#of this creation

[aaaaaaaaaaaa-hey-its-jude-or-bee]

Does everyone like the pizza I made?? I need to know because I was trying to message other family and they told me to shut the fuck up because they're trying to find my cousins cat

I added sauce from other can and then I added hamburger to it and I cut up other meat and cooked it and then added it to the pizza, we don't have butter so I put olive oil on the sides and then put herbs on the pizza and crust and then added salt on the crusts and when it's done baking I'll add the rest of the parmesan to the crust to make it look better, but I'm really proud of this.

This is it, but I put it back in the oven for another 15 minutes to go, so we will see how it turns out.

[quwyou]

tier tier list

[bloodybellycomb]

One massive, legitimate way to improve as a writer or artist or in any creative endeavor really, is to become absolutely obsessed with something and to allow yourself to be weird about it. Genuinely mean this btw.

[dailybridgerton]

#yapper wife + quiet husband

[hamletthedane]

I was meeting a client at a famous museum’s lounge for lunch (fancy, I know) and had an hour to kill afterwards so I joined the first random docent tour I could find. The woman who took us around was a great-grandmother from the Bronx “back when that was nothing to brag about” and she was doing a talk on alternative mediums within art.

What I thought that meant: telling us about unique sculpture materials and paint mixtures.

What that actually meant: an 84yo woman gingerly holding a beautifully beaded and embroidered dress (apparently from Ukraine and at least 200 years old) and, with tears in her eyes, showing how each individual thread was spun by hand and weaved into place on a cottage floor loom, with bright blue silk embroidery thread and hand-blown beads intricately piercing the work of other labor for days upon days, as the labor of a dozen talented people came together to make something so beautiful for a village girl’s wedding day.

What it also meant: in 1948, a young girl lived in a cramped tenement-like third floor apartment in Manhattan, with a father who had just joined them after not having been allowed to escape through Poland with his pregnant wife nine years earlier. She sits in her father’s lap and watches with wide, quiet eyes as her mother’s deft hands fly across fabric with bright blue silk thread (echoing hands from over a century years earlier). Thread that her mother had salvaged from white embroidery scraps at the tailor’s shop where she worked and spent the last few days carefully dying in the kitchen sink and drying on the roof.

The dress is in the traditional Hungarian fashion and is folded across her mother’s lap: her mother doesn’t had a pattern, but she doesn’t need one to make her daughter’s dress for the fifth grade dance. The dress would end up differing significantly from the pure white, petticoated first communion dresses worn by her daughter’s majority-Catholic classmates, but the young girl would love it all the more for its uniqueness and bright blue thread.

And now, that same young girl (and maybe also the villager from 19th century Ukraine) stands in front of us, trying not to clutch the old fabric too hard as her voice shakes with the emotion of all the love and humanity that is poured into the labor of art. The village girl and the girl in the Bronx were very different people: different centuries, different religions, different ages, and different continents. But the love in the stitches and beads on their dresses was the same. And she tells us that when we look at the labor of art, we don’t just see the work to create that piece - we see the labor of our own creations and the creations of others for us, and the value in something so seemingly frivolous.

But, maybe more importantly, she says that we only admire this piece in a museum because it happened to survive the love of the wearer and those who owned it afterwards, but there have been quite literally billions of small, quiet works of art in billions of small, quiet homes all over the world, for millennia. That your grandmother’s quilt is used as a picnic blanket just as Van Gogh’s works hung in his poor friends’ hallways. That your father’s hand-painted model plane sets are displayed in your parents’ livingroom as Grecian vases are displayed in museums. That your older sister’s engineering drawings in a steady, fine-lined hand are akin to Da Vinci’s scribbles of flying machines.

I don’t think there’s any dramatic conclusions to be drawn from these thoughts - they’ve been echoed by thousands of other people across the centuries. However, if you ever feel bad for spending all of your time sewing, knitting, drawing, building lego sets, or whatever else - especially if you feel like you have to somehow monetize or show off your work online to justify your labor - please know that there’s an 84yo museum docent in the Bronx who would cry simply at the thought of you spending so much effort to quietly create something that’s beautiful to you.

[abyssalzones]

updates from the stan o' war

[flowerytale]

[creepycr4wly]

Saw his own dimension burn

Misses home and can't return

Says he's happy. He's a liar

Blame the arson for the fire

[thehmn]

People who were spoiled as children (or are spoiled children) are usually depicted as unpleasant monsters who insist on getting their way always, and for sure they exist but I’ve also met a lot of spoiled people, children or adults, who were super nice and generous because they were brought up with the knowledge that if they let someone else have something or give away one of their possessions they’d just get another one and that carries over into adulthood where they might not get another one but they still don’t feel the same attachment to material things.

So in my experience whether spoiled people are unpleasant have more to do with the values instilled in them by their parents as well as their general personality. I know one boy who won’t give anyone anything despite his parents giving him everything he wants and another who will hand you his entire birthday cake if you ask because he trusts that you’ll share it with him and if not his mom will get him another.

So nice spoiled people in fiction like Carlotte from Princess and The Frog aren’t unrealistic but they are probably a lot less satisfying for a lot of people.

[birdmans]

CHALLENGERS (2024) dir. Luca Guadagnino

[raptorrobot]

...like antennas to heaven

link to the full image

[obsob]

the joy of creation :3 !! (anything worth doing is worth doing badly)

[stellaseveride]

ELEMENTARY | 2.19 The Many Mouths of Aaron Colville

[dailybridgerton]

#he doesn't joke about flowers BRIDGERTON (2020—) S03 | E05

[retrocausality]

All of us right meow:

[abyssalzones]

posts this and then walks away