#maxwell fry

[intomore]

Maxwell Fry in his London office with John Noah, an architect from Sierra Leone, 1940s,

Central Office of Information London, Ghana,

Photo courtesy Royal Institute of British Architects

[billlaotian]

[bluecrowsfly]

if you ever catch me about to make a character analysis post about Niki Maxwell i need you to knock me out and tie me to a chair till i come to my senses

[arolesbianism]

Untreated dst dynamic of the century is Wendy and Wurt they are so delightful to me. Yes this is 65% because of Wurt's walking stick dialogue but also I'm correct

[modernism-in-metroland]

Cecil Residential Club, Gower Street

1940

Maxwell Fry

Image from RIBApix

[tychos-huzband]

finally making an intro post lol

(after however long ago 9/16/23, 5:03:16 PM was lmao)

Charlie/Karkat/Jerma/Shrimpo/Greg/Tony/Fred/Jack/Orange/John/Johnny/Fren/Moomintroll/HIM/L/Robbie/Lemon/Onion/Shaggy/Ethan/Tutter/William/Err/Dan/Meat/Chandlo/Cappucceetle/Instabug/Homestar/Terminator/Fry/Filbo/Francis/Anonymous/Anon/Sire/Snorpy/Steve/Bunger/Al/Maxwell/Strabby/GIR/Bopsicle/Dionysus/Vincent/Daniel/Dennis, in order of preference

(pink = main name, green = other actual name)

[[i'm not a system at all i just have a shit ton of names i like the sound of and decided to steal!!]]

FORMALLY benatars-slut and foxxys-huzband

he/it in order of preference

my guestbook !

⬇️ strawpage for basic info ⬇️

⬆️read this first⬆️

extra info

nicknames are great, but i really prefer my true name(s) being used, sorry :<

i'm canonically autistic and am suspected by many to also have adhd

trans boy with issues between me and my entire biological bloodline

golden retriever puppy otherkin

i was a horse in my last life (dutch warmblood to be exact)

SON of @fluxxdog and @silelda , as seen in The Bio™ (they're very cool)

my favorite colors is purple/green/blue

i'm really emotionally sensitive

i apologize a lot because i tend to be a huge people pleaser

my favorite safe food is macaroni and cheese, but i also like spinach alfredo pizza :)

i have WAY too many interests to count jfc

my discord is charlie_the_foolish and my newgrounds is chaoticallyGeneric

i also play ponytown! (my ponytown username is AutisticAdamSandler)

my main ponytown character is mostly just the newest cosplay i've made but here's what's supposed to be my main sona:

i fucking LOVE community and abed nadir is the #1 autism rep unless weird al gets officially diagnosed or hussie confirms that gamzee makara is autistic

scene boy wannabe...

Oopsy Bear and Homsar haters DNI those are my SONS

also please DNI if you ship tygabe or are a fellow tycho selfshipper!! i am nonsharing so i tend to be very possessive over him, i'm sorry.

i'm a minor but i do occasionally make/reblog lewd jokes so let me know if you're uncomfortable with that!!

i'm just here to vibe babey

my roleplay sideblogs!!!

Sunflower (Plants vs. Zombies 1): @sunflower-official

Allen the Magic Goose: @some-stupid-goose

Charlie and Tycho: @tycho-and-charlies-doings

my "your fave" sideblogs.

@yourfavelistenstostreetlight

@yourfaveistotallykarkalicious

[vintagetvstars]

Stephen Fry Vs. Charles Shaughnessy

Propaganda

Stephen Fry - (Jeeves and Wooster, A Bit of Fry & Laurie, Blackadder) - No text propaganda

Charles Shaughnessy - (The Nanny, Days of Our Lives (1984 - 2004)) - Maxwell Sheffield was the definition of a sophisticated, debonair English gentleman to me when I was a kid, and the romantic chemistry between Maxwell and Fran is the heart of the show. I still think Mr. Sheffield is the hottest sitcom dad of all time.

