MAENADS REAL
also! i have always maintained that the difference between the abject and the grotesque is the difference between the smell of a rotting corpse and a cooking one. the grotesque implicates you, and what’s more implicating than the smell of a roast friend to starving girls?
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i am haunted by this self portrait Cellini includes on the sleeve of his Cosimo de Medici portrait. This is the man who would ultimately end his career as an artist forever, no more big commissions, no more monuments, not even getting payed for the work he had already done for his court.
It’s very interesting to compare the way he chooses to depict himself in the Vita, proud, reckless, him alone against the corruption of the courts and clergy,,, only his wits and craft as his weapons. and then this: terrified grimace, a blade (?) in his mouth, completely animalized. And the worst of all is that frightened side glance. That’s complete spiritual surrender right there. What did Cosimo think of this, what did Cellini expect him to think.
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roommate showed me his gargoyles (not a euphemism) only they weren't gargoyles they were grotesques, because they don't serve any functional architectural purpose (ie: as waterspouts), so i had to restrain myself from a category 5 pedantic fun ruiner moment
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i have certain love for bugs and the otherwise grotesque until it is near me.
i 💖 bugs but from a distance.
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Aleksandra Waliszewska — Untitled (oil on canvas, 2023)
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-Voices-
A collection of portraits depicting the voices from Slay the Princess, taking inspiration from the style of the video game Disco Elysium!
The Voice of the Hero, a knight, an iconic silhouette against a luminant halo. A color palette of black, blue, and teal.
The Voice of the Hunted, a beast trying to protect its heart from danger, represented here as a crosshair.
The Voice of the Smitten, the knife wound letting loose lovely streams of swirling bodily juices into the air.
The Voice of the Cold, dark, and angular. Something completely unafraid to kill.
The Voice of the Skeptic, attempting to fly, tearing himself away from chains and what looks like his own body.
The Voice of the Paranoid, Frantic and multi-eyed, clutching at a wound.
The Voice of the Contrarian, flying in stark contrast to the others, glowing instead of secluded, a mischievous fairy or will o' the wisp, instead of a grotesque figure.
The Voice of the Broken, shattered and leaking. A humanoid figure is no longer recognizable.
The Voice of the Stubborn, Fiery eyes, and big meaty claws. The brushwork is chaotic.
The Voice of the Cheated, smoke leaking from puncture wounds still embedded within him. He's holding a cigar, too; probably where all the smoke is coming from.
The Voice of the Opportunist, carrying multiple masks on his person, and wielding a poorly concealed knife.
And finally (for now) The Long Quiet itself, the night sky, swirling sigils blurred in the dark.
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Pálida Caricia, by Emil Melmoth, 2022
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