#this was based off a picture i saw on instagram- from the art book i beleive

[yami-yomiel]

gonna post the things from my backlog - i think thats the word

[sneakers-and-shakes]

Monthly Checklist: Deep Dive into the May Lifestyle Challenge

This month I’m running the #maylifestylechallenge on my Instagram (sneakersnshakes) and I wanted to take a moment to talk about what this is, where it stemmed from, and why it’s important.

In a previous post (one of my first ones actually) I talk about Setting Goals, specifically what I call Monthly Notes.

I suggest you read that post (linked here) since I’m only going to be brushing over the topic as I outline how I structure my months.

On top of my Monthly Notes (these are the goals more specific to each month) I also follow what I call a Monthly Checklist which is a baseline and applies to ever single month.

The checklist is broad on purpose and encompasses challenges that push me towards growth.

This checklist is as follows:

-something new

-something creative

-educating myself (usually denoted as documentary)

-giving back (usually denoted as donation)

I want to go down this list and talk about different ways these goals can be accomplished.

-.-

Something New

It can sound pretty daunting at first, especially for those who have done a lot of wild things in their lives, it can be hard to imagine what new thing you could possibly do. The key here is it doesn’t have to be a big thing.

Of course, if you��re able to go someplace you’ve never been or skydive or something crazy then that’s great! But your something new can be as simple as ordering a new drink at a coffee shop, or maybe trying out a new restaurant.

The objective of this goal is to further yourself in some way, push some boundaries even if it’s really small, and encourage exploration.

 Something Creative

Like all the other goals in the checklist, this is left broad on purpose. Maybe your something creative is as simple as taking a cool picture, or slightly more complex like trying your hand at painting some happy little trees or fruit.

Some easy ideas I’ve used in the past to check this off the list is

-making a card for someone (birthday, mother’s day, thank you cards, etc.)

-doing a photography challenge (I have one on my Instagram if you’re interested)

-practicing calligraphy or trying to write in different fonts

There might even be free art-oriented classes or events at your local library or craft store if you need more guidance. (These can maybe double as your something new)

The objective of this goal is simply to create, add something new to the world that didn’t exist before you created it!

 Educate Yourself

As you saw from the picture above this is something I usually do through watching documentaries. It’s the easiest way to learn about something that you might not have heard about or considered. (Or conversely offer a deep dive into a subject you’re interested in).

My go to website for educational and free documentaries is PBS’s NOVA, linked here: https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/videos/episodes/

Of course, you don’t have to watch a documentary, here are some alternatives:

-listening to a podcast

-reading a book

-going to a museum

Even watching a deep dive on YouTube is a great option. There are tons of ways to educate yourself.

The objective of this goal is to keep growing and expanding your knowledge base or simply just learning something new!

 Give Back

I usually do this by donating. Obviously, it’s important to check up on a charity before you donate but there are great sites like this:  https://www.charitynavigator.org/ that will help you gauge an organization.

You also don’t need to donate a lot of money, sparing ten or twenty dollars is still better than nothing.

If you don’t have money to spare, there are still ways to give back, donating old clothes or extra food is always a great option.

Volunteering at shelters, libraries or any charity organizations near you is also completely free and very fulfilling.

I also recommend adding this chrome extension if you want to donate money for free: https://chrome.google.com/webstore/detail/tab-for-a-cause/gibkoahgjfhphbmeiphbcnhehbfdlcgo?hl=en

Basically, every time you open a new tab you get a heart (a few cents of add money) and then you can donate those hearts to various charities.

The objective of this goal is to uplift and help others, to contribute to making the world a better place!

-.-

These four checklist items I set for myself every month is the inspiration behind the #maylifestylechallenge. It’s just a more structured way to accomplish these goals with each week having a different focus.  

(Last week was something new and this week is something creative, hence the blog post).

This checklist is a great way to set a baseline set of goals, especially if you don’t have, or want to set, any specific personal ones

So this month, I challenge you to the May Lifestyle challenge and see how it impacts you. Do you feel more productive? Or maybe just better knowing you’ve done something to grow yourself and others?

Please share your thoughts in the comments! I’d love to hear them!

Thank you all so much for reading! And I’ll see you in the next one!

[ressyfaerie]

Request: I saw this tattoo programme where 2 lesbian friends went on and they got to pick the other's tattoo and they can't look till it's done. One picked "you mean everything" for the friend and she was so worried about her seeing in case she hated it. Then hers (from her friend) was "I love you". This had them all emotional and got them both to confess & get together. Anywaaaay, a similar idea for Tyka?

Sorry for the late response! I’m working again and still recovering! This is the LAST FIC REQUEST of this askbox being open!

Soooo likkee. Once upon a time I talked to someone about a tattoo shop AU? This gave me some serious inspiration sooooooo here we gooooo

Halfway through I remembered! I (mentally?) based a lot of this idea on @ishkajules tattoo tyka shop AU!

Oh, disclaimer, I want a tattoo but know NOTHING about them aaaahhhahaha

“You’re a great artist, but you’re scaring away your clients.”

“Why do you care, Tala?”

“I don’t. They come to me after you reject them, or make them so uncomfortable they sit in the next chair over.”

“So then, why are you telling me this?”

Kai cleaned his equipment. It was nearing the end of the day, he figured he wouldn’t have any more walk-in customers.

“I just thought I’d let you know. You’re losing us money. If you don’t fix it, I’ll change your pay to commission only.”

Kai scowled. Who did he think he was? Threatening his pay like that?

“Like I said. You’re a phenomenal artist. But you're lucky I hired you. No one else will with your personality.”

Kai gave him a glare, “I’ll try to do better, boss.”

“Good. Keep that mouth in check.” Tala gave him a ‘I’m watching you’ gesture.

As soon as he turned away Kai rolled his eyes.

The bell in the shop rang.

“Hello! Welcome, how can we help you?” Tala welcomed the new customer with his regular fake friendly greeting.

“Hey... I’m Tyson.”

The kid seemed nervous. He didn’t have any art on his body.

Blank canvas.

“Um. Is Kai here?”

“Kai? Are you looking for him specifically?”

“Yeah! I follow his stuff on instagram and I really want my first tattoo to be done by him!”

The boy’s face brightened the whole shop. Kai’s lip curled.

“Of course! Let me get him for you!”

Tala made his way to Kai in the corner, he got up in his face.

“Listen, this kid’s a newbie—”

Kai rolled his eyes, “you know I don’t ink tattoo virgins—”

“Think of it as a blank canvas. As artists we all like a good canvas, look at him! He’s perfect!”

Kai took a look at this Tyson character. He hated to admit Tala was right. He was a good blank canvas. But Kai hated working with newbie clients; always so nervous, worried about the pain. He would just rather work with a regular.

Tala got angrier, “you will tattoo him. You’ll do exactly what he wants, and above all, you will be nice.”

“Or else what?”

Tala shrugged his shoulders and smiled, “or else you’re fired.”

Kai didn’t want to admit that Tala's threat got to him. He sighed, played off as if he was slightly annoyed but obedient, “fine.”

“Good. Now go do your job.” Tala pointed to the front desk where the new client was waiting.

Kai shot Tala a glare, as he made his way to the desk. He put on his biggest fakest smile.

“Hey, I’m Kai.”

Tyson held a backpack around his shoulder, he grasped it firmly, while giving Kai the widest grin.

“I’ve been following you for a long time! I um… decided when I had enough money I wanted my first tattoo to be done by you…”

Awkward silence.

“Uh, what do you have in mind?” Kai learned how much it hurt when you kept smiling.

“I know you specialize in birds… I would love to have a red phoenix. Eventually I want a dragon. But I’d love to start with your strongest area!”

“Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

Tyson watched Kai like he was a celebrity. He had a popular art account, but that was about it. Kai just stared back at him.

“Um... I think I want it on my back…” Tyson trailed off as he grew more nervous.

“That’s a good choice. Do any designs come to mind?”

Tyson bit his lip, he looked up to the ceiling in thought, “oh!” He pulled out his phone.

He passed it to Kai showing him an old post of his. It wasn’t his best work, but he understood why he liked it.

“I can do that design easily.” Kai wondered why he was so worried—”

“I just… Don’t want it exactly like this.”

Ah right. Newbies.

“So what do you have in mind then?” Kai’s eyebrow twitched.

“I um.” Tyson rubbed the back of his head as his cheeks turned a bit red.

Kai sighed, “kid, I can’t work on you if I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Tala called to Kai, “Hey Kai! Don’t forget about your happy little tattoo gun over here!”

Kai reluctantly put on his big smile, “yeah boss, I haven't forgotten!”

He turned back to Tyson. “So what are your ideas?”

Tyson bit his lip.

“Do you have a reference I can make a design off of? Anything?”

“I… do.”

“Then show it to me.”

Tyson exhaled, then slid his backpack off his shoulder. He opened it and pulled out a sketchbook. He had it turned away from Kai making sure he wouldn’t see. He flipped through a few pages, and turned it towards Kai.

Kai grabbed it, and placed it down on the counter. He saw the sketch of the phoenix that was clearly an imitation of his style… with a twist.

Kai found himself impressed. It was a good design.

“I’ve worked on this for a few months… I’m pretty confident this is what I want… What do you think of it?”

Kai was trying to be extra nice, but he couldn't deny it was good. “It’s well done.”

“Thanks!” Tyson grinned.

The more Kai inspected the drawing the more detailed it became, it gave him new inspiration, a kind he never had before.

“Do you..” Kai cleared his throat and prodded the page with his finger. “Do you want this exact design or a design done by me?”

Tyson looked ecstatic, “would you be willing to make me an original design!?”

Kai thought for a moment. His original designs were usually reserved for regulars or people willing to drop more cash. But something about this design called to him…

He convinced himself he was inspired by his jealousy. He couldn't let this poor imitation see the world.

“I can make you a design based on this one.”

“Really!? Wow, thanks!”

“Can I borrow this sketch book?” Kai asked, while flipping the book closed.

“Um…”

“I need the design.”

“Could you take a picture?”

“I’d prefer to work with the original.” Kai’s lips hurt from smiling.

“Okay… You can borrow it.” It seemed Tyson was an extremely shy guy. “Be careful with it, okay?”

“I will.”

Kai stayed late in the shop. He worked in the studio.

“I’m locking up. Kai, I’m surprised you're still here?” Tala twirled the keys around his finger.

Kai was hunched over the small desk. He had already drawn out a few sketches. Tala inspected his work over his shoulder.

“Can you not?” Kai spat back.

“It’s a good design. I’m surprised you're putting so much effort into this kid's request. It’s not like you.”

Kai shrugged.

“He’s not loaded, you know? You’re not going to make up for it in tips.”

“I know.”

Tala felt a strange proud emotion emerge. “Alright,” he dropped the keys on the desk. “You can lock up. Have fun with your drawings.”

Kai watched the keys as they fell in front of him. He heard the door open, and close.

He sighed, then scrunched up the paper he was working with into a ball, and tossed it into the bin with the rest of the failed projects.

The sketchbook laid in front of him. He wanted to take a look at the design again. But he had lost the bookmark.

Shit.

He had to look through the book to find the right page.

There better not be anything dirty in here…

He opened it to another design.

Oh, wow.

It was a dragon, scribbled with faint watercolour. Kai grew curious, what other masterpieces did this book hold?

He began to flip through, curiously studying each design.

There were tons of dragons. Kai was interested, as he had always wanted a dragon tattoo, but he hadn’t yet met an artist who could ink scales the way he wanted.

These designs were so close to what he wanted, until—

He turned to a page with a very detailed dragon design. It took up the whole page. The colours were perfect, mixes of blues and silver. He was immediately captivated by it. His mouth hung open slightly.

It had been a long time since an art piece caught his attention.

He ran his finger down the page, careful not to smudge the drawing.

“Wow.”

Two days later Tyson came back to the shop, eagerly awaiting his tattoo.

Tala gestures to Kai from across the shop, pointing to the front desk where Tyson had just entered. He mouthed the words ‘be nice!’. Kai looked to the ceiling to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

Kai got up from his station. The night before he had pulled an all-nighter. Until finally—he came out with the perfect piece. He knew Tyson would love it. He was upset with himself for putting so much thought into it, after all, he was just a newbie.

Kai tossed a black file folder on the desk.

Tyson jumped a bit, then settled back in with his backpack on his shoulder, “good morning, Kai!”

Kai put on a smile, “good morning.”

Tyson tilted his head, it was kind of cute, “did you manage to come up with anything? I know it hasn’t been long—”

“I did, I think you’ll enjoy it.” Kai opened the folder and revealed a paper, he placed it on the desk and flipped it around to show the blue-haired boy.

“Woah! Holy shit that’s so cool!” Tyson placed both his hands on the corners, admired it with an open mouth.

“Is it what you wanted?” Kai accidentally let his smile drop as he awaited the response.

“It’s perfect!” Tyson was so happy you could see his dimples.

It made Kai perform… maybe… a real smile.

“I have a test here, do you want to see what it would look like?”

“Can I? Oh man that’s so fucking cool…”

Kai gestured behind the desk, Tyson happily pushed himself through the gate. Kai pointed to his station “that’s my chair, put your stuff anywhere out of my way. Take your shirt off.”

Tyson suddenly stopped smiling and froze, Kai almost ran into him.

“Hey!” Kai started to lose his temper, but saw Tala’s red hair in the corner of his eye, he took a deep breath. “You said you wanted it on your back didn’t you?”

“Yeah…” Tyson answered back nervously.

Kai dropped the folder on his desk near the chair, “then take off your shirt and lay on your stomach.”

Tyson swallowed a hard lump in his throat.

Kai just stared at him.

Newbies. It’s just some skin. So annoying.

Tyson let his bag slide to the floor, he kicked it to the corner of the room, then he folded his arms.

Kai turned around, ready to place the stencil, then he frowned, “why do you still have your shirt on?”

Tyson went to say something, but stopped.

Kai sighed, “it’s just bare skin. I’ve worked on way more intimate body parts. You have nothing to worry about.”

Tyson shrugged, he acted confident but Kai could tell he was nervous. He grasped the ends of his shirt and rolled it over his head, throwing it on top of his bag.

“Now lay down.” Kai gestured to the chair that was horizontal from the last client.

Tyon nodded, and laid down in front of Kai, “is it going to hurt!?”

Kai closed his eyes for a moment, it took everything in him to not retort with sass, “it’s just a sticker, so we can determine the placement. It won’t hurt.”

Tyson nodded.

Kai flicked his arm, “you need to have your arms near your sides… like this.”

Kai had grabbed his closest arm and manipulated it like a rag doll, Tyson hid his face, hoping his idol didn’t see him blush.

“Okay, I’m applying it now.”

Kai expertly placed the test paper exactly where Tyson had described he wanted it. Along his right shoulder. Tyson barely moved, but Kai wasn’t sure how he would react when the actual inking started.

“Done. Take a look in the mirror.”

Tyson jumped up, nearly running to the full length mirror in the shop, twirling his body so he could see it better.