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Charles Shaughnessy:

[germanpostwarmodern]

In 1951 Le Corbusier embarked on his „aventure indienne“, his Indian adventure, to design and build Chandigarh, the new capital of the Punjab. On February 20 he boarded a flight to Bombay together with his cousin Pierre Jeanneret and on February 23 the two met up with the players to be involved in the project: Maxwell Fry, engineer P.L. Varma as well as government official P.N. Thapar. At the time of their arrival at the designated site of the future capital it was a wide plain dotted with numerous villages and lush vegetation. On the same day Le Corbusier began writing and drawing in his so-called „Album Punjab“, a notebook he would continue to fill until March 11 and which today represents a unique source to the events, ideas and impressions preceding the design and construction of Chandigarh. The „Album Punjab“ has recently been published for the first time as a facsimile by Lars Müller Publishers and is accompanied by a volume written by Maristella Casciato providing additional context to LC’s commission, unpublished photographs taken by Pierre Jeanneret during the trip and a day-by-day synopsis of the notebook. Already the first entry tells of Corbusier’s deep interest in the existing landscape and villages, their scale and density as well as the daily life going on. At the same time he also began to search for solutions regarding water supply, spatial approaches to climate control and air circulation in residential buildings as well as he sketched a road system for the future capital and its capitol complex. Consecutively Le Corbusier elaborated these initial impressions and sketches and delved into the local architecture, the spatial organization of traditional houses and already drew planimetric arrangements of low-cost housing units. In terms of the overall urban planning LC harked back to the Pilot Plan he developed for Bogotá together with José Luis Sert. A pressing issue that also came up during the trip were construction costs and the high cost of wood which made the use of concrete even more appealing. In view of the far-reaching insights the book provides it is an important addition to the literature on Le Corbusier and highly recommended!

[edgessunflower]

Just natural

Pairing: Maxwell Jacob Friedman x Fem reader

Description: When you get sick, your friend Max shows a side to him you never knew of or seen before

You cough roughly as you sit in your locker room standing up to go change in your ring gear when the dizziness from earlier came back much stronger almost falling had not been for the hand that grabbed your arm. You turn to see your friend Max by your side who looked concerned and even a bit scared as he slowly sits you down on the couch knowing something was wrong by how pale you looked, the cool sweat on your face while you skin felt burning hot, and your uncontrollable shakes that ran through you immediately yelling for your mutual friend Adam who told Tony Khan your condition who immediately told adam to have you took home which is what max did as soon as adam peeked in the doorway telling him that you had the rest of the rest of the week off if you were still sick after three days trying to walk but almost passing out before being carried out by max who drove you home in your car laying you on your bed grabbing meds and making you soup while you carefully changed clothes and laid under the covers quietly groaning in pain as max comes back. He props you up and as you try to reach for the bowl he stops you "Ah ah no I'm helping you" you eat slowly and take the meds slowly dozing off in between the painful coughing and violent shakes until you finally feel asleep with max watching over you, he wipes your face before placing a cool rag over your burning forehead tucking the cover under your chin texting adam back when he texted asking if you were okay as he made a quick store run to get more meds and ingredients to make you stir fry knowing that something more solid would help you other than soup and crackers checking on you as soon as he was back heading back to your bedroom when his alarm went off knowing it was time for you to take meds again as he finishes the stir fry seeing you awake shuffling back to bed after using the bathroom. You show a small smile seeing the bowl of stir fry whispering a tired thank you as you eat slowly watching tv until you took the meds again as max rings the wash cloth out before placing it on your neck then your forehead as you fall back asleep feeling max's finger caress your cheek which made your heart flutter until you were asleep, he falls asleep behind you an hour later while gently rubbing your arm remembering that it helped you calm down before your matches smiling when he sees you relax better from the action before falling asleep himself until two hours later updating adam on your condition that next morning after you wake up taking a few sips of cold water feeling a bit better than the day before "You didn't have to stay Max" he shakes his head as you eat having a bit more energy to fully sit up without feeling dizzy "I had to I wasn't just gonna leave you badly ill" he lightly rubs your head as you take meds feeling a warm press against your forehead smiling when he presses a light kiss to your forehead noticing the look on his eyes "You're not usually this affectionate or sweet" he grabs and moves you to sit in his lap. "I care about you and caring for you is...just natural" you melt as he sways lightly squeezing you gently before turning your face to look at him holding your face as he kisses you turning to lay your head in the crook of his neck "Love you Max" he smiles which makes you melt always feeling like putty when you got to see his real smile "Love you my doll".

