#missed drawing them their designs are ingrained in my memory

[cynderrfall]

May the fourth

[deanofwhumpuniversity]

Aurora Australis: Part 1

The beginning of Argos’ captivity

Content Warning: Mental/emotional whump, body horror/dismantling of a robot, mental confusion, diss@sociation, dehumanizing language (toward a non-human person, but still. Slightly creepy/intimate whumper, non-consensual touch, careless whumper, android whumpee. Tell me if I missed anything that I should warn for.

@whumpthisway and @redstainedsocks had a prompt that sorta falls into this, not exactly, maybe it’ll be up your alley anyway?

...

Rustle. Shuffle. Click-scrape. Peel-pop. Rustlerustlerustle

Awareness began to filter back in through the dark, sluggish in a way that was new and worrying. Argos knew he knew the sounds around him, but his mind refused to form them into a useful narrative, instead following each audible oddity like a cat after a laser. So he tried to focus on something other than sound, and realized he was being jostled; almost passively, as if the pressure on his arm was incidental and the goal had naught to do with him at all.

How had he gotten here? Where was here anyway? Why had he been powered down in the first place? He tried to access his info banks from just before the shutdown, but the most immediate data seemed corrupted. Argos began to rewind his sense memory; jolts of static pushed back against his consciousness, forcing him out of the playback again and again. Every burst of fuzziness muddied his thoughts and threatened to make him forget what he was attempting. He rerouted his processes, drawing his senses away from the manhandling of his frame and the white noise surrounding him, to focus on pushing through his damaged memory. Static with no ears to grate on or eyes to confuse, static that still rubbed his senses raw like nails on the chalkboard of his mind, and finally, finally, heavily distorted sensory input began to play back. He tried to place what he was seeing. Did he recall...trees? Was that a person?

“There we are!” 

A peeling-tearing noise and an exclamation shook Argos from his search, expanding his senses back into his body, and the first thing he fully processed was that he did not know that voice. He began to boot up his eyes, wondering how addled his brain must be that he hadn’t thought to do so before. But in the same moment he knew that once he did, this unknown human would be able to tell he was awake. My visual display wasn’t designed for stealth. What a strange thought to have...

But as his faceplate lit up with scrolling green glyphs, the woman who came into focus wasn’t paying any attention to his expression, instead peering intently through a mounted magnifying glass, tinkering around in a bit of armor he recognized had once been plating his lower arm. It was familiar to him, a piece of him but no longer part of him. He searched his sensory map and found his arm. It was still his, still there. Seemed...in working order, but he didn’t try to move it. Not yet. The plate the human handled reverently was discolored on the outside, warped even. He was sure he knew what burn damage looked like, though he’d never seen it on himself before. This human must be here to fix him. 

“Lim, come look at this!” 

Someone approached from Argos’ other side. Left, his mind unhelpfully supplied. North? Upon realizing that he wasn’t sure, he began to cast about in his software again. Compass, magnetic direction, this should be ingrained, shouldn’t it? He’d always known where he was. Hadn’t he? He was even more concerned to realize that he simply didn’t remember whether or not he’d ever felt this lost before. He hoped not. He didn’t like it.

That train of thought came to a halt as the new figure came into focus. That one, he knew that one. How did he know that one? His visual field widened ever so slightly, and he saw he was in an open tent, flaps pinned back and sunlight streaming in. There were more tents, distant figures, and trees beyond.  He felt an odd sense of familiarity, a technological deja-vu that meant somewhere in his visual databanks lay an image that would match up with this clearing. All he had to do was go through every moment, frame by frame, until he found it, and he would know where he was and hopefully, how he had gotten here.

But the new figure, the Lim human he presumed, was speaking, and for some reason Argos was so distracted with watching his movements that he barely caught the exchange. “-- be awake like this?” He was standing over Argos now, looking directly at his face, blue-grey eyes flicking back and forth slightly like he was trying to read the streams of vertical light that played across it. Argos found that thought strangely...endearing? That was new. He willed himself to display a disarming smile in the flickering lights for a moment, but the man simply furrowed his brow further.

The other human, the mechanic, started at this question and pushed the magnifying glass aside. She blinked up at Argos’ display as her eyes refocused, as though she was just now remembering the bit of armor she’d been examining had come from a whole body. Her momentary confusion was instantly replaced with a beaming smile, and instead of answering, she leaned in close to Argos’ faceplate. “Well look at you, all shiny and green! How long have you been up and running?” She was so close her eyes nearly crossed to watch the symbols of his display, and he had to consciously keep the data stream from speeding up along with his racing thoughts.

Personal space. Humans expect a meter of personal space from unknown persons, +.1 meter for every centimeter in height you have over them. Argos heard this admonishment in a lightly accented voice that he knew intrinsically, knew better than his own titanium bones, emanating from nowhere but simply existing in his mind, deeper than his hazy recent memory, too deep to be lost from data corruption or structural damage or whatever had happened to bring him to this circumstance.

He tried to shift back against the table, but he was already as flat as was possible, in a slumped and inhuman posture, apparently having been dead weight when he’d been laid down. He cringed internally, and realized he’d allowed the feeling to play across his face for just a moment before he schooled himself. The mechanic either didn’t notice the change, or didn’t understand it, and continued eyeing him with somewhat manic glee. He hoped if he answered her question perhaps she would move back to her stool.

“I…” He began to speak and both humans leaned back. The woman’s face was even more excited than before, somehow. But the man’s expression was one of...distaste? This worried Argos, though he wasn’t sure entirely why. He started again, “I don’t know. I don’t know what time it is...what day it is. My internal clock seems to have desynced.” 

He was becoming more lucid by the moment, he knew that he was deeply damaged, both in hardware and in soft, but he had all the means at his disposal to get his bearings and make repairs. He cast about for a wireless signal, something he could use to sync with, to triangulate the time and place, and found a likely beacon on the periphery of his senses. He sent a signal to it, attempting to pair, but a sharp white jolt poured back into him. Not information, not data, but the absolute absence of it, a molten wipe that erased his request and cauterized his ability to send again. The readout on his faceplate devolved into static as his thoughts were overloaded and wiped clear of anything but pain, and his body arched in fits off the table as nonsense commands were sent to his synthetic muscles. He couldn’t remember words, or language, and he didn’t mean to try to speak, but a series of distressed metallic trills came from the speakers at the base of his throat.

It may have been a moment, or an hour, and he felt feverish as coolant rushed to prevent his processors from overheating. Even if he’d been able to trust his own internal clock, he couldn’t focus on anything but a litany of stop stop make it stop. He’d disconnected from the wireless beacon almost immediately but the feedback ran its course through his frame, down his arms and legs then doubling back to smolder in his core. Finally, gradually Argos felt his thoughts falling back into order, almost like waking from a reboot but not quite so drowsy, and not nearly so refreshing. Aftershocks of blank, dataless pain danced about his systems, and he felt his fingers twitching without his control. When he was able to focus his optics again, he saw the mechanic’s smile had become less childlike, more wolfish. 

“That’ll be the wireless jammer, sorry I didn’t warn you, but we haven’t exactly had a chance to speak, have we?” She reached up, resting her hand just above the reflective plate that served Argos as a face, as though cupping his cheek from an inch away. He imagined he could still feel her touch, fingerprints on the glass, sinking through to tangle in the circuits underneath. He couldn’t help the jerking shudder at the thought, but felt some morbid relief that she would see it as another spasm of lingering pain. “I have it under control, thanks.” Her eyes didn’t move, though it was clear she wasn’t speaking to him.

“We should still restrain it. Physically.” Lim was still there, husky voice so neutral as to sound almost bored. This troubled Argos before he even had time to process the human’s words. “At least until you have it disassembled.”

[chainofbeing]

Adam Escapes the clutches of the Anthronesians and finds himself in the company of something far greater

Rhostiran Guard: Adal Rifai

Craiova Iwa: Bettrys Jones

Anthronesian 1: David M. Sledge

Anthronesian 2: Tomix

Sword of Nemesis: Lucy Campbell

Epicurosa: Laura Rogers

Alexander Ashton: Jonathan Aroloye

Sound design, Writing, and Adam Delta 5: Cai Gwilym Pritchard

An Extra Special thanks to our patrons

Theresa Shiban 

Anthony Hyde

email us at chainofbeingofficial@gmail.com

follow the podcast on twitter @chainofbeing

Subscribe to the patreon for exclusive content and rewards!

The music used in this episode was:

A fucking tribute to the mysticism of your fuckin sound - alpha hydrae

Poisson Grêlon - Cuicuitte

violin concerto in g minor rv 315 'l'estate' ( summer )

[a light hum and some music playing over a radio in adams cell]

I can’t stop thinking about the solar system, about earth. It was never my home, that honour belonged to Eden (wherever that may be). It’s such a complicated topic, you think human, you think earth, that’s just how it’s ingrained into the collective unconscious. But there is no earth, not anymore, beacons surround the planet broadcasting warnings to all those who approach, it’s a wasteland filled with concrete thorns bursting from the ground, mazes of black concrete monoliths spread across the landscape, no patch of land left untainted by radioactive waste and toxic pollutants, no ocean not made poison by the calloused hand of corporate greed. No amount of terraforming can heal a planet that broken. The death of earth was not one of glorious nuclear fire, but was instead a pathetic and gradual death rattle caused by willful ignorance ignorance and avarice. No one in living memory is from earth, but there’s still this misguided association with it. I’m sure, over time through a multigenerational game of telephone, all the bad about earth can be forgotten and people would begin to idolize something that never was. That's what I think birthed the Anthronesians, a desire to return to an idealized version of the past because you don’t like the state of the present. There’s a guard outside my cell, he doesn't seem like the rest of the Anthronesians to me, he shies away from those more committed when they pass and does not hold himself with the same menacing demeanor. The door is made of an opaque glass that lets me see their side profile, my cell is filled with propaganda books, nothing I want to waste my time reading, and a short metal desk. 

I knock on the door, my back against the wall which bows outward slightly, to get the best view of my captor “Hey,” I say, they ignore me “what’s your deal then, you from the solar system like the rest of them?” they continue to ignore me “come on man I just wanna get to know you,” they move ever so slightly “seems like we’re gonna be spending a lot of time together right?”

“Rhostir Arnofi,” he says finally, seemingly reluctant to offer the information

“That's a hydroponics station right? What’s it like?”

“I don’t remember really, I was born there but… when the Council started relocating because of the overpopulation crisis we got taken to a Veatorian farming colony: Stymphalia,”

“That must have been hard,”

“It was!” they say, a little too enthusiastically “ahem, it was. They do things so differently and we didn’t speak the language and-”

“So how’d you end up with them?” I say cutting him off before he goes on a rant. I gesture to the group of far more menacing looking Anthronesians

“Well I was on a corsair vessel, we crashed on this planet and so we took up in a small village. We had loads of weapons and stuff so when the Anthronesians came and offered refuge for any humans, I thought ‘it's gotta be better than this’ and it was. I always hated the council, I mean why do I have to share with Veatorians?”

“What about the rest of your crew?”

“Well, none of them were humans and they fought back so… yeah”

“I’m sorry, you must miss your friends”

“Oh I wasn’t friends with them I just worked in the kitchen,”

“Do you think you could do me a favour?”

“I don’t think-” he says reluctantly “Just hear me out, ok?”

“Alright,” he says cautiously

“Can you bring my bandolier? It’s got some medication that I need to take”

“What kind?” 

“It’s, uh- immortal stuff, I need it or my bones melt, now go get my bandolier I- I can feel it coming on, quick!”

The initiate runs off in a panic and I pause for a moment, unsure if I actually managed to get away with that before I get to my preparations, each of the heartbeats will be monitored by the ships ai, so using one of the more lethal artefacts is out of the question, plus, I don’t want anymore blood on my hands. Something comes to mind and I wait, the group of Anthronesians leave and the guard returns with my bandolier. He opens the bowed glass door and hands it to me, I take out a white stone icon of a beetle and hold it up, it begins to rattle and emanate a strange smoke like chalk dust thrown up in a breeze, a look of dismay covers his face “you were tricking me weren't you?”