“Wow! It’s so cool!” His voice rang through the whole shop, even Tala’s client looked up from his chair.

“Thank you, Kai!”

“No problem.” Kai sat down in his chair, he picked up his tattoo gun and started to tinker with it, he looked at Tyson. “So are you ready?”

Tyson’s eyes grew wide, “r—right now!?”

Kai gave him a genuine grin, “no better time than the present.”

Tyson made his way back to Kai’s station. He looked down at the chair, “is it going to take a while?”

Kai nodded, “I’ll do the outline today. Then you can come back tomorrow and we will ink as much as we can.”

Tyson sat on the chair, still too nervous to lay down.

“Hey kid!”

Tyson looked around the shop for the echoing voice.

It came from the client on Tala’s chair. He was covered in different tattoos, “don’t be worried! But remember it's addicting! Once you get one you can’t stop!”

Tyson laughed, “thanks man!”

The man gave Tyson a thumbs up, Tala smirked in Kai’s direction.

He must enjoy torturing me… asshole.

Tyson gave Kai a huge smile, “I’m ready!”

“Good.” Kai had reached over to his station, he placed a pair of glasses on his face.

“You wear glasses!?” Tyson was intrigued.

“Yeah? Why is that surprising?” Kai wondered why Tyson cared so much, they just met after all.

Tyson mumbled, “you just… never shared anything on your instagram I guess…”

“There’s more to me than my online persona. Get on your stomach.”

Tyson instantly obeyed. He curled in his fists.

Kai made the necessary procedures, he wiped his back with a sterile wipe, Tyson shivered.

Kai had to bite his tongue from sighing.

“Sorry… it was cold.” Tyson muttered.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Kai tried to reassure him but realized he had never really reassured anyone before.

Kai prepared the gun, Tyson turned his head to him, “how much… is it going to hurt?”

God damn it. Why do they always ask...

“Not as much as you’re going to love it.”

Kai impressed himself with his response.

Tyson nodded, and turned his head away from Kai.

“Alright, I’m starting.”

Kai had done it a million times before, but it was Tyson’s first. When the gun first ran along his skin he tensed up, he made a quiet high pitched noise. Kai kept going.

He kept tensing up, too much, it would ruin the work, and Kai’s concentration. Kai stopped for a moment, “you have to untense. It hurts now but it’ll go numb soon, then it won’t be so bad.”

Kai just saw the back of Tyson’s head as he nodded.

Kai grasped his shoulder, “good, now untense.”

Tyson tried to loosen up, but his muscles were still tight.

“Breathe.”

Kai wasn’t sure what to do, but he still had his hand on his shoulder, he gave Tyson a gentle rub with the edge of his thumb.

He heard Tyson exhale, and his whole body relaxed.

“Good job.” Kai readjusted his glasses, and continued. He was leaning over Tyson’s body.

Tyson was aware just how close his idol was, he could feel his breathing as he worked. His face turned red. Over the next hour he grew used to it. He was loving the closeness. He was excited to see what it looked like done.

Tala was surprised, usually Kai put his earbuds in and avoided talking to clients. But this time, Kai kept glancing at Tyson’s hair, as if he wanted to say something, but was stalling. At just over the hour mark, Kai made his move.

“I have to admit. I looked through your sketchbook.”

Tyson jumped, “what?”

“Don’t move—”

“Sorry, but why did you do that?”

“I lost the page the design was on. Then I just kept looking.”

Tyson went silent, clearly he was upset.

Kai stopped for a second, “they’re really good.” he immediately started again.

Tyson went stone cold.

Kai continued, “your dragons are insanely intricate. I’ve never seen scale work like yours. Are they all original?”

Tyson hesitated, “yes…”

“I’m quite fond of the silver-blue dragon, the one near the end.”

“I know which one you’re talking about. It’s one of my favourites too.”

“Mhm.” Kai trailed off, still not ready to ask the question he wanted to.

A few hours later, Kai stopped, “I think that’s good for today.”

Kai put his equipment down, and laid his glasses back on his desk.

Tyson went to get up, “ow…”

“Sore?”

“Yeah, I’ve been in this position too long…”

Tyson slowly rose to a sitting position. Kai admired his shoulder.

It’s great work. I did well.

“I want to see it!” Tyson jumped to his feet making his way to the mirror. He looked in the mirror and gasped in awe.

Tala had approached, he observed the design and raised an eyebrow, “it’s really good, Kai.”

Kai crossed his arms, “come back tomorrow. I’ll colour it. But it will be a bit of work.”

Tala agreed, “it might be best to split the coloring into two appointments. Since it’s his first… How was it, Tyson?”

Tyson was still admiring his tattoo, “the pain? It was fine once I got used to it, Kai really helped.”

“Really!?” Tala looked at Kai in disbelief.

Kai shot him a glare.

Tyson put his shirt back on while Tala described how to take care of it. They made their way to the front desk and finished off some paperwork.

Tala had gone back to his desk, still within earshot.

“Thanks so much. Kai! It’s going to be awesome!” Tyson grinned, “but um… can I have my sketchbook back?”

Kai nodded, then went back to his station, and came back with the book, he slid it across the table, but held on to it when Tyson tried to take it.

Kai didn’t let go of the book, he looked into Tyson’s eyes, with his first genuine expression, “I have a question. About your design.”

“Huh?” Tyson looked up to Kai. He was positive there was nothing he could ask that he wouldn’t know himself.

“I want to buy it.”

“What?” Tyson’s voice rang with disbelief.

“Well, I don’t want to buy the rights. Just the design, so I can have it tattooed.”

“You want my design!?”

“Yes, is that a problem?”

Tala’s ear twitched, the situation tickled his interest, and he made his way back to the counter.

“I uh—um.” Tyson was lost for words.

“How much?” Kai badgered him.

Tala intervened, “Kai leave the poor kid alone, let him think on it.”

Kai looked at Tyson, Tyson stared back.

Tyson let go of the book, “keep the book till tomorrow… I’ll think about what you said…”

Tyson backed up towards the door, “b—bye! See you tomorrow!”

He had left the shop faster than either of them could say bye.

Kai still held the sketchbook, he looked down at it. Tala was immediately furious.

“Kai Hiwatari, what the hell!? Are you an ass or head over heels? You’re going to bully some rookie artist into stealing his design? What is wrong with you—”

Kai had opened the book to his favourite page. Tala’s voice changed right away.

“Shit.”

Kai held the open book close to his chest, “I know. It’s well done.”

“You’re not kidding, here let me see—”

Kai handed him the book. Tala admired the drawing for a long time. Before flipping through the book. He let out a long high pitched whistle.

“Could you do it?” Kai asked.

“Do what?”

“Could you tattoo this for me? I want it on my right shoulder—”

Tala laughed, “no. My specialty lies in fangs and fur. I’ve never done a dragon, plus these scales… this could only be done by the original artist.”

Tala looked up from the book, “if you love this design, it has to be done by the original artist. Does he know how to use a gun?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ah, shame.”

“How come?”

Tala went back to flipping through pages, “because I'd hire him on the spot.”

Kai was dumbfounded, “for real?”

“Absolutely.”

Dude I have so many more ideas for this AU it’s INSANE. AAAH but this is all I have time for now <3 if there’s a demand for more I might write more!

[pxncakefluff]

Tommy’s Memory Book

word count: 1.1k

warnings: death (sort of), angst, doesn’t follow exact canon events.

parings: none, but this can be a platonic Tommy/Ghostbur

authors note: This is based off art I saw on shmeckart on instagram. I felt really inspired to make something out of it, lol. I know some aspects of the writing are a bit iffy, mainly because of the recent stream (I started this a day ago), but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

His vision had come first.

The sunlight hit his eyelids, inflicting a soft groan from him as he opened his tired eyes. It was bright, very bright. The sun sat in the dark blue sky, watching the land above the clouds. His eyes shifted downwards finally taking in his surroundings. The tall grass around him limited his sight, however.

He didn’t know where he was.

Eventually, he began to inhale the scent of wet grass, dirt prevalent from what he could smell. And was that, lilac? The smell of lilacs surrounded him, as he took a large inhale through his body.

His sense of touch came third, as he finally began to feel the tall grass tickling his limbs, and the damp floor beneath him. The pain. It was all gone? He didn’t feel the bruises that were littered upon his body anymore, or where they had gone, but, he couldn’t remember what had inflicted them either.

The sounds of the birds chirping flooded his ears at last. The wind howled around him, making the tall grass sway in any which direction it blew. Slowly, but surely, he stood up from his spot on the ground.

Where he looked, miles of grassland covered the land, with a few trees that stood peacefully. There he spotted it, in the far distance, the silhouette of a cottage.

Not knowing where to go, he made his trek towards the cottage, with every intent for answers. It was the only logical place to go. The closer he got, the more details he began to see of the cottage. The little chimney that protrudes out of the roof, the lanterns that hung from the roof, and the door that seemed oddly welcoming. He’d seen this place before, no, he’d been here before. It felt familiar, but he couldn’t quite recall where from. It was all still hazy.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but he felt small. It didn’t feel right. He felt short, though somewhere deep in his mind, he knew that he wasn’t supposed to be. Everything felt bigger, towering over him.

After what seemed like hours, he, at last, stood in front of the building before him. It seemed homey. Stepping stones shone through the grass leading up the big wooden door, beckoning him to make his way across. Cautiously, his small feet padded his way to the door.

Who lived here? Did they even know why he was here? Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand to knock on the large door.

Knock, knock.

He could hear the sound of a chair screeching back, and footsteps making its approach. He braced himself for whatever stood behind the door, taking a few steps back. The door opened, and there stood someone he’d never expected to see.

“Wilbur?” he squeaked out shakily towards the tall man. Ghostbur’s smile grew graciously, as he made his way out of the cottage. Sunlight hit his face, making him look ever so welcoming.

“Tommy, it’s good to see you!” he spoke with warmth. Ghostbur leaned down to Tommy’s eye level, lightly patting Tommy on his shoulder. “Why don’t we go inside?”

Tommy nodded his head shyly, Ghostbur gesturing to follow him inside.

Entering the cottage had given Tommy a rush of nostalgia. Memories rushed through his mind all at once. It all made sense. This was his home once.

“Here, have a seat.”

Sitting down in his seat, Ghostbur made his way to the other chair before sitting in it as well. Tommy looked around the cottage once more, “Where are we, Wilbur?” Ghostbur looked at him confused, struck by Tommy’s lack of memory, “We’re home.”

“No, I mean-”

“Have some blue, Tommy,” He interrupted, pulling a handful of the blue out of his pocket. “I think you need it.” Tommy took the blue from Ghostbur’s hand, holding it tightly against his chest. He felt a huge weight being lifted from him. Standing up from his seat, Ghostbur made his way to the wall adorned with picture frames, ones that he saw had him in it. Back turned away from him, Ghostbur spoke again, “Where do you think we are?”

Tommy paused for a second, his form shrinking into the chair. “I don’t know,” Tommy said softly. “I just remember waking up in the middle of the field.” His voice began to waver, he felt like dropping to the floor and crumbling right there. Ghostbur turned towards him, walking over to him slowly. Kneeling in front of Tommy, he looked him in the eyes. “It’s going to be alright,” Ghostbur cooed to him. “You’re in a safe place now.”

In all honesty, Ghostbur was just as shocked to find Tommy in his safe haven, more conflicted by the fact that Dream had been behind Tommy’s death. Tommy had come to him in the form of a small child. The form he remembered 6-year-old Tommy used to be when he came running to his older brother Wilbur when he got a scraped knee, or when he needed a shoulder to cry on.

Ghostbur doesn’t remember much about Tommy, but he does know that Wilbur cared a lot about him. He knew that he had to make things right.

Taking a deep breath, he sighed. “What do you remember?” Walking off to a different corner of the house, Ghostbur picked up a book with a pencil that sat snug in it. “Hold on, why don’t we write this down..” Ghostbur took a seat at the chair next to Tommy’s, looking up at him to signal him to speak. Tommy cleared his throat, “Well...I remember you.” Ghostbur hummed, writing down what he had said. “I remember the revolution...the blowing up of L’manberg…”

“But I also remember being in this house...being with you and Technoblade..”

Ghostbur continued to hastily write the words out, listening intently to Tommy’s trailing thoughts.

“And I remember Tubbo.” Ghostbur stopped his focus, pencil going slack in his grasp.

“Wilbur, do you know where Tubbo is?”

“Of course I do, he’s somewhere safe.”

“Can we visit him? I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen him..”

“Yes, but I don’t think that will be for a while, Tommy.”

Tommy shook his head in disagreement, “But I want to see him now.” Ghostbur looked at him sadly, “With time.”

Tommy quieted down. Closing the book, Ghostbur gazed at the child. “Is that all you remember right now?”

“Sorry, it just comes in bits and pieces..”

“No need to apologize, most of it will come back soon.”

“We’ll call this Tommy’s Memory Book.”

[jbbuckybarnes]

Time Stops

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Desc: This is for @ussgallifreyfics​  #gallifreys500 writing challenge. Not beta read. Prompt: “They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true.” - Big Fish Warnings: FLUFF

MASTERLIST

They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true. You’ve seen it with friends that had met their soulmates the day they were ready to. They stopped aging. When you turned 18 you could find your soulmate and never age again. While that was beautiful, it also put a lot of pressure on you and a lot of pity on people growing old. Usually people would just feel who their soulmate is, but there also were soulmate marks. They weren’t big or anything to brag with, but yours was a little heart-shaped darker spot on the back of your right hand. Right between the thumb and the pointer finger connection. Definitely a space you massaged a lot when you got nervous.