[more-better-words]

Anybody maybe interested in a sneaky peek of my upcoming Karveth and Monica project? 👉👈

Maxwell Yi hadn't been back to Mars in over a year. He hadn’t meant to be gone so long, but it seemed like new transport routes were being opened up every week, and work had been plentiful for any pilot with steady hands and two braincells to rub together. Things were good, and about to get better. But since he was back on Mars, he did what any right-thinking person would; the instant he set foot in Utopia Colony, he headed straight to an unremarkable storefront restaurant. It didn’t have a sign, but it didn’t need one.

Fat Mo's hadn’t changed – certainly not the aroma of the place, rich with cooking meat and warm bread and fry oil. And visually, it was the same beige box of a dining room, broken up by two square support pillars and the back counter where the dessert cooler and beverage synthesizer were located. Its scattered round tables, utilitarian and functional in their construction, were mostly full that afternoon, and most of the customers were in Starfleet blues. But even so, when he sat down, he didn’t have to wait long for a server.

“Max!” Monica McKee cried cheerfully. “How've you been?”

He smiled up at her. He'd known Monica since the first time he'd come to Mo's, almost a decade before, and he liked to think he could call her a friend. And she looked well - she'd always been cheerful and charming, with her sunbeam smile and general air of ebullience, but there was something… centered about her now. She had her auburn hair pulled back in a loose ponytail that made it easy to notice she was wearing a small hoop earring in the upper shell of her right ear, and if his eyes didn’t deceive him, it looked like there was a wedding band on her left hand. That was new.

“I'm great, actually,” he said. “Contracts have been rich pickings lately. Just got a new gig, in fact. Starting next week, I’ll be co-piloting the ETS Grand Artemis. Regular passenger transport to Andoria.”

“Oh, that's exciting! Congratulations!”

“Speaking of Andorians,” he said, unwilling to wait for the gossip to come to him, “what happened with that Andorian guy you were seeing the last time I was here?”

“Karveth?” She flashed a grin and lifted her beringed left hand. “I married him.”

Max laughed. “Right.” She simply looked at him, her smile undiminished. He stared. “You're serious.”

She nodded, still smiling.

“When did that happen?”

“This past March.”

“So, uh… how's that been?”

Her smile deepened. “Amazing,” she said simply, and  pulled her order PADD from her apron pocket. “Special of the day's the black garlic burger. I seem to remember you being a fan of that one.”

When she circulated back around after taking his order, he had to ask. “I guess you've been to Andoria, then?”

“Three times now, yeah. The first time was to meet his family, that was nice, actually, but the trip was…” She paused. “…a learning experience. The second was when we got married, and the third was just a couple of months ago for his nephew's naming.”

“So if I’m going to be around Andorians, what do I need to know?”

She considered the question. “Be polite, but don’t be a pushover. Be respectful, but don’t be afraid to demand they respect you back. They don’t believe in false modesty, so being humble will get you nowhere. Oh, and if you're going planetside – lots of layers.”

When she brought his food, he tucked in eagerly. The black garlic burger was every bit as good as he remembered, and he said so when Monica stopped by again. “Mo hasn’t lost his touch,” he said.

“He hasn’t,” she agreed, “but he's actually not here today - Tariq's on the grill.”

Max blinked at her. “Who's Tariq?”

“Amira finally convinced Mo to bring on some extra kitchen help. Tariq's been with us since…May?” She laughed at Max's befuddlement. “I’ll give him your compliments.”