“Yep,” I say

“You fucking-” I cut him off before he can finish his insult, a line of white stone extends from the icon, strikes the guard and he is instantly calcified, his face frozen in an expression of betrayal and meathead anger. The icon of Saint Tarates is an unpleasant one, under the calcified exterior the guards heart still beats at a regular rate, aside from the lack of movement everything would seem normal to an observing AI. Anyone looking at him would of course see the calcified skin and muscle but hopefully by the time that happens I’ll have done- something, my path is still annoyingly unclear, destroy the dissimulation field, a mantra I’ve been repeating to myself for the past few days in captivity on this vessel, the ASC Barachiel. I don’t know what has happened while I’ve been on this planet, if  Dhāra jamīna is still even around, what havoc Ovig Nadal might have caused, It may already be too late, but judging by the fact that concepts aren’t just floating around with no relation to each other, that the laws of cause and effect are still in tact, and that I still recognise the universe around me, that is not the case. I  leave the brig and find myself in a corridor. There’s an electronic sign displaying directions to various rooms and systems. The sign cycles through several archaic languages, I see what I’m looking for “armoury”. I head in the direction keeping highly aware of the sounds of approaching footsteps. I don't know what time it is on this cruiser, they certainly won't be using the council regulated settime due to the Anthronesian hatred of everything Nimonean. The reason that I’m so eager to know, as I slink around the long oddly shaped hallways of the super cruiser, is that I don’t want to be caught during a changeover. On a ship this size it makes no sense to have everyone share the same time table, so (depending on its population) a military vessel will have up to 5 different day cycles at once, meaning that all the systems that are physically manned are done so consistently. If I get caught during one of the changeovers, it’s back to square one. 

I enter the armoury, one of many I’m sure and find it, surprisingly, empty. It feels almost as if the supercruiser is drastically understaffed, the main runway and essential facilities are well maintained but there are great stretches of empty corridor and seemingly important rooms left unattended, perhaps that explains their keenness to recruit new forces from the surrounding area. I approach the terminal, at least I think it’s a terminal, the screen sits in a thick cylindrical tube with a second metal tube set beneath it acting as a way to navigate the system. In order to work it you must place your hands on the sides and twist, a design so antithetical to how a human expects a computer to work, there are indents for fingers where you would expect but the layout over all is so… strange. I place my hands on the side of the cylinder and navigate through the inventory system. “Sword or gun, sword or gun, sword or gun. Why not both?” I mumble to myself as I select a nice looking sword and a submachine gun from the listing. The printers at the side of the room activate and by the time I go over they’ve printed, I grab the sword, smg and ammunition and go to leave. I exit the room and turn to continue down the hall when I run into two Anthronesians, who have yet to spot me, engrossed in their conversation. 

“There’s this new recruit, she seems promising,”

“Which one?”

“Uh, Shiban, Theresa Shiban,”

“Oh yeah she’s great,”

They stop in their tracks as I draw my sword. For a moment we stop and just stare at each other

“If you just turn and walk away-” I begin, but the first Anthronesian draws her sidearm and so I swing at her with my sword. He takes a step back and the second one tries to restrain me, I draw the smg and open fire before he can grab me. The sound reverberates down the hall. My cover now being blown, I turn to the first soldier and swing my sword at the sidearm in her hand, knocking it away. I point my firearm at him and she holds up her hands.

“Aren’t you gonna shoot me?”

“depends,” the soldier glances down at her fallen comrade

“On?” 

“How high of a security clearance you have,” Her eyes focus on the gun and I gesture with it, “Well?”

“I was up to become the next dagger of nemesis,”

“What’s your name?”

“Craiova Iwa,”

“Well, Craiova, do you think you’d be able to get me into the chamber at the center of this ship?”

“You mean the Ctenizid?”

“Yeah sure,”

“I’m assuming you’ll shoot me otherwise?

“Yeah,” I say, grateful for the suggestion

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I say with more confidence

She turns and we begin to march down the hall, a group of Anthronesians rush down the hall and take stock of the situation. They lower their weapons and let us pass.

“Just shoot him in the back,” I hear one whisper to the other

“I’m immortal dipshit!” I shout behind me, bluffing, if they did fire on me I’d probably collapse from the pain. But they take me at my word and we move out into the large cavernous space. The space is dead silent. Instead everyone in the space stands and watches us pass, the balconies that line the sides of the space holding even more forces pointing rifles at me. Even the scientists hold some kind of weapon. We reach the huge doorway and I nudge Craiova

“Well? Open the door,”

“Oh I can’t open the door, only the sword can do that,”

“So what was your plan?”

“Bring you out here, let you get shot to shit, presumably die in the crossfire,”

“But I won’t die,”

“Yeah but it’ll stop whatever you were going to do and, well, you were gonna shoot me anyway right?” I tighten the grip on my weapon and go to pull the trigger, at least taking a fascist with me before my escape attempt fails, but the door clicks and opens slowly onto an empty lift. I take a step back onto the platform, not looking the proverbial gift horse in the mouth. I keep my weapon trained on Craiova as the door starts to shut. She turns and meets my eyes. “Good luck,”

The lift starts to rise, moving forward and up, and I ready myself. Sword in one hand, submachine gun in the other. I fear just destroying the dissimulation field will not be enough. So I intend to begin a manifestation and then destroy it, that pillar is what’s creating it. I’m sure.

The lift jolts and the doors open. I tense up and swing my sword down and onto the blade of a halberd wielded by the Sword of Nemesis. She pushes toward me and I step back and fire, her armour absorbs the shock and pauses, I take the moment to bring my sword down at her neck but she recovers in time and jabs her weapon at me. The room is empty as we fight. 

[the sounds of grunting, metal hitting metal, scrapes and gunshots]

The lab in the corner of the room is scattered with equipment and a half constructed angel core rifle sat on the altar. The Sword hits my side with the end of her polearm and I hunch down in reaction to the pain. She lifts the strange looking halberd above her head and swings it down. I meet the blade with mine, parry it toward the ground and swing the submachine gun so it points directly at The Sword. Through the mask I meet her gaze and pull the trigger. Blood pours outward from a large bullet hole in her mask. She slumps over. I stand and return my sword to it’s sheath. The console in front of me hums into life after I flick a few switches, remembering what the scientists did to begin the manifestation. I stare down at the golden pillar, an artefact of some unknown origin that generates the dissimulation field. I take a deep breath, open the airlock and, make my way down the metal walkway, the atmosphere around me filled with Noble gasses. I wade through the water. The pillar thrums with a divine energy, I cannot imagine how a bunch of human supremacists that worship earth got a hold of it. I raise my gun and hear a shattering above me. I look up to see the form of the Sword of Nemesis diving toward me. I step away and she lands where I stood. With a ferocity to her actions that I had not seen before, she swings at me, I just barely manage to block and parry. She stops, her breathing laboured “You do not know what you toy with here,” her voice takes on a strange quality “We are blessed, you may slay me here, but I answer to something greater,” 

“I’m going to put a stop to this little project of yours, the Anthronesians will die here,”

She begins to laugh

“You think this is it? Our armies are vast, I stand among a faction of untold numbers, we are everywhere. The fact that you think that this small act will impede the inevitable progress of the Anthronesians shows just how unprepared your kind are,”

I pull the trigger and the room fills with a white light. 

[a hypnotic tone emanates from the surroundings like an inorganic humming that approaches and retreats just as quickly]

What takes place seems to do so in a vast white space, entirely separate from the world around us. Seemingly in slow motion I watch everything around me disassemble, the walls delaminate, to reveal the rest of the ship in a slow state of disassembly, machines and weapons break apart into their composite parts, wires separate from their casings, railings unweld, the metal frame of the ship shatters. I see people in a similar frozen state unwrap, clothes unstitch and unravel skin separates from flesh, flesh unwinds from bone, bones unjoin and separate. Their internal organs float up into the air like kite strings. In front of me a shape, hazy and unfocused, becomes apparent, it fills me with awe and calms my heart, the complete ruin of everything does not faze me as I stare at this form. The shape solidifies, a tall and slender figure, dressed in grey robes of an unidentifiable material, in each of their eight arms they hold the ornate skull of a different creature, each hollow and wearable as a mask. They place the black skull of a wolf like creature to their face and with their free hand grab the sword of nemesis, who’s flesh has not begun to unwrap, they lift her up and meet her gaze, the ornate bronze mask shatters, the shards slowly floating away, her is face young but rotting, her eyes glow blue, totally and entirely.

“You’ve sworn fealty to something,” the shape says, and I fall to my knees, an inexplicable longing and devotion in my very soul, “To be investigated later,” they say, lifting the Sword of Nemesis, who is pulled through a black hole that forms above her head.

[the sounds of a wet squelch and gravitational forces pulling her through]

The shape removes the wolf skull and replaces it with the skull of a large rodent, they turn to me

[with each new mask the quality of Epicurosas voice changes, each different and strange, while still maintaining the same voice]

“Meet the gaze of your creator Adam,” I lift my head and meet the gaze of Epicurosa in their common form, the only form I had ever known. I feel as if I am staring into a bright light, my eyes sting but I cannot look away. “It’s not often I pry away from my celestial form, you’ve done well here, but your work is not done, as I’m sure you’re aware, it really is a pleasant surprise to find you, it works out quite nicely actually. Come,” Compelled by some internal force I stand and follow Epicurosa

“Might-Upon-Serenity-” I begin

“She is Holden-Hearts problem, she means nothing to me” 

As she opens a second, larger black hole for us to step through the white light that fills the world disappears, and the floating components of the ship begin to fall, the unravelled corpses collapse to the ground, alongside weapon parts and scraps of cloth. A strange scene for the scavengers to pick apart.

We are pulled through the black hole and into an office in a whirlwind of corporate toys pens and papers.

[the sound of an office, some banjo music plays in the background, mufflled slightly]

A human receptionist looks up at Epicurosa who swaps their rodent skull mask for a decorated black goat skull, missing a horn. They bend down to the receptionists level. “I believe I made an appointment,” the receptionist nods, The God gestures to the doorway, “may I?”, the receptionist nods again “Thank you,”. We enter the office, the high floor to ceiling window presents a view of Azyl, the artificial stellar system humans call home, the walls of the office are lined with paintings and artefacts, the oldest and most expensive being remnants of earth and the newer pieces being from the various Human colonies. Sat at a desk is the human representative, Alexander Ashton. 

“Ah, Epicurosa, how wonderful it is to see you-” 

[he switches off the music]

he begins before his eyes dart to me “Adam!? Where the hell have you been? We searched everywhere on  Dhāra jamīna and found no trace of you!” I go to speak but Epicurosa holds up her free hand to me and I say nothing. The adoration and enthrallment I felt when looking at them has begun to die down the longer they hold their common form but I still do not dare to interrupt or ignore them. The god says to the senator, 

“I have come to relieve you of Adam Delta 5, he has important work to attend to with me”

The senator leans forward,

 “His time under the council is not up, he still belongs to us, it was not you who indentured him to us, you have no right to take him”, Ignoring the senators extremely daring move. I look up at Epicurosa who looks down at me through the eye sockets of the goat skull

“What do you need from me that you cannot do on your own?” 

Epicurosa looks out the window, seeing more than all mortals have and ever will see, understanding more than all the great scholars and scryers ever have and ever will. 

“To me the realms are equal, the physical materials that make you up hold no bearing over the intellectual and moral ones. And so the death of the non-divine such as yourself often holds as much significance to me as forgetting an idea, it is a shame, but another will take its place. But not you, adam delta 5, something has turned its benevolent gaze upon you. Something greater than me, and so I enact it’s will.” 

they pause for but a moment, for reasons so beyond my realm of comprehension it wastes time even thinking about thinking about it. 

 “Our universe exists on a set path, ultimately, one atom bounces off of another at a predictable angle, cause and effect etc. We are all the man locked in the bedroom, we think we want to stay but in the end we have no choice in the matter. One thing causes another with no unpredictable insertions into this sequence. However that is only applicable within the way our universe is constructed. For something that has come from outside of this, the laws are not so binding. By entering our universe, ovig Nadal has provided an unpredictable insertion, he has disrupted the chain of being, the predetermined order of events and entities in the universe. The complex order of orders. For a mortal, chaos is something that can be half imagined and dismissed. But true and utter unpredictability is horrifying to a god. And it would seem you are important to ceasing this edgeless horror.”

“My goddess, I ask that you understand, the council is not in the good graces of the galactic population, our… mishandling of the population crises means we need a win,”

“It’s far more than just that fiasco,” I say, the senator shoots me a look and continues

“To have it be us that solved this universe threatening problem would be… a great triumph to us,”

“No,” The god says tersley and begins to usher me out of the room

The senator, now flustered, bangs his fist on the table

[it slightly rattles the desk]

 “Epicurosa, my progenitor, on behalf of the rhetores and the council of nimonea I pray to you and request that adam stays with us!” A dark anger covers their form, they exchange the goat skull for that of a large cat, spins and  slams four of their fists, skulls still in hand, onto the white metal desk, denting it in two places.

