#junglescape

[longlistshort]

Lucas Arruda’s paintings for Assum Preto at David Zwirner capture moments in time that beckon you to look closer. On his Instagram is a photo of Agnes Varda with a quote that reads “If we opened people up, we’d find landscapes”. Standing in front of these paintings allows the viewer to contemplate Arruda’s inner landscapes as well as their own.

From the gallery-

“Assum Preto” continues Arruda’s investigations into the painted medium and its ability to serve as an evocative and transcendental conduit for the unveiling of light, memory, and emotion. The exhibition is titled after a species of blackbird native to eastern Brazil—whose mundane birdsong, according to local tradition, is said to transform into a beautiful melody if the bird’s eyesight has been shaded. As the artist explains: “It’s as if, when the bird has everything in sight, and is full of information and distractions, it can’t organize itself. Only when it’s no longer surrounded by images, can it organize everything in its head. In a certain way, I think this has to do with light.… For me, light is related to remembering.” In the works on view, light takes on a multitude of forms, surfacing in various physical, ideographical, and affective manifestations.

The exhibition is primarily composed of new paintings from Arruda’s established body of seascapes, junglescapes, and abstract monochromes; together, these works bring about a complex understanding of landscape as a product of a state of mind rather than a depiction of reality. The works on view are notable for their fogged colors—exploring subtle but intricate variations within a single hue—that range from dense reds to ethereal and almost intangible veils of white. For the monochromes, Arruda adds layer upon layer of pigment to pre-dyed raw canvas in an attempt to replicate its tinted hue in paint, methodically returning to each work for weeks or even months on end until the composition slowly builds into a hazy and ever-shifting wall of light.

The seascapes and junglescapes, on the other hand, are made on prepared surfaces using a reductive process whereby the impression of light is attained through the subtraction of pigment. Devoid of specific reference points, Arruda’s seascapes are all grounded only by their thin horizon lines. Above and below this border, charged atmospheric conditions engage further dichotomies between sky and earth, the nebulous and the solid, the psychic and the visual. The jungles, by contrast, dwell in verticality; their genesis lies in the artist’s formative memories of the verdant foliage outside his bedroom window. For Arruda, the quasi-mythical scenery of the Brazilian rainforest coaxes out tensions between reality and human imagination. Towering and impenetrable, yet containing a sense of the infinite that surpasses its physical bounds, in Arruda’s work the jungle becomes a site of power and enlightenment as much as it is a harbinger of darkness and uncertainty—a place where one can be lost to the world and find themselves again.

As curator Lilian Tone writes: “[Arruda’s] paintings suggest a tenuous, fugitive, and mediated relation to nature as that which informs an aesthetic language. As viewers, we tend to make sense of the slightest mark within an open field, to immediately perceive a horizontal line as a horizon line, to create clouds from a change in direction of brushstrokes, and to perceive ground from a thick impasto. Arruda makes paintings we experience as at once beyond abstraction and yet before representation.”

In “Assum Preto”, Arruda debuts a group of small-scale, semi-abstract paintings that are constructed from a lexicon of symbolist motifs, marking a new turn in the artist’s practice while also harking back to the planar and architectonic forms that characterize his early oeuvre. In these works, he takes visual cues from the geometries and rich colorscapes found in the Brazilian modernist paintings of José Pancetti (1902–1958), Alfredo Volpi (1896–1988), and Amadeo Luciano Lorenzato (1900–1995). Arruda handles his brush lightly but with intense control, creating clouds and thickets of markings that delicately carve through the painted surface of the canvas in a manner recalling the textures and physicality of intaglio printmaking processes. Potent and open-ended, the symbols and motifs that populate these compositions—darkly brewing storms, empty canoes, and strings of outdoor lights—visualize the themes that permeate Arruda’s body of paintings, including the artist’s own dreams, experiences, and intuitions, through the lens of the sacred and the surreal. The images shift in and out of focus, as if hovering at the precipice of memory itself.