Right now was one of those situations. You were waiting in line to get onto a plane to New York City. A trip you made once or twice a year to meet your friends. While you loved New York, you hated flying. The many alien attacks and whatnot of the last decade weren’t helping with your anxiety. The plane being delayed on top of that was even worse for your mind going in circles. A big man sat down next to you, putting down a duffle bag and getting out a book with the title, “Love, Simon.” Wasn’t that a book about a closeted teenage boy? Didn’t match up at all with the giant frame the man had, but you smiled to yourself. You scrolled through Instagram, created a new collection for cute cat pictures and went on about your anxiety soothing. When you were finally boarding, your anxiety went through the roof again. Thankfully you had downloaded a whole documentary for the flight, otherwise you’d go insane. When you were situated in the plane and had gotten out your headphones, the giant man found his seat, the one which just so happened to be next to you. It was about to get cozy, but you weren’t complaining. You’d rather have a giant man with a good taste in books next to you than a creep or a family with a newborn baby. After your heart almost jumped out of your chest while you took off you finally could relax and start watching your space documentary. Every now and then you felt him flip a page in his book very delicately. Your hand landed on the little table your phone was situated on to give him more space, which is when you started to feel the stare on you. Well, now it WAS a little creepy. He tapped your shoulder and you stopped the show and looked at him. Woah, wait, you knew that face. That was Bucky Barnes, wasn’t it? “Sorry for interrupting, I just...I saw you like space and, uh, could you tell me what documentary that is? It looks awesome.” he gave a shy smile before looking away, right hand going through his beard. Wait a damn second. “Huh?” he looked back at you confused. “I said that out loud.” you stated to yourself and closed your eyes. “Yes, you did.” Now he was grinning at you, eyeing your slightly flustered face. “Uh, your soulmate mark. Are you…?” your eyes went from his eyes to his hand. “What makes you think that?” “You didn’t really age but you also were in cryo a lot, so it’s quite difficult to tell.” you grinned. He smiled wide and looked down on his hand before shaking his head, “No, haven’t found them. I don’t think I ever will. 70 years is quite a lot-” He saw your right hand come into his field of vision and his eyes went wide and back up at you. You were amused at the weird situation you had just put each other into and you couldn’t deny that you liked how he turned into a soft dorky man. But maybe that was just him outside of the news. “So...uh...wow.” Another time that he went through his hair. “Yeah,” you looked up at him with shimmery eyes. You respected the man in front of you so much for what he went through and that he was still here. But that giant dork that looked illegally good was your soulmate? That must be a dream. “So...would you like to go on a date anytime soon? I’d love to get to know you.” he got a little confidence back and gave an unsure smile to you. “Of course, I know this really great brunch place in the Upper West Side.” you smiled a little giddy. “Spring Natural Kitchen?” he asks. “Spring Natural Kitchen.” you nodded chuckling. “Wanda told me about it. She loves testing new places whenever she’s not on call.” “Sounds like I’d get along great with her.” “So...why are you flying to New York? You live there?” he finally asks and you shake your head. “I live near Denver and come here sometimes to meet friends and have a good time for a week or two.” “Which city’s better?” he smirked. “I like both, but I have a job back in Denver that I love. I’m working in a very laid back modern restaurant, café kinda establishment.” you explained. “Well, if you’re my soulmate, you might as well open up a second one of those in New York City, cause that sounds great.” By now he was so deep in your flirting battle that he totally forgot that he just met you. “You just want that cinnamon cupcake goodness.” you laughed. “I’d never say no to any food, I think that gets very clear when you look at me.” he looked down on himself. “Hm, yeah, a little.” You grinned, “Hungry giant.” “Oh, we’re already starting pet names, huh?” his brows went up. The giggle escaping you widened his big smile. ___ *You ready to get picked up and judged by Sam Wilson?* *Why not by Wanda? Or literally anyone that’s not Sam?* *I ask myself that every single day, darling.* *I’m ready by the way...and ready to fight Wilson if I need to.* *Sure, darling.* you could practically feel him grinning at his phone screen. *And by that I mean, if he dares to, you’ll defend me anyway, cause you’re cute like that.* Not too long after the AirBnB’s doorbell rang and you ran to the door in your comfy outfit. It was a brunch date, not a fancy gala. When you opened the door you were met with his audacity to wear a leather jacket. “Aw, come on. Really? A leather jacket? Like you don’t know that it’s super hot?” you pouted and were pulled into a hug. “You look cute. Is that Totoro on your sweater?” he held you and looked down on you. “Old man knows Totoro, check.” you grinned. “Hey, I’ve been catching up for 4 years. There needs to be SOME stuff that sticks.” “Could the lovebirds that both can’t drive please move their asses a little faster?” you heard out of a car behind Bucky. “Could the angry bird please chill?” Bucky answered without even looking at him. “C’mon, let’s go and give the man a break.” you chuckled before taking his hand and dragging him towards the car. “So, tell me about yourself. Anything that I don’t already know from social media and our chats.” he grinned. “I stress bake, my favorite shows are all documentaries, I’d love to have a cat, I’m into astrology, I love to draw and paint, my music taste is a literal dumpster fire and I really like sneakers.” you counted a few that you found to be relevant to yourself. “I’m still learning to cook new foods. I actually have a cat, her name’s Alpine, she’s an absolute whirlwind but she’s the most loyal little thing ever.” he smiled. “What kinda cat is she?” you asked excited. “British Shorthair and white.” he beamed. “I already love her. I’d love to get a completely black cat.” you leaned onto your hands. “We could.” he squinted with a cheeky smile. “You’re already thinking about moving my ass to New York, aren’t you?” you chuckled. “You’re my soulmate, why not? It’s not like you’re a shot in the dark or anything like that.” That made you feel warm inside, very very warm. “Yeah, guess you’re right.” you looked at the table flustered. “So, assuming you would stay here…” he got your attention back and god were his eyes sure of you staying here, “...would you actually open up a cool place like this?” “I’d love to but...renting a place like this in New York City? Making it look nice and advertising it? That’s so hard.” “Hi, you’re sitting in front of the longest prisoner of war. If you think Sam didn’t sue the shit out of the military to get me paid for that, then you’re wrong.” he grinned accomplished. “Bucky, you can’t-” “I can, tell me what you’d want to do.” he smiled at you softly, grabbing your hand. After a few moments of grasping the moment you continued, “Well, similar to this place, but with cakes, pies and cookies. And with a completely different color scheme. Very bright, like white and some pastel colors. I’d try to find tons of recipe’s online and let you try them until I have like 12 good and special ones that work. I’d always have a jar of triple chocolate cookies and a chocolate bomb cake. Maybe even sweet ice cream in summer? I’d have chessboard tiled wall behind the counter and hang nice art work in the rest of the place. I’d probably have someone bring in dog cake every week so they also get some good food. I’d make milkshakes, have a barista working and would create some special hot chocolate mix. Maybe I’d do something themed after you. Like little cookies with the- wait, do you hate the red star on your old arm? I know it’s very much a connection to the Sowjets, but I don’t really look at it like that.” “I’m neutral about it. I write autographs on cards with red stars all the time.” he shrugged. “Then there will be red star cookies. Maybe something themed after your bird friend?” you grinned. “He needs to work for it.” he laughed. “I make a mad cinnamon banana milkshake. That would sell very well.” you mumbled before taking a sip from the drink in front of you. “Cookies with red chocolate melted into it...that’s a good one for Wanda, isn’t it?” you smiled shyly, trying to not misjudge his friends. “I love that idea. Maybe something egg based for Sam, you know, cause he’s a falcon. I’ll shut my mouth…” he grinned and watched you snort laugh. The waffles you ordered were set down in front of you and you continued talking about the interior of your dream place. “I don’t know if I’d do it in Manhattan or Brooklyn. I mean Brooklyn literally has cute food places as its elevator pitch.” “I guess it depends where you’d find a place.” “Yeah, forgot, we’re in the ultimate place of renting stuff.” you grumbled and heard him chuckle. ___ “Finally!” you jumped around in the empty space that was about to become your own little store. You’d been with Bucky for three months now and your old boss was more than happy to have a new venture. And you were more than happy to have gotten such a great soulmate. He even got his driver's license to drive you around and go on little trips with you when he wasn’t working. Brooklyn Heights, right next to the Brooklyn Bridge, with an apartment right above. “Let’s measure and buy a nice kitchen for you to bake cupcakes in, darling.” he grabbed you close. “You just wanna eat, honey.” you pouted. “Of course, I eat everything you make.” he planted a kiss onto your forehead. “Hm, okay, let’s measure and drive to Home Depot too.” you smiled content and got another kiss. “You know, I think I found you at the right time. I like how you look. Not a day too young or too old.” you mumbled. “I would have loved you at any age I could’ve found you.” he hummed. “Yeah, that’s because you’re a hopeless romantic.” you giggled. “Only for you, darling.” “Love you,” you mumbled before pressing your lips against his, “so much.” “Let’s get your dream kitchen,” he said while lightly slapping your ass. “Hey! Watch your hands, Barnes.” you playfully scolded him. “Yes, ma’am.” he rolled his eyes before picking you up and carrying you to the damn car himself.

[catholicartistsnyc]

Meet Vancouver-based Photographer Colleen Umali

COLLEEN UMALI is a Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada-based wedding and portrait photographer.  [website | instagram]

Colleen shared with the Catholic Artist Connection about her work as a wedding photographer and how to thrive spiritually during a pandemic. Read our full interview below! 

Where are you from originally, and what brought you to your current city?

I was born and raised in Manila, Philippines but when I was 7 years old, my parents felt the call to move to Vancouver, Canada. Vancouver is home and I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

How do understand your vocation as a Catholic artist? Do you call yourself a Catholic artist? 

In the past, I’ve never thought of myself as a Catholic artist. I just saw myself as another kid on the Internet with a passion for photography while being unashamedly Catholic. I try to be as authentic as I can on social media and sometimes post reflections on God’s goodness.

Photographing weddings has always been my dream. I would do it occasionally for family and friends when they asked, but never seriously considered turning it into a business. But the Lord in His goodness knew these desires of my heart, and in the midst of a global pandemic, He turned this dream into a reality. I began to receive clients out of nowhere. One bride hired me specifically because she saw I had experience in photographing Catholic weddings. This was a huge moment of realization that unintentionally, all the weddings I photographed in the past were all Catholic weddings. 

Today, I do see myself as a Catholic artist. Sure, elopement photos on a mountaintop are beautiful, but I’m not here to show off pretty pictures. My purpose behind launching a wedding photography business (on top of a full time career) is to honor the Lord through the sanctity of marriage. It is so beautiful to witness how He works in people’s lives to bring them together, and I find so much joy in helping couples tell this story. I love getting to know the couples I work with, and there is nothing better than having deep conversations with them about God’s goodness.

Where in Vancouver do you regularly find spiritual fulfillment?

I love my church, St. Matthew’s Parish, because the community is so vibrant and filled with many young people striving to follow the Lord. The youth group’s monthly Adoration nights are always so beautiful. I also serve as a leader for University Christian Outreach (UCO) here in the Vancouver chapter. During the pandemic, we couldn’t meet in person with the university students so we began to hold worship nights over Zoom. At one event, students from other chapters joined us. Despite time differences, we were able to worship with students from Israel, LA, Calgary and Michigan! I also find spiritual fulfillment from regularly meeting up (over Zoom) with like-minded women for book studies, Bible studies and heartfelt, Christ centered conversations. 

What is your daily spiritual practice?

No matter how busy I am, I try to start every day in prayer. I find that when I offer up my day to Jesus, the stresses become a little less stressful. I like to read the daily Mass readings and the reflections from Blessed is She. My women’s group is currently doing the Unlocking the Mystery of the Bible Study so I try to read a few chapters a day. I also like to have a mini praise and worship session alone in my car on my drives to work. I’m currently loving Maverick City Music!

How do you financially support yourself as an artist?

I have a full time job doing kidney research for a large Vancouver biotech. I love my career and the opportunity to make a difference through science. Wedding photography is my passion and I don’t see it as a means of steady income but as a creative outlet. I love meeting people and telling their unique stories. I am still doing my best to put myself and my business out there in a competitive market with wedding photographers on every corner. But in keeping photography as a passion, I’m able to do what I love without the pressure of having to earn enough to make ends meet.

What are your top 3 pieces of advice for Catholic artists post-graduation?

1. Surround yourself with people who support, motivate and push you to become the best version of yourself! I wouldn’t be where I am right now if it wasn’t for my best friend saying “you’re launching your website tonight. No excuses.”

2. Believe in yourself! You are worthy and you are good enough. God gave you these talents for a reason. Use them to glorify Him.

3. Let God do the rest. Whether your art remains a passion or becomes a source of income — follow where He leads. Follow His will for your life and you’ll never be disappointed.

(C) Colleen Umali 

[gagosiangallery]

Richard Prince at Gagosian Beverly Hills

January 15, 2020

RICHARD PRINCE New Portraits Opening reception: Thursday, February 6, 6–8pm February 6–March 21, 2020 456 North Camden Drive, Beverly Hills __________ In 1984 I took some portraits. The way I did it was different. The way had nothing to do with the tradition of portraiture. If you wanted me to do your portrait, you would give me at least five photographs that had already been taken of yourself, that were in your possession (you owned them, they were yours), and more importantly . . . that you were already happy with. You would give me the five you liked and I would pick the one I liked. I would rephotograph the one I liked and that would be your portrait. Simple. Direct. To the point . . . Foolproof. I started off doing friends. Peter Nadin. Anne Kennedy. Jeff Koons. Cookie Mueller. Gary Indiana. Colin de Land.

They didn’t have to sit for their portraits. They didn’t have to make an appointment and come over and sit in front of some cyclone or in front of a neutral background or on an artist’s stool. They didn’t have to show up at all. And they wouldn’t be disappointed with the result. How could they? It wasn’t like they were giving me photos of themselves that were embarrassing.

Social Science Fiction.

Another advantage was the “time line.” If you were in your sixties and you gave me a photograph that had been taken thirty years earlier, and that’s the one I chose, your portrait ended up in a kind of time machine. I couldn’t go forward, but I could go backward. Vanity. Most of the people I did liked the younger version of themselves. So the future didn’t really matter. Half of H. G. Wells was better than no half at all.

Who knew?

After friends, I did people I didn’t know.

I had access to Warner Bros. Records and their publicity files. The files were filled with 8 × 10 glossies of recording stars that they had under contract. How I had access is beside the point. It was a long time ago. Let’s just say an A&R guy gave me access, “permission.”

I spent time in their LA headquarters, in Burbank, and went thru the metal cabinets and took the “publicities” I wanted, took them home, put them in front of my camera, and made a new photograph. The first one I did was Dee Dee Ramone.

I did Tina Weymouth, Tom Verlaine, Jonathan Richman, Laurie Anderson. I did the two girls from the B-52s.

Not knowing these people, having never met them, or talked to them, but still being able to do their portraits, excited me. Satisfaction. I spent weeks in the basement of Warner Bros. I thought I had an advantage. My method, if you could call it that, was far more flexible than the regular way portraits were taken. I didn’t need a studio. A darkroom. A receptionist. A calendar. Makeup. Stylists. I didn’t have to deal with agents or the “personality,” good or bad, of the sitter. My overhead was minimal and I could do the portrait all by myself.

By myself. That was the best.

Why I Go To The Movies Alone.

At first I thought this could be a business.

Up till then none of the art that I was making sold . . . or sold enough to make a living. I had just quit my job at Time Life the year before and was trying to make a go of it living near Venice Beach in LA . . . sharing a house with three roommates and living off the occasional sales that Hudson, my friend from Chicago, would make selling my “cartoon” drawings.

This idea of a “portrait business” made sense to me. Who wouldn’t want their portrait done this way?

I continued to do friends. Paula Greif. Dike Blair. Meyer Vaisman. I did everybody’s portraits for Wild History, a book that I put together for Tanam Press of downtown writing. The author’s portrait accompanied their contribution. Wharton Tiers. Spalding Gray. Tina L’Hotsky.

By the end of ’84 it was over.

I’m not sure if it was the lack of interest in me, or in others. (My energy evaporated.) Maybe it was the inability to convince people to commit to a commission. It was a good idea, but after doing about forty of them, I put them in a drawer and moved on. Bored? Restless? I don’t know. Let’s just say it didn’t take off.

Leave it at that.

My cartoon drawings turned into jokes and the jokes started taking up everything. In the end, I think most people would rather have their portrait done by Robert Mapplethorpe.