[the sound of metal creaking and a large crash, shaking the desk massivley]

“You ‘pray to me’? You wish to control me through worship? As you did the forces of nature you worshipped in your early history. You feel that you can sway and change my actions through sheer force of will don't you? I am just as indifferent if not more so than hurricanes and earthquakes and typhoons, for they simply exist, I make the active choice to ignore you,”

“I-”

“If you speak once more, you insolent mortal, I will eviscerate you, you shall be annulled, your destruction shall be so righteous and glorious that evermore the name,” they lean forward, stooping down to read the nameplate on his desk “Alecksander Ashton, will only ever be associated with complete and total annihilation and whatever administrative loopholes you closed and lives you think you have changed by shifting currency to and fro will forever be overshadowed by your wondrous undoing, do you doubt my power to do such a thing?”

The senator shakes his head. Somehow, by some miracle, maintaining his composure. In this moment I feel a newfound respect for Alecksander, even in the face of his very creator he sticks to his principles and tries to serve the council. Epicurosa opens up another portal, before we step through I look up at them “Where are we going?” I ask

“Somewhere I will be able to understand some things about you, a great many forces have coalesced to support you Adam. More than just the Rhetores and their attempted deification. But the true divine, before all that I must see if you are ready,” she opens a portal and steps through, I turn to look at Alexander Ashton one last time, he stands and stares out of his window, watching those he was charged with protecting, they are there in front of him, he is simply unable to perceive it all. In that respect I feel we are alike. I turn back and follow Epicurosa through the portal.

[katrandomwrites]

Mothman See

It turns out Indrid's glasses hide something more than just the Mothman.

Read it on AO3

Duck was really going too need to wash the truck after this.

Mud and gravel crunched under the tires as Duck and Aubrey pulled up to the lone Winnebago. Duck grumbled under his breath as the truck dipped into another pothole, spraying melted snow and mud up to the window.

"This is fun," Aubrey said, adjusting her grip on the battered case in her pocket. She turned to grin at Duck, "Guess a white Candlenights gives you a brown New Year. What did Santa bring you? A moth in a pine tree?" she wiggled her eyebrows.

Duck brought his hand to hover over the window controls, "Better watch out or I'll dye you hair back to brown."

She gasped in mock offense, covering her hair as they rolled to a stop, "You wouldn't dare! Do you know how hard it is to get my hair this exquisite shade of red?"

Duck snorted and popped the door open, making sure to take a wide step over the puddle he'd parked in. A yelp of disgust accompanied by a splat said that Aubrey hadn't looked before she leaped. He was greeted with a very upset face as he rounded the front of the truck.

"You did that on purpose," she pouted, scrapping the more solid chunks from her boots and jeans

“I plead the fifth.”

The lights flicked on as the pair trudged up to the door and an unfamiliar mop of black hair in a low ponytail came into view of the window. Duck and Aubrey exchanged a cautious glance as they came to the door.

Suddenly, a much younger and healthier looking Indrid Cold poked his head out the door. His skin was darker and dusted with freckles, his frame more filled out, and he was about a foot shorter than when they’d met. Aubrey let out an pleased gasp when she noticed the array of piercings in his ears. He looked like a goddamn hippie.

Duck's fingers went numb when he realized that he was looking into deep reddish brown eyes instead of opaque red glasses.

"You're right on time!" Indrid exclaimed as an unnaturally wide grin twisted across his face, "I was starting to wonder if you were actually going to trade my glasses off."

"Oh, thee of little faith," Aubrey said as they stepped into the trailer and nearly tripped on the overturned coffee table, "Jeezus, what happened in here?"

The winnebago was in total disarray; there were papers and mugs scattered all over the room along with an assortment of blankets. Any furniture not screwed down was knock at an angle and the space heaters were pushed close to the wall. Duck glanced into the bedroom and kitchen to saw them in similar states of being absolutely trashed.

"Did Jonathan do all of this," Duck asked, shooting Indrid a concerned look just as the other man stumbled over a waste basket, "I am so fucking sorry, if I'd known he was going to attack you I would have never brought him here."

"Hmm? Oh no, this was all me, I'm just not used to this disguise anymore," Indrid said as he chucked a pillow towards the bedroom and hit a lamp instead, "I retired this in the 80's and enchanted my glasses instead. Don't know why I didn't think of doing that earlier, I still wore them all the time."

Aubrey gave Duck a confused glance before carefully picking up a few of the crumpled drawings that were uncomfortably close to the space heaters, "So, uh," she started, "Why did you trash your own home then? Where you just frustrated or..." she trailed off as Indrid stormed past her and smacked into the doorway to the kitchen.

He let out a string of high pitched clicks as he held his nose and stumbled back, "No, fuck, I'm just not used to accounting for less height and extra mass. And not to mention," he grumbled, grabbing the thin black ponytail that hung against his neck and flipping it around, "This stupid thing keeps brushing against me."

Aubrey laughed awkwardly and pulled the glasses case out of her pocket, "Well I guess it's a good thing I remembered these then, huh?"

Indrid turned towards her and held out his unoccupied hand, a defeated look on his face.

"Here let me," Duck stepped forward to take the glasses and walked over to him. Ever so gently he slipped the specs back onto Indrids face, fingers gently brushing against warm metal rings as he slid the bows over his ears.

Duck's face felt like it was on fire when he looked up.

Instead of the disguise ingrained in the glasses, Duck found himself face to face with an amalgamation of both. Indrid's hair was still pulled back in a ponytail but was silver with an inch of black at the root, his skin was paler but held a healthy blush, and he'd shot up to just being a couple inches taller than Duck.

And their faces were about 2 inches apart.

Aubrey's giggle behind him broke Duck away before he did anything stupid, "Okay, so I gotta know. Were you a bonified hippie?" she asked trying to break the tension as Indrid adjusted his glasses and removed the thick leather bracelet, shooting up to his normal height. Duck was almost disappointed to see the ponytail disappear.

"I was, who's going to question a traveling hippie in a camper? The whole movement was weird enough I could hide any sightings behind the drugs too." Indrid laughed. He reached out to feel for the doorway he'd just run into and managed to make his way into the kitchen to the fridge.

"Did you have a hippie name too?" Aubrey asked following him and taking a glass of the offered eggnog with a small grimace, “I read that the Indrid Cold sightings started in 66’ so I wasn’t sure if you had to cover that up too.”

"Andy Woodrow," Indrid said spinning around with his own mug to lean on the counter, “It’s actual the name on all my IDs. Such is the difficulties of being two cryptids.’

Duck let the conversation faded to the background as he watched the way Indrid moved, and not in that way. He shook his head, something wasn't right with the way Indrid stumbled over large obstacles and ran into doorways. Bumping into things when you miss calculate was one thing but slamming into them…

He watched as Indrid traced the raised design on the mug as he spoke and while the glasses hid his eyes, Duck could tell he wasn’t looking quite at Aubrey.

And then it hit him,

"You're blind," Duck blurted, turning red at the ears when Aubrey and Indrid both stopped to look at him, "I, uh, I mean, uh. Are you blind? Shit, sorry than was rude.”

Indrid huffed in amusement setting down down the mug and slipped his glasses down his nose. Both eyes, while bright and striking, didn’t track and were dilated differently something Duck hadn’t noticed with the other disguise, “What gave it away? The tripping or the running into a wall?”

Duck opened and closed his mouth a few times before Aubrey gasped, “You can’t see? Do you even know what we look like! Wait,” she grabbed Indrid’s hands and slapped them to her face, shivering a little at the cold, “Can you figure out how I look if I do this? How do you see the future if you can’t see the couch?”

“Well I don’t see the future from my own eyes first off and I can force short burst visions to see if I run into a tree and correct,” he started, slipping his hands out of Aubrey’s death grip and making his way past Duck and flopping on the couch with Aubrey in tow, “My trailer, however, is something I memorized so I keep forgetting to check where I’m going. It’s amazing what a small size change can mess up,” he paused, “And you have the most exquisite red hair.”

“Neato,” Aubrey said absolutely enthralled, “So how do you draw if you can’t see either. I tried that drawing with your eyes closed challenge and it looked like garbage.”

“Muscle memory, I wasn’t always blind,” Indrid shrugged, “Another trick is a sharp pencil so you can feel some of the lines. My other senses are much stronger than yours. Especially my sense of touch.”

Duck could have sworn he glanced over at him with that last sentence but before he could react the timer on his watch beeped, “Aw shit, well as interesting as this is we gotta go. My lunch break is almost over and Mama is probably on her way over to pick Aubrey up.”

“Awwww,” Aubrey whined, “But he just got more interesting.”

“Nope, I’m sure we’ll be seeing him again soon anyway,” Duck said, turning to Indrid.

“Sooner than you’d think,” Indrid said, “But for a much different reason than usual.”

Duck turned redder when he realized Indrid was ‘staring’ directly at him instead of Aubrey who was too busy trying to ask questions about how he drove or how he filled out forms to notice.

He had a feeling he’d be coming back soon.

[forte7]

Forte’s Fan Character Flashback Friday - #7

Name:: Valarie Masters Series: Danny Phantom Background: Holey moley guacamole! I missed Fan Character Flashback Friday! I mean... today is a Friday, but I was supposed to post this last week! Dangit! I'm sorry! Things are kinda crazy on my end still and it only dawned on me today that I had forgotten to do something - and it was this.

A thousand apologies for my tardiness, but going on about that still won't get this posted.

I've actually been waiting to post this character because I KNOW I had old art of her SOMEWHERE around and I cannot, for the life of me, find it, and unfortunately, I'm down in Texas right now to help out my aunt and uncle so I can't even continue looking for the physical copies of said old art if it even still exists. I KNOW it exists, because I used to post art for this character on a Danny Phantom fan forum I would RP on and heck, I even found that old forum, managed to log in to see if any of those old links still worked, and NOPE.

Guess I deleted them off the Photobucket I once had them on at some point and where the physical copies are, I'm not sure, because I don't remember seeing them when going through my old drawing binders.

It's really quite frustrating.

Anyway, this is Valarie, who I named forgetting about the actual Valerie Grey character from the series, cause the name fit the general bad fan character naming system of "it starts with the same letter of the character I like and is kinda similar, so I'll go with it".  I kept it anyway, cause little me reasoned, "well, this Valarie spells it with two As while the other is with an A and an E, so it's fine."

Just kinda funny that they're both linked to Vlad though, so yay, I guess? Hahah, I dunno.

Anywho, Valarie was set up/designed to be Vlad's daughter, but not even his biological daughter, though not a clone like some of my other fan characters, though with things that happen later in the actual series, it would actually be... possible/viable. Instead, she was a extraordinary creation of the Ghost Zone and was more or less "born" of the supernatural energies that construct that dimension.

I guess you can kind of compare her existence to that of Maria from Silent Hill 2. The Born from a Wish scenario kind of implies that Maria was manifested by the town using James' subconscious memories and feelings regarding his wife. Valarie, in the same vein, was manifested by the Ghost Zone, for whatever reason, to help placate Vlad's need and want for a family of his own.

Mind you, this entire backstory was cobbled together before Kindred Spirits introduced Dani Phantom and her entire storyline... which... is.... kinda the same, really, to Valarie's, and I remember at the time, was kind of mad about it back in the day.

Speaking of Dani Phantom, I remember how a lot of people were mad about Butch Hartman's apparent laziness in her character design and creation, cause it was pretty akin to many "bad fan characters" that you see out there, which, hey, I won't deny; that's what this whole Flashback thing I do is about, but you know, this just serves as a good example of the fact that pretty much... everyone does this. Everyone makes bad fan characters, even for their own things, so I think it's just more healthy for people to realize this and embrace it, hahaha.

Going back to Valarie - she's more or less a person who exists to help Vlad chill the fuck out and maybe not ruin things for everyone or everything. A more recent reason I came up with for this was that Clockwork and/or The Observants that are seen in the Ultimate Enemy special with Dark Danny foresaw Vlad's ambitions proving to be too troublesome in the future, so to prevent this from causing way more havoc than it's worth, even with Danny around to stop him or whatever, they're like "hey just throw him a kid; that'll keep him busy a little, right?"

Even with her supernatural origins, Valarie is half-human and half-ghost like Vlad and looks much like him thanks to just her being a physical manifestation of one of his subconscious desires. Physically, she’s about seven or eight years old and generally acts playful, though polite, but can occasionally come off as spoiled.

She shares many of her father’s sentiments towards various issues and people, though it’s safe to assume she doesn’t fully understand his reasoning for those feelings due to how young she is. For example, she harbors a dislike for Jack, though finds his clumsiness more amusing than idiotic and only really says she hates him because Vlad does.