Poor Max, Monica thought as she headed home that evening. A lot had changed in a year, and she couldn’t blame him for being bewildered. But she was happy for him - piloting a regular transport route was much steadier work that the in-system shuttle running he'd been doing when they first met.

And it was good timing that he'd appeared when he had, on that day in particular, because if he'd been even a day later, they would have missed each other. She would be taking the next week off; in the morning, she and Karveth would be leaving for Earth, to attend the ceremony marking the five year anniversary of the founding of the United Federation of Planets.

Now that was something Monica of three years before would have never imagined herself doing.

Karveth was in the living room when she got home, stacking their bags near the door, and she stopped at the sight of him. That Andorian guy you were seeing, Max had said. The Andorian who held her when she had a migraine, and learned to swing dance for her, and called it an privilege to share her bed. Who told her she was dangerous with a smile on his face, who could conjure romantic gestures out of thin air, who believed she was smarter, and stronger, and braver than she'd ever considered herself to be.

Who had nearly died for her.

The Andorian she'd kissed, bedded, and married, all without a second’s hesitation, because not doing any of those things hadn’t really ever been an option. From the moment she'd met him, this had been the only possible outcome.

He noticed her looking at him, and paused, antennae perplexed. “Yes?” She put down her shoulder bag, and wrapped her arms around him.

“I've got the best husband ever, and I will fight anybody who says different.”

He returned the embrace, smiling and kissing her hair. “Will it be a full ushaan, or will you allow your victim the choice of weapon?”

“I suppose it's only fair to give them options,” she said magnanimously.

“My generous pinkskin. The vanquished will be honored to know defeat at your hand.”

“See?” she laughed. “That's why you’re best.”

“And what prompts this bloodlust? Not that I mind,” he clarified. “You make a fine predator.”

She blushed at the compliment (which never would have felt like a compliment from anyone else), and shrugged a little. “Had an old regular stop by this afternoon. Catching up with him just reminded me how happy I am now. With you.” He rested his hands on her hips, his expression vaguely triumphant. She raised an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“I make you happy. You could have your pick of this universe, and you chose me.”

The Andorian who told her things like that, and meant it.

“Damn straight I did,” she said, and nodded towards the assembled luggage. “Are we ready for tomorrow?”

“I believe so.” He turned her, walking her into the living room to sit on the couch. “It's going to be quite an event.”

She sank into the couch, realizing as she sat how grateful she was to do so, and took off her shoes. “I'm excited. I remember watching the livecast of Admiral Archer’s speech at the charter signing and crying my eyes out.”

“I was there,” Karveth said, stretching an arm on the back of the couch cushions. She took the hint and scooted against his side. “Trying to decide if I really wanted to accept a Starfleet commission.” He smiled at her. “I think I made the right decision.”

She smiled back, reaching up to play with the wedding ring on his right antenna. “Yes, you did.”

+++++++++++++++

@deadheaddaisy, @indignantlemur, @shadowinthefire, @pearlypairings, @1lostsoul0fishbowl, @pajamasecrets

[dangermousie]

I once spent most of an evening reading particularly horrifying passages of Ethel M. Dell's The Bars of Iron (a huge 1916 romantic bestseller) out loud and would like to share my knowledge of this amazing "work."

Bars features a most unfortunate heroine - an impoverished widow whose child has died, she attracts the love of a younger, gorgeous heir to a Baronetcy. Alas, when Avery and Piers marry, she finds out that Husband n.2 is the one who murdered Husband n.1.

Upon realization of said fact, Wife runs away back to Husband's ancestral home to try to collect her wits, only for Husband n.2 break the door of her bedroom down, behave in such a manner that if I didn't know better, I would have assumed this was a horror novel about an abused woman locked in with an ax murderer, and cap the evening of fun and games by raping his pregnant wifey.

Did I mention he's the hero?

We are supposed to feel deeply for his pain as he feels so guilty for killing Husband n1 in a brawl and running away and then falling for a gal only to find out he made her a widow and he can't tell her the truth. The only emotion Husband n2 inspires in me, however, is a strong desire to brain him with a frying pan until his brains leak out his ears.