Thirty years. Time passes.

The social network.

I looked over my daughter’s shoulder and saw that she was scrolling thru pictures on her phone. I asked her what she was looking at. “It’s my Tumblr.” “What’s a tumbler?” I asked.

That was . . . four years ago?

About three years ago I bought an iPhone. Someone had shown me the photographs you could take with the phone. I had given up taking pictures after they got rid of color slide film. I tried digital, but couldn’t make the adjustment. I never liked carrying a camera and was pretty much inkjetting and painting anyway . . . so the idea of using a big boxy camera with all its new whistles and bows wasn’t for me.

Enter the sandman.

The iPhone was just what I needed. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to point and shoot. You didn’t have to focus. You didn’t have to load film. You didn’t have to ASA. You didn’t have to set a speed. The clarity . . .

I could see for miles.

The photos you took were stored in the phone. And when you wanted to see them, they appeared on a grid. The best part: you could send a photo immediately to a friend, to an e-mail, to a printer . . . or, you could organize your photos, like my daughter had, and post them publicly or privately.

When worlds collide.

I asked my daughter more about Tumblr. Are those your photos? Where did you get that one? Did you need permission? How did you get that kind of crop? You can delete them? Really? What about these “followers?” Who are they? Are they people you know? What if you don’t want to share? How many of your friends have Tumblrs?

What’s yours is mine.

My daughter’s “grid” on Tumblr reminded me of my Gangs I did back in ’85 . . . where I organized a set of nine images on a single piece of photo paper and blew the paper up to 86 × 48. The gangs were a way to deal with marginal or subsets of lifestyles that I needed to see on a wall but not a whole wall. Each gang was its own exhibition. Girlfriends, Heavy Metal Bands, Giant Waves, Bigfoot Trucks, Sex, War, Cartoons, Lyrics . . . were all rephotographed with slide film, and when the slides returned, they were “deejayed” and moved around on a custom-made light box until the best nine made the cut. The “cut” was then taped together (the edges of the slide mounts were pushed up against each other and Scotch-taped), the nine taped slides were sent to a lab where an 8 × 10 internegative was made, and from the internegative the final photo was blown up. I’ve probably lost you. Technical stuff . . . application and technique. Sometimes it’s better to leave the “background” out of it. Better to “take it for granted.” Why should I care how a photograph is made?

Only sometimes.

How was it called back then? Sampling?

Primitive now, but back then . . . 50-inch photo drums were few and far between. The paper was 50 inches wide and came in a huge roll. If you wanted to, you could take a roll and roll it down the street, roll it down the sidewalk, roll it all the way down the West Side Highway.

Shakespeare’s in the alley?

No. Philip Roth is in the alley.

Joan Didion is in the alley.

Don DeLillo is in the alley.

What’s up, pussycat?

There’s a lot of cats on Instagram. Food too.

And there’s tons of photos of people who take photographs of themselves. (Yes, I know the word.)

On the gram. I was just asked why I like Instagram. I said, “Because there’s rules. And if you break the rules, you get kicked off.”

I got to Instagram thru Twitter.

Twitter first.

I’m not sure when I first started tweeting, but I liked trying to fit a whole story into 140 characters.

I call it Birdtalk.

I used to bird in the early ’90s for Purple magazine and birded in my first catalogue for Barbara Gladstone in ’87.

Short sentences that were funny, sweet, dumb, profound, absurd, stupid, jokey, Finnegans Wake meets MAD magazine meets ad copy for Calvin Klein. Think Dylan’s Tarantula. Then think some more and think Kathy Acker’s Tarantula.

Or, don’t think at all. I know I don’t.

Sometimes.

Sometimes I write down the first sentence that starts off my favorite novel.

Relative. I’m not much of a theory guy. But sometimes I think there was a reason why Einstein was a technical assistant in the Swiss patent office.

Let me fill your cup.

Twitter accepts photos, but is mainly text-based. I like to combine the two and tweet both photo and text.

I called the photo/text tweets I was posting . . . “The Family.”

I posted photos of my extended family . . . mother, brother, sister, nieces, cousins, uncles, aunts, in-laws, stepchildren, boy- and girlfriends. I would caption the photos with a short description of who, what, why . . . measuring my words so that they fit into the guidelines of the platform.

After posting the photo/text, I sent the information to my printer and inkjetted an 11 × 14 print of the marriage. I made thirty-eight “Family” tweets.

Distribution.

I placed each “Family” tweet in a plastic sleeve and pushpinned the sleeve to the wall. The wall was at Karma. I put all thirty-eight up. Salon style. It was Saturday. The doors opened at 12 pm. By 12:15 pm all thirty-seven were gone. One to a customer. I kept the one that had my father, mother, and sister in it. (My father and mother were naked, and my sister was sitting in between. My family wasn’t like yours. Hobnob doesn’t begin to describe them.) I sold the “Family Tweets” for $12 each. First come, first served.

Well, well, well . . .

In ma ma ma my wheeeeeeeel house.

I used to stutter. By the ninth grade, the sparkle was in my eye. It got so bad, the impediment turned me into a clam. I slept all day, every day. I wouldn’t get up until Sunday. I waited for Bonanza to come on the TV. I loved the cowboy father and his three sons.

Two summers ago, my niece was working for me out on Long Island and she showed me how to screen save. I didn’t know about the option. What other options don’t I know about?

Screen Save.

This might be one of the best applications in an apparatus that I’ve ever encountered. All-time. Hall of fame. First place. Just what I need. MORE photographs.

Hey kids . . . what time is it?

Now I have a theory.

I was beside myself.

Congratulations.

This past spring, and half the summer, the iPhone became my studio. I signed up for Instagram. I pushed things aside. I made room. It was easy. I ignored Tumblr, and Facebook had never interested me. But Instagram . . .

I started off being RichardPrince4.

I quickly recognized the device was a way to get the lead out. If Twitter was editorial . . . then Instagram was advertising.

A gazillion people.

Besides cats, dogs, and food, people put out photos of themselves and their friends all the time, every day, and, yes, some people put themselves out twice on Mondays. I started “following” people I knew, people I didn’t know, and people who knew each other. It was innocent. I was on the phone talking to Jessica Hart and had just looked at her “gram” feed before picking up the phone. I asked about a picture she posted of herself standing in front of a fireplace wearing what looked to be ski clothes and big fur boots. The post was in black and white, head to toe, full figure, and behind her, above the mantel, there was a portrait of Brigitte Bardot. I told her someone should make a portrait out of this photo. She said, “Why don’t you?”

Come to think of it.

I’m not sure if she knew about my Family Tweets. She might have. I think we even talked about them after she came to my studio for a visit. After I got off the phone, I thought about her suggestion: “Why don’t you?”

I went back to her feed and screen saved her “winter” photo. I sent the save to my computer, pressed “empty subject,” pressed “actual size,” and waited for it to appear in a doc, checked the margins and crop, clicked on the doc, and sent it to my printer. My inkjet printer printed out an 11 × 14-inch photo on paper . . . I took the photo out of the tray and put it on my desk.

Looking at Jessica’s feed reminded me of 1984. Except this time I had more than five photos to choose from. I went back to her feed a second time. I scrolled thru maybe a hundred photos she had posted and looked at all the ones that included her. The one in front of the fireplace was still the best.

Walk on.

Jessica had tons of followers. Thousands. And a lot of them had “commented” on what she posted. I read all the comments that had been posted under her fireplace photo. There was one comment I wish I could have gotten in my original screen save. When you screen save an Instagram image, you can get maybe three, four comments in the save if you include the person’s “profile” icon that appears on the upper left of the page. I decided early on I wanted the person’s icon to be part of the save. But what else could I save?

I went back to my desk and kept staring at the printout of Jessica. What do I do now?

I didn’t want to paint it.

I didn’t want to mark it.

I didn’t want to add a sticker.

Whatever I did, I wanted it to happen INSIDE and before the save. I wanted my contribution to be part of the “gram.” I didn’t want to do anything physical to the photograph after it was printed.

Five cents.

I went back to the comment.

I commented on Jessica’s photo in front of the fireplace, but my comment was one of hundreds and showed up outside, way down at the bottom . . . out of the frame.

If I wanted my comment to show up near her picture . . . how?

I got lucky.

I’m terrible when it comes to the tech side of technology. But somehow I figured out how to hack into Jessica’s feed and swipe away all her comments and add my own so that it would appear under her post. The hack is pretty simple and anyone can do it. You hit the gray comment bar and pick a comment you don’t want and swipe with your finger to the left, and a red exclamation mark appears. You press on the exclamation mark and four things come onto the bottom of your screen.

1. Why are you reporting this comment?

2. Spam or Scam

3. Abusive Content

4. Cancel

To get rid of the comment, you click on Spam or Scam. It’s gone. Just like that I could control other people’s comments and Jessica’s own comments. And the comment that I added could now be near enough to Jessica’s photo that when I screen saved it, my comment would “show up.” Make sense? It’s about as good as I can do. What can I say? Einstein and cuckoo . . .

So now . . .

So now I was in.

Waiting to follow.

Richardprince4 would appear at the bottom of Jessica’s final portrait. My comment, whatever it would be, would always be the last comment. The last say so. Say so. That’s good. That could work. My “in” was what I ended up saying. And what I would say would be everything I ever knew . . . what I knew now and what I would know in the future.

Tell Me Everything.

Finnegans Wake meets MAD magazine.

Zoot Horn Rollo. You seem to be where I belong (emoji).

The first three portraits I did were of women I knew. Or almost knew. Jessica, I knew. Pam Anderson, I knew. Sky Ferreira? I didn’t know, but was following her and had been reading about her new album and seeing posters of her album broadsided on sheets of ply on the Bowery and on Lafayette near Bond. I wasn’t sure what I was doing or why I chose these three. I just had lunch with Pam and had seen Jessica in LA. Sky, I was following because she seemed interesting. There was nothing more. No attraction. No fan. No desire. No date. No wanting anything from her. And the pictures she posted were candid, boozy, and seemed to be letting the viewer in on some kind of backstage diary. She also had thousands of people following her, and I could tap into her followers and follow them. I can do that? I didn’t even know I could follow the followers. Like I said, the hardware was all new . . . and I was just getting started.

The shoreline is never the same. (Like it should be.)

When I first started getting rid of comments, I thought the person whose comments I was getting rid of might get pissed. “What happened to all my comments?” I found out quickly that “the getting rid of” only affected my feed. The deleted comments didn’t affect the followers’ feeds. Their comments were still there even though they were gone from mine. All that happened is that MY comment showed up below their photo. Was I allowed? Yes. I guess so. It’s hard to explain. But the process is open, and at the moment, it’s the way it works and anyone and everyone can do it.

The language I started using to make “comments” was based on Birdtalk. Non sequitur. Gobbledygook. Jokes. Oxymorons. “Psychic Jujitsu.”

Some of the language came directly from TV. If I’m selecting a photo of someone and adding a comment to their gram and an advertisement comes on . . . I use the language that I hear in the ad. Inferior language. It works. It sounds like it means something. What’s it mean? I don’t know. Does it have to mean anything at all? I think about James Joyce confessing to Nora Barnacle. I think about opening up to page 323 of Finnegans Wake. Then I think about notes and lyricism. Policy. Whisper. Murmurs. Mantra. Quotation. Advice.

Chamber Music.

Didn’t Duke Ellington say, “If it sounds good, it is good”? He did say that, didn’t he?

Who are these people?

Larry Clark, Diane Arbus, Robert Mapplethorpe take great portraits. I’ve watched Larry take photos and I don’t know how he does it. I wouldn’t know where to begin. I could never go up to a stranger and ask them if I could take their picture. I’ve done it maybe two or three times and didn’t enjoy it. That part of art is in Larry. It isn’t in me. I feel more comfortable in my bedroom looking thru Easyriders and poring over pictures of “girlfriends” that are right there on the page. Page after page. Looking. Wondering. Anticipating. Hoping. What will be on the next page? Will I find a girlfriend that I really like? That’s my relationship with what’s out there. It’s as close as I want to get. That’s what’s in me.

IG is a bedroom magazine.

I can start out with someone I know and then check out who they follow or who’s following them, and the rabbit hole takes on an out-of-body experience where you suddenly look at the clock and it’s three in the morning. I end up on people’s grids that are so far removed from where I began, it feels psychedelic. Further. I’m on the bus. I feel like I’m part of Kesey’s merry tribe. I’m reminded of Timothy Leary’s journals, which I purchased years ago from John McWhinnie, and the concentration that came over me when I discovered his hand-drawn map of his escape from jail. How he literally shimmied on a wire that had been strung up from an outer utility building to the perimeter prison wall . . . and how I would trace with my finger his overland express to Tangier, where he hooked up with Black Panther Eldridge Cleaver and spent the next year seeking asylum in different parts of North Africa, ultimately ending up in Switzerland where his ex-wife ratted him out, and how fighting extradition took up the rest of his life. Wow, now it’s four in the morning.

Tune In, Turn On, Come Out.

“Trolling.”

If you say so.

I never thought about it that way. The word has been used to describe part of the process of making my new portraits. I guess so. It’s not like I’m on the back of a boat throwing out chum.

“We’re going to need a bigger boat.”

Included.

Everyone is fair.

Game.

An even playing field.

“Outside my cabin door. Said the girl from the red river shore.”

Men. Women. Men and women. Men and men. Women and women. Blacks Whites Latinos Asian Arabs Jews Straights Gays Transgender. Tattoos and scars. Hairy.

I don’t really know the score.

The ones I adore.

I just know where I belong.

“Oh, there I go. From a man to a memory.”

How do I tell you who or why I pick? I can’t. It would be like telling you why I pick that joke. WHY THAT ONE? There’s thousands of jokes. I read them all. It takes days to read just one joke book. 101 of the World’s Funniest Jokes. Days. If I get one, find one, like one, out of the 101, it’s a good day.

People on IG lead me to other people. I spend hours surfing, saving, and deleting. Sometimes I look for photos that are straightforward portraits (or at least look straightforward). Other times I look for photos that would only appear, or better still . . . exist on IG. Photos that look the way they do because they’re on the gram. Selfies? Not really. Self-portraits. I’m not interested in abbreviation. I look for portraits that are upside down, sideways, at arm’s length, taken within the space that a body can hold a camera phone. What did de Kooning say? “When I spread my arms out, it’s all the space I need.”