In regards to Danny, she likes him and finds him fun to play with, but in her terms, that means toying around with him. Despite her small size, she can hold her own in battle and has a good handle on her ghost powers and won’t hesitate to use them to pull pranks or harass other people, especially if she has or is told to. Her antics can be described as impish while in ghost form, though she likes to feign innocence if caught.

A big point of curiosity with her is her memory; she has no memory of a time before not “being” and has no real answer when asked about her childhood. She doesn’t seem bothered by this lack of knowledge and usually shrugs it off, intent that she exists because she does; she feels no need to question it further. For her things are simple: if her father is happy, she’s happy. Be this just some childish thought process or some more ingrained sense of purpose because of her strange origins is up for debate.

More was actually done with this character than others and like I said, there used to be old sketches of her about. If I ever find them (and I hope I do, really), I’ll be sure to post them.

But aside from that, like I said, I did role play with this character on a Danny Phantom fan thread and boy was that a cringy time. I will admit now, that back then, when I was like 12 or whatever, I was an obnoxious brat who didn’t know how to really socialize or what she was doing on the Internet. Hahaha, when going back there to find the old image links, I ventured onto some of my older posts and…. Whooooo boy, no thank you.

I know at that point I did also write short fanfics from time to time, but I think those might be locked on boot drives from our old computers and don’t have a way of looking for them now either. For those, if I ever do find them, I might also post them, but it all depends on just HOW much cringe I want to trudge up and share, hahaha.

I know I’ve been ranting a lot now and it’s already now past Friday, even for the time zone I’m in, but I’m gonna go on a little side story as… an apology, though it just means a bit more ranting.

When I said I RPed on this site, I can’t actually say a lot of actual character development happened. I don’t remember what the system was for RPing canon show characters and the times they did pop up, it was on a situational basis, because more people were interested in playing their own character and pretty much everyone on that forum had half-ghost, half-human characters that had their powers for one reason or another.

There was one thread that was particularly popular though that I spent a lot of time in with most of the other players, called Halfa High, so it was just kids in high school. Characters, like mine, that were younger than high school age, had various reasons for being there, like they’re super geniuses or they have a sibling there they’ve come to see or something like that; it’s a fandom RP so anything can happen. Most of the stuff in here, because it was 12-14 or whatever year olds, was just characters pairing up with each other, cause I guess that’s just what kids care about, hahaha. I don’t know, I’m just an old lady now.

Anyway, this thread went on for a good number of pages and eventually they started a second one. And then they had one where everyone went to summer camp, so other weird adventures could be had without the confines of going to school.

This was the one I remember doing the most in though frankly, I don’t remember what the overarching storyline was at the time, though I don’t think I knew what was really going on back in the day either.

One of the big points I do remember was the fact that many of the people on this forum looked up to one particular member, who I’ll call Susan, because that was her character’s name. I’m pretty sure she was in her early 20s at this time, so a lot of the younger people gravitated towards her because she was mature and knew how to keep things moving in terms of RP story; she was more or less the main storyteller of the Halfa threads, coming up with a lot of the plot points and twists. She was also just popular cause she had been there for a while, I think, and she was a pretty good artist on the forum.

She wasn’t necessarily a bad person and usually always open to adapting an RP to involve suggested ideas, but I remember at the time, I was super jealous of her. One, because she did have really good art and I felt like a poo-poo artist and two, because she seemed to have a lot of sway in terms of what she wanted to happen in most scenarios, so much so, it was treated as forum canon that her character was married to Dark Danny and had two kids with him.

Nowadays, of course, I don’t give a damn. Whatever. But back then, it was annoying to me. And I guess some part of me wanted to pair my characters with Older Dan. I remember actually being openly mad about it on the forums and to her in private messages about it and did get in trouble for being a salty, little brat for it. One time, I even wrote a bitter fanfic that was less than subtle in regards to it, but I remember cooling my jets enough for them to not just full out ban me.

Like I said, I was obnoxious back then; it’s a phase all kids go through I guess, cause I see it in kids that age even now.

Anyway, this actually developed into a story point in the RP when I agreed to not be such an Angsty Annie about the whole thing and the Halfa Summer Camp thread took some weird turns. Besides the usual pairing of everyone’s characters with one another and other summer camp-y hijinks, it had time travel, an evil group that were named after the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and political unrest regarding a ghostly royal family.

The royal family, of course, consisted of Susan and Dan, and their two kids. They had a son and a little girl, who I don’t remember the names of in the slightest. Susan got crowned? Queen of the Ghost Zone after she and some members of some Ghost Council? Were able to seal away Pariah Dark… and in that timeline, Dan was a fugitive, so they got married in secret and still managed to have secret relations enough to have their two kids.

But see, that was in the future of the Ghost Zone, which was like 20-30 years away from the time of the events of the actual RP. Why they were going back in time, I don’t remember, but I think it was something to do with Clockwork sending them back or something, who knows.

Valarie, however, is also technically part of the Ghost Royal Family (cause that’s a thing here…. hahaha), because I guess Susan was… Vlad’s niece? Somehow? So that made her and Valarie cousins, but because Susan was the one who sealed the Big Bad away, that meant she got to be Queen, just… because? There will be a lot of uncertainty with this recollection, cause again, heck if I actually knew or know what happened then.

Anyway, I guess in the uhm… present timeline, Susan was going to summer camp and this was before her and Danny were even a thing, cause doesn’t happen until they’re adults? I think, but she runs into a version of Dan that’s… in between him being a teenage and the future version that’s married to Susan… and… there was some contention with that, but again, I don’t remember what…

But eventually, everyone’s future selves end up appearing at summer camp, again for their own various reasons, along with Susan’s future kids, who get caught up in things, mainly because of misunderstanding and people having grudges and just wanting to kill other people without talking it out.

This loops back to my annoyance with Susan getting her character paired with a major canon character and the aforementioned political unrest, because it led to Older Valarie being a quiet, hardened soldier with a hidden, strong, but deeply unrequited love for Dan, which of course, causes a bit of tension with her and Susan, who is the Queen in the future. Also, apparently, I guess? There was a Ghost War or something? In the future or at some point that they set up a Royal Guard and Army, cause Valarie was more or less the Captain of all that, along with the personal trainer of the eldest son of the Royal Family. Future Susan, of course, is fine with her being in such a position of power cause I guess she’s proved it by this point and she doesn’t know of Valarie’s feelings for her husband, so it’s all right as rain as long as she just… stews about it silently to herself, because that is totally the healthy thing to do.

Older Valarie also goes back in time though, because eventually, people start coming across the aforementioned Four Horsemen, which aren’t really horsemen, because they don’t even have horses, but again, are named after them and are supposed to be the “living embodiments” of their namesake. So we have super powerful characters named War, Pestilence, Famine, and Death running around for… reasons? That I can’t even remember. Certain members’ characters are actually the younger versions of the Four before they’re… corrupted? Or something like that and given those names and most the people who turn into whichever, of course, have to fight their evil, older selves cause that’s cool or whatever.

Younger Valarie, at the time, was just hanging about and I guess fawning over a teenage Danny or the in between Dan (this is just as confusing to remember as it is to read, trust me), and I think makes friends with the Future Prince and Princess, who again are running around. I think the Prince was there to try and find Dan, because he believes he? Killed his father? Even though Dan is his father? And Dan was there anyway to protect the younger version of his future wife…? And the Princess was there just cause she wanted her mom, which is Future Susan, who went back to… do…. Something…?

But anyway, Younger Valarie ends up getting approached by her future self, who had originally come to serve her duty as Captain of the Royal Guard and protect Future Queen Susan, but eventually starts to realize that she could perhaps mess with the past to change things to the way she really wants them (even though I know now that would probably create some annoying paradox but please don’t get me on time paradoxes cause we’ve been here long enough already), so she starts to put it in her younger self’s head that everything going on here isn’t fair and she should do more than just be obedient and trusting and take whatever Susan says without question, because by not being more open and honest about your feelings just leads to a life of misery, pain and loneliness.

However, Younger Valarie just doesn’t get why she would say these things and rejects that line of thinking, which kinda makes Older Valarie snap and be like “okay, fine, I guess I’ll just go kill some peeps and then you’ll see what I mean”... I mean, I think? She does try to stop influencing her younger self and try to take matters into her own hands though.

Because at one point, we did have it where Older Valarie confronts Older Susan about her deep, dark hidden feelings, and they get into a fight over it, especially after Older Valarie threatens to go kill the Prince, but being a trained soldier and the Captain of the Royal Guard, Older Valarie does kick Older Queen Susan’s butt, but I think… is interrupted by one of the Four, that being War.

I think Older Dan also comes in at some point and chides Older Valarie for her actions, but heck if I remember. To be honest, if I fully cared and wanted to really relive some cringe, I could probably go to the forum and just read over the whole thread, but that was like 200+ (if not more) of pages and I…. do not feel like doing that, hahaha.

Anyway, Older Valarie and War end up getting into a fight, because it turns out War himself has some issue with Older Valarie. And it turns out that he used to be like her second in command? Or something? Who disappeared while on a mission and ended up into some spoopy, dark, dangerous, evil place, where he got corrupted and turned into War and it turns out he was okay with it, because he was also angry and bitter, cause surprise! He himself had feelings for Older Valarie, but poor guy got friendzoned and his attempts went unnoticed because she instead had feelings for Older Dan, because love triangles are also a cool plot twist to do, cause why not, I guess.

Uhm… I think during this fight was when Older Valarie started to notice the error? Of her ways? Or something like that after seeing one of her closest subordinates fall into darkness, so her story shifts to trying to get War to remember who he used to be. This character did have an original name, but I totally forget what it was… Anyway, War claims that there’s nothing she can do because he embraced and was more than willing to give up his soul or whatever for the power to actually make Older Valarie notice him or something.

I… actually don’t remember much past this point, though. I want to say she did end up getting through to him, but that might just be me rewriting history. That character, though, was more or less being set up to give someone for Young Valarie to pair with and I do thing there was a present day or at least an uncorrupted version of that character pop up at one point….

But besides that, I don’t even remember if that RP was finished, mainly because I think I started to stop going there as much and lost interest. The RP itself, actually, I think started to slow down, mainly because people got busy with other things, especially Susan and because she was again, more or less the driving force behind most things, it petered out.

I’m actually uncertain how old I was when there, because I will admit, when I was in my first year of college, I toyed around with some of the concepts from this RP and wanted to repurpose it into a story. It was mainly the stuff that took place in the future with the Royal Family and with the Four Horsemen, where basically, it would follow Older Valarie (hell, the “rewrites” character name might have just been Valarie for simplicity sake) as she dealt with her feelings with the Royal family and her relation to it, trying to protect the Kingdom and its people, and eventually deal with the disappearance of her Second in Command and his reappearance as a giant threat later on.

…. Really, I still kinda like the idea…

ANYWAY, I have talked long enough and am tardy enough with just this post as it is, so I’ll leave it at that. According to the Google Doc where I’m writing all this before actually posting, this is six pages long, so even more apologies for my rambling.

Still, hope you liked this month’s look back in time and look forward to the next one!

[tania-ostanina]

03: Underworld and Death in London

Short summary:

Our first group ideation sessions: 

Abandoned and hidden spaces

Underground and graveyards

Hidden London

Time and space

London's lost rivers - my previous study of the lost river Moselle

The interdependence of the designer and their subject:

Traditional HCI approach tries to eliminate designer bias

Is it possible to embrace it instead? What is to be gained by doing so?

The 'task-artifact cycle': we are changed by the technology as much as it is changed by us

How can the new layer of smart city technology slot into the existing historic context of London?

Critical fabulations: 

“What histories of practice have been suppressed or elided? What voices are missing?”

William Blake exhibition: 

The themes of underworld and death

The absent narrative of Blake’s wife, Catherine

Read more: 

Since my previous post, my group and I have met twice, ideating on the subject to choose for our collective smart cities project. The first session featured an enormous stack of books and an equally enormous variety of potential subjects: power dynamics, nature and the city, urban animals were just some of the overarching themes we discussed. Even though our smart city could be located anywhere, we were fast zooming in on London, not just due to its familiarity and easy access, but also because London offered us incredible opportunities in terms of its complexity and contextual richness.

Image: A photograph of the books our group discussed at our first ideation session

The subjects that I found the most appealing involved abandoned and hidden spaces, especially ones with darker undertones. True to the spirit of my first blog post, I talked with passion about London’s underground graveyards and about the fact that here in this city, you never quite know what’s under your feet. The image below shows a snippet of our group Miro board showing the theme of time - where plague pits, memory and death have all found their home. 