Additionally featured is an example of Arruda’s site-specific light installations. These works comprise a pair of vertically balanced rectangles rendered directly on the gallery wall—the top one created through a light projection and the bottom one physically applied with paint—thus translating the genre of landscape into its most elemental form.

This exhibition closes 6/15/24.

[ofradiances]

When his eyes opened and he came to, he found the sky above him in tumult, swirling in and out of the jeweled azure of the junglescape. He noticed that he has been moved - either by magic, or the grace of his teammates, though he suspected the former - and if he just canted his head so, he could see the blue-haired man is at his side.

Berkut knew that he had fallen as well, knew from the dour look on his face, the pinch in his brow, that he hadn't been able to play hero, hadn't managed to save the day. Did he have to watch as the others fell, or did he give himself for them? A loss, either way, was a loss.

Rising to his feet - though healed, this did not prevent the tug and pop of joints proclaiming their unhappiness - Berkut dusted himself off, and peered down at the other man, contemplative for a moment.

Then, he extended a hand, tugging Ike to his feet; "Your perseverance is extraordinary. You must be a right beast with a proper weapon in your hand. I should like to see it one day, if your employer grants you the permission to play with the finer toys."

Ike had been angry when he went down but now he was just tired. He regained consciousness slowly but took the opportunity to keep his eyes closed and catch his breath.

Embarrassing, to let himself be got like that. Playing it back though there wasn't really anything he could have done differently. The creature was tough. They...weren't good enough to best it. They'd try again in the following round. He hoped the kid and the girl hadn't lost too much motivation. Sometimes in training you got your ass kicked around a little. It usually made you stronger in the end.

Getting knocked down was the make-or-break. The point was getting up. Speaking of....

He took the offered hand and used it as leverage to pull himself back up. Stretching, he checked himself for injuries and found nothing fatal. Sore though. He probably wouldn't be fighting at his best come next round but...that was okay.

A smile formed at the words offered. "You weren't bad yourself at first. I look forward to a better performance from you next time."

He stretched. Letting his joints pop a little. "Maybe I'll give you a better show when I can use a sword."

[unprocione]

❛ hard to remember what's reality, and what i've dreamt up these days. ❜ leon confesses matter-of-fact, breaking his gaze from her with a slight wince the moment the words leave his lips unintended - something that would likely get him discharged from service if he were anyone else. ❛ that makes it sound worse than it actually is. i know my own mind, of course, it's just that so much has happened since raccoon city. it all feels so long ago, and like it happened yesterday, at the same time. ❜

presented with the truth of the herculean task he's assigned himself, there's an abrupt light cast on justifications he's made to be in the position he occupies center-stage, rewriting his testimony, his exact motivations, to bend and flex to support a role in whatever new tragedy will keep him distracted from that ever-present hungry dark eating away at him from the inside. there is something to the act of self-immolation by blaze of glory that sates an undiscussed personal guilt for leon, the only end that will satisfy that critical emptiness inside him. playing heroics vignettes the unsightly effects on the world outside his dichromatic lens that following along at the the heels of his handlers ever-so-dutifully has wrought, and renders in blinding saturation the good that has come of being all bite, no bark.

it is only fitting for her to be the one to pull at the threads that make up his fabrications, sewn with just enough truth to be compelling, just enough lie to be palatable.

the specter of operation javier refuses to rest, even with the time that spans between now and then, leon can feel the humid breath of the tropic wilds on the back of his neck at a mere passing mention. her description isn't off by any regard, but it still has leon looking at her in indignant distress, mortified, bristling particularly at her stress on eager. ❛ hey! i wasn't eager, i was earnest, there's a very clear difference! ❜ after sixty-three weeks of special operations training to become a fully fledged member of the anti-umbrella pursuit and investigation taskforce, after being confined to the slate grey compound, being released into the emerald south american junglescape had stunned him like any flashbang. it was too loud. it was too bright. it was too beautiful to comprehend, only taken out of his fervent trance with a flash of steel and split scale.