At first I wasn’t sure how to print the portrait. I tried different surfaces, different papers. Presentation? Frame? Matt? Shadowbox? I tried them all. Finally this past spring my lab introduced me to a new canvas, one that was tightly wound, a surface with hardly any tooth. Smooth to the touch. Almost as if the canvas were photo paper. It was also brilliantly white. I don’t think it could be any whiter. And . . . the way the ink jetted into the canvas was a surprise. It fused in a way that made the image slightly out of focus. Just enough. The ink was IN and ON the canvas at the same time. When I first saw the final result, I didn’t really know what I was looking at. A photographic work or a work on canvas? The surprise was perfect. Perfect doesn’t come along very often. The color that had been transferred from the file of the computer to the jet, from jet to canvas, was intense, saturated, rich. If someone I followed had blue hair, their hair looked like it had been dyed directly onto the canvas. Dye job. Rinsed. Beauty salon. It was brilliant, great color. You might call it “vibrant.” The vibe between the image and the process was “sent away for,” seamless, effortless . . . all descriptions I used to use when I tried describing my early “pens, watches, and cowboys.” (Has it really been forty years?) The ingredients, the recipe, “the manufacture,” whatever you want to call it . . . was familiar but had changed into something I had never seen before. I wasn’t sure it even looked like art. And that was the best part. Not looking like art. The new portraits were in that gray area. Undefined. In-between. They had no history, no past, no name. A life of their own. They’ll learn. They’ll find their own way. I have no responsibility. They do. Friendly monsters.

Speak for yourself.

To fit in the world takes time.

For now, all I can say is . . . they’re the only thing I’ve ever done that has made me happy.

http://www.richardprince.com/writings/bird-talk

Close

[arigatouiris]

out of my league // t. h — 02

Pairing: Tom Holland x Critic! Reader [I use female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; eventual fluff; angst; hurt/comfort; a little bit of cliche because come on.

A/N: If Tom seems a bit out of character here, I apologize. This is after all, my first time writing for him, and it’s all based other fanfiction I’ve read about him or how I see him on screen. Do let me know what you think, it’d be great if some of you had pointers! 

Also, the story does start out a bit slow in the beginning, but trust me, there’s a lot of stuff that’s going to happen that can potentially make things very, very interesting. So hoping to see your reactions~

Thanks for all the love and support, darlings~ 

Word count: 2845 

Series Masterlist

 01 | 02 | 03 |

Ch. 02

At times when (y/n) was not critiquing, she found herself buried in books. She would never call herself an avid reader because she was working most of the time, and for her, reading to write a review didn’t come under reading for fun. 

     It had been close to a year since she had read anything that she didn’t have to critique, and for the first time, she felt a tad bit cheerful for it. It was a book called The Girl Who Fell From The Sky, and narratives such as these always caught her eye. However, this wasn’t how it used to be. Things before never phased her when she was buried into a book; she could man any distraction and not let it come between her mystic connection with the book she held in her hands. However, now, being an adult changed everything.

    (y/n) found it hard to maintain concentration—this didn’t mean that the book wasn’t interesting; she found it interesting enough, though, whenever her phone went off for a notification, her eyes would instantly lift off the page and land on her phone. 

The hate mail fell in number, but they came nonetheless. While some were personal, others were not too fond of her physique and mannerisms on social media. (y/n) had to shut down and deactivate Facebook, Instagram, and didn’t bother to even check Twitter after the fiasco. It had been three days since her break and last conversation with Mr. Holland, after which he hadn’t tried contacting her or approaching her for another apology.

But, these days, journalists made sure that the shelf life for any news story lasts longer than it intentionally was supposed to last. It wasn’t as if they had something against (y/n), it was simply them doing their jobs, and making sure they get enough viewership and interaction with the audience as possible. And here, in London, people loved the best Spiderman, and people loved the man who played the tragic character, Lionel—Tom Holland. 

And even if (y/n) never personally attacked Tom, and attacked instead a writer who was always constantly attacked by even the most amateur of critics, news channels made sure to squeeze as much juice out of this story—(y/n)—as possible.

    And this meant going through her critiquing history.

That Wednesday night, (y/n) remembered watching Love, Actually for the thousandth time, alone in her little cozy home, ignoring the rain outside during the monsoons that pervaded London. After the movie ended, teary eyed for being the secret romantic that she was, (y/n) swiped across random channels until her eyes fell on a picture of herself on television. Immediately, she checked the time. It was over 9 o’ clock. It was prime time. She was doomed.

How am I not off the news yet? Really? They’re going to punish me for doing my job? The tears, they fell now because of the news and not Hugh Grant’s handsomeness. Covering her mouth with both hands, she watched in shock as Jenny began to narrate another story of hers. A story she hadn’t thought was serious.

    “Turns out that our favourite critic,” Jenny gestured sarcastically, “had also gotten into a small duel with another actor before Tom.”

    “That did not happen.” (y/n) whispered, grimacing at the screen.

    “Apparently, after having viewed the hit movie, Do You Remember Us? starring Chris Evans, (y/n) had written a nasty review about the direction of the movie!”

(y/n) groaned. Chris was such a sweetheart, she remembered fondly. He even made a statement on the internet saying how much he liked the review and how he understands the displeasure several fans felt with the way the film was directed. 

     Slow and neat in the first half and rushed toward the end—forcing an exit for the character in the movie, which wasn’t called for in the slightest. But, journalists never pay heed to comments that could lighten the bruise on the person in question. It was almost as if news channels were bullying her for being a critic, and perhaps, it was because she had made so many others in the past very unhappy for the reviews she had written.

    She knew when she got into this job that it wasn’t appreciated by several artists. Years and years put into bettering her best, (y/n)’s words were considered truth almost, for how raw and real her critiquing style was. She made it a point to talk about good things and bad things in every movie or TV show or book she criticized, and criticizing never meant just saying bad things. 

Movie directors would often appreciate her good reviews and saw that more people turned up to their films after the review was published. And even if she had written a disappointing review, (y/n) always made it a point to never badmouth any artist—it was their hard work at the end of the day. A vision that they saw, which perhaps didn’t deliver in the best way for the audience. And this is no one’s fault. Rushed or otherwise, (y/n) ensured that her reviews, bad or good, would talk about the importance of art as a whole.

But, all of that didn’t matter right then. She was hated because Tom Holland “hated” her review and didn’t agree with her. No other celebrity had ensued a statement for her review in such a way before, not directly at least. Displeased writers or directors would contact her personally and ask for an explanation, which she would handle very professionally.

     If only Tom had contacted her—not that he had any right to since there was nothing bad written about her in that review. If only he had read the entire review, he could have seen how (y/n) had mentioned some of the key writing skills that Jean did possess.

She stood up immediately, with a newfound confidence. Heading to the kitchen counter, this decision of hers that popped up out of nowhere, had in fact, come from one place—loneliness and sadness; the two often came together, and weren’t good influences. 

     Picking up the bottle of wine carefully, (y/n) didn’t bother about taking a glass out. The wine bottle had already been opened the night she had written the review, it needn’t be poured into the glass at the moment. I don’t care anymore, she thought before gulping down a mouthful of the red wine, which stung the back of her throat the second it was swallowed. She was never really too much of a drinker, but the night called for it. Turning off the television, (y/n) decided to drink with the quiet tune of her raging thoughts.

    It took five such gulps and fifteen more minutes for her to officially fall under the dangerous level of intoxication. She was giggling at nothing now, teary eyed for reasons that all fell under moronic during normal circumstances. Intoxication had its own way of letting you know how alone you are in the world; of how to doubt your choices, and how to not be proud of them. 

These thoughts came slowly and almost hesitantly, but when they came, it was as if they were welcome.

Her phone rang, but she didn’t pick the call. She thought of Jean, and she thought of how she wanted to call him up—she had his contact from a few earlier reviews, all of which were not so pleasant—and she thought of demanding an explanation. She thought of Susannah, of how she once thought of her manager as the nicest person on the planet, but was someone who only cared first for the firm and (y/n) came slowly following behind like a lost puppy. 

     She thought of all the years of hard work she had put to come to a position where writing those reviews made her money. She worked as a reporter, and on the desk, and almost everywhere and overtime to get to this spot—and it was snatched from her for simply doing her job.

    And she thought of Tom Holland. The attractive and kind actor, whose performance as Spiderman in the Avengers series tore a hole in her heart. She remembered how she sobbed uncontrollably when Peter Parker faded into dust in Tony’s arms. She remembered how she sobbed uncontrollably when he was brought back, again in Tony’s arms. She thought of all the nice things she had written about Tom, the bubbling little high school girl crush that was dormant inside of her led to further disappointment since it was the very same Tom that had taken her hard work away.

As if it were a reverie, drunk (y/n) noticed her phone ringing at last. Trudging toward her device, she saw that the caller ID wasn’t visible. And just as she was about to pick the call, the call ended. In her intoxicated state, she checked how many times this person had called her—there were four missed calls. Blinking a couple of times, and before she lay her phone back on the couch, it rang again. This time, she picked. And this time, she didn’t care if she sounded drunk.

    “Who is it~?” Her voice was sing song.

There was shuffling on the other side, and no answer.

    “Are you... another journalist? Calling to get a note from me for the review I wrote—”She was hiccuping now. “I’m sorry, so yeah. Where was I?” She giggled after this sentence.

It was as if the person on the other end was simply waiting. (y/n) took this as a positive for her questions.

    “I knew it! Okay, okay, okay. Whaddaya wanna know?” She dragged the ‘o’ at the end of her question.

    “I didn’t even write anything bad about Tom… Did you guys even—”Hiccup. “—read the review? Don’t my old reviews count anymore?” She dragged the ‘ore’ at the end of her question. “I wrote such nice things for Tom before! Even on here! I can’t believe he made that satement, oops. I meant, statement. Sorry.”

There was still no voice on the other end.

    “I just did my job, really.” Her voice was low now and perhaps, the intoxication had reached the level of sadness, which allowed her to cry. “I don’t want to be hated on like this.. I pretend as if those words don’t hurt me, but they do!” She dragged the ‘oo’ in the end of her sentence.

    “I’m sorry.” Came a voice that she couldn’t recognize.

    “You have nothing to be sorry for, journalist.” She said, smiling wide, tears falling down her cheeks.

When the call ended, (y/n) decided she had had enough. Going to bed seemed the only viable option, after having such an intense conversation with a stranger.

    “Is something the matter?” Harry asked, staring at his brother.

    “Yeah, your face is funny.” Sam said, grinning.

Tom looked up at his brother with a straight face.

    “I meant, you look very sad over somethin’. Is everything alright?”

Tom sighed. It was the kind of sigh you sigh when something is so wrong and you blame nothing but yourself for leading it there. Harry and Sam looked at each other before looking back at their brother. Tessa was asleep next to Tom, and if she could talk, maybe she’d know what was up in Tom’s mind.

    I feel so bad for her, Tom thought, recalling the conversation (or the lack thereof) he had with (y/n) over call a couple of hours ago. She was quite obviously drunk, another fact he felt terrible for. Tom was quite an observant person, and he could hear it in her tone how sad she actually was. 

As if a shock came over his body, Tom quickly opened his phone and browsed for her reviews—the ones she had written on Spiderman and Avengers; the ones she had mentioned were nice.

    Tom felt worse for not having read them before. She had written descriptively on how well thought out the movie was, and had even mentioned Tom’s improvisation at the end (the scene where he said he didn’t want to go, as Tony Stark held him in his hands). He sighed once more, the same distressed sigh, and rubbed his hand under his jaw. 

     He had called to apologize, having seen her in the news. It was the first time he had seen her face, (e/c) eyes and a nice smile, her hair neat and kempt. Another failed apology, he thought before laying back on the couch.

The next morning, Tom called her first thing, during his morning run. For a second he thought maybe it was too early and that she might still be asleep, but when she picked the call, he felt his heart skyrocket.

    “Hi, I called you last night—”

    “That was you?!” She didn’t sound pleased.

Tom chuckled nervously.

    “Oh my God, you heard me when I was drunk? Couldn’t you have stopped me! This is so embarrassing!”

    “No, no! I didn’t mind! I mean—” Shit, what am I saying? “I meant, I can understand. You don’t have to feel embarrassed—”

    “Mr. Holland, I did not want to cry out my sorrows to you when I was intoxicated. You could have at least let me know that it was you on the other end. What was that?!”

Tom was quiet. He knew he had stressed her out, but now he genuinely wanted to help. He stayed up almost half the night reading so many of her reviews, seeing how she had never insulted a single artist or writer for their art, but only criticized the story. Tom, who had no idea how critiques were written or what thought went into it (and had only believed it was saying bad things, honestly), had finally learned that there was more to criticising than met the eye. (y/n) was a hard working woman, and Tom had somehow made things quite difficult for her.

    “Listen, (y/n), can I call you that?”

There was no response. Perhaps, she had understood that he had something to say, and was allowing him the chance to speak.

    “(y/n), I really want to apologize for what happened. I made a mistake and reacted hastily. I’m going to make things right, but I want to run it by you once before I do it. Please let me apologize to you properly over coffee? I insist—”

    “I already told you, Tom,” his heart beat faster at the way she said his name. It made him feel terrible. Her talking reminded him of his guilt. “I don’t want to meet you for coffee, and if I can recall, I asked you to leave me be.”

    “Yes! Yes, you did. But, listen, I just feel so terrible—Oh my God.”

What Tom saw was a bunch of photographers heading his way. Recognizing him was fairly easy, and because he was on call, he had forgotten to take the path that could have avoided the early morning paparazzi that was waiting for him at the “posh” end of town. Tom groaned before turning around hastily and making a run for it, looking like a complete fool for doing so the way he did, but there was no other faster reaction his brain offered.

    “Hello?” (y/n) was growing impatient.

    “I really have to call you back, (y/n), I am so sorry—”

    “Don’t call me back. Good day, Mr. Holland.”

And there goes another wasted effort for an apology.

Tom didn’t call her back. Not like she expected him to, she had made things too hard for him to apologize. She half expected him to tell one of his friends about how he’s tried so hard to apologize and how she’s being so hard on him—and this invariably getting on the news as well, garnering more hate for her. 

     (y/n) licked her lips before putting on a white baggy sweater. She sat at the edge of her bed and brought her legs up and folded them under her, before grabbing the book she was reading earlier. Just as she read a sentence, her house bell rang.

    “Coming!” She called out, before stopping midway.

What if they’re journalists? It couldn’t have been hard for them to find out where I live, her heart was beating at 300 mph at the moment with the mere thought that it could be reporters at her doorstep. She didn’t have the heart nor the energy to deal with any other person at the moment. Her heart had already been damaged way too much.

    The bell rang once more, and her heart along with it.

(y/n) cursed loudly for not having a peephole through which she could have seen who was on the other side. She had to open the door before finding out who was on the other side. Shutting her eyes and quickly muttering a prayer to who knows what, (y/n) opened the door.

And the shocked face she made perhaps didn’t startle Tom as much as his awkwardly smiling face startled her.

series taglist: 

@strangemaximoff​​, @aestheticgaybish​, @noobmaster63​​, @why-are-all-the-teens-gay​​, @wonders-of-the-multiverse​​, @boushalaivre​​, @jackiehollanderr​​, @nerdypisces160​​, @yourwonderbelle​, @quackson606​, @stickyqueenbouquetsstuff

[thehopefulraincoat]

#28DrawingsLater: Art Challenges, Fear, & Faith

In February I took part in an art challenge called #28DrawingsLater, which involves doing a drawing a day and posting it on a social media like Instagram (and all my prompts were based on books, because I’m that person who reads all the freaking time). Now it’s April and I’ve been meaning to do a reflection on it for all of March! Granted, this March has kind of been insane for the whole world, so I think I can afford a little slack this time... 