There is also a saintly dying child who murmurs religious platitudes. Because having a thirteen-year-old girl die painfully from tuberculosis is a good way to get Wife and Husband n.2 in the same house - you have got to be kidding me - I am supposed to care about romantic intrigue between a brainwashed weeping pot and a murdering rapist and not the poor dying child, wtf??? Did I mention that said child was sent to stay with Wifey by child's mother, Wifey's best friend, as a result of Wifey telling her about the rape because that would help them reconcile. Yeah, Mother of the Year she is, sending her teen daughter into a house with a murdering rapist. Awwww.

Also, Husband n.2 is very excited to go off to fight in WW1 and thinks it's the best thing to happen ever and will make men of everyone. I was very excited for him to go off too, because there was a chance he might get blown up or eaten by rats in the trenches.

Alas, no luck. At the end he comes back wounded and they reconcile. Happy end. Cue my barfing.

I consider self taken in - this is the fourth novel of hers I read (I love trashy old books) and this is the first with rape. I thought I lucked out and found a trashy teen-twenties novelist who didn't have that, but no luck.

The prose, however, is so deliciously purple a whole new color palette should be invented for it.

Piers went like an automaton, but he could not utter a word. His mouth felt parched, his tongue powerless. Avery! Avery! The woman he had wronged--the woman he worshipped so madly--for whom his whole being mental and physical craved desperately, yearning, unceasingly,--without whom he lived in a torture that was never dormant! Avery! Avery! Was she lying dead behind that lighted window? If so, if so, those six months of torment had been in vain. He would end his misery swiftly and finally before it turned his brain. Maxwell Wyndham was guiding him towards the conservatory where a dim light shone. It was like an altar-flame in the darkness--that place where first their lips had met. The memory of that night went through him like a sword-thrust. Oh, Avery! Oh, Avery!

[justforbooks]

Joseph Rykwert

Architectural writer who believed that buildings not be considered in isolation but as part of the fabric of a city

Joseph Rykwert, who has died aged 98, was a historian and critic of architecture of exceptional intellect, cultural breadth and distinctive outlook. His books and his teaching changed the understanding of his discipline and helped to move the design and planning of cities and buildings away from the functionalist mindset that dominated postwar building. In 2014 he was awarded Britain’s leading honour for architecture, the Royal Gold Medal, one of a very few times that it has been given to a writer rather than a practitioner.

Rykwert’s first book, The Idea of a Town (1963), by exploring the rituals that underlay the founding of ancient cities, sought to restore the importance of such things as memory, feeling, intuition and instinct in the making of the places where human beings live. It was an important part of a wider reaction to technocratic approaches that were causing widespread destruction in cities across the world. It is now commonplace for developers and planners to talk about “placemaking”, by which they mean the ways in which architecture and landscape work together to make social urban spaces, a concept that owes much to Rykwert’s belief that buildings should not be considered in isolation but as part of the fabric of a city.

His other books included On Adam’s House in Paradise (1972), on architects’ enduring fascination with the idea of a primitive hut at one with nature, and The First Moderns (1980) – his favourite – which revealed the roots of 20th-century ideas of modernity in thinkers and architects 200 years earlier.

In all his work Rykwert moved readily between architecture, philosophy, art and other disciplines, aided by his wide erudition and an impressive library that he started building as a student. He was motivated by his certainty that the design of buildings is always part of a wider culture, and by his passion for the places that make a city flourish, whether a remembered street in pre-war Poland or a forum in ancient Etruria. He was, as the writer Susan Sontag put it, an “ingeniously speculative historian and critic of architecture – of that is, the forms (in the most concrete sense) of civilisation.”

The many architects whom he inspired and influenced include the Stirling prize winners Sir David Chipperfield and Witherford Watson Mann, Eric Parry, Patrick Lynch, and Sir James Stirling (the giant of British architecture after whom the prize was named).