after operation javier, there was much debate about what to do with manuela hidalgo, her presence an unexpected and volatile souvenir from the highly-classified military operation. it seemed only reasonable in the end that she would be placed in the care of derek c. simmons, both due to her medical conditions and the confidentiality concerns. over the years, it wasn't that leon had forgotten about manuela by any means - out of sight was certainly not out of mind. in fact, that was the problem. the more time that passed, the more distance that was put between operation javier and manuela's identity, the less leon recognized her. the last thing leon wanted was for the shade of operation javier to constantly tower over her, but as manuela's life evolved and her wounds scabbed over, leon would doggedly pick at his own until they reopened. a visit twice a week when allowed, slowly evolved into a visit once a week and a phonecall, to two phonecalls, to an occasional phonecall a month, until around the point of ashley graham's abduction. after returning from spain, his encounter with jack krauser still fresh on his mind, leon had neglected any form of contact until the next holiday, sending a card stamped with the standard well wishes and little else, from there becoming only a ghost in her life, a name heard in passing. leon wasn't blind to his own faults, and as much as he knew that phasing out of manuela's life without explanation was cruel, serving as a continuing reminder of the worst day of her life with his own viciously irregardless self-sabotage was crueler - easier to cowardly distance himself from manuela and any paternal instincts over her, than confront and kick his myriad of bad habits.

❛ i don't think i could keep up with more than one life, would only end up tangling everything together. being one guy on a thursday who i was supposed to be on a wednesday, you know. ❜ humor lets him recollect himself from where he had been knocked mentally sprawling, it always has. tension beads away from his shoulders, ebbs from the taut musculature of his back outlined by grey lycra. leon never slouches these days, not even while on the brink of exhaustion. ❛ for someone who apparently has all the answers, christ, you almost sound worried. ❜ concern bleeds into his words, an attempt to be blithe disintegrates instantly when played against his more protective instincts, and has leon meeting her eyes searchingly with an incline of his head, bending ever so slightly at the waist to look into her face straight-on.

❛ this is about more to you than me just getting myself killed, isn't it? what are you talking about, ada? companies worse than umbrella, men with insidious plans hiding in the shadows waiting for us to clear the way, that's all pretty specific, more than a ghost story. ❜

the moment he releases her hand she feels the cold bite at her warm skin, a chill of desolation and abandonment that has become something closer than second nature but so too is there relief. no more is his thumbs sat upon the pulse of her inner wrists, a poor man's lie detector test in a heartbeat trapped in the jade green veins that snake their way along her delicate wrists. she is not good around people for extended periods of time-- no, not even him. she stays in character, of course, the coquettish feline persona that is attached to this name and this stab of scarlet, but it makes it far more difficult when a good man is attempting to crack his ribcage open and show her the flowers he has grown for her in his lungs. all she knows is thorns and thistles. cyanide and stilettos.

" javier was a long time ago. " two dozen dead little girls with missing organs and a sample of a virus that should never have escaped the icy cage of the polar south of their planet. all for the sake for a cartel leader's daughter, now locked away from the world by a man just as bad, worse by many accounts. does he visit her, an idle thought that means nothing but would say something about how leon views those he saves. she never looks back, the moment a different persona is slipped on like a new wardrobe, she no longer thinks of those she has helped or harmed. every time she puts away the butterfly wings the cosmic balance is reset. nothing carries over, not even him. " you were very young. impressionable. eager. " finally let out of his cage, he was so desperate to do whatever he had to, to prove he was still worthy of the title ' hero '.

" i would have been fine on my own. " she slips from his grasp completely, monolids dipping slowly before her attention is pulled off on some distant point. " i've many lives, you're stuck with the one. " he had cut her down from osmund's rope, a bit of bait to lure him out once the president's daughter stopped answering his call. she did not think it would work, she did not want it to. ada wong was meant to be the weakness of leon, of course by design but a vulnerability to exploit by no one but herself. just as easily has she ended up on the sacrificial stone table, awakening to the incessant chanting of parasitized cultists planning to slaughter her. her reflexes saving her from executioner's ax moments before she was beheaded, only a thin scar on her thigh left as a reminder. a story he will never hear but tied to their time in spain.

