren’t especially neighborly–“oh, come off it, angel, you know they’ve got their ears pressed to the wall when we fight, not to mention when we–” “Crowley!”–but he cant focus on anything but the weight in his pocket.

He’s been putting money away for a year now, ever since legislation to legalize it was introduced last July. He’d known it would take some time to pass, but if they were willing to propose it, it would be soon.

“Alright, what’ve you got squirreled away, huh?” Crowley demands, the dozenth time in a few short minutes his hand has gone to his pocket to ensure it’s still there. “I’m hungry. Was so worried you’d gone off and joined some cultish offshoot I couldn’t eat. Well, a more cultish offshoot. Is the Catholic church an offshoot? Suppose it must be, not like Jesus named a pope–”

“It’s not food, dear,” Aziraphale says, sighing. “And he did, he gave Saint Peter the keys to Heaven and he was bishop of Rome. Blasphemous old serpent.”

“I’m sure they all say that,” Crowley says, waving a hand. He eyes him curiously, flicking a rolled oat so it hits a duck in the head. “What is it then?”

Aziraphale’s heart thuds chaotically in his chest. “Crowley, dearest,” he says, turning to face him. He takes his hand in his, desperate for the anchor, the reassurance. “I love you.”

“Love you too, angel,” Crowley says, looking alarmed. “Are you alright?”

“You love me,” Aziraphale repeats, both wishing desperately he could see Crowley’s eyes, search them, and desperately glad that he can’t. Crowley’s bare eyes are so terribly expressive, the sight of them so intimate, he couldn’t bear it.

“‘Course I do,” he says, with conviction. “More than anything. What’s this about?”

“Crowley, my love,” he says hoarsely, and he kneels on one knee, still clinging to his hand.

(It looks like this:

It’s October in 2000, and it’s been raining like the coming of the second flood for days. Crowley stands at the window, biting his lip and scowling at it, sick of it and about to start refreshing himself on the principles of chaos magic in a bid to end it.

“Crowley, dear, you’re making me nervous,” Aziraphale grumbles from the sofa. He loves a nice rainy day, loves curling up against Crowley with a cup of tea and a book or one of those awful television shows with the flouncy costumes and overwrought acting, but even he is growing tired of being stuck inside all day and getting soaked to the bone on his way to work. “Come sit down, would you?”

“I’m busy,” Crowley mutters.

“You don’t look busy,” Aziraphale says. “It looks like you think you can scowl the rain into submission.”

“Works on the plants,” Crowley tells him, and he knows Aziraphale is rolling his eyes without having to look. He’s half a mind to do away with his idea all together, just do it right here in their cramped little studio, when quite suddenly, the rain lets up to a light mist. He stares at it, jaw slack, for several long moments. When it doesn’t start pick up again, he shouts, “Let’s go for a walk.”

“A walk?” Aziraphale frowns. “In this?”

“It’s just misting and we haven’t gone out properly in days,” Crowley says eagerly. “C'mon, get dressed, I want to go to the park.” He won’t have time to get dressed properly, doesn’t want to risk the return of the storm–which is a crying shame, he had such an outfit planned–but he yanks the pants he knows make his ass look the best out of their dresser and a deep purple blouse with lace around the cuffs Aziraphale once said made him look very royal, stripping out of his pajamas and hopping into them as quickly as he can.

“The park?” Aziraphale puts his book aside. “Well, I suppose I would rather fancy a stroll, stretch my legs–”

“Excellent!” Crowley throws him a horrible pair of houndstooth slacks and the first button down he sees. “Get dressed.”

“Crowley–”

“Dressed!”

“These don’t even match!”

“I don’t care! Get dressed!” He darts to their vanity, staring wild-eyed at his reflection. Eyeliner is smudged raccoon-like around his eyes, but his sunglasses will cover that. He picks up a brush and yanks it violently through his hair. His eyes dart to Aziraphale, taking his sweet time picking out a new button down. “Dressed! Dressed, c'mon!”

“I’m getting there,” he mutters, waving lazily at him. “What do you think, green or white, dear?”

“You look best in blue,” Crowley tells him. He pulls his hair back, then lets it fall again, then pulls the front back and secures it a few pins and a comb he knows Aziraphale likes. He spins around to see Aziraphale quite leisurely buttoning up his shirt. “If you don’t hurry, I’m leaving without you.”

Aziraphale rolls his eyes, but his fingers quicken, and he sits down to tie his oxfords. Crowley hurries to join him, shoving his feet in his boots and lacing them up as quickly as he can. The moment they’re both done, he yanks him up, hauling him to the door, shrugging his leather jacket on and tossing Aziraphale his blazer. “Wait, I’ve got to get my bag–”

“You don’t need your bag,” Crowley insists, and reaches into his pocket to make sure the ring is there.

Aziraphale frets the whole way to the park about how it’s bound to start pouring again any moment, and Crowley rushed him so much he forgot to bring an umbrella, they’re going to get drenched, they forgot bread for the ducks–unaware as they were that one ought not feed a duck bread, for its own sake–and St. James’ Park is positively sodden and it’ll take ages for his wool socks to dry out. Crowley doesn’t care; he links their arms and slogs bravely on to their usual spot, grateful that the heavy rain has cleared it out. The only other people around are a mother and child, some ways off, enjoying the brief respite.

“Angel, I’ve got something to ask you,” he says urgently, and he wrenches his sunglasses off–wait, he forgot, the eyeliner–he slides them back on, then takes them off again; he knows how Aziraphale likes to see his eyes.

“Yes?” Aziraphale looks confused and alarmed, he doesn’t like surprises or irregular reactions. He jumps to the worst every time, starts overthinking every twitch of Crowley’s face, and Crowley loves him, the anxious prat.

“I love you,” he says. “Do you love me?”

“I love you more than words can say, darling, what’s going on?” His eyes search Crowley’s face, his brow furrowed.

“Do you–” he swallows hard. They’ve never talked about this, not really. “You don’t think this is–y'know, a sin, right?” It feels so awkward in his mouth, his tone not weighty enough. The truth is, he’s never really seen what all the fuss was about, why so many other queer people struggled so much to reconcile their lives with the Church. The Church rejected him, so he rejected the Church, and he hasn’t looked back. But it means something to Aziraphale. He doesn’t know if he struggles with it still, but it means something to him. It means a lot to him.

“Oh, Crowley, dear,” he says, his eyes clearing. He touches his cheek, so gently Crowley could scream. “Of course not. This could never be a sin, I’ve been reading–”

Crowley can’t help but bark out a laugh. “Of course you have,” he says, beaming at him. “Of course you have. What have you been reading, angel?”

“Well, Montefiore’s ‘Jesus, the Revelation of God’ points out that Christ’s early life–”

“Flaming homosexual, Jesus was, then?” Crowley asks, unable to smother his unhinged grin, and Aziraphale isn’t sure what he’s so giddy about, but it seems like he can’t help but smile back, a little uncertainly.

“There was John, of course, the Beloved Disciple, and there’s a rather interesting idea about the Wedding at Cana, which is of course in some ideas thought of as a symbolic marriage of Christ to the church, and some–there’s this beautiful German print, of Jesus and John at the wedding, I’ll have to show you–some have suggested that it’s also a more literal marriage between Jesus and John–”

“Christ, angel, you’ll marry me, won’t you?” Crowley breathes, and he kneels.

Aziraphale blinks at him, brow furrowed, his mind clearly trying to catch up to this sudden switch in the topic of conversation. It’s always hard to interrupt one of his rambling little speeches, he gets so invested in them, but Crowley will just have to make it up to him later, let him lecture above him well into the night about apocryphal writings and stained glass and this print or that; right now, he just need to be engaged to this ridiculous man. “Er, what?”

“Marry me,” he says. He had a whole proposal planned, but he’s forgotten it, and it was stupid, anyway. “Marry me, I–” he fumbles in his pocket, pulls the ring out of the little felt bag the proprietor put it in and holds it up like an offering. “I have a ring. Will you marry me, Aziraphale?”

“Are you–” Aziraphale’s eyes are getting wide, his breath coming fast. “Crowley, you’re not joking about this, are you?”

“Why the fuck would I joke about this?” Crowley snaps. “Look, see, I got a ring and everything. Do you like it?”