Image: A snippet of our group Miro board

Another prominent theme was space, our group’s chosen umbrella term for an array of possibilities from regulated skies to underground rivers. The latter are a special interest of mine - I have done a project on north London’s lost river Moselle some years ago. While doing research on it back in the day, I discovered that Moselle used to flow directly underneath the street I lived on at the time, in Crouch End. I remember wondering how my neighbours would have felt if they knew this - would they be in awe? excited? horrified? concerned that the old lost river could somehow devalue the price of their expensive Edwardian homes?.. 

Image: My old poster describing the lost river Moselle in north London and its existing and possible relationships with public spaces and Tube stations. (The original article with a higher resolution image is available here)

Image: London Under, the brilliant book by Peter Ackroyd, with a large section on London’s lost rivers

In the classroom session that followed, we were urged to recognise that who we are and how we relate to the world depends on what tools we have available, both as users of technology and as designers. Of course, the bias of the researcher, observer and designer is something that traditional HCI is acutely aware of, and often tries to eliminate. Yet, to what extent is it really possible? What if, instead of pretending to be unbiased, the designer dives right in and accepts bias as part of their creative process? As designers, my group is already prejudicing certain choices over others, and my personal experience and interests are already shaping our creative direction. Further, as users of technology, we could expand on the HCI concept of the task-artefact cycle to claim that we are changed by the technology as much as the technology is changed by us. In the context of my earlier thoughts on the multi-layered smart city, this interdependent relationship could be key in how the new layer of smart city technology will slot into the existing historic context of London, with its already existing interdependencies, both overt and hidden. 

During the same session, we were considering the role of stories in design. Rather than being stories that are fabricated by the designer (as illustrated by the ivory tower examples from my second blog post), they are instead uncovered through letting in those, whom the design is for. To allow for this letting in to happen, it may be necessary to shake off the traditional user-centred design approach favoured in HCID which, in the words of Daniela Rosner in her book Critical Fabulations, focusses on “individualism, objectivism, solutionism and universalism.” Instead, Rosner offers an alternative approach of “alliances, recuperations, interferences and extensions.” The concept of recuperations in particular stresses the importance of absent narratives: “What histories of practice have been suppressed or elided?” Whose voices are missing? This slotted in with my earlier ponderings on the lost histories that lie under our feet. 

The following weekend I attended the William Blake exhibition at Tate Britain. His work, infused with the powerful motifs of underworld and death, deeply moved me and further reinforced my focus on these themes for our project. Blake had lived his entire life in London and had rarely left its bounds, his work ingrained in the context of the eighteenth and nineteenth century London. 

Image: Illustration from the book Complaint, and the consolation, or, night thoughts, 1797, by William Blake. Open at pp.54-5

A very obvious absent narrative haunted me throughout the exhibition - that of Blake’s wife, Catherine. There was a drawing of her at the beginning of the exhibition, alongside a brief piece of text explaining her involvement in Blake’s work, such as engraving, colouring and practical support. 

Image: Catherine Blake, c.1805, by William Blake

Another, much more poignant piece of text later on in the exhibition, explained that Blake’s Pilgrim’s Progress was purposefully ignored by scholars for many years because it was known that Catherine had been directly involved in producing the series, and that “her creative and practical influence is only beginning to be fully appreciated.” Catherine’s story resonated with me deeply, making me wonder how much of her absence could be reconstructed at this point in time. Could today’s scholars read between the lines and re-imagine her, in the full depth she deserves, using today’s technology? 

The image below is a brief attempt to encapsulate my frame of mind and my preoccupations over that week, in a data visualisation format. I counted the number of times the themes of underworld and death have come up in my personal life over the course of the previous seven days, and then plotted them on a graph, turned upside down to reinforce the effect of its ‘underworld-ness’. Initially spurred by our group discussions, the frequency of these themes ebbed and flowed, taking a ‘deepwater dive’ - 14 mentions of underworld, 14 mentions of death - on the day of the William Blake exhibition. 

Image: My data visualisation of my previous week’s preoccupations, illustrating the number of times per day I documented the themes of underworld and death.

During our second group meeting, I discovered that some members of my group had been thinking in parallel, getting progressively fascinated by similar subjects. One group member had become engrossed in the subject of digital graveyards: the strange situations that arise when a relationship has come to an end, or when someone has passed away, yet that person’s digital presence is still palpable. I jumped immediately on that idea, not just because it had relevance to my own design thinking so far, but also because the subject resonated with me on a personal level.

So our group talked about how death was a taboo subject in our everyday lives, and how art and literature served as ways to bridge that indescribable void. 

We agreed to go our separate ways and observe and document our findings for our third group discussion. 

[and-his-name-is-rouge-crimson]

1-100 or whichever you care to tell me... I would like to know everything though :3

Well here goes the rest of my night :3 1-100 here we go.

1. When you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal, or more cereal than milk?

Answer: It honestly depends on the cereal. If it’s anything from the CheeryO’s family, I’ll eat that milk-less. If it’s Cookie Crisp, or Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I had better have some damn milk.

2. Do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a cold wintery day?

Answer: FUCK NO!! WINTER SUCKS!! 

3. What random objects do you use to bookmark your books?

Answer: I just remember the page number. Despite my crap memory, I somehow manage to remember what page I was on when I’m reading.

4. How do you take your coffee/tea?

Answer: I’ll take an energy drink instead.

5. Are you self-conscious of your smile?

Answer: Admittedly yes, I don’t like giving toothy smiles whenever I or someone else takes a picture.

6. Do you keep plants?

Answer: No, plants=bees. I hate bees. I’m not allergic or anything, I’ve just been stung one too many times for me to feel comfortable around bees. Hell if anything buzzes past my ear, I reflexively flinch even if it’s just a house fly. So no plants for me.

7. Do I name my plants?

Answer: *skips*

8. What artistic medium do you use to express your feelings?

Answer: I write. A lot, though I’m a little self-conscious to post a lot of it

9. Do you like singing/humming to yourself?

Answer: Oh hell yes, I’ll do this all the time. At home, in the car, at work, with my friends … I’ve said too much.

10. Do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach?

Answer: I answered this one already, but since you asked me to do 1-100 (and like a fool who clearly does not value what he does with what is left of his evening) I’ll answer this one again. I’ll fall asleep on my stomach or back, and somehow find myself awake on my sides.

11. What’s an inner joke you have with your friends?

Answer: Ohhh there are several, all with an interesting story behind it. Anyone reading this feel free to ask about said stories of said inside jokes. However, the two best ones I can think of at the moment are: “White-face Mexican Jesus,” and “I’m trying to send a donkey to someone for their birthday, but customs is being a bitch!”

12. What is your favorite planet?

Answer: Pluto (”Ohhh but that’s not a planet anymore” fuck off it’s a planet if I say it’s a planet. And that’s the bottom line, because Stone Cold said so!)

13. What is something that made you smile today?

Answer: Listening to Neon by Jeff and Casey Lee Williams.

14. If you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like?

Answer: Shit. I’m still figuring Tumblr out, so I have NO idea how to link stuff (embed or html or whatever the fuck it is) so… for a base idea, probably something like 221b Baker Street from BBC’s Sherlock.

15. Go Google a weird space fact and tell us what it is.

Answer: *skips*

16. What is your favorite pasta dish?

Answer: Just give me spaghetti and meatballs.

17. What color do you really want to dye your hair?

Answer: Purple. It’s my favorite color, but I seem to have a distinct lack of purple in my wardrobe. But if I was to dye my hair, it would have to be a real dark purple.

18.  Tell something dumb/funny that has since gone down in history between you and your friends that is always brought up.

Answer: *deep breath* No.

19. Do you keep a journal? And what do you write/draw in it?

Answer: I do not keep or have ever kept a journal.

20. What is your favorite eye color?

Answer: Dark brown, kind of like my own.

21. Talk about your favorite bag. One that has been to hell and back, and that you love to pieces. 

Answer: Okay, well I still use this backpack. I’ve had it since my freshman year in high school. Its right strap is worn down, because I only ever wore it over my right shoulder, and still only ever wear it over my right shoulder. There’s also a Wings of Freedom button on the right strap, despite my dislike for the Attack on Titan anime (I liked the manga better). That backpack has been through high school, survived college, and gone to every single anime convention I’ve gone to since I’ve had it.

22. Are you a morning person?

Answer: No, I’m more of a crack of noon person. But high school has ingrained it into my brain that I need to wake up at the ass crack of dawn.

23. What’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days when you have 0 obligations?

Answer: Oh so everyday I don’t have work? Okay then. I either write or play video games, I’m currently playing Mass Effect Andromeda and loving it (despite the issue with the character customization).

24. Is there someone out there that you would trust with every single one of your secrets?

Answer: Yes, and they know who they are.

25. What’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into?

Answer: My friend Neil and I once had to break into his own house because he forgot his keys, and nobody else was home. There was a ladder under the balcony of his parents bedroom, we set it up, and Neil held the thing in place while I climbed up and over the ladder and over the balcony (thank god the sliding glass door was unlocked).

26. What shoes have you had forever and wear with every single outfit?

Answer: Normally my shoes don’t last that long.

27. What’s your favorite bubblegum flavor?

Answer: Ummmm… I don’t have a preference to bubble gum flavors. :3

28. Sunrise or sunset?

Answer: Sunset. Sleep is good.

29. What is something really cute one of your friends does, and is really endearing?

Answer: One of them is our designated group mom, and she cares for all of us. Love you Panda!

30. Think of it: Have you ever been truly scared?

Answer: Yes. There is a local haunted place close to where I live. It was an old rock crusher/munitions factory back in WWII, before it exploded and covered nearly all of it’s workers in acid. Since then the place has been haunted by the spirits of the workers who have died there. And then some idiots attempted to perform some ritual to summon some sort of demon … And it fucking worked. Anyways, my friend Neil and I go up there a few years ago on Halloween. In reality I allowed myself to be talked into it, but I was so freaked out the whole time we were up there, and I could have sworn I was seeing shit move just past the range of my vision. Anyways we are about to head back to his house, and we are right in front of the old rock crusher, when I become aware that Neil is not walking beside me. When I turn around, I see him passed out in front of the old structure … Then I hear this horrible voice in my ear: “Leave him, he belongs to us now.” 

31. What is your opinion of socks? Do you sleep with socks? Do you confine yourself to white sock hell? Really, just talk about socks.

Answer: *skips*

32. Tell a story that happened at 3am while you were with friends.

Answer: Ummmm there are no stories like that. Even if we’re at cons, we’re asleep before midnight.

33. What’s your favorite pastry?

Answer: Cinnamon covered doughnuts. So good~

34. Tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a child.

Answer: I had/have 3. A lamb, and 2 teddy bears. I don’t remember what happened to the lamb. I know it’s in the house somewhere, I just don’t know where. But as for the teddy’s: One is a standard-size teddy bear named *drumroll* Teddy. I was adopted when I was 4 days old, and Teddy is the only thing that I have from my birth mother. The second one is larger, kinda like the size of a carnaval prize. He was given to my by my Uncle Desmond “Dezzy” Caine (I really miss Uncle Dezzy), so he’s named the Dezzy Bear. I still sleep with both and I’ll be 25 in like 9 days. Dezzy still props up my pillows.

35. Do you like stationary and pretty pens?

Answer: Meh, they’re not so bad. I have really bad handwriting so I’m kinda divided 50/50

36. Which band’s sound would suit your mood right now?

Answer: Nightwish. Oh their lead singer’s voice is beautiful~

37. Do you like keeping your room messy or clean?

Answer: Messy, definately messy. Sure it looks disorganized, but I know where everything is in the mess.

38 Talk about your pet peeves.

Answer: No, it’s too late at night for that shit.

39. What color do you wear the most?

Answer: White. Undershirts mostly. I would wear more purple, but there is a distinct lack of purple in my wardrobe, and not a lot of purple clothing in the stores I shop at (mostly Hot Topic) that fit/I would wear.

40.Think of a piece of jewelry you own. What’s it’s story? Does it have any meaning to you?

Answer: Ummmm admittedly, I have a lot of jewelry pieces. Mostly necklaces that I rarely wear. My favorite by far, is a pewter dragon with it’s body wrapped around a blue crystal. I bought it at the county fair a few years back, and it was the last one that was ever sold from that vendor, because I havent seen his stall in the past few years.

41. What is the last book you really, really remember loving?

Answer: Monster Hunter Memoirs: Grunge. It’s a new book in the Monster Hunter series by Larry Correia.

42. Do you have a favorite coffee shop?

Answer: No, I don’t like coffee ever since I made the mistake of drinking the swill on an empty stomach.