" i've no idea what you're talking about, leon. " her head cants a little in his direction. " you're never going to make a difference like this. cut off the head of the snake all you want but there will be a hundred more. a thousand. there are companies worse that umbrella. men with far more insidious plans for this world waiting for the power vacuum that you and your altruistic comrades will open up for them and they won't have to lose a single man or spend a single dollar. "

[yorugami]

Tarot Card ( 2 OF 3 ) commission for @pnoyXP

Thanks for commissioning me!

[epica-fantasia-ilustrada]

[chriskill]

This is another piece that is based on Genndy Tartakovsky’s Primal. I had fun working with an out of the ordinary color scheme.

[calderosea]

With the coming of peace, it allows people time again to enjoy leisurely pursuits. Art appreciation and games return. One noble re-introduces an old deck of cards, each painted with a monster, spell, or trap, to the people of Garreg Mach and the game spreads like wildfire again. Everyone scrambles to dig out their own decks, or gather new ones, and become the most powerful summoner on the continent. Merchants and artists even begin to sell new sets, breathing life into the game for those who had played it the first time, and providing a fresh entry point for newcomers as well. Care for a game? [Grants Authority +1]  (starter for @hresvelged)

"Bet you never seen nothing like this in Brigid." 

The vendor winked at her, and Petra blinked at him in return. His smile faltered, before he scrambled to display a series of cards before her. It wasn't unusual for people to direct comments of these kinds to her, as though every sight and sound in Fodlan was brand new to her, but it was not as though the people of Brigid did not play games. 

She looked at the presented cards with a discerning eye – it was clear to see why the vendor had thought that she would like them, depicted with towering golden brown women or lush junglescapes or prowling feline beasts. This seemed to be what most in Fodlan pictured when they thought of Brigid, if they thought of her at all. 

Petra found she did not mind, at least in this instance. Leaning forward to take in the words on the cards, and piecing together what she could decipher of the rules from this limited information, she felt herself pleased that her people would have such a fearsome reputation, to be compared with such mythical power. She nodded at the vendor, and she allowed him a smile. 

"I will be taking them," she confirmed, digging into her coinpurse, pausing as she noticed the other presence in the shop. 

"Hello Lady Edelgard. Are you also here to be purchasing the Dueling Monsters? It is a game of great skill - " here, she turned to the vendor for confirmation, who nodded, eager for the idea of two sales for the price of one. 

"Would you be liking to play the game with me?" 

amazoness • empress

[arcticpuppy]

Towards the sea from Limon #jungle #palmtrees #guardedcompound #secure #limon #landscapephotography #landscape #landscape_lover #junglescape #bayareaphotographer (at Limón, Costa Rica) https://www.instagram.com/p/CB-EYe0DF89/?igshid=1lf8aad4sx86t

[d2kaizan]

#KaizanRecordsPresents #JungleScape #UtahJazz&#StaminaMC#JapanTour2017 #20170317(Fri)#Tokyo #MCD2 10代からの成長期にBASKETBALL、SKATEBOARD文化からのHIPHOPとの出会いで20代前半から横浜のHIPHOPシーンに傾倒し、2000年代前半、東京のDRUM＆BASSシーンにインスパイアされたのちキャリアをスタート。 これまでに様々なビッグパーティーからコアな日本のDRUM&BASSシーンでMICを握ってきた経験値は現在に至るまでのシーンを数多くナビゲートしてきた。 2007年から主催するJUNGLE SCAPE、そして2008年にLARGE MOUTHとの出会いからKAIZAN RECORDSを創り上げる。これまでにリリースしてきた作品には確実に日本のオリジナルと称されるジャパニーズDRUM&BASS MCとしての足跡を都内を中心に全国に終わることなく今も残し続けている。 https://soundcloud.com/kaizan-records (ヘヴィーシックゼロ - heavysick ZERO)

[clawen-forsurvival]

held on as tightly as you held onto me

Claire goes through the events of Dominion with a secret weighing heavy on her heart.

yes well… here we are. post dominion. life ruined, as we knew it would be. enjoy my brain rot. don’t know how i’ve never written for them before.