“Crowley–” Aziraphale gasps, a wet and rough sound. “I–I suppose it would be legal, technically, but I–Crowley, you know how I feel about, about–what do you mean–”

“It’s not legal, I know, but neither is buggery, technically, just can’t be prosecuted, but that’s never stopped us,” he says. He knows, he knows how Aziraphale feels about playing to his assigned gender, even when it’s convenient. “Look, it’s not like Jesus and John had a marriage license, is it?”

And Aziraphale starts crying.)

“Angel,” Crowley says, staring down at him. “The hell are you doing?”

“Ah,” Aziraphale releases his hand to pull the small velvet box out of his pocket, opens it carefully, precisely, and holds it out to him. “Crowley, my dearest, will you marry me?”

“We’re already married, angel,” Crowley whispers, and as if unconsciously, his thumb strokes the tattoo on his left ring finger.

“Well, certainly,” he says. “But it’s legal now, and I know that what the state has to say doesn’t matter much, but you know–well, you remember how it can be, without something legal. Something on paper,. And you don’t have a ring.”

“I have better than a ring,” Crowley says, but his eyes are glittering, fixed on the little black ring in the box, a band of silver around it.

Aziraphale swallows hard. “Crowley, I would really quite like to marry you, officially, dear, if you’ll have me.”

“If I’ll–I swear to somebody, angel, you’re the stupidest genius I’ve ever met,” he swears. “Of course I’ll marry you, you idiot, I–what the fuck does the ring say, Aziraphale?”

He smiles, can’t help but be pleased that he’s noticed. On the inside, in his own hand writing, is You Make Me Live, Dearest, in deference to the song Crowley has, on many occasions, blasted so loud their neighbors have pounded on the wall, practically shouting the lyrics at Aziraphale, hauling him, laughing, into terrible dancing that usually ends up knocking something over. Aziraphale takes a deep breath, and sings very quietly, and off-key, voice wavering (he hasn’t sang since his second puberty; he had a lovely voice, before, he was in a choir, but he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of it since), “Oh, you make me live, whenever this world is cruel to me–”

Crowley grabs him by his lapels and hauls him up into a hungry kiss, passersby be damned.

(It looks like this:

Aziraphale is crying, his face in his hands, and Crowley is frozen on his knees, all his giddy joy slowly leaving him, a hollow humiliation replacing it.

“Angel,” he says, hating how his voice cracks. “Angel, I’m sorry, you don’t have to say yes–you can keep the ring, I want you to have the ring–I won’t–I won’t leave, if you say no–unless you want me to, obviously–” Shit, shit, shit, he didn’t fuck up that bad, did he–

Aziraphale drops his hands, startled, and stares at him. “Why on earth would I want that?” he asks, and he goes to his knees on the wet concrete, pulling the ridiculous handkerchief that matches his ridiculous bow tie from his breast pocket, dabs at his eyes, wipes his nose, and puts it in his pocket with a deep breath. “I never–I never thought this would be possible, the way I wanted it,” he says at last. “I never even–considered it, really, I wished, perhaps, but I never–” he stops, and he stares at Crowley with such warmth and love it settles him, a little. He’s not going to turn him out, and that’s really all that matters.

“I just thought, I know you wouldn’t want to do it…officially, so it might not be legal, but maybe–you and me, we could say some vows,” he says. “If you wanted. If you don’t, that’s fine,” and his voice, the goddamn traitor, cracks again on the word.

“Oh, dear, I haven’t said yes, have I?” Aziraphale says, and he smiles, a watery thing, puts his hand on Crowley’s wrist. “Yes, darling, I’d love nothing more than to marry you, I really wouldn’t.”

“Oh,” he says, and a smile begins to form. “Oh. That’s–great, then.”

“You ridiculous thing,” Aziraphale says, beaming, and he throws his arms around him, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. He can feel his lashes flutter against the soft skin there, the slide of warm tears, his breath ghosting across the fine hairs, and he shivers.

“Hey,” he says, nudging him. “Hey. Did you see the ring?”

Aziraphale laughs, leaning back onto his haunches, and wipes at his eyes. “The ring?”

“Yeah, the ring,” Crowley says, waving it about. He thinks it looks even more impressive in the washed-out grey light, shining like a second sun.

“Crowley,” he whispers, seeming to really truly notice it for the first time. “Where–where did you get this?” His hands hover around it, reverent, as if he’s afraid to touch it.

“An antiques shop,” he says proudly. “Give me your hand.”

“How did you afford it?” he asks wonderingly, and he lets Crowley take his hand in his, slide it onto his finger, smiles at his little sigh of relief when it fits.

“Saved up,” he says. “That’s, er. What I’ve been doing, going out.”

“I was curious,” Aziraphale says, and his eyes well up again. “Oh, darling, all this time, you’ve been working?”

“Wanted you to have the best,” he says. “Look, see, they’re angel wings.” He runs a finger around the band, beaming at it. “You like it?”

“Crowley, my dear, I love it more than I can say,” he says fervently, and he puts a hand on his cheek again, leans in to give him a chaste, brief kiss. “Let’s go home,” he suggests. “I’ll thank you properly.”

Crowley leaps to his feet, bringing Aziraphale with him, and they don’t quite run to the bus stop, but it’s a very close thing, giggling like drunk teenagers sneaking out late, laughter peeling through the park when Crowley’s poorly laced boots send them tumbling, arms linked, into the grass.)

It looks like this:

It’s 2000, and it’s 2014, and they run home from the bus stop in a sudden downpour of rain, having forgotten umbrellas, absent-minded and distracted by more important things. A leather jacket is shed onto the floor, a tweed coat thrown in the vague direction of a coat rack; Crowley throws Aziraphale’s suspenders off his shoulders with pleased gusto, a tie, belt, shirts, hit the floor with abandon, sunglasses are placed very delicately somewhere safe. Crowley pulls at Aziraphale’s binder insistently, in 2000, yanks his white undershirt over his head in 2014; oxfords and combat boots are tossed and hit the walls and floor; they stumble over their pants as they try to take them off without stopping, without taking their hands off each other for even a moment, and the old bed creaks when they tumble onto it. The headboard cracks against the wall, knocks the crucifix loose, and the thud is followed by shaking laughter overtaken by gasps, and cries, and fervent declarations, hands clasped, mouths sliding inelegantly together. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you; and they’re both thinking with desperate and delighted devotion, my husband, my husband, my husband.

[newyorktheater]

Below is a list of movies opening in the U.S. from September to December, organized chronologically by release date.

Among the movies of interest to theater lovers: Finn Wittrock (Death of A Salesman, Glass Menagerie) portrays Judy Garland’s fifth husband in “Judy,” a movie about her that bears great resemblance to a play that was on Broadway. Cynthia Erivo and Leslie Odom Jr.  (Tony winners for The Color Purple and Hamilton, respectively) star in “Harriet,” about Harriet Tubman. Pulitzer Prize winning playwright Tracy Letts adapts a novel for the screen. And, Heaven help us, both Dame Judi Dench and Sir Ian McKellen (as Gus The Theater Cat) in Cats, the movie version of the Broadway musical.

  Cynthia Erivo as Harriet Tubman

Dame Judy dench in Cats

Renee Zellweger and Finn Wittrock and Judy Garland and her fifth husband in “Judy”

Leslie Odom Jr in Harriet

Meryl Streep in Little Women

Sir Ian McKellen as Gus the Theater cat in Cats

(Below, an asterisk is placed next to names of movie cast members that theatergoers can legitimately claim as legitimate stage artists now or at least originally. For example, Willem Dafoe, a familiar face on screen who is appearing  is appearing in two high-profile movies this Fall, is a founding member of the experimental theater company The Wooster Group.)

SEPTEMBER

September 2

Untouchable

Hulu Directed by: Ursula McFarlane Cast: Rosanna Arquette, Ronan Farrow, Paz de la Huerta

A documentary about Harvey Weinstein and the #MeToo movement.

September 6

It: Chapter 2

Directed by: Andrés Muschietti Cast: Bill Hader, Jessica Chastain, James McAvoy, Finn Wolfhard, Sophia Lillis, Bill Skarsgard

Twenty-seven years after the Losers Club’s terrifying encounter with Derry’s most notorious clown, they receive a phone call that brings them all back together again.