Rykwert’s demeanour was gentle and civilised – “the sort of great-uncle I would have liked to have”, as one former student, the artist Richard Wentworth, now puts it, who “always imparted a general sense of mischief”. This character was all the more remarkable for the traumas of his childhood, in which he and his family had to flee for their lives from the advancing German armies. Many of his relatives died in the Holocaust.

Joseph was born in Warsaw, the son of Elizabeth (nee Melup), and Szymon Rykwert. His father, a railways engineer, was ruined after the great crash of 1929, but worked his way back to prosperity. In September 1939, when the Wehrmacht invaded Poland, the Rykwerts escaped via Lithuania, Latvia and Sweden to Britain. Joseph went to Charterhouse, a “plunge” in his words “into the wholly alien world” of an English boarding school. His father died of a stroke early in Joseph’s time there, leaving his mother “skimping” to pay his fees. He went to the Bartlett School of Architecture, which was evacuated to Cambridge in wartime, then the Architectural Association in London.

He started to write, studiously, taking two years to complete his first book review for the Burlington Magazine. He wanted to work for “the London architect I most admired”, Ernö Goldfinger, but was put off by the measly pay on offer – 30 shillings a week – and went instead to the pioneer British modernists Maxwell Fry and Jane Drew, who paid five times as much. Rykwert later decided to refuse a job offer in the Paris studio of the most famous architect of the 20th century, Le Corbusier, who paid nothing. Eventually, although his built works included a fur-lined nightclub and a house in Chelsea, Rykwert’s writing and teaching would take over from designing buildings.

In both London and Paris, which he visited as a young man, the postwar years were for him a time of “exhilaration and easy familiarity” in which “people of great intellectual and professional distinction ... seemed prepared to accept an obscure and impoverished youth as a partner in dialogue.” From the age of 18 he exchanged ideas with the future Nobel prizewinner Elias Canetti. Later he became friends with Italo Calvino, whose 1972 novel Invisible Cities owed something to Rykwert’s urban thinking, and the painters Prunella Clough and Michael Ayrton. Iris Murdoch, Umberto Eco and Saul Steinberg were also acquaintances. In 1968 he would befriend the great modernist designer Eileen Gray, then living in obscurity at the age of 90, and rediscover her work in an article for the Italian magazine Domus.

He started to teach, including at Ulm School of Design, in Germany, then considered to be the heir of the Bauhaus as (in Rykwert’s words) “the forge of all that was new in design”, although he found its “systematic rationality” uncongenial. He was librarian and tutor at the Royal College of Art in London from 1961 to 1967 and from 1967 to 1980 professor of art at the new University of Essex.

His postgraduate seminars for the university, held in various locations including the Royal Academy in London with the historian and theorist Dalibor Veselý, were groundbreaking for the way they combined architecture with philosophy and anthropology.

After Essex, Rykwert held posts and professorships at the University of Cambridge and, from 1988 to 1998, at the University of Pennsylvania, and visiting appointments in numerous universities in several countries. In his retirement he continued to welcome lively and creative minds to his book-lined London flat. He was appointed CBE in 2014.

His first marriage, to Jane Morton, ended in divorce. In 1972 he married Anne Engel, his editor on The First Moderns, with whom he enjoyed a successful partnership until her death in 2015. He is survived by Sebastian, his son with Jane, and by Anne’s daughter from a previous marriage, Marina, and by two step-granddaughters.

🔔 Joseph Rykwert, architectural historian and critic, born 5 April 1926; died 18 October 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[coochiequeens]

Good news for single ladies

All the single ladies are becoming homeowners.

What's happening: Single women own more homes than single men — in Georgia and nationwide.

Why it matters: Sixty years ago, women couldn't get a credit card or a mortgage without a male co-signer. Now, the share of single women homeowners eclipses single men.

Driving the news: Solo women mortgage applicants made up 18% of the market in 2023 — a share that's slowly grown since mortgage platform Maxwell started tracking applicants' gender and marital status in 2021.

One in 3 women with partners bought alone because they were in a stronger financial position to do so, Maxwell's annual Single Women Home Buyer Report found.

State of play: Census data shows single women own nearly 19% of Georgia's homes, compared to 9.1% of single men.