CONTAINS JW: DOMINION SPOILERS

There’s a moment. When Blue is looking between her and Owen, there’s a moment.

She’s not used to this, sharing stolen glances with a fucking dinosaur, but she clocks the moment Blue’s eyes go from her face to her stomach.

Before she can truly process it the raptor is gone again and Claire has only herself to carry her secret now.

+

She has a plan to tell him around the fire pit after Maisie has gone to bed. She’ll make him a s’more, snuggle in close, and whisper the words to him.

The thought is cliche, a little cheesy, but she figures some normalcy is needed.

She does not get normalcy.

(When has she ever?)

When Owen comes back and tells her that Maisie is gone she almost throws up.

Instead she swallows back the bile rising in her throat, lets Owen run out the front door, and takes a moment for herself. Her eyes shut and she places one hand against her still taught stomach.

“It’s going to be okay, everything will be okay.”

+

Everything is not okay.

Maisie is gone and they’re on a plane to France for some god forsaken reason.

As she sits, stomach churning with the minor turbulence and anxiety and what she assumes is the beginnings of morning sickness, she’s overcome with the want to tell Owen.

They don’t keep secrets, not anymore.

Not after what they’ve been through.

But this?

Claire’s eyes watch the clouds passing by and she feels Owen’s hand cover hers.

They’re crossing international borders to rescue their pseudo daughter. There will be peril and injuries and near death incidents and…

And dinosaurs.

There will definitely be dinosaurs.

She’s throwing up into the motion sickness bag as visions of a humid junglescape and her nephews and fire cloud her vision.

Owen’s hand is immediately on her back, rubbing small circles as she continues to hurl the meager breakfast she had this morning into the bag.

“It’s okay, we’re gonna find her.”

Claire is thankful, if just for a moment, that Owen doesn’t see through her.

+

The black market scares her.

It’s not the people that scare her, it’s the dinosaurs.

(It’s just the beginning, she will later realize.)

Each time one of them looks at her, turns their head sideways or stares at her a moment too long, she has to fight the urge to jump behind Owen. To whisper to him her secret, to beg him to protect her.

Now is not the time for her to be selfish though, not when Maisie is on the line.

Not when her daughter, very real and larger than a poppy seed, is on the line.

(She makes a deal with herself then. If she is going to bargain her children's lives, Maisie is her first priority.)

She doesn’t vomit until Owen has left with Barry and she has a moment to herself.

She will make it through this trip.

Owen will make it through this trip.

Maisie will make it through this trip.

Her hand splays across her stomach.

You too. You’ll make it too.

+

In the back of the pickup truck, as Kayla navigates them through the city, she prays.

Claire Dearing has never prayed before.

+

She watches Owen drive the motorcycle down the runway and she hopes against all hope that he will be there.

She hopes he will once again hold Maisie to his chest as they laugh around the fire pit.

She hopes he will be there to critique her cooking skills, as he usually does.

She hopes that he will hold their child and rock them to sleep.

When she’s in his arms again, she can’t help

the tears that wet his shirt as he holds them both upright, his lips pressing against her hair.

+

“You have to be the one to get her. You’re her mom.”

The words still Claire, her tears stopping if only for a moment.

Tell him.

She meets Owen's eyes and she almost does it, almost pushes the words out.

I’m pregnant.

She doesn’t know if the words will stop him or push him harder to let her go. Blue against green, the way he looks at her tells her everything she needs to know.

Three years ago he would’ve left it at that. But this was not three years ago.

“I’ll see you again. I love ya.”

He steps back.

She closes her eyes.

Say it!

She opens her eyes, meeting his. He’s confused, waiting for her to go.

Claire isn’t sure if they’ll both survive this, so she takes her chance.

“Owen, I’m pregnant.”

She presses the button.

His blank expression is the last thing she sees.

+

She thinks of Blue as she crawls across the ground, quick and quiet breaths leaving her as she tries not to attract the attention of the dinosaur above her.

Outside the cabin Blue had a look in her eyes that Claire had never seen before. While she wasn’t as in tune with the raptor as Owen, she knew the look meant something, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

Now, she knew she wore the same expression.