Also: Blink of an Eye Ms. Purple

  September 13

  The Goldfinch

Directed by: John Crowley Cast:  Ansel Elgort, Finn Wolfhard, Nicole Kidman, Ashleigh Cummings, *Jeffrey Wright, Aneurin Bernard, Sarah Paulson, Luke Wilson

Based on Donna Tart’s Pulitzer Prize-winning 2014 novel from 2014 about one of the only survivors of a bombing at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, as he struggles to let go of his one connection to that day: a painting of a tiny bird, otherwise known as The Goldfinch.

Haunt

Directed by: Scott Beck and Bryan Woods Cast:  Katie Stevens, Will Brittain, Lauryn Alisa McClain

On Halloween, a group of friends discover a haunted house that claims to create thrills based on real fears.

Hustlers

Directed by: Lorene Scafaria Cast: Jennifer Lopez, Cardi B, Constance Wu, Lizzo, Keke Palmer, Julia Stiles, Lili Reinhart

Inspired by a 2015 New York Magazine article about a group of strippers stealing from their rich Wall Street clients during the financial crisis.

  Also (bear in mind it’s Friday the 13th)

Depraved Freaks Monos Moonlight Sonata

September 20

Ad Astra

Directed by: James Gray Cast: Brad Pitt, Liv Tyler, Tommy Lee Jones, Ruth Negga

Astronaut Roy McBride (Pitt) travels to the outer edge of our solar system on a dangerous mission to find his father (Tommy Lee Jones) who disappeared decades earlier, and may hold the key to a secret that threatens our very existence.

Downton Abbey

Release date: September 20 Directed by: Michael Engler Cast: *Maggie Smith, Michelle Dockery, Laura Carmichael, Hugh Bonneville, Jim Carter, Joanna Froggat, Matthew Goode, *Elizabeth McGovern

The TV series made into a movie: It’s 1927, and Downton Abbey is about to receive some very special guests: King George V and Queen Mary.

  Rambo: Last Blood

Directed by: Adrian Grunberg Cast: Sylvester Stallone, Paz Vega, Sergio Peris-Mencheta, Adriana Barraza, Yvette Monreal

The fifth Rambo installment; this time the daughter of a friend is kidnapped by a Mexican cartel

Between Two Ferns: The Movie

Netflix Directed by: Scott Aukerman Cast:  Zach Galifanakis, Lauren Lapkus, Ginger Gonzaga

A movie based on Zach Galifanakis’ cult parody talk show. Galifanakis must hit the road to defend his reputation as the premier celebrity interviewer of our time.

Also: Corporate Animals Diego Maradona Where’s My Roy Cohn?

September 27

Judy

Directed by: Rupert Goold Cast: Renee Zellweger, Rufus Sewell, Finn Wittrock, Jessie Buckley

The last year of Judy Garland’s life, largely based on Peter Quilter’s play End of the Rainbow. During a five-week run in London she reflects on her rise to stardom, and fall in love with Mickey Deans (Wittrock) the man who became her fifth husband.

The Report

Directed by: Scott Z. Burns Cast Adam Driver, Annette Bening, Jon Hamm, Matthew Rhys, Corey Stoll

Based on a true story, this political thriller follows Senate staffer Daniel Jones (Driver) as he leads an investigation in the CIA’s Detention and Interrogation Program, which engaged in “enhanced interrogation techniques” after 9/11.

Also: The Day Shall Come The Death of Dick Long Extra Ordinary The Sound of Silence

OCTOBER

October 4

Joker

Directed by: Todd Phillips Cast: Joaquin Phoenix, Robert De Niro. Zazie Beetz

The origin story of the Batman villain, who started as a lonely, failed stand-up comedian.

The Woman in the Window

Directed by: Joe Wright Cast: Amy Adams, *Gary Oldman, Julianne Moore, Anthony Mackie, Brian Tyree Henry

Adapted by Tracy Letts from the best-selling novel by A.J. Finn, the movie stars Adams as an agoraphobic child psychologist who spends her days spying on the perfect family next door. But then she witnesses a crime…

Pain and Glory

Directed by: Pedro Almodovar Cast: Antonio Banderas, Penelope Cruz

Banderas won Best Actor at the Cannes Film Festival for his role as a film director in the middle of a creative crisis

The Current War

Directed by: Alfonso Gomez-Rejon Cast: Benedict Cumberbatch, *Michael Shannon, Nicholas Hoult, *Tom Holland, Katherine Waterston

Inventors Thomas Edison (Cumberbatch) and George Westinghouse (Shannon) race to complete rival electrical systems that will change modern life.

Lucy in the Sky

Directed by: Noah Hawley Cast: Natalie Portman, Jon Hamm, Dan Stevens, Zazie Bettz, *Ellen Burstyn

Based on a true story, Portman stars as an astronaut who kidnaps his ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend and drives from Houston to Orlando wearing an adult diaper. After a long mission, Lucy returns to Earth only to find her connection with her family — and reality — slipping away.

Also: Wrinkles the Clown

October 11

Gemini Man

Directed by: Ang Lee Cast:  Will Smith, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Clive Owen, Benedict Wong

A former government assassin is targeted by his younger, more agile clone, able to predict his every thought and movement.

Parasite

Directed by: Bong Joon-ho Cast Song Kang-ho, Lee Sun-kyun, Cho Yeo-jeong, Choi Woo-shik, Park So-dam

The first Korean movie to win the Palme D’Or at the Cannes Film Festival earlier this year, it is a pitch-black modern fairytale the follows the wealthy Park family, and the much-poorer Kim clan.

Also: Jexi The Dead Center (Limited) High Strung Free Dance (Limited)

October 18

The Lighthouse

Directed by: Robert Eggers Cast Robert Pattinson, *Willem Dafoe

Two New England lighthouse keepers slowly lose their sanity.

Zombieland 2: Double Tap

Directed by: Ruben Fleischer Cast: Woody Harrelson, Jesse Eisenberg, Emma Stone, Abigail Breslin, Bill Murray, Rosario Dawson, Zoey Deutch, Luke Wilson

Ten years after the original movie, the characters reconnoitre at the White House, and head back on the road, meeting new survivors and enemies on the way. When he’s not acting in movies, Jesse Eisenberg has been busy writing plays Off-Broadway.

Maleficent 2: Mistress of Evil

Directed by: Joachim Ranning Cast:Angelina Jolie, Elle Fanning, Michelle Pfeiffer, Sam Reilly

Set several years after the first movie, Maleficent (Jolie) is living in peace when Aurora (Fanning) and Prince Phillip’s (Harris Dickinson) engagement throws everything into turmoil.

The Addams Family

Directed by: Conrad Vernon, Greg Tiernan Cast: Charlize Theron, Chloë Grace Moretz, Oscar Isaac, Finn Wolfhard, Snoop Dog, Allison Janney, Bette Midler

In this animated film, the family does battle with a reality show host.

Jojo Rabbit

Directed by: Taika Waititi Cast Taiki Waititi, Roman Griffin Davis, Thomasin McKenzie, Rebel Wilson, Stephen Merchant, Alfie Allen, Sam Rockwell, Scarlett Johansson

Based on the book Caging Skies by Christine Leunen, set during World War II in Germany, Griffin Davis is Jojo “Rabbit” Betzler, who discovers that his mother (Johansson) is hiding a Jewish girl in their attic. Jojo must confront his Nazi beliefs, with the help of his imaginary friend, a goofy version of the Fuhrer.

Also: Greener Grass

October 25

Black and Blue

Directed by: Deon Taylor Cast Naomie Harris, Tyrese Gibson, Frank Grillo

When rookie police officer Alicia West (Harris) accidentally records corrupt cops committing a crime on her body camera, she turns to her only possible ally, Milo “Mouse” Jackson (Gibson), to help her make sure they face justice.

The Last Full Measure

Directed by: Todd Robinson Cast Sebastian Stan, *Christopher Plummer, Ed Harris, William Hurt, Samuel L. Jackson, Jeremy Irvine, Alison Sudol

Based on a true story, Sebastian Stan plays investigator Scott Huffman, who signs on to help Vietnam veterans lobby for their comrade-in-arms to get a Congressional Medal of Honor after he gave his life saving them.