What they're saying: We're seeing a strong shift toward women-led households, Urban Institute researcher Jung Hyun Choi tells Axios.

By the numbers: Women were the primary breadwinners in less than a third of total households (married and single) in 1990. In 2021, the majority (51%) were women-headed.

That increase was largely driven by married households, Choi says.

In married households, 43% claimed to be female-headed in 2021, compared to just 8% in 1990.

Of note: In most age groups, women outnumber men. "This is more a reflection of strength in numbers than economic vitality," Pew researcher Richard Fry tells Axios.

The other side: Opportunity isn't equal. Single Latina and Black women have the lowest homeownership rates of any group in the U.S.

"39% of Latinas who are single and live alone owned a home in 2021, compared to close to 62% of non-Hispanic white women in similar circumstances," Axios' Astrid Galván reports.

Single mothers also face low homeownership rates compared to other groups, including single fathers, Choi's research shows.

The intrigue: Maxwell's report shows Gen Zers and millennials made up the largest share of single women mortgage applicants in 2023.

[shadowredfeline]

Two in One Post

For my Filipino Friend's new way to start October.

Normally he wanted to try another Inktober, but it looks new to see Maxwell's Autumn and Winter attire with someone invisible. But if he broke the Inktober rules, normally it's fine by me, he's always welcome to try something new for this month. It's kinda like with me during the month of May when I decide if I should do Mermay or Mayternity. But I'm sure Maxwell and Riya would both enjoy wearing Maxwell's A/W Attire. Besides wearing Tory's clothes.

And for Response to my Filipino Friend.

Yes it does look like Sword Art Online. My BFF and I have talked about that Anime During the Pandemic and watch the Anime. And I know some people are not a fan of it since I know Phantomstrider and Anime America didn't like the Anime either. Normally because some people thought it's sad. Like saying kids would dream bigger than that then being the best in the online World. Especially the whole Brain Frying software that connects to people's brains. Plus anyone can raise a character including ourselves. And I haven't heard of that Gundam series before when people can do VR using the Gunplas. Also I have heard of Ready Player One, but I haven't watched it, I know it was a movie done by Steven Spielberg. And it would be nice to see Cartoon characters experience the game world too. And Spielberg can do a movie based on that next time if he's still available to produce and direct it.

[modernism-in-metroland]

Electricity showrooms, Regent Street

1938

Maxwell Fry

Image from RIBApix

[denimbex1986]

'Production images have been released for the Donmar Warehouse’s revival of Macbeth.

Leading the production are David Tennant (Doctor Who, Good) and Cush Jumbo (Julius Caesar, Hamlet), taking on roles of the regicidal Macbeths, alongside Moyo Akandé (as Ross), Annie Grace (as Musician and Gentlewoman), Brian James O’Sullivan (as Donalbain/Soldier/Murderer and Musician), Casper Knopf (as Macduff’s Son/Fleance/Young Siward), Cal MacAninch (as Banquo), Kathleen MacInnes (as The Singer and ensemble), Alasdair Macrae (as Musician and ensemble), Rona Morison (as Lady Macduff), Noof Ousellam (as Macduff), Raffi Phillips (as Macduff’s Son/Fleance/Young Siward), Jatinder Singh Randhawa (as The Porter/Seytan), Ros Watt (as Malcolm), and Benny Young (as Duncan/Doctor).

Director Max Webster’s production employs binaural technology to create an immersive 3D sound world, courtesy of sound designer Gareth Fry (The Encounter), which the audience experience through wearing headphones.

In addition, live music comes from an onstage Scottish folk band led by Macrae and featuring award-winning Gaelic singer MacInnes.

The creative team also includes Rosanna Vize (designer), Bruno Poet (lighting designer), Shelley Maxwell (movement director), Macrae (composer and musical director), Rachel Bown-Williams and Ruth Cooper-Brown of RC-Annie Ltd (fight directors), and Anna Cooper CDG (casting).

Macbeth officially opens tonight and runs until 10 February 2024.'