Seriously though, I really did need to take the time to reflect because I came into this challenge with so many hopes and I left it with some new realizations. In all that, I realized that I probably had something good to share and if nothing else, writing about it would help me process it.

Why?

I did #28DrawingsLater because I felt that I needed to prove to myself that I had the self-discipline and the drive to stick with something that big. I needed to see what I could do, prove that I could meet “deadlines,” and understand what it would look like to do MORE art. 

What did I gain from it?

-Seeing how much time I really have to do art, when I stop letting other things that seem important get in the way and I spend less time doing mindless entertainment kind of things.

-Being forced, via deadlines, to understand when a piece is done, even if it is not perfect in my own mind. I tend to worry my pieces to completion. I nit pick and wonder and change little things here and there when I could have called it done. That doesn’t mean I’m saying that I shouldn’t care about how things turn out or let mistakes that should be fixed slide through, but there’s a difference between that and needing to make sure my pieces are “perfect” before the world can see them (& thus judge them).

-Experimenting in how I draw. Not only was I challenging myself to complete a drawing a day, but I was learning how to use Procreate, and when you do a drawing a day there’s some necessary mix-up that happens to keep things interesting, I think. To some degree I let each prompt tell me where to take it stylistically as I thought about what fit the book.

Where did it leave me at the end of the month?

Maybe it seems like an odd question, but I went into thinking that if I succeeded, I’d have some great art I could add to my portfolio, a new found confidence in myself as an artist, and this great new habit developed, so that I was making art all the time. Some of that did happen. I have a few pieces of art that I can do a little polish on and probably add to my portfolio. It did boost my confidence a little to have been able to stick it out and to have seen how even the pieces I didn’t have time to finish or didn’t like got a fair amount of love on my socials. The habit part though, it kinda flopped.

I was sick at the beginning of the month and I deprived myself of sleep to keep up with things, so by the end of the month I was stretched thin. A little sick of it, but not enough so that I didn’t want to do art, just to want a break, some sleep, and the chance to do art I wanted to do, without pressure or time limits. I had big hopes when March started, after succeeding at my goal, but driving myself into the ground.

I realized now that I flopped because I went from STRUCTURE to “Ok, now go do lots of art and be amazing at it RIGHT NOW (even though last month completely exhausted you).” I want badly for this year to be the one in which I’m not just doing art for myself, but for work, so when February ended, I wanted to launch right into those goals - and then I shot myself in the foot with the pressure. There was pressure because I feel I need to make certain choices by certain days for financial reasons and career reasons, but I also feel so unsatisfied and not at all confident in my art. There’s this strong desire to stretch myself, to do different art, to play and experiment and let failures happen, but at the same time I have felt that I don’t know how to do that kind of self-stretching nor that I have the time for it. That I must become the artist I want to be, and I must do it now. 

In all the pressure I put on myself, I did not realize that it wasn’t that I didn’t know how to get from point A (my art as it normally is) to point B (the art I want to try) so much as it was that I was afraid of the unknown in the journey from A to B. New, different-looking art requires new ways of creating, new steps, new tools. #28DrawingsLater saw me learning a new tool all month and some new techniques, but it wasn’t different enough to truly stretch me. It’s no wonder I was still so unsatisfied at the end even for all the good it did do me.

And I wouldn’t say I’m satisfied yet, I guess, but I have spent all of March fighting to let myself create something truly new. Each new piece I sat down to make, I got to a point where I sat face to face with my fear. I had to chose in those moments to bend over my work and keep going or the fear would win. 

It’s funny, because art has become the clearest lens through which I see what fear versus faith looks like. I never expected that. But I can sometimes see the very moment when I tell my fear that it will not stop me. I can see, as if it were a physical thing, the moment I choose to believe that God is telling the truth when He says that there is something on the other side of this dark sea. It makes me wonder, what other parts of my life need that kind of clarity about fear?

So I have been learning to create differently, learning to wait out my fears in a new way, and in it God has been reminding me that there is time. I do not have to be the artist I want to be tomorrow, even if I would like to be. He is changing me at the pace and in the ways He sees are best for me, and I just move things along more easily if I trust Him. Time is an important factor that I don’t give much credit to. It’s something which God shaves off our rough edges with. Art is much the same, I feel. It takes time to sand out the imperfections and rough spots, to discover yourself in it. 

I can’t imagine how artists who are not Christians see it. Because I can only see my art as a chisel and a mallet, as a paintbrush, as a pencil in God’s hand. My art is not in itself sending some great message, but in me is shaping who I am meant to be in Christ.

So about those hopes, those decisions I need to make regarding art and finances: what is God asking of me? To take the risk to jump into this chance to really pursue art? Or to be patient, to wait it out for a little longer?

I still don’t know. What I do know is that I am learning balance so that I am growing in my art, but not exhausting myself because taking care of myself properly is something that is not just good for me and my productivity but is also something God is pleased by. I do know that God is telling me that when I pursue my art as I should, I am pursuing Him. I do know that I am built to see Him through the eyes of a Creator and when I do, it pleases Him. 

Am I glad I did this art challenge?

Yes. I learned new things. It taught me how much time I do have for art, if I’m willing to push myself. It taught me to let go of perfection, to pay better attention to how I spend my time as I create, and to try a few new things as I let accidents lead my art in new directions. It was good for me. I just didn’t expect the struggle on the other side, the pressure I was putting on myself as I feel I am running out of time. Yet even that struggle has been good for me. 

For once, I feel that maybe I’m beginning to grasp this future I hope for. I don’t think it’ll be easy. But I also don’t think it needs to drive me into the ground. I think it is doable, if hard. I think God will not let me give up now, even if I think about doing exactly that sometimes. I don’t know that I know what success looks like in this other than in one respect: I think I will have succeeded if I have not let my fear make me stop.

And for you who stuck around to read all that:

Least favorite piece I made for #28DrawingsLater?

Probably the Samovar from The Girl Who Fell Beneath Fairyland... I didn’t finish it, which is a big part of why I’m displeased with it. But I also let myself get caught in some of the details and the perfection of it, and lost sight of the whole picture - and the whole picture suffered for it.

My favorite piece I made for #28DrawingsLater?

I think it’s easily the one I did for Memoirs of a Geisha. It’s funny, because I kept thinking about taking that prompt off the list. But I was tired that day and decided that that prompt would be more simple than the other prompts I had left. I don’t know if it was, but I’m very pleased with the end result. It combines flatness with depth, linework with shape. I like that tension, but with where I am at with my art right now I’m struggling to break out from what I know how to do and find the place where those contradictions can be at home together. I think this piece manages it pretty well. 

[thefederalistfreestyle]

You Can Star In ‘Hamilton’ And Still Fear For Your Life As A Black Man (HuffPo):

Carvens Lissaint is tired of having to prove he belongs in his own building. He’s a 6 foot 3, 29-year-old black man, raised in Harlem, and he lives in a new upscale glass residential tower in downtown Brooklyn. He moved there in September, the same month he landed a starring role in “Hamilton” on Broadway, one of the biggest hits in musical theater history. But again and again — five times in all, by his count — the rotating cast of security desk attendants treats him like an outsider.

“I come here with some Trader Joe’s groceries, about to cook my wife some dinner, and they’re like, ‘I’m sorry, deliveries are downstairs. You have to call up,’” he said. “They just see a black guy wearing Beats headphones, sweats and a hoodie. … I’m like, ’I live here. These are my keys.’”

[. . .]

Lissaint always struggled with traditional academics, knowing he wanted to be a performance artist. He enrolled in community college ― mainly to have a dorm to sleep in ― and flunked out after his first year. He wanted to be an artist and had already found some success as a spoken-word poet, despite his dad’s repeated warnings to ignore poetry and “get a job that pays the bills.” His dad went so far as to forbid him to attend poetry slams in high school, but Lissaint competed anyway and won the acclaimed New York Knicks Poetry Slam in 2007 at 18 years old. He won several more in the next two years and eventually began coaching slam teams and mentoring young poets.

Poetry wouldn’t pay the bills, though, at least not yet. He crashed on friends’ couches or rode the subway all night for about three years after community college. He would perform on the train to scrape together enough cash to see his favorite Broadway show, “In the Heights,” again and again. The musical, written by “Hamilton” playwright Lin Manuel Miranda, opened on Broadway in 2008, also at the Richard Rodgers Theatre, also starring Jackson, one of Lissaint’s heroes.

“In the Heights” is a love letter to Washington Heights, a Hispanic neighborhood in upper Manhattan. Lissaint was transfixed. He saw the play 13 times. Sometimes his friends would give him a ticket, knowing how much he loved it. “Chris Jackson is the reason I started acting,” he said. “I was a young black kid from upper Manhattan. To see a musical about Washington Heights and see a black dude onstage, that was inspiring.”

At 20, Lissaint had another terrifying encounter with the police. He was riding in a car with three black friends to an arts party in New Jersey, where people were playing guitar and rapping and making music together. A policeman pulled them over for allegedly making a turn that was too wide. The cop forced them out of the car and searched it, claiming there was a scent of burned marijuana in it, though Lissaint insists none of them had smoked or had any drugs on them. His friend Miles was angry at the injustice of the situation and started cussing, which prompted the policeman to call for backup, and five more squad cars showed up with dogs, Lissaint recalled. The officers approached Lissaint and his friends with guns drawn, though he and his friends were unarmed.

Lissaint had a sick feeling he could die that night. “I was sitting there, like, yo, they could kill us,” he said. “They could kill us right now, and we can do nothing about it.”  

He was homeless for two and a half years before he started auditioning at conservatories, hoping one of them might see his potential and give him a scholarship. He got a callback from Juilliard in 2010. New York University’s acting program had accepted him, but he couldn’t get into the main school with his academic record. Ultimately, the American Academy of Dramatic Arts in Manhattan gave him a full ride and helped him with living costs, and he was able to enroll.

It was there that he began to understand that high art was generally considered to be art created by white people ― and that black people’s art forms and aesthetics aren’t as valued pedagogically or considered worth investigating in the theater and academic worlds.

“A teacher would say, ‘Bring in a piece of high text,’ and I would bring in a spoken-word poem or a rap. And they’d say, ‘No, we mean high art, like Shakespeare,’” Lissaint said. “Voice and speech teachers told me, ‘You should stop doing spoken-word poetry, it’s inspiring your regionalism and your dialect too much. We’re afraid you’ll never be able to work in the American theater because of your speech, because you do that rap thing.’”

[. . .]

I asked Lissaint what’s like to go from being homeless and sleeping on friends’ couches to having this fancy apartment. “My wife was trying to get me a gift, and she asked me what I want,” he said. “I’ll tell you exactly what I want.”

He leaped from the couch, crossed to the wall and started flipping the light switch on and off, creating a strobe effect in the living room. “You see that? The lights work!” he shouted, his voice becoming louder and more performative. “That’s dope to me! I don’t need much! That is dope! You see this? The lights are on! I don’t need much!”

Instead of buying things, Lissaint has decided to use his new Broadway money and platform to make a five-track album and a book of poetry about racism and violence against black bodies. He realized while he was in grad school that performing art solely for entertainment’s sake wasn’t going to fulfill him. “I’m sitting in class doing Shakespeare monologues, and Trayvon [Martin] just got killed, and we see a Black Lives Matter march pass by our rehearsal. And I’m like, what am I doing in here?” he said.

Lissaint’s new projects, both called “Target Practice,” draw from his experiences and reflect on stories like that of Philando Castile, a black man who was pulled over by police in Minnesota and fatally shot in front of his girlfriend and her child in 2016. The poems pulse with outrage at the white ruling class, even implicating his Broadway audience.

[. . .]

He referred to an incident on July 4, when he posted a photo on Instagram of an 1852 speech by Frederick Douglass about “The Meaning of July Fourth for the Negro” and the fact that Americans were celebrating freedom while keeping African men enslaved. Douglass’ speech, one of the most damning pieces of oratory in American history, condemns the display of patriotism on Independence Day as “hypocrisy — a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages.”

Lissaint now has 11,000 followers, and a white woman who described herself as a “Hamilton” fan commented on his post, “This would definitely make sense to an African American male in the 1800s. Not so much to an African American male who makes his money in 2018 singing in a play based on American history. You are very talented and one of my favorite actors in the play. This post, however, is offsetting.”

Lissaint points much of his poetry at people like her who seem oblivious to ongoing racial oppression in this country. “There are ’Hamilton’ fans who don’t like black people,” he told me matter-of-factly.

He said white people after the show will demand that he pose with their kids or yank him around for pictures like he’s a prop, instead of just asking him. One woman in Houston grabbed the “Hamilton” backpack on his body and twisted it around to show it to her friend, without ever acknowledging the man wearing it. “When you’re an artist, people feel like they own you,” he said. And when you’re a black artist ― “that has deeply rooted implications.”

[. . .]

Performing for an audience black and brown high school kids is his favorite thing to do; it gives him a special kind of energy onstage. He said he hopes that seeing “Hamilton” can do the same thing for the next generation that “In the Heights” did for him as a young black man. [. . .]

read the entire amazing article & get tix to his book release [x]

[catbatart]

CATBATART’S ALTERNATE SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS

I should have done this WAY earlier in this whole ‘tumblr is going down’ debacle but I guess I didn’t actually worry I was going to be much affected until today? That’s when I woke up and saw more porn bots had reblogged my shit overnight than literally any other time before.

Let me make it clear that I will continue to try to post SFW content on tumblr as long as this hellsite will let me. I have way more active and engaged followers here than I could have ever hoped for, and tumblr has been an amazing platform for me until recently. However, I’m afraid I could be booted at a moment’s notice and I’ll need another hub to post NS/ FW art on, so here are some other places to follow me:

QUICK LINKS

PATREON  (ns/ fw art) TWITTER MASTODON (ns/ fw art) INSTAGRAM FACEBOOK FURAFFINITY (ns/ fw art) ETSY DEVIANTART 

WHAT TO EXPECT 

--PATREON: Obviously my personal favorite place where you can support me. ;P Patreon is the only way to get guaranteed commissions every month, and I’ll be posting more NS/ FW content there come the new year. In the past, I’ve done patron exclusive stream doodles and art games as well! Once I get my student loans paid off (sometime next year, knock on wood,) it will also be the primary hub for updates on my Dark Fairy Tale Comic, Blight.

 At the lowest pledge tier of $2, patrons get:     -48 hour commission priority    -participation in polls and most importantly    -access to my Patreon Discord which is like a mini social media in and of itself! There is even a sub-channel for D&D and Looking For Group Table Top games! 

Other sites/descriptions and giveaway info below the cut! 

--TWITTER:  Prrrooobably going to be my next most active site, though by the nature of twitter, there’s going to be a lot of retweets from other artists and random passing one liners that I think are funny. You all probably know how to navigate twitter better than I do, so if you join me here, bless you as it will be a learning experience. For now, I only intend on posting SFW content here, but that might change in the future.