Also: Countdown Frankie The Kill Team Synonyms

NOVEMBER

November 1

Motherless Brooklyn

Release date: November 1 Directed by: Edward Norton Cast Edward Norton, *Willem Dafoe, Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Leslie Mann, Bobby Cannavale, Bruce Willis, Alec Baldwin, Fisher Stevens, *Cherry Jones

Based on Jonathan Lethem’s novel, this detective thriller stars Norton as a private eye with Tourette syndrome, who finds himself embroiled in a conspiracy involving Alec Baldwin.

Harriet

Release date: November 1 Directed by: Kasi Lemmons Cast: *Cynthia Erivo, Janelle Monae, Joe Alwyn,* Leslie Odom Jr.

Erivo as Harriet Tubman

Also: Arctic Dogs Terminator: Dark Fate Burden Waves

November 8

Doctor Sleep Last Christmas Midway Playing with Fire Honey Boy

November 15

Ford v. Ferrari Directed by: James Mangold Cast: Matt Damon, Christian Bale A British driver named Ken Miles (Christian Bale) and an engineer named Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) to design something to compete against the Europeans

Also:

All Rise Charlie’s Angels The Good Liar The Lodge

November 22

21 Bridges A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood Frozen II Dark Waters

November 27 (Thanksgiving)

Knives Out Queen & Slim

DECEMBER

December 6

The Aeronauts Brahms: The Boy II Playmobil: The Movie Little Joe Portrait of a Lady on Fire

December 13

Black Christmas Jumanji: The Next Level Cunningham A Hidden Life Shaun the Sheep Movie: Farmageddon Uncut Gems

December 20

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Directed by J.J. Abrams Cast: Adam Driver as Kylo Ren, Daisy Ridley, Domhnall Gleeson, Keri Russell, Mark Hamill, Oscar Isaac, Billie Lourd, Lupita Nyong’o, Carrie Fisher (!) Theatergoers note: Adam Driver and Keri Russell were the co-stars of Burn This on Broadway last season.

Bombshell Cast: Charlize Theron, Nicole Kidman, Margot Robbie, *John Lithgow, Kate McKinnon, *Alison Janney The story of Fox News head Roger Ailes’ sexual harassment of his female employees.

Cats Cast: *James Corden as Bustopher Jones, *Judi Dench as Old Deuteronomy, Jason Derulo as Rum Tum Tugger, Idris Elba as Macavity, Jennifer Hudson as Grizabella[, *Ian McKellen as Gus the Theatre Cat, Taylor Swift as Bombalurina, Rebel Wilson as Jennyanydots et al

The movie version of the long-running Broadway musical.

Also: Superintelligence

December 25 (Christmas)

Little Women Directed by Greta Gerwig Cast: Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Florence Pugh, Eliza Scanlen, Timothée Chalamet, Laura Dern and *Meryl Streep The eighth feature film adaptation of the 1868 novel by Louisa May Alcott.

Also: 1917 Spies in Disguise Just Mercy

December 27

Clemency

Fall 2019 Movie Preview for Theater Lovers Below is a list of movies opening in the U.S. from September to December, organized chronologically by release date.

[imogenportersart]

Emma Talbot

Education: 1993-1995   Royal College of Art, M.A. Painting1988-1991  Birmingham Institute of Art & Design, B.A. Fine Art (First Class)1987-1988   Kent Institute of Art & Design, Foundation in Art & Design

One Person Exhibitions: Forthcoming     Emma Talbot Nicolas Krupp Basel2018     Emma Talbot Caustic Coastal Salford     Woman-Bird-Snake Galerie Onrust Amsterdam2017     Open Thoughts Neuer Aachener Kunstverein, Germany         Stained With Marks Of Love, Arcadia Missa, New York USA        The World Blown Apart, Galerie Onrust Amsterdam2016         Time after Time, Petra Rinck Galerie, Düsseldorf           Entrances & Exits, Gallery Twenty Two, Bristol, UK           Unravel These Knots, Freud Museum, London2015         Step Inside Love, domobaal, London                    Memories Turn to Dusk, Petra Rinck Galerie.

Selected Group Exhibitions: Forthcoming     John Moores Painting Prize, Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool 2018 Journeys Through The Wasteland, Turner Contemporary Margate Solitary Pleasures, Freud Museum, London Rumpy Bees and Pumpy Blooms, Klosterpresse, Frankfurt Virginia Woolf, Tate St Ives, (touring in 2018 to Pallant House Gallery, Fitzwilliam Museum) Some Islands, Coleman Projects, London 2017 CONDO Arcadia Missa, London  Art Cologne (Galerie Onrust, Amsterdam) 2016 MAC International Ulster Bank Prize, MAC Belfast, Northern Ireland Telling Tales, Collyer Bristow, London Ghost On The Wire, Objectifs, Centre For Photography and film, Singapore John Moores Painting Prize, Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool Art Cologne (Petra Rinck Galerie) Charlie Dutton Gallery, Beijing, China William N Copley, Emma Talbot, Ina Van Zyl, Galerie Onrust, Amsterdam, Netherlands Comic Tragics, Art Gallery Of Western Australia, Perth Endgame, Turps Gallery, London In Neuen Raumen, Petra Rinck Galerie, Düsseldorf 2015 DRKRM, DAM Gallery, Berlin Graphics Interchange Format : 25 Years of Focal Point Gallery, Southend on Sea To Go Too Far, Petra Rinck Galerie, Düsseldorf In Miniature, Small Collections Room, Nottingham Contemporary Birmingham Show, Eastside Projects, Birminhgam UK 2014 Mind The Gap, Petra Rinck Galerie, Düsseldorf Drawn Together, Artist as Selector, Jerwood Gallery, Hastings The Manchester Contemporary (domobaal) Detail, H Gallery, Bangkok, Thailand Outrageous Fortune, Artists Remake the Tarot, Focal Point Gallery and Exeter Phoenix, Hayward Touring 2013            Atomic, Transition Gallery London Art Britannia, Madonna Building, Miami      Drawing Now,  (Kusseneers Gallery), Carrousel Du Louvre, Paris  Random House Arcadia Missa LondonAll The Dead Dears WW Gallery, London2012            John Moores Painting Prize, Walker Art Gallery Liverpool  I Wish You Well Vegas Gallery, London The Perfect Nude, Wimbledon Space, London, SPACEX, Exeter  2011   Me And My Shadow, Kate MacGarry, London       TOLD Hales Gallery, London  The Life Of The Mind The New Art Gallery, Walsall (Curated by Bob  and Roberta Smith including Louise Bourgeois, Lucia Noguiera,        Sarah Lucas, Tracey Emin, Chris Ofili)            Outrageous Fortune, Focal Point Gallery, Southend /  Hayward Touring  Pulp Fictions, Transition Gallery, London  2010            Party! The New Art Gallery, Walsall  Dough & Dynamite, (curated by KobetsVasey)  McAslan + Partners, London 2009  One Cannot Be Thwarted by Antidisestablishmentarianism,  Primo Alonso, London  Drawing 2009 Biennial, The Drawing Room, London  Storytime, Gallery North, Newcastle (Emma Talbot, Dexter Dalwood,  Francesca Steele, Christina Koilati)             Awopbopaloobop, Transition Gallery, London 2008            Painted Room, Transition Gallery, London The Walls in Three Places, White Nave, Dover, Kent  Jerwood Drawing Prize, Jerwood Space, London Fellowships and Awards: 1996    Bob and Susan Kasen Summers Studio Award1995    Rome Scholarship, British School at Rome

Collections: Saatchi Collection, David Roberts Collection, J. Sainsbury PLC, Unilever, City of Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery, Ministry of Heritage, Abu Dhabi Bank, TI Group, Stephenson Harwood, Bob & Susan Summers Collection (NY, USA), Art Gallery Of Western Australia.