43. Who was the last person you gazed at the stars with?

Answer: My friend Neil, and that was years ago when we decided to head up to a local haunted area.

44.When was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything?

Answer: This morning in the shower :3

45. Do you trust your instincts a lot?

Answer: Yes. Going back to when Neil and I were up at the rock crusher, and I heard that voice in my ear. Something told me: “Neil is your brother, get his ass out of there!” I grabbed him, and ran for it.

46. Tell us of the worst pun you can think of.

Answer: Is this some sort of pun-ishment? Well I guess you can call me the Pun-isher (hate myself).

47. What food do you think should be banned from the universe?

Answer: …shit I had something for this, and now I can’t remember…

48. What was your biggest fear as a kid? Is it the same today?

Answer: I was afraid of the dark as a kid (mostly due to my brother being an ass), and that fear carried through. I still have to sleep with a light on.

49. Do you like buying CDs and records? What was the last one you bought?

Answer: I haven’t bought a CD or a record since I had my first iPod. The last one I bought was Disturbed’s Indestructible album.

50. What is an odd thing you collect?

Answer: I answered this one before, but I’ll do it again. I collect and assemble Gundam models. I have 8 currently. And I have yet to finish/start the assembly on the last 3.

51. Think of a person, what song do you affiliate with them?

Answer: I think The Animal by Disturbed would suit Neil just fine.

52. What are your favorite memes of the year so far?

Answer: *skips*

53. Have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? Beetlejuice ect. What do you think of them?

Answer: Nope.

54. Who is the last person you saw with a genuine look of sadness on their face?

Answer: That would be my cousin who had to recently put her elderly golden retriever to sleep. Something like that is never easy, and I know how bad the pain of losing a pet you have had for years feels.

55. What is the most dramatic thing you have done to prove a point?

Answer: Ummm that’ll be the time when *skips*

56. What are some things you find endearing in people?

Answer: When I find something, I’ll let you know.

57. Go listen to bohemian rhapsody. did you reenact the lyrics?

Answer: Um whoever doesn’t needs to be punished to the fullest extent of the law.

58. Who is the wine mom, and who is the vodka aunt in your group of friends?

Answer: Me on both occasions.

59. What are some of your favorite myths?

Answer: Mostly the ones involving the 80′s horror movie villians.

60. Do you like poetry?

Answer: Meh.

61. What is the stupidest gift you have ever given/received?

Answer: I gave my mom trick candles to use on my brothers cake a few years ago … And they found their way on to MY cake. Does that count?

62. Do you drink juice in the morning?

Answer: Very rarely, and when I do it’s cranberry.

63. Are you fussy about your books and music? Do you keep them organized or leave them be?

Answer: I leave them be. It goes back to the question of how I like to keep my room.

64. What color is the sky where you are right now?

Answer: It’s steely grey. It’s in the transition of seasons. Winter to Spring.

65. Is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time that you’d love to hang out with?

Answer: Yeah, my friend Neil.

66. What would your ideal flower crown look like?

Answer: *skips*

67. How do gloomy days make you feel?

Answer: Yep skipping that one too. *skips*

68. What is winter like where you live?

Answer: Hoth

69. What are your favorite board games?

Answer: Risk … and I cannot think of any other ones of the top of my head.

70. Have you ever used a ouji board?

Answer: Fuck no! I am not stupid enough to do that! Especially after what happened after the rock crusher.

71. What is your favorite kind of tea?

Answer: I don’t drink tea.

72. Are you a person who needs to note down everything you need to do or else you’ll forget it?

Answer: Only when I am at work, and even then I rarely note things down.

73. What are some of your worst habits?

Answer: *skips*

74. Describe a good friend of yours without using their names or gendered pronouns.

Answer: Hmmmm… Long and lanky, unkempt and scraggly hair and beard. Quick wit, sharp tongue, but with a big heart.

75. Tell us about your pets!

Answer: I had two white Siberian Huskies. Tundra and her brother Topaz were born on the same day I was, and we had 18 great years together.

76. Is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t?

Answer: Nope.

77. Pink or yellow lemonade?

Answer: Why not both?

78. Are in the minion fanclub or hateclub?

Answer: I’m in the “I don’t give a fuck” club.

79. What is one of the cutest things anyone has ever done for you?

Answer: They wouldn’t want me telling that story.

80. What color are your bedroom walls? Did you chose that color? If so why?

Answer: They’re white, but if I could paint them, they’d be purple.

81. Describe on of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of.

Answer: *skips*

82. Are/were you good in school?

Answer: I was decent. Not good, not bad, but decent.

83.what is some of your favorite album art?

Answer: I care more about the songs rather than the artwork.

84. Are you planning on getting any tattoos?

Answer: Yes, I’m planning on getting either the enochian sigil from Supernatural, or a full back tattoo of a set of angel wings with the words: “Angels on our shoulders” above them.

85. Do you read comics?

Answer: Not really

86. Do you like concept albums?

Answer: The hell are those?

87. What are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives?

Answer: All the James Bond movies, Star Wars including the prequils, and the 3 original Indiana Jones movies.

88. Are there any artistic movements you enjoy?

Answer: The only one I can think of (and I’m not sure it even counts) is the Renaissance

89. Are you close with your parents?

Answer: Yes very close, although they drive me crazy at times I still  love them.

90. Talk about one of your favorite cities.

Answer: *skips*

91. Where do you plan on traveling this year?

Answer: Well my group is planning on heading to Washington DC for Ota-con this year.

92. Are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese? Or do you barely sprinkle a pinch?

Answer: The cheese. Give me all the cheese!

93. What is the hairstyle you wear the most?

Answer: Short and very unkempt.

94. Who was the last person you know to have a birthday?

Answer: My girlfriend. :3

95. What are your plans for this weekend?

Answer: The same thing I do every night. Try to take over the world.

96. Do you install your computer updates quickly? or do you take forever?

Answer: Yes. :3

97. Myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and Hoggwarts house.

Answer: What the hell is the first one? But I’m an Ares, and a Gryffindor.

98. When was the last time you went hiking? And did you enjoy it?

Answer: it was years ago, and no I hate nature.

99. List some songs that resonate with your soul every time you hear them.

Answer: I have 220+ songs on my iPod that attest to that very question.

100. If you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, and one that allows you to go 5 years into the future, which would you press and why?

Answer: I’d go into the future. Past is past and that’s where it belongs. Plus when I go back to when I pressed said button, I would have an advantage over everyone else *evil smile*

[calamity-bean]

so i finally saw Fantastic Beasts & Where to Find Them...

...meaning I at last feel qualified to have, like, an informed opinion about the things my treasured mutuals post about it, rather than just making finger guns from afar and being like, “Haha yeah, them Scamanders, am I right!!!”

Full disclosure: I may or may not have been a little obsessed with this book back in the day. I mean, yeah, I was obsessed with Harry Potter in general, who wasn’t, but … let’s just say I never drew an illustrated encyclopedia of Hogwarts professors, or all the players mentioned in Quidditch Through the Ages.

Did I, as a wee child, spend weeks drawing and coloring my interpretations of every creature described in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, alphabetically, then cut them out so I could play with them? Maybe. Was glitter glue involved, to afford the proper sparkle to the Re’em and Antipodean Opaleye? Wouldn’t you like to know. Point is, I ... liked the book. So I was rather giddy when a movie was announced, and then rather nervous about it, and maybe that’s one of the reasons I sort of delayed in seeing it.

But anyway — with all that in mind, I present my very formal and professional review.

The Good

— Jacob Kowalski. Just, like, in general. Both Jacob and Newt sort of fulfill one of the same character roles, actually: the outsider who is familiar enough to the audience that the audience is meant to sympathize with them and assume their viewpoint as the narrative introduces audience & character alike to an unfamiliar setting — i.e., the American wizarding community, with which audiences heretofore haven’t had much experience, in contrast to our considerable experience of being muggles and of consuming Newt’s British wizarding world. So Jacob and Newt are both familiar to the audience, in different ways, and both entering an unfamiliar world, and often we’re given characters who are very reluctant about all that. So one of the things I liked most about Jacob is that, as soon as the initial shock has passed, he’s like FUCK RELUCTANCE! MAGIC!!! MAGIC IS REAL!!! YES!!! AMAZING!!! I WANT TO KNOW IT ALL!!!

Because seriously, that’s how we’ve all felt about the HP world for the last twenty-odd years, right? Jacob Kowalski is every real-life HP-reading kid who counted down the days to their eleventh birthday. And yes, he faces hardships and disappointments and is ultimately told (as we all ultimately had to accept, when our eleventh birthdays passed and no owl had come) that this magical world is not one in which he can actually exist — but through it all, he remained brave and helpful and hopeful. I liked Jacob Kowalski.

— Newt Scamander is certainly not a reluctant outsider, either. As those who know my blog may have noticed, I have a deeply ingrained fondness for characters who are a bit ... eccentric, and bookish, and better with animals than with people, and always on the outside of society. “No, I annoy [people],” Newt says, calmly, with the air of someone who’s been mocked for his outsiderness for so long that he’s come to terms with it, has made it his own. Oh, Newt.

My one real quibble with Newt is this: Newt, buddy, I love ya, but when smuggling a case full of magical creatures, have you considered … not acting like the shiftiest mofo in NYC? No wonder the customs guy, the bankers, the Second Salemer lady, Tina, and the rest of New York were all over you from the second you got off that boat, cause every little thing about your body language screams, “Hello, I am Suspicious, how are you?”

— Sibling relationships make me happy. Female characters with very different personalities & definitions of femininity being presented in an equally positive light — as though there’s, gasp, more than one good way to be a woman — make me happy. Tina and Queenie, in summary, made me happy. I would like to nominate myself for the position of third and least talented Goldstein sister, that I may reside in their adorable little apartment and eat strudel. And I liked their accents. Very weirdly pleasing, in their nasal, old-timey way.

— Mooncalves are grotesque and horrifying and I would like twelve.

LOOK AT THESE ATROCITIES!!! THEY WERE NEVER MEANT TO BE!!! ❤ ❤ ❤

— I would also like a respectable number of occamies, nifflers, bowtruckles, and, in general, most of the creatures, but so long as I’ve at least got my freakish mooncalf army, I’ll be set. In all seriousness: although many of the creature designs were nothing like what I devised back in the glitter glue days, I really enjoyed how colorful, creative, and expressive they were. Also, if I can’t live with the Goldsteins, may I … live in Newt’s suitcase? Would that be allowed? I won’t cause any trouble. Just call me your friendly neighborhood magical zookeeper and let me frolic with the mooncalves after my chores are done. I used to, like, pet-sit a lot of dogs and stuff, so I figure I’m qualified, right?

— Assuming Leta Lestrange was in Slytherin, which seems very likely, this film has at last given us the Slytherpuff friendship we deserve. Huzzah for inter-house friendships and romances, and huzzah in particular for such things between houses that seem as disparate as the Slythers and the Puffs.

— Credence, you sad hellpuppy, let me floof your dorky hair.

— Graves being like, “Why … does ALBUS DUMBLEDORE ... like you,” aka “NOT THAT I’M JEALOUS OR ANYTHING!!! WHO’S JEALOUS THAT MY NEMESIS EX-BOYFRIEND IS PARTIAL TO THIS KID??? HAHAHA, NOT ME.”

— MACUSA’s execution method is appropriately witchy and horrifying and strange. It was far and away my favorite thing about anything in the MACUSA offices, actually. I really appreciated the imagery of witch dunking, and the black potion against the stark white (but stained) walls created a nice visual effect.

The Bad

— The obliviating rain. In theory, I like this. In practice, I have some questions. How’d it get into the water supply so quickly, such that we’re immediately shown no-majs being affected indoors simply by drinking, showering, etc? What if a no-maj is hanging out inside and doesn’t touch water all day? Is it in the water vapor? Can it get into their lungs just by breathing? If so, and in general: Are only no-majs affected? We know wizards can be obliviated, and minor differences in wizard / muggle physiology aside, this toxin has “very powerful” properties, so I should think it would affect wizards. Queenie’s use of the umbrella suggests yes. But all those aurors walking around fixing stuff in the rain suggests no. Did Queenie just not want to mess up her hair? (I mean, understandable, girl.) And if breathing in the water vapor is enough to work, the umbrella wouldn’t help anyway. Maybe wizards need the more concentrated dose in the water itself? But again, all those aurors walkin’ around. And what about random wizards just goin’ about their business, walking in the rain or taking showers or whatever? How convenient is it that the rainstorm contains the perfect dosage of toxin to affect no-maj’s memories of the past day or so yet not destroy their minds or affect wizards caught in the rain?!

...Like I said. Questions. I have them.