Fear. Love. Protectiveness.

She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the baby in her womb would not have anything to worry about.

She wouldn’t let them.

Owen wouldn’t let them.

She thinks of Owen as she sinks beneath the water, one hand pressed to her stomach as she wishes for his presence.

+

She’s going to die.

These damn giant lizards are going to kill her.

Her mind flashes back to Simon Masrani and the day she accepted his job offer to help open a brand new theme park.

While she knows that she wouldn’t take it back, her family having haphazardly been pieced together because of her job at Jurassic World, she wonders if she would feel at peace had she not accepted.

She wonders how many times she would’ve feared for her life had she not accepted.

(It’s a low number, much lower than her current count.)

There’s a squeal and she can no longer feel the hot breath of the dinosaur above her.

She doesn’t think she even opens her eyes as she throws herself into Owens arms, sobs escaping her.

“It’s okay, I got you.”

His hand slips to her stomach and she lets out another sob as he supports her full weight.

“I got you.”

The words are heavier now.

+

They don’t have time to talk, they’re still in a forest full of fucking dinosaurs and their daughter is still missing.

She fights back the urge to vomit.

+

Her and Owen watch the car, a sense of dread and urgency floating between them. They don’t know if the occupants are friends or foes.

Then she hears the screams.

The screams she hears past midnight that tell her that Maisie has woken up from another nightmare.

(She wonders if hers sound the same, but never dates to ask Owen.)

She’s running towards the vehicle before Owen can stop her, his protests sounding out behind her.

And then Maisie is in her arms.

Claire can’t tell you the last time she cried this much.

(Isla Nublar, 2015)

She holds Maisie to her chest as Owen wraps both of them in his arms. For a second she can forget about the dinosaurs and the fire and the anxiety coursing through her chest.

For a second, things are normal.

+

She can see the panic in Owen's eyes as she gets dragged out the broken window.

She’s seen a variety of scared, worried, and shocked expressions on his face through the years.

Not this.

This is terrified.

This is survival mode.

She lets him hold her close when he finally frees her.

+

He barely lets her leave his sight. In fact his eyes haven’t left her since they reunited.

They haven’t had a chance to talk but his eyes say everything.

He doesn’t want her to go alone, not when there are so many threats looming above them.

Not when she carries their secret beneath her trembling hands.

It’s only when Doctor Sattler volunteers to come with her that his shoulders relax.

Before she leaves he pulls her in, lips pressed to her forehead. He takes a deep breath and she knows their embrace is more for his benefit than hers.

“Come back.”

We won’t survive if you don’t.

He meets her eyes.

“I always come back.”

I’m not leaving you. Either of you. All three of you. Ever.

+

She doesn’t mean to tell Ellie.

And, she reasons, she never did actually tell her.

As soon as the locusts begin to swarm Claire’s hand falls to her stomach and she drops to the floor. She watches Ellie fight off the locusts and is thankful to her.

They get the ADS online and exit the room.

Claire vomits in the hallway.

“You’ve got nerves of steel.”

Claire’s eyes dart up to Ellie from her bent over position.

“I don’t think my heart could take being in your position. Not here.”

Not in this hell scape.

+

The door to the helicopter closes shut and Claire feels herself breathe, well and truly breathe, for the first time in almost three days.

Maisie is in front of her and Owen is to her left.

Her family is safe.

Owen’s arm wraps around her shoulders and he pulls her against his chest.

His hand wanders down, pressing against where their child lay completely unaware of the chaos they’d just survived.

+

“Claire, what in the damn hell were you thinking?”

They’ve been home for two hours, Maisie collapsing into bed from exhaustion not even ten minutes earlier. Her snores echo through the small cabin as Claire sets about making a cup of tea.

“Owen please-“

“You could’ve died! You went out there, knowing you were-“

“I did what I had to do!”

“You put yourself at risk and that baby and-“

“I had to save our daughter! I couldn’t not save her!”

They stand across from each other, both with watery eyes. Claire’s chest is heaving and Owen is trying his best to keep his tears from falling.