Publications, Editioned Prints, Artists' Books, zines and editorial contributions (selection)

[artistasrelevantes-blog]

SHAW, GEORGE

1966, Coventry, United Kingdom

Education

1986-89 BA Fine Art, Sheffield Polytechnic 

1991-92 PGCE, Sheffield Polytechnic 

1996-98 MA Painting, Royal College of Art, London

Exhibition (selected)

2013-2014 

Neither My Arse Nor My Elbow, Douglas Hyde Gallery, Dublin (cat.) 

2011 

I woz ere, The Herbert, Coventry, UK The Sly and Unseen Day, The South London Gallery, London Payne’s Grey, BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead (cat.) The Sly and Unseen Day, BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art, Gateshead, UK (cat.) 

2008 

The End of the World, Galerie Hussenot, Paris

2006 

Poets Day, Centre d ‘Art Contemporain, Geneva

Awards 

2011 

Turner Prize nominee

1999 

John Moores 21, Prizewinner 

1998 

TI Group Award 

1997 

Messier-Dowty Travel Award to Paris, Zurich and New York 

Paris Studio Award, Cite International Des Arts

[attendantdesign-blog]

New Post has been published on Attendantdesign

New Post has been published on https://attendantdesign.com/mcgill-professor-eleanor-stubley-remembered/

McGill professor Eleanor Stubley remembered

Eleanor Stubley changed into an associate professor, writer, conductor and track lover. The partner dean of Graduate Studies at McGill’s Schulich School of Music changed into remembered fondly Monday as news spread of her unexpected death.

Stubley had been missing considering Aug. 7. Her frame became observed during the weekend.

“She became a beloved colleague who inspired all those around her with her humanity, passion, and courage,” stated Brenda Ravenscroft, Schulich School of Music dean, in a statement. “She tested on an everyday basis profound devotion and fierce advocacy for college kids, learning, and artistry.”

Stubley, 57, had taught song schooling, musicology and overall performance at McGill in view that 1989. She started out a one-12 months sabbatical on July 1.

“I changed into beneath the impression that, like many professors who are granted that honor, she becomes concerned in a brand new studies venture,” stated John Rea, a professor of musical composition and previous dean of the Schulich School of Music.

  “I observed that very constructive. I found out it becomes an opportunity for her to Eleanor have a creative moment remembered professor

When you learn what we’ve learned within the ultimate 4 days, you see the existence from both sides: the innovative one leading to new projects and saying some thing important approximately music; and the opposite aspect, which produces the sad information of some thing that came to her and brought approximately her demise.”

Stubley suffered from a couple of sclerosis, which didn’t stop her from getting matters performed, in line with Rea.

“It’s a modern disorder,” he stated. “She spent the last range of years in a wheelchair, however, her sports at the university, mockingly, did now not give up or lessen or seem suffering from the nation of trade in her health.”

Rea remembered a colleague who was very involved in the development of her students and took a keen hobby in supporting them in whatever manner she may want to. In 2016, she established the Eleanor Stubley Recording Prize spotting progressive, terrific paintings by using a graduate student.

“She had come to be a critical a part of graduate schooling and guide to students,” he said. “Musically, her training become concentrated on song education, in regards to pedagogy and the philosophy of teaching. These currents have been nevertheless energetic in her later research.”

Stubley specialized in modern Canadian composers, enhancing the book Compositional Crossroads: Music, McGill, Montreal (McGill-Queens University Press, 2008).

She is the writer of Louis Riel 2005: the Story, written for the Schulich School of Music’s revival of the opera by Harry Somers and Mavor Moore. On June 17, she was scheduled to steer a discussion titled Louis Riel: Performing the Land at Ottawa’s National Arts Centre previous to a performance by way of the NAC Orchestra, however, the event was canceled amid controversy.

Stubley became the self-defined “author of the innovative idea” and musical director for Don Winkler’s 2005 CBC-TV performance documentary The Pines of Emily Carr; and artistic director, author, and manufacturer of the 2007 multimedia live performance Living Gestures, with dancer/choreographer Jane Mappin.

In 2013, she acquired the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal for her outstanding contribution to the arts.

Stubley performed the Yellow Door Choir from 1997 to 2014 and changed into the creative director for Chora Carmina.

“She became a completely proficient musician, no question,” said Yellow Door Choir member Dianne Urhammer. “She had some pretty formidable thoughts and did a few super matters with us. … She took us to places we would no longer have dared to go otherwise.”

Stubley labored with numerous different song organizations which include the Massey Singers, Bach Festival Orchestra, the Molinari String Quartet and the Canadian Opera Chorus.

“Eleanor had extraordinarily expressive palms,” track critic Arthur Kaptainis stated. “I assume the attention of a lot of innovative electricity in her fingers explains her achievement as a conductor.”

Those fingers had been rendered in a sculpture through visual artist Joël Prévost as part of an interdisciplinary overall performance in 2013. The event was a part of Stubley’s multimedia project Moving Words, Moving Hands, exploring the duality of her palms as each a pupil and a musician.

Kaptainis was equally inspired by way of Stubley’s educational pastimes, her pioneering interdisciplinary tasks, and her ongoing tries to concretize the ineffable.

“It became herbal to consider Eleanor’s success as heroic,” he stated, “but to me, her intellect becomes extraordinary in absolute phrases. That mind changed into anchored with the aid of scholarship and fired by using a creative spirit. I actually have by no means acknowledged a greater profoundly musical character.”

Music is one of the greatest creations of human kind in the course of history. It is creativity in a pure

and undiluted form and format. Music plays a vital role in our daily life. It is a way of expressing our feelings and emotions. Music is a way to escape life, which gives us relief in pain and helps us to reduce the stress of the daily routine. It helps us to calm down, an even excites us in the moment of joy. Moreover, it enriches the mind and gives us self-confidence.

Music surrounds our lives at different moments of lives, whether we hear it on the radio, on television, from our car and home stereos. Different kinds of music are appropriate for different occasions. We come across it in the mellifluous tunes of a classical concert or in the devotional strains of a bhajan, the wedding band, or the reaper in the fields breaking into song to express the joys of life. Even warbling in the bathroom gives us a happy start to the day. Music has a very powerful therapeutic effect on the human psyche. It has always been part of our association with specific emotions, and those emotions themselves have given rise to great music.

The origins of Indian music can be traced back to the chanting of the Sama Veda nearly 4,000 years ago. The primacy of the voice and the association of musical sound with prayer were thus established early in the history of Indian music. Today, music is available to us in different forms and the choice of music varies from person to person just as the reading choices vary from one another. There is folk music, classical music, devotional music, instrumental, jazz, rock music, pop music, Hindi movie songs and much more.

[itsworn]

HUMONGOUS Gallery Of Mopar Readers Rides!

The results are in and the photos sent in by Mopar Muscle readers around the world are awesome. From the get-go, we got piles of packages of pristine Pentastars and at times we thought the deluge would never end. When the June 17, 2017 deadline finally arrived, we had amassed well over 100 entries, proving that at the end of the day, print magazines still rule, and getting on the newsstand trumps being buried in a Facebook feed any day. Disagree? Next time you go to a show, see how many cars display posters with magazine stories of their car in print.

If you sent in pix of your pride and joy and followed our simple guidelines, there’s a 98 percent chance your car made it into the story. That said, we had to make some tough decisions at times, such as limiting the number of cars submitted per reader to just two. (Yes, we know some of you are prodigious collectors!) There were also technical reasons some didn’t get in, like you forgot to hit the “burn” button on your cd, or you forgot to submit a tech sheet with a signed affidavit attesting you were the photographer. (And while we’re at it, at least one of you doesn’t know which way you want to spell your own name.) One person even sent in their entry two weeks after the deadline. Sorry pal! You had over five months to get it together!

Some of the images are truly breathtaking, making it hard to pick the best. What we noticed is that some of you are quite adept at expressing the shape, stance, and personality of your Mopars. This is not uncommon. You may have drawn Mopars as a bored kid sitting in math class, or you may have spent hundreds of hours smoothing body panels for paint—the fact is, you know the lines that drive you crazy, and you found a way to succinctly capture that. Thanks for taking the time to show us—through your eyes—what you see when you look at your machine.

In the end though, we had to go with the amazing work of 40-year-old Brian Turney (San Diego, CA), who knocked us over with pix of his 2006 Dodge Magnum SRT8. Brian has apparently been paying rapt attention to some of the best automotive photographers on the planet, as he combined his eye for detail, composition, and lighting with competencies in lensmanship and photo illustration. Congratulations to Brian on a job well done. We hope he enjoys his grand prize of $800 worth of Auto Meter Custom Shop gauges!