— Overall, I liked Queenie. I truly did. HOWEVER. Mind reading is a power that tends to squick me out in general, and I find it hard to be comfortable with characters who wield it so flippantly. If Queenie can’t control her legilimency — fine. Understandable. A great character trait to work with, in fact! But she can control whether to comment on the things she senses. If there are any legilimens reading this, please don’t publicly comment on others’ thoughts. And if your new friend explicitly asks you not to keep pressing about an intensely personal matter…? Don’t press.

— So, I went in knowing The Twist about Mr. Graves (among other things). At one point, Newt’s like, “Get me info on Graves’s background!” and I was like, “Aha! Yes! Do this! Do this, and let said info contain something that hints that the Graves of today is Not Quite Right compared to how he used to be! Foreshadowing, y’all!” But … as far as I can remember, we never really learned Graves’s background. The thread just kind of dropped. Did I miss it? Truly, if I missed it, let me know, but I don’t remember anything ever coming of it.

— By the way, why did the Second Salemers’ banners have flames on them? They know no witches were burned in Salem, right?

— The pacing, of action and of dialogue, was often a bit stilted and weird. And how does Tina keep walking into these top secret very important MACUSA meetings??? Where the fuck is the security in this place??? You are wizards! You could make a force field! Something! Anything!!! Instead you leave the door open for your big important gathering of big important people and apparently position no guards or barriers in the way that would prevent Tina from walking in as though she’s expecting to find everyone sitting around eating croissants. At which point everybody just stares at her, anyway, while she twirls a mute circle on the floor. Fucking Graveselwald is literally the only person in this agency, apparently, who knows how to lock a door.

The … Interesting

— Had to watch Eddie Redmayne seduce an erumpent; may never be the same.

    Overall, although I enjoyed the characters, creatures, and concepts of the film quite a bit, it’s probably best not to think too much about the storytelling aspects, because pacing, plot, and dialogue could have used some polishing. I’m curious about where the future movies will go.

For my part ... I hope the future films focus more on Newt Scamander, Magical Zoologist, and less on big, epic, wizarding-war type plots. We already got 8 movies about fighting dark wizards, yeah? I’m not criticizing the Grindelwald plot here outright; overall, I think it works, and of course the story has to have some kind of stakes. But the title is Fantastic Beasts. Newt can and has and will fight if need be, but he’s not a warrior. That’s Theseus, yeah? Newt is, in essence, an academic. He’s an animal lover and a naturalist and a nerd. And I gotta say it: although a lot of creatures appeared in this film, they didn’t amount to much more than distractions and devices. They were there to give the heroes something to chase, to cast MACUSA suspicion upon Newt, and to act as Newt’s tools, basically in lieu of having him use more spellcraft. Newt has an Obscurus in his case, yes, but he explicitly says that an Obscurus (and the Obscurial to which it’s attached) is not a beast. I would be entirely happy with lower stakes if that meant that the main conflict were actually focused on a creature, rather than creatures simply affecting the conflict from the periphery.

I mean — in case you couldn’t already tell from the glitter glue, ten-year-old me kind of really wanted to be Newt Scamander.* The idea of his adventures, his studies, fascinated me. I wished I could write a book like is. In the film universe, it sounds like his book will already have been published by Movie #2, so I guess we won’t get the story of him going around and researching it. But I hope the next films make the creatures more central to the story.

I could just use some more beasts in my Fantastic Beasts, ya dig?

* Other characters that ten-year-old me wanted to be included Indiana Jones, Dr. Ellie Sattler of Jurassic Park, and Evie Carnahan O’Connell of The Mummy. The fact that I did not grow up to be any sort of adventurer-scientist remains a disappointment to this day.

[ilovemyarchitect]

This week we have a great interview with Tim Witzig.  I had the pleasure of meeting Tim this year and we had a lengthy conversation.  I think you will be impressed with his take on the world of architecture and design.

About Tim Witzig

Tim Witzig, AIA, Principal at PKSB Architects, is known for his breadth of understanding.  He has played an instrumental role in the success of PKSB for almost two decades.

Mr. Witzig has overseen teams for numerous projects. His experience includes, public and private schools, religious spaces, residential interiors, personalized homes, commercial interiors and a history of projects with civic importance. He served as a designer and Project Manager for the interior renovations of the AIA award-winning Franklin, Mansfield and Shoreham Hotels in New York City.

He was responsible for directing fabrication for guest area upgrades, interior elements and furnishings for all three hotels. Mr. Witzig has also participated in the design and construction administration of the Physics Building Addition and Chemical Engineering and Biotechnology Research Building at the University of Virginia, refurbishments for the Joseph E. Seagram Company in New York, and customized hotel resort interiors for the Walt Disney World Company. Prior to joining PKSB in 1990, Mr. Witzig was a designer at Skidmore, Owings & Merrill with a team developing the first designs for Worldwide Plaza at Columbus Circle. His participation in designing and managing projects with various scales, local code requirements, and unique technical requirements has brought Mr. Witzig a broad understanding of the challenges our client’s face in realizing a project.

About the Firm

PKSB Architects was established in 1964 by Giovanni Pasanella. Celebrating over 50 years in practice, PKSB is recognized as an award-winning full-service firm with a long history of completing projects of every scale and scope. Our practice areas include academic, preservation, institutional, residential, hospitality, public housing, infrastructure, public art, civic memorials, and houses of worship. PKSB’s efforts have been recognized with numerous design awards, including the prestigious P/A Award and AIA honors on the local, state and national levels.

While PKSB’s practice has evolved since its first years as Pasanella + Klein Stolzman + Berg, a commitment to architecture that blends artistry, craft, and pragmatism has always defined its work. The firm has a modernist foundation, but does not rely on a set “PKSB style.” Rather, the needs of the client come first, and PKSB’s strength lies in its ability to create solutions that respond to the unique aspects of each client, program, and location.

“Since its founding in 1964, PKSB has distinguished itself as an innovative practice whose projects combine artistry, craft and pragmatism. A spirit of collaboration and a willingness to explore have been the hallmarks of the firm since its inception.”

When and why did you decide to become an Architect?     

High School age. Seemed to encompass all my interests when I listed them. Before those years I wanted to be a Disney Imagineer.

What were some of the challenges of achieving your dream?  

Math. Undergraduate math, calculus, trig were such failures. Cost of school, lived in a marginal neighborhood in St. Louis to keep my living costs low for a couple of undergraduate years. During grad school working during breaks, working in the library for a little cash in my pocket when I should have been in studio probably. The library that I worked in up at Columbia was the library devoted to library sciences…only… could not have been more boring.

Any memorable clients or project highlights?    

Bess Myerson, Miss America 1945. She made me laugh… not right away. You got the joke on the way home in the re-telling. She wanted a beautiful new modern sculptural stair in her NY apartment renovation. I did not get to design the stair but I watched the process and helped do the drawings for the shell of the apartment. I learned a lot working with her, and helping make presentations and seeing how all talented  people involved worked.

How does your family support what you do?   

They listen to my ranting. Patiently.

How do Architects measure success?  

I think, gladly, that measure is made on very large field. I think if one helps, no matter how small, to make a piece of the world a more beautiful or usable place with our buildings, cities, infrastructure… one is a success. If you enjoy it as well? Huge success.

What matters most to you in design? 

Constructability, utility, timelessness, passing on inspiration to the users in some way.

What do you hope to achieve over the next 2 years? 5 years? 

Focus and allow others to run with the balls.

Who is your favorite Architect? Why? 

I do not really have a favorite, but if pressed on just the Architect part and not the human being part, then Frank Lloyd Wright. He achieved a very warm and approachable transcendence with his own style. If you look up Architect in the dictionary, it would not be wrong to see his picture there I think.

Do you have a coach or mentor? 

A few. The founders of the Architecture firm I am a part of now, Henry Stolzman, and Wayne Berg would go day-by-day explaining the practice and business of Architecture. My current business partner Sherida Paulsen brings reality to my day dreams. Going way back to school days there was William B. Bricken and Leslie Laskey. The latter should me how you could live like a designer and get interested in everything.

What is your favorite historic and modern (contemporary) project? Why? 

That’s so hard there are so many on both ends. Villa Malaparte in Capri. and almost anything Louis Kahn did, Yale British Art, currently I keep looking at Tod Williams and Billie Tsien and their Kim & Tritton Residence Hall. Over and over I stare at that simple building. 2 story residential dorm building with no stairs or elevators inside. Genius.

Where do you see the profession going over the next few decades?  

I think it’s very exciting, and I think Architects or folks who know a thing or two about making buildings will be in high demand. I think the firms will get larger and folks within the firms will be specialized a bit more. I think Architecture as a defined terms will blur and blend into other things we use.

What type of technology do you see in the design and construction industries? 

The 3D modeling and Building Information Modeling and ability to bring that up zoom in to look at all of the “guts” anytime and anywhere,, well it is already happening now and it should just get better and more fun. I would like to see a dose of A.I. in some of the mundane and complex tasks we do, like crosschecking current rules, zoning, codes, that come into play. I would like a computer programmer take a crack at developing a “ArchAI” program that will compile a basic building envelope and create a set of drawings just off say 10 basic inputs or dimensions you give it.

Who / what has been your greatest influence in design? 

Failure.

Which building or project type would you like to work on that you haven’t been part of yet? 

I would love to work on a large community center or cultural icon like the 92Y (92nd Street Y)

How do you hope to inspire / mentor the next generation of Architects?  

You sit with them see what they are doing and ask questions? If there is something good there, progress or talent in a particular direction you help develop that and point them to something that they might find helpful or interesting based on the direction they are already heading in. You might point them in a direction where they might get un-stuck (if they share their sticking point). Then they come back and ask again.  Then the mentoring kind of begins.

What advice would you give aspiring architects (K-12)? College students? Graduates? 

Just keep swimming. Do not be afraid to ask questions. Do not be afraid to fail.

What does Architecture mean to you? 

  Every time I get mad at it and curse it for being hard, or impossible it comes back, I see a beautiful building and I just think it’s great and there are so many talented people to watch and buildings to visit. I guess it’s just ingrained in there and I hope I can enjoy it as long as possible.

What is your design process? 

That is a hard question. It really depends. But Testing and Tossing is such a big part. I used to say do not draw more in the first half of the day that you cannot erase in the second half. Of course we don’t have to spend time erasing anymore, so we have more time for flipping stuff on its head and seeing what can be gained. One tries to list, develop or articulate the restraints, constraints and guiderails first so you can get to the design phase. Then the Testing and Tossing begins. I still believe in the old fashioned pin-up in a room and let the criticism flow.

If you could not be an Architect, what would you be? 

The animation thing I guess. It’s never too late to go to Hollywood. Yes it is I think.

What is your dream project?  

The Museum of the Tour de France. It must have views and a fantastic café. And banks of Zwifting set-up’s with a huge High Def screens floating in front of real glazed views.

What advice do you have for a future Executive leader? 

Help others succeed and then encourage and praise, daily if you can. Sit right across or next to someone at their desk for bit, avoid constant big meetings. Smaller ones. You do the leg work the big meeting might have made easier.

What are three key challenges you face as a leader in business today and one trend you see in your industry? 

Technology costs, Marketing. Managing cash flow. I see a trend in larger firms as an umbrella with smaller brands below     

What one thing must an executive leader be able to do to be successful in the next 3 years? 

Listen, stay positive, learn how people do what they do.

What are some executive insights you have gained since you have been sitting in the executive leadership seat – or what is one surprise you have encountered as the world of business continues to morph as we speak?  

Younger people are very creative in the way they work and use software. I think it’s important to “give in” and “give up” the ways one might have done something in the past. Even if those ways worked well before. Be willing to re-prioritize what you thought was important in how projects are realized and mananged.

Final Thoughts on How to Be Successful?   

Keep a sense of humor, laugh and value irony along the way. Take some time to enjoy the journey and not just the finish line. Realize everyone one else is trying to do the same thing, and help whenever you can. Each client is a chance to learn something new.

We would love to hear from you on what you think about this post. We sincerely appreciate all your comments – and – if you like this post please share it with friends. And feel free to contact us if you would like to discuss ideas for your next project!

Sincerely, FRANK CUNHA III I Love My Architect – Facebook

Gift Ideas from ILMA

Our Exclusive ILMA Interview with Tim Witzig of @PKSBArchitects This week we have a great interview with Tim Witzig.  I had the pleasure of meeting Tim this year and we had a lengthy conversation.  