--MASTODON: This will be my hub for general art AND where I’ll be posting NS/ FW art! It’s still a small site with a small community, but I’m really enjoying it thus far! I know it’s a hard sell to get people to join new social media sites, but if you can get over the weird instance selection on sign up, I highly recommend you give it a shot! 

--INSTAGRAM: If you like traditional art, sketches, WIPs, and cats, this is definitely the one I’d recommend checking out. Though I try to post digital art there from time to time, I really use my instagram primarily for traditional art. I also feel a lot more comfortable posting AESTHETIC CAT PICTURES there than I do my other platforms. :P

--FACEBOOK: That’s right! I have a business FB page just for art. Sometimes FB is the ONLY form of social media that people have! This is the closest thing to my Wholesome Christian Social Media that you guys will find (as I have family members who follow me there, HAHAHAHA-) but it’s also my best site to find updates on events and conventions I will be at! 

--FURAFFINITY: Hey guys, did you know your friendly neighborhood CatBat has had a furaffinity this entire time? It’s TRUE! It’s something that I find intimidating to dip my toe in, but it has one of the best in-site commission platforms I’ve ever seen to be honest. I’d love to try more YCHs and maybe...like...adoptable designs??? at some point? Anyway, support over there would be MASSIVELY appreciated. 

--ETSY: Not exactly Social Media, but a great place to check if you’ve ever wanted to purchase original content and work from me! I’ve got prints, originals, woodburning projects, and coloring books up there! 

--DEVIANTART: Yes. Ya girl has a dA. And has since like 2005ish but I deleted my old account and started a new one like 8 years ago. I was born to the dArkness. Molded by it. But now it’s primarily used to post finished works and use them as quick portfolio links for zines and conventions. Follow here if you really only wanna see polished finished works! 

That’s about it for my various accounts. I’m probably going to try to stagger giveaways across them over the next few months, (starting with Twitter in January/February) since until now, I’d put most of my eggs in the tumblr basket and it’s going to be rough trying to build that up anywhere else. 

As an artist, it’s wonky and rough to explain. Your follower base is your life. It’s how you make your living. And for me, it goes beyond that. I’ve made SO many new friends- many of whom I’ve had the pleasure to meet IRL- through this platform. It’s so DUMB seeing what’s going on. I’ve long touted Tumblr as being my favorite social media site for it’s specific format and how it promotes sharing and community in ways most of these other sites don’t.

But it looks like that’s kinda crumbling. :T

[note-a-bear]

THE BEARD AWARDS NEED TO RECOGNIZE BLACK ACHIEVEMENTS

How to ensure diversity wasn't a one-time thing

Nicole Taylor

September 26, 2018

Photo: Lade Ademu-John

Something was different at the 2018 James Beard Awards. More women, more people of color, and more diverse voices were recognized than ever before. But the question of whether this was evidence of more profound change taking place in our industry remained unanswered. As a leading organization of the food movement in the U.S., we wanted to do more to support equity in the industry and access to its highest honors.

For advice, we reached out to some of the most thoughtful, vocal members of our community to share their opinions about how the Beard Foundation could improve. Today we begin by publishing the first of a series of four op-eds that resulted from this outreach, and will continue to post throughout the week.  

As we digest the writers’ suggestions, we intend to operationalize several changes which we believe will have a substantive impact on the Awards and the industry. We will share changes to the policies and procedures for the 2019 James Beard Awards ahead of the “Open Call for Entry” on Monday, October 15, 2018. This is the beginning of a process, not the end, and we know there is much more work we can all do to ensure everyone has an equal opportunity to thrive.

--

One night last May, I lay in bed re-reading Uplift the Race: the Construction of School Daze by Spike Lee and Lisa Jones, when a friend watching the Beard Awards ceremony live on Twitter texted me the names of the winning restaurants and chefs. I had been reading about how Spike Lee made the movie School Daze on a budget, how he was part of this cultural renaissance, and when I saw the year’s winners—with chefs Nina Compton, Edouardo Jordan, Rodney Scott, and Dolester Miles on the list—it felt like a whole new renaissance was bubbling up.

Days before at the Journalism Awards, wins by Michael Twitty, Osayi Endolyn, and the ghost of Princess Pamela had also given a universal “I see you” to black writers and cooks who toil in isolation. A time capsule was unburied. Generations of bakers whisking frothy buttermilk, men whacking down pecan or pimento trees for firewood, and dandy butlers polishing silver trays rose from our African diaspora graves. The 2018 James Beard Awards signified that black cooks, black writers—both dead or alive—mattered.

The wonderment of this year’s achievements shouldn’t be a once-in-a-blue-moon occasion. Why had this moment taken so long to come? There are two major reasons: the first is that the Beard Award categories—and the types of restaurants and publications nominated—don’t reflect the realities of today’s dining and media scenes.

My own infatuation with eating out started in Atlanta in the early 2000s. Swiping my orange-and-black Discover card at Canoe, Atlanta Fish Market, Two Urban Licks, and Pura Vida was a pastime. Rolling the names of those restaurants off my tongue denoted a certain level of cosmopolitan aptitude. At that time, black fine-dining chefs like Todd Richards, Duane Nutter, and the late Darryl Evans were Atlanta stars, but few people were paying attention. Back then, the only path to gain recognition as a chef was to work in a white tablecloth, fine-dining restaurant—the kind of restaurants with a high barrier to entry for young chefs. Fast forward 20 years later, and chefs Omar Tate, Greg Collier, Kia Damon, and Mike and Shyretha Sheats have gone out on their own, creating different kinds of spaces where excellence and creativity converge. In Charlotte, Brooklyn, Athens, and Tallahassee, supper clubs and pop-ups have replaced white tablecloth experiences. Not only are these sorts of eating experiences more representative of how people eat and consume food culture, but they’re a lot easier and less expensive for entrepreneurial chefs to launch. These are the sorts of spaces where the Beard Awards should look for nominees.

The media landscape has undergone a similar evolution. I’m a digital subscriber to the Charleston, South Carolina–based The Local Palate, to New York Magazine, and to the New York Times. I no longer receive mainstream glossies via snail mail. There were times when friends would gift me niche publications like Edible Hawaii; now they bring back titles like Whetstone and Crwn. I consume culinary podcasts and Instagram for savory rhubarb recipes, food books for tips on growing windowsill herbs, and articles on food apartheid. A movie night is inhaling United Shades of America’s “The Gullah” and Ugly Delicious’s “Fried Chicken” episodes. The definition of professional food writer has shifted—having a staff gig no longer denotes success. By the time magazines like Bon Appétit have published a piece on a restaurant trend, we’ve already heard about it on our favorite food podcast. Indie media makers are the new voices. Times have changed. The Beard Awards should reflect these changes.

There’s another reason that moments like this past year’s are so scarce, and one look at the people who are choosing the nominees and winners gives us a major clue: out of the 54 Beard Award committee members, fewer than six are black. If power is measured by who occupies a seat at the table, a person who looks like me has little influence.

To ensure the ongoing recognition of black achievements by the Beard Awards, we must take a closer look at the term limits and selection process of the individuals who make up each of the committees that select the nominees and winners of the award categories: broadcast media, books, journalism, design, and restaurant and chef awards.

As it stands, the committees or recognition programs are often brimming with individuals serving multiple three-year terms. The current bylaws state that “members serve staggered terms of one to three years” but doesn’t address what happens if members move from committee to committee. According to the James Beard Foundation governance structure, an additional group (bringing the total to eight) oversees the Awards program as a whole; this committee consists of the chairperson of each Awards category, members of the Foundation’s Board of Trustees, and members at large. A bylaw change to address the makeup of these groups will help to foster a permanent shift in voters and nominees.

In recent years, organizations like the Grammys and Academy Awards have addressed similar issues, after receiving criticism for the lack of diversity on their ballots (thanks in part to the #oscarssowhite campaign). In 2016, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences modified membership to mix up the pool of voters. This past May, the Recording Academy created a diversity and inclusion task force to “examine barriers affecting women and underrepresented voices”; the group includes former chairman and CEO of BET Networks Debra Lee and hip-hop artist Common.

I’m a believer that institutional knowledge anchors the ship. Our professional community needs infinite wisdom, plus a new leadership overhaul. Equality means making the system fair, and equity means transferring power. All of our collective culinary past and our future should see themselves reflected in the backbone of the James Beard Foundation Awards’s governing body: entrepreneurs from small rural towns; Caribbean souls planted in port cities; mature Southern black women; an East Coast–born man living in the Pacific Northwest; catering chefs running grassroots organizations: a food scientist turned stay-at-home mom.

The clock starts now.

--

Do you have thoughts about how the culinary industry and/or the James Beard Foundation can be more inclusive? Please share your feedback with us atawards@jamesbeard.org.

Editor’s Note: Nicole Taylor has previously served as a judge for the James Beard Foundation Book Awards.

Nicole A. Taylor is a food writer based in Brooklyn, New York. She has written for Food & Wine, Esquire, and the New York Times. Nicole serves on the advisory board of EATT (Equity At The Table), a database for food-industry professionals featuring only women/gender non-conforming individuals and focusing primarily on POC and the LGBTQ community. Find her on Twitter

[artinterviewmagazine]

Conversation With Taj Bourgeois On Selling Their Paintings Online For A Living

Marius Larsson: So first of all how long have you been selling paintings? About 2 years now? Taj Bourgeois: Yeah I quit my job driving taxi in December so a little over 2 years. I had a week where I made negative $70 and that was that. I had to do something different. ML: What made you think you could make it as an artist, and how did you initially get started? TB: I didn’t think I could make it lol, but also felt like it might be my last chance to give it my all. If I didn’t at least try once in my life I was concerned I’d feel like a hypocrite if I were to tell my daughter to follow her dreams. Pretty much I just posted on Facebook “Would anyone like to commission a painting?”. I got five responses, one of which was for $600. Honestly I don’t know if I would’ve felt the drive to commit if it weren’t for that, but also my strategy was and has been basically to just make paintings everyday, so people would see I was taking it seriously and in turn take me seriously. ML: And had you been painting much prior? TB: I had made like 7 or 8 paintings in the months leading up to it, so people were aware what I was getting into and I guess displaying some level of skill. Prior to that I hadn’t really painted since around the time my daughter was born in 2012. ML: What kinds of things did you start off painting? TB: In 2012 or in the months before doing it full time? ML: Tell me about 2012, why you took a break for 4 years and then what got you back into it in 2016. TB: When I found out I was going to be a father I had been in college for just a couple semesters taking random art classes. I was just there for the school loans... ya know.. didn’t want to get a job. Anyway I was in a painting class, and it was pretty much my first time painting. I watched the Basquiat documentary “The Radiant Child”, and it made me think about painting in a very different way. A few months after my daughter was born and I won a couple awards for paintings I did for the college’s annual art show. Then I enrolled at the Pacific Northwest College of Art for the Fall semester, but by that point I was learning about hundreds of artist’s on my own time, and was becoming inspired to try all kinds of things other than painting. I felt I did so well that semester that I decided college wasn’t going to be a good use of time or money, so I dropped out and just followed my train of thought for the next 4 years which led back to painting. ML: How did it lead back to painting? TB: I had been driving taxi for a year and a half, and during that time I felt more and more disconnected from any of my previous modes of art making. I was pretty much sitting in the cab making memes and digital collages. Toward the end the collages I was doing started to become more refined, and I started thinking about the merits of painting the imagery I was putting together. The first thing I painted after all that time was an image of flaming goose which was a meme that had been going around. I decided to painted it very large. It was just something I thought would help test the waters again, and also something I figured I’d like to have on my wall. Of course painting a giant meme is going to get a good response online, so I did a couple more, and then painted some scenes from photos, and then from my imagination. Tried to paint the collages I had made but didn’t quite feel right to try to change their medium. ML: Ok so you had a few commissions and then what? You’d post your paintings for sale and people just kept buying them? TB: Yeah although the first 6 months were pretty rough. In April I only made $500, so I was cutting it close, but I was still in the mindset that most artists have, which is like their art has some mysterious value to it and should be expensive, but then I realized it would make more sense if I took it more seriously as a job and charge by the hour, so I started painting more small funny stuff. Like for me it made more sense to sell a bunch of little humorous $50 pieces than cross my fingers on a $300 piece cause it would take me the same amount of time to do 6 of the $50 ones. It wasn’t until around 6 months that I made my first piece that multiple people wanted, and so what I did was make it multiple times, and that’s when things started to pick up. ML: And what was that piece? TB: It was spider man on the floor of an art museum looking up at a painting of a goofy fish with a human face, and spider man is saying in a thought bubble “That Painting Looks The Way I Feel!” It was originally from an old comic and spider man had been looking at some kind of parody Picasso portrait, but you know with memes pieces get replaced, and the mood changes. The fish’s face was a better mood than the Picasso probably.

ML: How many paintings had you made by that point? TB: Around 70, but had sold maybe 20 ML: What materials were you using? TB: During the taxi days I was in the store (Fred Meyer) and saw this canvas that house painters just lay on the floor to catch the paint drips, and I was like damn 4x15ft for $13? I should get some in case I feel up to making some big paintings someday, but I have always been such a frugal person that it wasn’t until I saw the apple barrel brand paints that I was like damn ok lemme just buy a couple of every color and see if I’m into this. I also bought a gallon of white house paint to “gesso” the canvas. I still use this method on big pieces, and can always stretch later, but lately have been buying a lot of canvas already prepped and stretched. ML: So do you only sell through Facebook and Instagram? TB: Yes oddly enough that’s like 95% of sales. A few every now and then from irl shows where I live here in Portland (Oregon).

ML: I want to go back to something for a second. You mentioned you started painting in 2012, but then you won a couple awards a few months later. How old were you. How did you excel so quickly considering you said you hadn’t painted prior and what were those painting? TB: I was 24. I think painting is one of those mediums where “ability” is far more subjective than most things. You can view enough of it without trying it yourself to the point that when you do try you’ll already have a grasp of it. I have been interested in painting my whole life, so picking up the brush I already had thousands of hours of experience just thinking about it ya know, so like with that show at the college I knew I wanted to make something big and bold. So I cut myself a 4x7ft canvas and ended up making this multi-colored deer looking straight ahead with sort of hypnotic gaze. That was a people’s choice award, and the other got me a scholarship offer, but for that one I basically had just copied Twombly lol.

ML: How would you describe your style today? TB: Hmm I try not to, cause I try all kinds of stuff. I feel my technical skill level is mediocre but maybe my creative level is high? Different people are going to appreciate different things, and I’ve always been more interested in what the painting depicts over how it’s made. I mean skill aside I think most paintings are pretty umm I want to say “derivative” haha are people still using that word in serious? I’m having fun though, staying curious, and I think that comes across. What’s the point of describing my “style” anyway?