Grand Prize: Auto Meter Custom Shop Gauges

Until recently, only the most lavishly equipped machines on the show car circuit had one-off instrumentation. Then Auto Meter came up with a great idea: set up a custom shop for gauges so that anybody could get exactly what they want. The Auto Meter Custom Shop lets customers design their own gauges with unique color faces, ticking, pointers, cover glass, fonts, bezels, and lighting. If it’s part of a gauge, the Auto Meter Custom Shop can do it for you. After logging on to the Auto Meter Custom Shop website, download the Custom Shop configurator, and start picking out your gauges with all the features you want. As you build your dream gauge package, the gauges take shape right on the screen. You can try out several different designs, save them for future reference, or compare them. You can even print them out and try them in your car before ordering. And all while you’re building your virtual gauges, the cost is updated and displayed with every revision. You’ll also be quite surprised how affordable it is; when compared to a standard set of catalog gauges, it’s only a few extra bucks. Once you order them, they’ll show up at your door in a beautiful handcrafted wood box. They look so nice, you won’t even want to put them in your car!

WINNER!

2006 Dodge Magnum SRT8 | Brian Turney; San Diego, CA “Pam The Demon Wagon” is the name Brian Turney—an IT manager from San Diego—has given to his 2006 Dodge Magnum SRT8. Brian has been a Mopar guy ever since he was four months old, which coincides with his parents buying a new 1977 Dodge Aspen station wagon. That car would later accompany him to college almost two decades later. His current car, the SRT8 Magnum, is the Aspen wagon’s spiritual incarnation. Brian writes: “In 2014, I was driving down the Coast Highway in San Diego and I ended up behind a Dodge Magnum SRT8. Memories of my Aspen wagon came back to me. I decided it was time to get another wagon and started shopping for one. I found one on Auto Trader being sold by a private seller. During the test drive, I was hooked. After coming to an agreement on price, I took one last look at her in the garage as I walked away. That’s when I saw the license plate frame, which said ‘Kimi’s Hemi.’ This was the exact car I had seen a few weeks prior on the Coast Highway! It was meant to be.” Brian has kept the 425hp 6.1L Hemi all stock, except for a Borla exhaust.

On the photography side of things, Brian is a bit of a self-professed nerd. Besides driving his SRT8, Brian loves photography, and has put his Canon 5D Mark II and L-Series zoom lens to good use. On the post side, Brian uses Adobe Photoshop and Lightroom to amp up the emotion and deepen the mystery. We would put his photography and Photoshop chops on par with our best contributors—our only gripe (and it’s a small one) being that he needs to increase his depth of field and lower the ISO (to reduce noise) just a tad.

RUNNER UP 1970 Dodge Charger R/T | Kevin Quirk | Netcong, NJ

RUNNER UP 1966 Dodge Coronet 500 | Alexis Piantieri | Northridge, CA

RUNNER UP 1968 Plymouth Barracuda | John Byler | Blue Springs, MO

RUNNER UP 1963 Plymouth Sport Fury | Russ Hess | Port Orange, FL

2015 Dodge Challenger | Duane Springer | Rowland Heights, CA

1977 Chrysler Cordoba | Colin Valentim | Logan Lake, British Columbia

1978 Chrysler LeBaron | Colin Valentim | Logan Lake; British Columbia

1973 Dodge Challenger | Randy Wynn | Boulder City, NV

1971 Dodge Power Wagon | Mark J. Polk | Harrells, NC

2009 Dodge Challenger R/T | Wayne R. Boyd | Little Egg Harbor Twsp., NJ

1968 Plymouth Road Runner | Tony Mannella | Petaluma, CA

1968 Plymouth Custom Suburban | Mark Childs | Tigard, OR

1971 Plymouth Duster | Steve Nitti | Scandia, MN

1973 Plymouth Duster | Todd Shaw | Mckinleyville, CA

1970 Plymouth Road Runner | Tom Papez | West Bend, WI

1965 Dodge Dart GT Convertible | Mark Thiltgen | Bloomington, MN

1965 Plymouth Belvedere II Convertible | Timothy Seymore | Cresson, PA

1962 Plymouth Fury | John Ingalls | Wellston, OH

1972 Dodge Demon | Rick Buck | Maquoketa, LA

1966 Dodge Charger | Cameron D. Moore | Auburn, IN

1967 Dodge Dart GT | Shannon Hebert | Dickinson; TX

1967 Plymouth Hemi GTX | Kaitlyn Blanc | Culpeper, VA

1965 Plymouth Barracuda | Wayne Briere | Cameron, Ontario

2015 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat | John Richmond | Dorado Hills, CA