“I couldn’t let you go alone, I couldn’t just… I couldn’t just sit here. So I’m sorry but-“

He doesn’t let her finish, his arms around her shoulders as she sobs. She thinks he knows that this was harder on her than him, knows that the past few days have worn her down.

So while his heart might be hurting, he pushes it aside to hold her and help her own bleeding heart.

“You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

+

Liam James Grady’s first breath entails a scream that would envy any velociraptor late the next spring.

Claire could almost laugh if Owen wasn’t clicking his tongue and moving his hands to attract the newborns attention.

“C’mon Claire, how different is a baby and a velociraptor anyways?”

PART TWO

[clemsfilmdiary]

The Best of March 2021

Best Discovery: Kiss Me Deadly

           Runners Up: Child's Play, Fort Apache the Bronx, Hellzapoppin', Hope and Glory, The Illumination of Jim Woodring, A Private Function, Patty Hearst, The Terminal Man

Best Rewatch: My Neighbor Totoro

           Runners Up: Hair High, Rope

Most Enjoyable Fluff: Torch Song

           Runners Up: Boss Level, Conan the Destroyer, Dear Heart, Fried Green Tomatoes, Kalifornia, A Healthy Place to Die, The Julius House: An Aurora  Teagarden Mystery, Tarzan the Ape Man, The Visitor

Best Male Performance: James Mason in Child's Play

           Runners Up: Beau Bridges and Robert Preston in Child's Play, Glenn Ford in Dear Heart, Anthony Hopkins in The Father, Ralph Meeker in Kiss Me Deadly, Paul Newman in Fort Apache the Bronx, Bill Paxton and Billy Bob Thornton in A Simple Plan, George Segal in The Terminal Man

Best Female Performance: Natasha Richardson in Patty Hearst

           Runners Up: Glenda Jackson in The Music Lovers, Mary Stuart Masterson and Jessica Tandy in Fried Green Tomatoes, Geraldine Page in Dear Heart, Maggie Smith in A Private Function

Best Supporting Performance: Ralph Fiennes in Schindler's List

           Runners Up: Ian Bannen in Hope and Glory, Bridget Fonda in A Simple Plan, Pam Grier in Fort Apache the Bronx, Ving Rhames in Patty Hearst

Most Enjoyable Ham: Joan Crawford in Torch Song

           Runners Up: Bo Derek in Tarzan the Ape Man, Jack Haley and Ethel Merman in Alexander's Ragtime Band, Grace Jones and Arnold Schwarzenegger in Conan the Destroyer, Dylan Neal in A Healthy Place to Die, Brad Pitt in Legends of the Fall, Martha Raye in Hellzapoppin'

Best Mise-en-scène: My Neighbor Totoro

           Runners Up: The Affair, The Balcony, The Boy Friend, Hair High, Kiss Me Deadly, The Music Lovers, Schindler's List, The Visitor, Yes

Best Locations: Hope and Glory

           Runners Up: Fried Green Tomatoes, The Man Who Would Be King, Minari, The Visitor

Best Score: Child's Play (Michael Small)

           Runner Up: Patty Hearst (Scott Johnson)

Best Animated Short: Bimbo's Initiation

           Runners Up: Boy Meets Dog, The Cat's Out, The China Plate

Best Supporting Hunk: Ving Rhames in Patty Hearst

           Runners Up: Gary Basaraba and Richard Riehle in Fried Green Tomatoes, James Russo in Bad Girls, Will Sasso in Boss Level, Steve Strong in Tarzan the Ape Man

Best Leading Hunk: Jim Woodring in The Illumination of Jim Woodring

           Runners Up: Sean Connery in The Man Who Would Be King, Peter Falk in The Balcony, Frank Grillo in Boss Level, Tyler Hynes in Flip That Romance, Ralph Meeker in Kiss Me Deadly, Jim Morrison in When You're Strange, Brad Pitt in Kalifornia, Steve Zahn in Cowboys

Assorted Pleasures:

- Lush junglescapes, green-tinted water in  Tarzan the Ape Man

- Outrageously exuberant dance routine by Whitey's Lindy Hoppers in Hellzapoppin'

- Peter Maxwell Davies' grotesque Jazz-Age fantasy score for Polly's dream sequence in  The Boy Friend

- Muted color palette, cozy hospital interiors, cold cronenbergian sci-fi aesthetic in The Terminal Man

[tsume-awase]

She allows her fan to hide her knowing smile, carefully watching the Ninja before her. " So, what brings you to my humble abode ?" // From Hitei, maybe a what if thing or something !