[nofomoartworld]

Hyperallergic: Remembrances of Betty Blayton-Taylor, Studio Museum Co-Founder and Harlem Arts Activist

Betty Blayton-Taylor (photo © Adjua Mantebea)

On Sunday, October 2, 2016, in the Bronx, Betty Blayton-Taylor, an unsung figure in the art world, quietly transitioned into the spiritual cosmos she often conjured in her abstract metaphysical work. She was 79. I first met Betty sometime in late 2012 or early 2013. As curator of AARP New York’s first-ever art exhibition, Lasting Legacy: The Journey of YOU, I was tasked with finding artists who exemplified the campaign’s themes of discovering one’s unique talents, exploring new possibilities, and creating lasting legacies. After coming across Betty’s work and meeting her at her home, I knew I wanted her in the exhibition. She embraced me with such warmth — a local legend entrusting her work to the vision of a young, novice curator.

As part of my curatorial research, I wanted to get some insight into Betty’s background. Who was this energetic woman with a home full of art? It turned that out she was, and remains, a big deal. A native of Williamsburg, Virginia, Betty relocated to New York and graduated from Syracuse University in 1959 with a degree in fine arts. After a teaching stint on the island of St. Thomas, she moved to New York City and continued to hone her skills as an artist. It was at this time that she began to merge her interests in art and activism.

Betty became a founding member of the Studio Museum in Harlem and served on its board from 1965 to 1977. Her mission in co-founding the organization was to advance the careers of artists of African descent and to utilize institutional resources and the arts to serve the broader Harlem community.

In collaboration with Victor D’Amico, (director, department of education at the Museum of Modern Art) and Harlem School of the Arts, Betty established the Children’s Art Carnival, an arts education program designed to engage disadvantaged Harlem youth in the arts. (The program was an outgrowth of annual arts workshops held at MoMA from 1942 to 1969 under the same name.) A young Jean-Michel Basquiat was one of the Carnival’s students, and both legendary playwright and director George C. Wolfe and Afro-Caribbean dance icon Marie Brooks taught workshops there. Betty served as executive director from 1969 to 1998, and she remained heavily involved for many years thereafter. In addition, she was a co-founder and board member of Harlem Textile Works, an offshoot of the Children’s Art Carnival in 1984, which offered fabric design workshops, arts education, and job opportunities. Additionally, she served on the board of the Robert Blackburn Printmaking Workshop.

Betty Blayton-Taylor (photo © Adjua Mantebea)

As an artist, Betty had a productive career as a painter, printmaker, illustrator, and sculptor; her work can be seen in the public and private collections of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Studio Museum in Harlem, Fisk University, Spelman College, David Rockefeller, Reginald Lewis, Sidney Poitier, and more.

Despite such an illustrious career, her death went largely unnoticed by the mainstream art world, the press, and even some of the institutions and artists she helped build and elevate. Yet her impact reached across space, time, and spheres of influence. She was a groundbreaking force in helping to establish organizations that have advanced artists and communities. And she laid the foundation for much of this in the 1960s and 1970s, in an America polarized by race and gender politics.

Betty deserves to be remembered, honored, and celebrated. On November 19, a memorial service was held at SGI-USA, Culture Center and the Sugar Hill Children’s Museum of Art & Storytelling in New York City. Her work will be included in the exhibition Magnetic Fields: Expanding American Abstraction, 1960s to Today, curated by Erin Dziedzic and Melissa Messina, which will open at the Kemper Museum of Contemporary Art in Kansas City, Missouri, in June 2017. The Children’s Art Carnival is planning two exhibitions inspired by her work, and hopefully more commemorations are to come.

In the meantime, we called upon Lowery Stokes Sims, Marline A. Martin, Omo Misha, robin holder, and Thelma Golden to reminisce about Betty Blayton-Taylor: the artist, activist, friend, mentor, and all-around arts warrior.

Betty Blayton-Taylor, “Oversoul Protective Spirit” (2007), acrylic on canvas (courtesy of Betty Blayton-Taylor)

By Lowery Stokes Sims, independent curator and art historian:

I must have first met Betty in the early 1970s, soon after I started working at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I became a fan and even served on the board of the Children’s Art Carnival from 1979 to 1982. I was committed to the organization’s dedication to bringing art to children, and in many ways my service on the board was an extension of my first job at the Metropolitan Museum in the Community Programs department. This was the vehicle through which the museum shared resources with the greater NYC arts communities and actualized verbiage about diversity and inclusion. Betty then went on to be a principle in the founding of the Harlem Textile Workshop, and we had a brief collaboration on a product for the store of the Studio Museum in Harlem that had been initiated shortly before I became director. While the product line was never launched, I still have a prototype of a scarf that is a mainstay in my wardrobe.

It is a truism that Betty was a strong artist for whom, like many of her peers — especially the women — her art took a backseat to her decision to work on behalf of the larger art community. She received a B.A. from Syracuse University, where she studied painting and illustration, the latter major an accommodation of parental concerns about her financial future. I also like the fact that due to a peculiarity of Jim Crow Laws, her native state of Virginia paid for her to attend Syracuse University rather than having her attend an in-state school. According to her profile on Wikipedia, Betty had to contend with professors who all wanted her to work like them, and she decided to find her own way of working. In the end, her work may be said to demonstrate a personal synthesis of abstract expressionism and color-field tendencies, demonstrating how her independence posed a potent resistance and personal triumph over racism and sexism in terms of expectations and assumptions about women of her generation with regard to their careers.

I remember Betty’s contagious sense of humor, her endless smile, and her generous laugh. She was always a joy to be around, even as she was maneuvering you to perform some needed task or provide a needed resource for one of the organizations she founded and loved.

Youth at the Children’s Art Carnival in front of a mural they created (image courtesy of Marline A. Martin)

By Marline A. Martin, Executive Director and Curator, Arts Horizons LeRoy Neiman Art Center; Executive Director, Children’s Art Carnival:

As told to Souleo

I first met Betty in 1997 as they were doing a search for the new executive director for the Children’s Art Carnival. I was one of the candidates and subsequently was appointed to the position. I served there from 1997 to 2010.

My first impression of Betty was that she was a hardworking woman. I remember when I received the appointment, saying, “I have big shoes to fill.” Betty’s scope was really wide. She had done a lot of work for the Carnival, brining it into Harlem where it served 5,000 to 10,000 youth per year. She was a champion of the arts.

Jean-Michel Basquiat was one of the Carnival students for a couple of years. He took some classes and was part of a group of young people who were experimenting with their artistry. One of the things I think he really received from the Carnival that made his art appealing was the joy of creativity that is ingrained within children. Instead of going the fine-art route of painting and drawing technique, he found a more expressive way of letting his childhood vision come through his art. I think an amazing thing about the Children’s Art Carnival was the philosophy that existed in terms of art education. For Betty it wasn’t just about technique. It was more about your spirit and how you add that into your work.

I remember stories she would tell me about some of the artists who came from different parts of the world to the Carnival. People would say anyone looking for work as an artist should go see Betty, because the Carnival became an incubator for emerging people like George C. Wolfe. When George first came to New York, he taught theater at the Carnival. Betty gave him one of his first art teaching jobs. Marie Brooks also taught dance at the Carnival. Whatever your art form was, Betty made it into a workshop. I don’t know if there’s an artist around who has been successful in their career and not touched or impacted by Betty Blayton-Taylor.

She will be truly missed, and she was truly loved.

Youth during an Open Studio Workshop at the Children’s Art Carnival (courtesy of Marline A. Martin)

By Omo Misha, Director, Children’s Art Carnival, Curator, and Artist

As told to Souleo

I started working at the Children’s Art Carnival in 2002 as a visual arts instructor, then I became the program manager, left for a few years, and I have since returned as director to help rebuild and rebrand the organization.

Although I worked for the Carnival, my real relationship with Betty began after I had left the Carnival administratively and begun to do more curatorial work. That’s when we got to know each other and when I got a perspective on Betty as an artist. I didn’t know her art before then. So for me as an artist, she has been a great inspiration.

When I think about Betty building and directing the Carnival while simultaneously forging a career as an artist, I realize that people in one sector might not have been as in tune with what she was doing in the other. For me, as someone who wears different hats, I find that really remarkable. I think that is something people should learn from and strive to emulate as an artist. I meet young artists who feel like if they do something else it will take away from their art. But I think all of these things add to your artistic value. I think Betty was an example of that.

At the core of her work as an artist, she was a very spiritual person. That was reflected in her art and the way she taught at the Carnival. She sought, through her own art, to create avenues for people to be more in touch with themselves spiritually. I think that’s why the artwork that came out of the Carnival was so dynamic. Even to this day, I see very few arts institutions that put out the caliber of work I saw coming out of the Carnival. And that is a result of Betty’s vision and her activism.

After I stepped away from the Carnival, I received a greater perspective on the organization. I realized how important this work was that she had done. I never got the sense that Betty thought what she was doing was radical and groundbreaking. She just did what came naturally to her. She came to New York as an artist seeking an artistic community, she found an opportunity to teach for the Museum of Modern Art, she discovered something in it that was inspirational, and she continued to build on that by bringing the Carnival to Harlem. I think she was just being Betty. She was strong and outspoken, sometimes to a fault. But it was that boisterous and lively creative spirit that allowed her to open doors.

Betty Blayton-Taylor, “Ancestors Bearing Light” (2007), acrylic on canvas, 30 inches round (courtesy of BettyBlayton.com)

By robin holder, visual artist:

As told to Souleo

I met Betty in 1978 when I was 26. I was working with the Robert Blackburn Printmaking Workshop as the coordinator and then the assistant director for the workshop. Bob never had enough money to pay anybody, so anytime he was short on funds he would send some of us up to the Carnival for Betty to give us part-time gigs. Betty was also a board member for the Workshop and did her prints there when she had the time.

After I went up to the Carnival one day, I began working there on and off as a teaching artist. I recall that she was always in dire straits financially with the organization because she was very idealistic and overextended herself. She would do things first and then see how she would finance it. Betty was always diligently writing grants and reports and projects. One day I went up to her little office on the third floor of the brownstone. She was really happy and said, “I got rid of our deficit.” I said, “That’s fantastic. How did you do it?” She picked up a pencil and said, “I just erased it.” I thought that was hysterical. She had such a good sense of humor.

I connected with Betty right away. We became friends largely because of a real commitment to and interest in the spiritual nature of life and how that can be reflected in artwork. At the same time, she had some serious personal problems, but regardless of that fact, she was able to stay focused. That’s what was so remarkable about Betty. There was always a real dynamic energy she was giving to the Carnival, one that, at times, you sensed she would have liked to direct to her own work as an artist.

A difficult thing that has to do with elitism in the art world is that community art is often regarded as “lesser than” the arts. Betty was the founder and director of a community-based African-American organization, and because of that I hope she is not sidelined in importance, [because she was] a genuinely gifted and hardworking abstract painter. Sometimes I wonder whether, if Betty had spent more of her life developing her work, and if there was more of a receptive art world to female African-American artists, she might have been more high profile.

The experimentation she did with transparent layering of shapes and color and circular canvases was quite important. She had this high skill level of being a painter with a very exploratory approach to the imagery that she developed. When I look at her work, I know it’s her work. She was able to create her own visual language, which is the work of somebody who has something to say and is an original.

Founding members and staff of the Studio Museum in Harlem, including Betty Blayton-Taylor, second from the right (courtesy of the Studio Museum in Harlem)

By Thelma Golden, Director and Chief Curator, the Studio Museum in Harlem:

Betty Blayton-Taylor was a singular artist, educator, activist, and advocate. The Studio Museum in Harlem is incredibly proud of her important role as a founder and longtime champion of our institution. Without question, her commitment to artists of African descent continues to animate nearly every aspect of our work, and it inspires my work as director every day.

As a founding board member of the Studio Museum in Harlem, Betty championed the museum before it even existed. She had a clear vision of the power and possibility of art and artists to impact a life, a neighborhood, a world. She served on the Studio Museum’s board from 1965 to 1977, during which — in addition to her membership on the executive committee as secretary — she advocated for both the ideals of the museum and the very real challenges of sustaining a fledgling nonprofit, work she knew well from co-founding and leading the Children’s Art Carnival.

When Betty articulated her initial vision — to create the kind of museum that could meaningfully serve her Harlem students in their own neighborhood — there was no precedent for an institution of this kind. As an educator, she was deeply committed to creating access for young people frequently discouraged from entering museums and visual arts institutions in New York City. And as an artist, she created works that have engaged and inspired audiences around the world, including here at the Studio Museum.

Betty not only opened doors, she built new doors — doors that, nearly 50 years later, remain permanently open in her students’ own backyard. She is sincerely missed, but her legacy will continue to guide our planning and preparation for the Studio Museum’s next half-century, and beyond.

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