1973 Dodge Charger Rallye | Thomas Pedergnana | Evergreen Park, IL

1969 Dodge Coronet | Tom Muellenbach | Malone, WI

1962 Dodge Dart | Michael A. Paipal | Oakdale, MN

1967 Dodge Charger | John Blaesi | Ochelata, OK

1967 Plymouth GTX | Dennis Lauver | Harrisburg, PA

1970 Plymouth ’Cuda | Dennis Lauver | Harrisburg, PA

1990 Dodge Dayton RWD Conversion | Tom Allard | Fayetteville, NC

1969 Dodge Dart | Derek Daniels | Tucson, AZ

1969 Dodge Dart Swinger | Rick Jones | Victoria, TX

1971 Plymouth ’Cuda | Jeff Duckworth | Derby, KS

1965 Plymouth Belvedere I | Bob Macaluso | Webster, NY

1976 Chrysler Cordoba | Matt Johnson | Vancouver, WA

1965 Plymouth Satellite | Paul Kinzer | Louisville, KY

1970 Dodge Charger R/T | Don Leskovar | Butte, MT

1970 Dodge Coronet Super Bee | Randy Rohde | LaVernia, TX

1965 Plymouth Belvedere II | Nick Godat | Hermann, MO

1970 Plymouth Road Runner | Darren Dearth | Weymouth, MA

1970 Plymouth Road Runner | Rick Tetrault | Grande Pointe, Ontario

1987 Dodge W150 Power Wagon | Marlin Stenger | Brookville, IN

1980 Dodge Mirada | Kevin Bollinger | Lebanon, PA

1969 Dodge Dart | Roger Fossett | Fort Worth, TX

1968 Dodge Coronet | Chris Krull | Vandalia, OH

1966 Plymouth Belvedere II | Frank Pavia | Webster, NY

2016 Dodge Challenger R/T | Randy Tucker | Spokane, WA

1978 Dodge D150 Warlock | Baron Leap | Hyndman, PA

1971 Plymouth Barracuda | Charles Morris | Richardson, TX

1970 Dodge Challenger SE | Glenn Heimbigner | Liberty Hill, TX

2016 Dodge Challenger Scat Pack | Kurt Schacher | Stockton, CA

1971 Dodge Charger | Steve Brock | Myrtle Beach, SC

1970 Dodge Charger | Nicholas Ours | Mentor, OH

1965 Dodge Coronet 440 | Randy Durham | Hot Springs, AR

1962 Dodge Polara 500 | Dave Loughner | Greensburg, PA

1968 Chrysler 300 Convertible | Ted Bordvin | Grand Rapids, MI

1967 Dodge Dart GT | Richard Gilbert | Willoughby, OH

1968 Plymouth Barracuda Formula S | Vincent Pattison | Dear, DE

1969 Dodge Coronet Convertible | Paul Kerl | Lorton, VA

1968 Plymouth Belvedere | Eddie Streeter | Crestwood, KY

1969 Plymouth Road Runner | Bob Melhorn | Fisherville, KY

1971 Dodge Challenger R/T | David Roma | Chichester, NH

1968 Plymouth Valiant 100 | Josh Holsopple | Everett, WA

1967 Plymouth Sport Fury Convertible | Steve Goldsmith | Floral Park, NY

1936 Plymouth P2 Coupe | Dean Rawson | Boise, ID

1970 Plymouth Fury Sedan | Gil Haas | Long Valley, NJ

1965 Plymouth Belvedere | William Udey | Port Orange, FL

1967 Plymouth Barracuda | Richard Ott | Santa Maria, CA

1973 Dodge Challenger Rallye | Mike Sanchez | Afton, WY

1968 Plymouth Road Runner | Frank Davis | Hackettstown, NJ

2010 Dodge Challenger R/T | Mike Perrino | Massapequa, NY

1967 Dodge Coronet | John Jadwisiak | Port Clinton, OH

1971 Dodge Charger | Jon Wilson | Atascadero, CA

1970 Plymouth ’Cuda | James Camerden | Colorado Springs, CO

1970 Dodge Challenger R/T | Michael Bollinger | Lebanon, PA

1974 Dodge Challenger | Richard Sheola | Long Valley, NJ

1973 Dodge Charger SE | Jared Reese | Goodsprings, NV

1969 Chrysler Newport Custom | Joseph Calise | Smithtown, NY

1970 Plymouth Barracuda Gran Coupe | Ed Madill | Glendale, AZ

1964 Chrysler 300 | Chuck Jackley | Terre Haute, IN

1971 Dodge Charger | Troy Tadlock | Billings, MT

1967 Plymouth Belvedere | Dwayne Gouw | Red Deer, Alberta

1967 Plymouth Barracuda | Jason Howe | Birdseye, IN

1967 Plymouth Barracuda Formula S | Raschel Adams | Benton, KY

1968 Dodge Dart | Paul Corvino | Deer Field, FL

1965 Plymouth Barracuda | Brian Mosel | Dublin, CA

1974 Plymouth Duster | Randy Kayser | Bosque Farms, NM

1972 Dodge Dart Swinger | Jens Kroeber | Lauchingen, Germany

2015 Dodge Challenger SRT Hellcat | Chad Feyerabend | Williamson, TN

1963 Plymouth Sport Fury | Lyle F. Donahew | Louisville, KY

1971 Plymouth Satellite Sebring | D. Millard-Hurst | Greentown, PA

2012 Dodge Challenger R/T | Joel Dalman | Hudsonville, MI

1969 Dodge Charger R/T | Jerry Klupp | Milwaukee, WI

1969 Plymouth Road Runner | Jack Bowen | Brentwood, CA

1970 Dodge Challenger | Rod Whaley | Melbourne, FL

1974 Dodge W100 Power Wagon | Kurt Hoffman | LaQuinta, CA

1969 Dodge Coronet Super Bee | Gary Michel | Iowa City, IA

2012 Dodge Challenger R/T | Larry Lippert | Walkerton, Ontario

1972 Dodge Charger R/T | Lloyd Rademacher | Portland, MI

1969 Plymouth GTX | Lou Vermette | Victoria, British Columbia

1969 Plymouth Road Runner | John Butler | Eugene, OR

1974 Dodge Charger | Terry Howe | Birdseye, IN

1970 Dodge Challenger Convertible | Herb Doyle | Little Neck, NY

13 Ways To Fail At The Mopar Muscle Photo Contest

From month to month, we typically feature cars that are extraordinary in some manner. Highlighting the best of the breed—whether that’s for customization, speed, rarity, ingenuity, or the perseverance of its owner—is the goal in light of the fact that we typically only have the resources to feature between 24 and 36 cars each year. That means a lot of folks don’t get into the magazine. To level the playing field and give the typical Mopar owner a chance, we’ve created the Photo Contest, which places the emphasis on your photography, not your car-building or income-earning prowess. We’ve lowered the bar so that theoretically at least everybody with decent eyesight and a smartphone can participate. Nevertheless, some find it difficult to hold a cellphone camera level and get the entire car in the shot. To keep guys on the right track, we even provided a list of photo tips to follow when shooting a car for a magazine. Those tips can be found in our original call-out introducing the Photo Contest here [Get Mopar Muscle Magazine Win Auto Meter Gauges]. Naturally, Mopar guys can be a stubborn breed. Who among us hasn’t laughed heartily while tossing out the instructions for installing or assembling an expensive piece of equipment? The same thing happened here. Forthwith, enjoy the failures depicted below, and please don’t take it too personally if you find your photo!

1. Chop the front (or back) of the car off. Heaven forbid you take a few steps backward to get the whole thing in.

2. Cars are like cattle, and are in their element driving through the pasture. Show them grazing on grass.3. Shoot into the sun with harsh back lighting and plenty of lens flare.

3. Don’t give the subject visual room to breathe. Crop the photo right to the edge.

4. Make large, strange objects grow out of the roof of the car. Helicopters, tanks, totem poles, flags—let ’em know Armageddon is coming!

5. Don’t wipe the pocket lint and sweat off your cellphone camera’s lens before you shoot. That would take too much time.

6. Looking for a large enough piece of pavement to shoot a car is such a hassle. Just roll it halfway off the road.

7. Turn it into a selfie and get your own shadow in the photo.

8. Tilt the camera at a crazy angle, then crop it so we can’t put the horizon straight again. Because keeping your lunch in your stomach is really overrated.

9. Make all your best shots vertical in the presumption it’s going to be the main cover of the magazine.

10. Drive your car into the swamp, or at least get the tires soggy at the edge. Again, this is a completely natural environment for a Mopar.

11. Crop the photo so flat, it can only be viewed through the rear window of a new Camaro.

12. Destroy a really great photo by setting the windows at weird openings, or leaving the quarter windows up on a convertible.

13. Spend 30 seconds taking your cellphone shots in harsh midday light, then spend half a day triple-wrapping your photo cd in bubble plastic, printing giant 8×10 pix at Staples, assembling your tech sheet and story in a hefty scrapbook, then pack it all carefully in a giant box with half a roll of packing tape.

The post HUMONGOUS Gallery Of Mopar Readers Rides! appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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[aspexportsmouth]

35 & Counting

35 & Counting: Steve Moberly

 In early February we launched ’35 & Counting’, an exhibition and online auction, marking 35 years of supporting emerging artists.

All proceeds of the online auction, launching on Thursday 16 February (5pm), will support our artist residency programme.

To showcase the 29 artworks generously donated, we have asked each of the artists to remind us about their involvement with the gallery and what a residency means to them. 

 Steve Moberly

A painting of space and not so space.

 “There is no likeness only a manufactured, material imposter. It is enough to trick us as we are, perceptively insufficient and unhinged. As does the vibrating flux we call matter till consciousness witnesses. So it resumes its form, both rigid and fluid as to our experience. As if pushed from a tube and poked around with a fury ended stick.”

 Steve Moberly was born in 1972 in Keynsham near Bristol, and now lives and works in Bournemouth. Recent highlights have been exhibiting in ‘John Moores Painting Prize’ 2016, ‘Beers contemporary Visions VII’ shortlist 2017, Aspex ‘Emergency’ group show 2015/16, winner best visual arts event, ‘Bournemouth Emerging Arts Fringe’ 2015 for his solo show ‘Insider Planting’ and ‘Platform’ nominee 2014.

 What does a studio/place to work mean to you?

An essential separation from day to day distractions that permits and facilitates an acute focus on making

 How have funded residencies supported your professional development, and what impact have they had on your work?

A residency I did in Bridport arts centre triggered a new direction for me.

[thecasualalligator]

Rae Hicks - Sometime I Forget That You’re Gone

[visual-thaumaturgy]

Feedback poster

Katie and I created a poster to ask people to leave their feedback about the exhibition on a post-it note.  We thought that by using post-it notes for feedback, this could add to our theme of layering, as hopefully the post-it notes would become layered as more people wrote a review, in a similar way to the post-it note feedback at the John Moores Painting Prize 2014.

[professional-dilettante]

'Vinculum', Juliette Losq From the short list for the John Moores Painting Prize 2014.

I am so obsessed with this painting at the moment. Photorealism in traditional media never fails to blow my mind. 