Humble. Hah. Kamakiri gives the decor a scathing once-over, eyes travelling from the extravagant swaths of rare fabrics to the rose-shaped baubles dangling from above. The whole display feels more like an opulent junglescape than a stage for diplomacy--though he supposes she has more...restrained spaces reserved for formal meetings. Proper decorum for proper company. And he, after all, is quite far from that.

He keeps his face level, despite the scowl that threatens to tug at his lips--making these inquiries instead of Houou himself brings a profound discomfort. It feels a bit...presumptuous to speak for the Maniwa like this.

But Houou is not dispensable--and from the presence he detects from above, looming and watching with predatory intent, there’s a chance this will be a meeting he does not return from. No matter. Kamakiri fixes his gaze on two brilliant blue eyes, and he does not waver.

“You are aware of our alliance with the strategian. It would seem that under the shogunate, we share a mutual goal.”

He could laugh. Politics are so inane--the implication that the two women are even remotely on the same side is sheer idiocy, a farce, but one diplomacy requires he play into.

“I’ve simply been sent to discuss a few...rumors, on the shogunate’s behalf.”

‘Shogunate’ sits bitter and heavy on his tongue. To swear fealty and obedience to the very authority that lay lazy and complicit while the rest of the world crumbled--it is a humiliation unlike anything he has experienced. 

...But one he’ll gladly endure for the Corps, for their village. Ninja have no need for that sort of pride, anyway. 

[squish-sims]

A few days after Gracie had caught up on her rest, she was eager to return back to the Jungle. After the two of them had gotten their supplies ready to travel into the trees, they went off and traveled deeper into the junglescape making quick time back to the waterfall, bathed in the moonlight.

[kiyye]

New chapter of Common Tongue is up!

The boys find themselves in a Triassic junglescape. Dirk wants information and there's only one way to get it: trick Jake into kinky plot-exposition.

Check it out on Ao3! This one’s got dinosaurs and plant shenanigans ;D

[luckyavinash-blog]

Kaziranga Jungle Scape #jungle #kaziranga #aasam #junglescape (at Kaziranga National Park)

[parametricarchitecture]

Pedro & Juana launch their 'Hórama Rama', a spiky junglescape at MoMA PS1. @pedroyjuana Thousands of wooden spikes cover scaffolding to form this pavilion that Mexico City studio Pedro & Juana has built to host the MoMA PS1's summer music series. . Post by: @hamithz ——————————————————————— * Turn ON Post Notifications to see new content * Instagram 👉🏼 instagram.com/parametric.architecture * Website: 👉🏼 www.parametric-architecture.com * Facebook: 👉🏼 facebook.com/parametric.archi * Pinterest: 👉🏼 pinterest.com/parametricarchitecture * YouTube: 👉🏼 youtube.com/parametricarchitecture * Twitter: 👉🏼 twitter.com/parametricarch * Snapchat: 👉🏼 snapchat.com/paarchitecture * Reddit: 👉🏼 reddit.com/parametricarch ——————————————————————— #wood #woodinstallation #spike #momaps1 #museumofmodernart #moma #londondesignfestival #unitedkingdom #timber #wood #woodwork #pavillion #installation #architectureproject #fabrication #digitalfabrication #fabricate #digitaldesign #design #designer #parametric #grasshopper3d #rhinoceros3d #parametricarchitecture #parametricdesign #parametricism #architecture #architect #mimar #mimarlik #architectureporn (at MoMA The Museum of Modern Art) https://www.instagram.com/p/B0JKsb9HfRA/?igshid=lvz6bdldn2qq