[newyorktheater]

(l-r) Tony Shalhoub and Katrina Lenk in The Band’s Visit

Jitney

Sweeney Todd

Michelle Wilson and Johanna Day

For all the Broadway box office records set in 2017, the year in New York theater felt tentative, in transition, as if both theater artists and audiences were trying to figure out how to deal with the changed, and charged, political landscape. Some shows offered the escapist route, like Hello, Dolly with Bette Midler or SpongeBob SquarePants; these crowd pleasers generally didn’t please me enough to include in my top ten. Other shows went in the opposite direction, offering some form of social or political engagement. With one exception (see below), the less satisfying of these dealt directly with politics or political activism in the narrow sense (The Parisian Woman or Michael Moore’s The Terms of My Surrender) or previewed a political apocalypse (1984.) Many of my favorites of 2017 paint a realistic picture of people fighting against a sense of hopelessness; but in telling their stories, the shows paradoxically provide us with a sense of hope – and sometimes a blueprint for action. Theater at its best can function as both a place of refuge and a resource.

The choices below are personal favorites; the ranking is somewhat arbitrary.

  1. The Band’s Visit

  The plot of this delicate adaptation of an indie Israeli film by Eran Kolirin hardly seems the stuff of Broadway musicals: An Egyptian police band gets lost on its way to performing at an Arab cultural center in Israel, and winds up spending a single night in an isolated desert town; one of the best songs is “Welcome to Nowhere.” But this show, which transferred this year from Off-Broadway, hits the spot thanks to David Yazbek’s exquisite Middle Eastern score and delicious lyrics, a spot-on cast led by the incomparable Tony Shalhoub and Katrina Lenk, and a book by Itamar Moses that’s both doleful and droll. We fall in love with the characters, almost all of whom harbor an underlying sadness.

  2. Jitney

  “Jitney” was the last play to make it to Broadway from August Wilson’s celebrated 10-play American Century cycle, 11 years after his death. In Wilson’s 1979 play, which takes place in 1977 in a gypsy cab station in the Hill District of Pittsburgh, we get to know the drivers, their passengers, and their family members. Some feel trapped; some, defeated. But each has a story to tell, and a full life of faults and wisdom and talents that Wilson presents with humor and empathy.  The production directed by Ruben Santiago-Hudson, presented ensemble acting at its best.

    3.  Sweeney Todd

The Tooting Arts Club’s production of Stephen Sondheim and Hugh Wheeler’s glorious murderous musical began in 2014 in Harrington’s, one of London’s oldest working pie shops, and made the trans-Atlantic voyage intact, setting up in an impressively detailed replica of Harrington’s constructed at Barrow Street theater. I hesitate to include this Sweeney Todd in my top ten of 2017, because I loved the original cast, but made the mistake of seeing it a second time, with its current replacement cast, and didn’t love it anywhere near as much. Still, you can’t take away my memory of the first eight-member cast, especially Jeremy Secomb as Sweeney Todd, Sibohan McArthy as Mrs. Lovett and Matt Doyle as Anthony Hope, as they performed atop the tables inches from the audience, or sat alongside us on the benches

  4. Burning Doors

“Burning Doors” was Belarus Free Theatre’s latest arresting play about state-sponsored injustice, and the art of resisting it. A troupe banned in their home country, but continuing to perform there underground, Belarus Free Theatre mixes activism and artistry in a way that frankly puts to shame most American theater’s efforts at doing the same. As with their previous work, “Burning Doors” told real stories, naming names – this time including the story of the activism and repression of the Russian activist performance artists Pussy Riot, re-enacted by a prominent member of Pussy Riot, Maria Alyokhina — presented with inventive and athletic theatricality.

  5. Indecent

A behind-the-scenes look at an all-Jewish, lesbian-themed drama at the dawn of the 20th century that led to a criminal prosecution, Indecent is both a fascinating history lesson written by Pulitzer-winning Paul Vogel, and a cleverly staged entertainment directed by Rebecca Taichman.

This was in my top 10 last year as well, when it debuted Off-Broadway. It transferred to Broadway in April of this year – marking Vogel’s Broadway debut – but lasted only four months. I suspect this haunting play will live on.

6. Sweat

Like Grapes of Wrath, Lynn Nottage’s “Sweat” offers a devastating look at social and economic breakdown, told not with rants or statistics, but through a riveting tale about good people in a bad situation. The characters in “Sweat” hang out in a bar in Reading, Pennsylvania, which 2010 U.S. Census data identified as the poorest city in America.

Everything clicked for me in the Public Theater production of this play in 2016, and I listed it in the top 10 of 2016. As with Indecent, its transfer to Broadway in the Spring apparently didn’t click with the theater-buying public; it closed after some three months, even though it had won the 2017 Pulitzer Prize for Drama.

It’s worth noting that Nottage, who spent much time doing research in Reading, continues her presence in that city, developing a site-specific installation in  the abandoned Reading Railroad Station, entitled “Out/Let,” to engage the diverse and divided communities of the city in dialogue,

  7. Latin History for Morons

The ushers are wearing “Ghetto Scholar” sweatshirts in Studio 54, where for his sixth solo show John Leguizamo stands in front of a blackboard and lectures on the history, politics, culture and demographics of the 70 million Latinos in the United States. But Leguizamo is too much of an anarchic comic spirit, master mimic and candid memoirist to be merely erudite. “Latin History for Morons” exists on three planes – fascinating nuggets of actual history mixed with political commentary, eclectic comic shtick, and a funny, tender story of the performer’s efforts to connect with his family. “Latin History for Morons” suggests a potentially new and exciting direction in Leguizamo’s theatrical work.

8. A Doll’s House, Part 2

Laurie Metcal, Jayne Houdyshell, Condola Rashad, Chris Cooper in A Doll’s House, Part 2

A quartet of fine performances help elevated this play by Lucas Hnath to something more than just a sequel to Ibsen’s drama: Laurie Metcalf was the fifteenth actress since 1889 to portray Nora Helmer on Broadway, who slams the door on her husband and three children. But she was the first Nora to knock on that door 15 years later. The play is clever, and surprisingly amusing, but it is also thought-provoking: The characters’ conversations amount to a spirited and intriguing debate about the institution of marriage. Would it be a stretch to argue that, opening six months before the birth of the #metoo movement, the depiction of the unequal, unfair relationship between the sexes wound up being prescient?

9. K-Pop

Katie Lee Hill, Deborah Kim, Sun Hye Park, Julia Abueva, Cathy Ang, Susannah Kim

K-Pop was wildly (and loudly) entertaining, offering the audience a pretend-tour of a Korean pop music factory, which included mini-concerts at the beginning and the end, and energetic performances throughout, by credible and incredibly talented Korean pop stars, though wholly created (a la The Monkees) just for this show. If the dramatic scenes in K-Pop could have been better, I pick the show for my top 10 to represent the increasing number and variety of immersive theater, which has from a trend into a genre, which continues to innovate.

10.Antigone in Ferguson and Oedipus El Rey

I save these two for last, but in some ways, they are the most exciting of the theater I saw in 2017. Both productions adapted Greek tragedies written by Sophocles 2,500 years old in ways that make them more timely and relevant than almost anything else on any stage anywhere.

Oedipus El Rey was Luis Alfaro’s modern adaptation of Oedipus Rex, set in the Chicano barrio of South Central Los Angeles. It was an intense, visceral production, brutal and direct, but also graphically sensuous and oddly tender. It made a startling connection between how the Ancient Greeks viewed their fate and many Latinos view their future.

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“Antigone in Ferguson” was performed by stars of the HBO TV series “The Wire,” backed by a gospel chorus made up of residents and activists from Ferguson, Missouri, some of whom knew Michael Brown, the teenager killed by a police officer in 2014. The production was an adaptation written and produced by Bryan Doerries, the artistic director of Theater of War Productions, a theater company he launched eight years ago to use plays to help speciic audiences grapple with trauma. Originally presented in Ferguson, “Antigone in Ferguson” was presented for one night only  in basketball court in the shadow of the Howard public housing projects in Brownsville, Brooklyn, to an audience touched by violence. The conversation afterward was vibrant, intelligent and moving. It gave me a new understanding of the tragedy – and of theater.

  Top 10 New York Theater in 2017 To Be Grateful For For all the Broadway box office records set in 2017, the year in New York theater felt tentative, in transition, as if both theater artists and audiences were trying to figure out how to deal with the changed, and charged, political landscape.

[thecasualalligator]

Robin Dixon - Estuary Bridge

[thecasualalligator]

Charlotte Hopkins Hall - A Private Space