ML: I’m curious about how you view your own work. TB: I view my own work with my own eyes lol. I view my art like a loving father or maybe more like an observer, a bird watcher? No, ok I think I understand this question now. My approach to painting is often like a mix of writing, drawing, and making memes. Often I have the idea and it doesn’t really matter how I get there unless the technique is the content itself as with a lot of abstract art. Like, I will entirely base a painting on a sentence describing the image itself with little concern about how i will make it. Like “a shuriken stuck in the back of a smiling man”, so I’ll paint some sky, a fence, some grass, blue jeans, man has no shirt, shuriken, blood, he’s holding a beer, he’s smiling alright i did it… nice. That’s one way I view my work as a route to an image. I used to do this all the time before painting. I have an art book from 2015 where I used this method a lot like I’d write down ideas, and then go out and make them happen. Some elements of the end result were arbitrary although I always tried to have good composition and quality documentation. I didn’t think of myself as a photographer though I certainly was and was good at that aspect too, but it was more the means to document my performance, sculpture, installation… sentence made real. I also view a good portion of my paintings as elaborate pages ripped from children’s books that don’t exist (yet) and they’re filled with weird cute characters I never really had any intention to keep making in the first place, but I’m still doing it for some reason maybe because I like the idea of an overarching narrative, but mostly I think cause they give me a deep nostalgia for illustrations in picture books I saw as a kid or like panels from graphic novels.

ML: That answer is all over the place! I guess that’s what i get for asking such a broad question, but there’s a lot to work with there. Tell me about being a Father. You said it was kind of the catalyst to start making art. How do you think it’s affected your work? TB: Naturally it changed everything. Before my daughter was born I was just so much more aloof, timid, uncertain about making anything. I’d spend so many days just floating around “hanging out” drinking, smoking etc. Maybe I’d draw a little, write a little, play some music, but always felt like I was just killing time waiting for something to happen, and then it did. Suddenly I felt obligated to be at home most of the time, ya know, like a good dad. Other than that I was still in school making the most of it for the short time being. So for that first year I was either home with her or at school. I was just making stuff every day all the time, and it became an insatiable habit especially once I started sharing it online. Yeah honestly I felt the pressure was on. Like I had waited too long to pursue my passions so I had to make up for lost time. I’ve been addicted to making and sharing things everyday ever since. As for my daughter’s influence, yeah I love watching her grow and the things she makes inspire me as well. I’m a bit of a romantic when it comes to modern art and its mythos. I still vibe off what picasso said about how it took him his whole life to paint like a child, so I feel really grateful to work with her. I have literally thousands of her drawings stacked all over the place. She’ll sit down and do fifty drawings in an hour so I’ve gotten a white board lol. Also like I mentioned before it was kind of insane of me to quit my job to become a painter, like I have a kid, rent, bills, a car, and I’m just going to suddenly start painting happy devils to pay for all that? Well, yeah it felt like my last chance to make my dreams a reality. I just wanted to be able to say I did my best and tried to make it work, for myself, and to be a role model in that sense as well. So far so good.

ML: There seems be a big disparity between artists who make a living off their work and artists who don’t, and what I mean is that when you think of an artist making a living off their work you usually think either they have gallery representation, some kind of branding, or business making the same kinds of things again and again, and yet you seem to have been able to find some middle ground and do all of those things without a business, a degree, or a gallery. What’s it been like overall/how is it going? TB: I still got my foodstamp card haha, but to be honest things are better than ever. I don’t know I just keep at it every day. My belief has been that if I just keep making stuff the right people will notice. I’ve never submitted my work anywhere or asked for opportunities. I let them come to me. I just want to make the art not deal with the other stuff. If a big gallery wants to make money off me they most certainly will but for now I’ve just been doing small independent spaces, and cafe’s which bring in a little extra money but pretty much all my sales are online where I talk to every single person directly.  The most surprising thing has been how many people are interested given that I have less than 5,000 followers/friends. To me that’s a pretty good sign that as my reach grows so will opportunities and I’ve been going hard these past two years. I think I’m just going to be making bigger, better things as more people become interested. I don’t know any artists doing it this way or any way really. I’m not sure Portland is the place to make it happen, but god bless the internet! Getting a college degree makes no sense whatsoever except for becoming a teacher, and I think we know how that’s playing out these days, so I’m just grateful to be doing what I’m doing even though teaching would be pretty cool. Technically you don’t need a degree to teach you just need people who want to learn.

ML: One thing that seems to have helped you gain momentum is the price of your pieces. I don’t think I’ve ever followed an artist pricing their work so low that wasn’t just really kitschy stencil art or something. I see some of your pieces for $600 that I’d see in a gallery for $6,000 no doubt, but then I see a great deal of $50 pieces. What made you decide to price your work this way? Has it changed over time? TB: Yeah and it’s always the “artists” that comment on the prices being too low which is ironic cause usually all you ever hear from the average person is mocking how ridiculously high the price of art is generally. Basically I think other artist’s scoff because they’re projecting their insecurity regarding the real value of art, and maybe a little envious they can’t let go of their own pieces as though the abstract painting they made in a few hours should be worth thousands when they could be making a dozen similar pieces in a single day.  But um yeah I pretty much think of my stuff as like $30-$50 an hour and really like  that’s fucking amazing for a job. Yeah idk I have worked some shitty jobs, and it doesn’t make sense thinking that my work should be above what a person like myself can afford in the first place. When I first started though I still had the mysterious art value notion and was pricing things around $200 that I’d price $70 now, and didn’t sell much at first. It wasn’t until I started doing smaller pieces and gauging my time that I started selling a lot more and trying a lot of different things. It’s not like i’m making art specifically about making money but I can understand why people are so interested in this aspect. I don’t think it’s very common huh. When I first started I tried to justify it as a performance piece called “The Painter” haha. I used to title all sorts of things in my mind as a means to cope with the daunting reality of the situation “Working Construction”, 2014. Even during some of the lowest points I think it helped me maintain the peculiar sense of an artist identity I didn’t want to let go of even if I was letting go of everything else like “Burning All My Journals & Paintings″, 2015

ML: Haha what is that last one about? TB: Around the time I stopped living with my wife and moved into my own place I decided to not bring much along with me. I think the title is self-explanatory. ML: I’m wondering if you could talk about any reoccurring themes or characters in a lot of your paintings like the blob fish or spicy boys. TB: Ya know I think most everything just comes to me on a whim and if it works out or holds my interest I’ll keep playing with it. I guess blob fish and spicy boys are like representative of the comedy/tragedy masks or something. I think I’ve simplified a lot of themes in my paintings just so I can keep the flow going. I’m looking forward to spending more time and space on pieces in the future and elaborate on certain things I’ve wanted to express but didn’t know how to put into words. ML: How so? TB: Well, for example. Sometimes I will paint something I’ve seen in my mind, like, dreamed or hallucinated, but not often because a lot of the time I feel I can’t do it justice even though a lot of my stuff is very much informed by these things that I don’t exactly control. It’s like I take video stills from the internet except they’re from my mind, and the screenshot is something I only had to opportunity to view briefly, but even with a split second hallucination I will think about it for weeks and often will just paint its most basic components. Anyway I’m gearing toward eventually elaborating on the more complex ones because lately I have had some visions that have come to the forefront of my interest. Hopefully will get to them after a few more pet portrait commissions haha. ML: What do you mean by hallucinations? Is your inspiration mainly inspired by dreams or do you mean drugs as well? TB: Most things I just write down as interesting ideas to play with, but I guess I don’t want to get too much into talking about drugs. However there have some recent experiences I’ve had with substances like dmt and the things I saw during that I have been thinking about ever since. So right now I’m just trying to get to the end of commissions and then give my attention to some new projects. Have a show in March. Don’t know what I’ll do for it, but certainly no shortage of ideas.

ML: Where do you see yourself going or where would you like to go, and any other thoughts on painting/selling/art in general? TB: I want to go to the top haha. Well in most ways things are better than ever, and I’m incredibly grateful and I can certainly tolerate having things going at this pace at least another year, but would like to make more serious/invested work that I’m really proud of, get some more money and attention and access to better time/space/materials. At this point though even if I had to get a day job I feel I’m completely committed to doing this work. It’s pretty much how I gauge my self-worth for better or worse. Just hope I can find my groove within the process and better understand myself, inspire others, and I wish I had something more insightful to say, but at the moment I’m a bit preoccupied hustling and just having fun with this upcoming show. Thank yaaaa.

[modernistestates]

Modernist Estates’ Christmas Gift Guide

It’s nearly that time of year where I start to feel melancholy again. December is my least favourite month, but I’m going to try and reprogram my brain this year and enjoy it. Here to try and get me in the festive mood I’ve put together a Christmas Gift Guide. Actually, I don’t much like presents, unless its consumable or degradable in some way my natural reaction (years of living in a studio flat I guess) to a gift is ‘where the hell am I going to put it’. Anyway, I hope you are less humbug than me, here’s a list of things even I wouldn’t say no to.

Nathalie Du Pasquier  Silkscreen print on Colorplan Trapezio, 2017  £400 I saw this print in Camden Arts Centre last year during her solo show Other Rooms. It’s an edition of 50 and think they only have a few left. I want one.

Available from Camden Arts Centre.

Egg Coddler designed by Wilhelm Wagenfeld From £10 (different sizes available) Designed by Jenaer Glas as a design classic in the Bauhaus style in 1933. The kitchen helper is versatile and suitable not only for preparing eggs in a glass, it is also suitable for making pies, soufflés, desserts and amuse gueule. The Eierkoch is considered a prototype of the modern glass design and wrote as such a design history. Within the scope of Edition Wagenfeld brings Jenaer glass the classic from the museum back on the market. The handmade egg cooker made of heat-resistant glass is characterised by its distinctive shape and fascinate lovers of classic design with its look and functionality until today.

Available from Connox.

TC 100 Tableware Credit to friend Ruth Lang for pointing me in the direction of the classic TC 100 Ulm designed crockery. She spotted the perfectly stacked tableware in Michael and Patty Hopkins’ house in Hampstead. Well if it’s good enough for them…

TC 100 was designed by Hans (Nick) Roericht in 1959 for his thesis project at the HfG school of design in Ulm, Germany. It went immediately into the permanent collection (as well as the cafeteria) of the MoMA in New York. TC 100 was produced from 1962 until 2006 by Thomas/Rosenthal. 

Buy it direct from here. 

The Barbican Estate Stefi Orazi (Published by Batsford) £40 Give me a break, as if I’m not going to include this. I spent the whole of last Christmas drawing up those plans, the least you can do is spend this Christmas looking at them. 

Available from bookstores nationwide (support your local bookshop!) Or from my online shop thingsyoucanbuy.co.uk — enter BARB15 and receive 15% discount. 

Runcorn Photobook £7 I posted a picture of the Southgate Estate on my Instagram the other day. An extraordinary scheme designed by James Stirling in the late 70s which was demolished in 1990. That’s 13 years it was standing for. Bonkers. Google pictures and I promise you’ll think ‘that’s a film set, surely’. Anyway, The Modernist quickly replied ‘We liked it so much we did a photo book on it’. 

Buy it (as well as other in the series) here. 

John Booth x Uncommon Projects Stool £240 Friends Uncommon Projects are soon to release a range of off-the-shelf furniture and objects (keep an eye on uncommonprojects.co.uk). They’ve recently teamed up with artist John Booth and Studio Voltaire to produce these beautiful limited edition stools. Constructed from maple-veneered birch plywood and finished with a water based lacquer and a powder coated steel Y frame. 

Available in six different designs from House of Voltaire. 

Max Bill Watch  By Junghans From £395 I’ve recently re-discovered the watch. No more getting my phone out checking the time and ending up in a cycle of checking emails and social media, putting it back in your pocket and realising you didn’t even check the time. Long live the wristwatch! And what better way to wear your modernist credentials than on your wrist with this classic by Bauhaus architect and designer Max Bill. 

Various models available from John Lewis (John Lewis!)

365 Journal £42 Just lovely! A hefty chunk of white paper, each page simply marked with a black number. The cover is bound with a removable plastic protector, which also features a front pocket. This book measures 160x230mm, with 368 pages. Flat lay binding. Designed by Marjolein Delhaas. 

Available from Present and Correct. 

[houseofvans]

ART SCHOOL | Q&A with SABRINA BOSCO

We absolutely love the super surrealistic and symbolic works of New York based artist Sabrina Bosco. Sabrina’s watercolored worlds are filled with symbols and meanings, inspired by Nature, the colorful and psychedelic works fo Heinz Edelmann, tattoo art, and music. We find out more about Sabrina’s awesome art, her art school tip, and what she’s got coming up for the rest of the year! Make the leap. 

Photographs courtesy of the artist and Julie Bosco

Can you tell us a little about yourself and what you do? Hello! My name is Sabrina Bosco, I’m 23 years old and live in New York. I love to create! These days mostly I am watercolor painting, but I also love to write poetry and stitch and sometimes oil paint. And I’m hoping to become a tattoo artist!

How would you describe your works to someone? I would describe it as super symbolic, semi-tattoo style surrealism art that reflects the world inside my mind. There’s symbolism in all the lines, colors, images, shaped, atc. and there’s no wrong way to interpret it. I have my own personal meanings for everything I draw, but whatever people take from it is also completely true.

Was drawing a hobby turned career? or something you knew from the start? It was a hobby turned career. I drew a lot as a kid and a little bit in high school, but never took it super seriously. It was more like a painting every couple of months. I didn’t really have a plan when I graduated from college, so I went into panic mode to find what I’d be doing with my life and decided I was going to become a geologist since I loved to be outside. I even bought textbooks and researched about it for hours. 

Then I had this existential crisis type thing where it really hit me I have one life to live and my geology plan was completely ridiculous and unrealistic for me. That’s when I really jumped into painting, and since then my art has been this continuation of me figuring out my mind and my life. At first my goal was botanical art, and I thought I could make illustrations for books or something. For me, that was way too limiting, and I naturally started adding new elements and turning everything into symbolism. So, although it began as a hobby, it had a goal of becoming a career while also not existing solely to become a career. 

I’m lucky it’s heading towards a career path.

Who were some of your early influences? My biggest influence is the illustrator for The Beatles Yellow Submarine art, Heinz Edelmann. His psychedelic colorful worlds are what made me attracted to the colors and patterns I use, and the format of my paintings being “worldly”.The art and music of the 60’s in general were my biggest influences. Surrealism oil painter, Vladimir Kush, is a huge influence on any surrealism elements in my art. Artists I discovered on Instagram inspired me a lot to push my art further, there are soooo many and it’s easy to be inspired on there. Diego Delfino’s beautiful women inspired me to draw women. They’re all super beautifully posed and inspired by the women of the 30’s, which led to me referencing my ladies from ladies from the 30’s when I first started learning how to draw them. Kane Trubenbacher was also one of my biggest influences, which seems weird because our styles are basically opposite, but the way he configures elements together inspired me tremendously and led to a turning point in my art style.

What type of materials did you start out using and what materials do you love to use now? I started out using Winsor and Newton watercolor, which is a thicker paint you add water to. It’s okay to begin with, but now I use Ecoline watercolor and it’s way easier to work with. I’ve been using that for the past 3 years now. As for paper, I began with hot press watercolor paper because I was trying to make botanical art, but now I use Fabriano Studio 140lb cold press paper and I’ve been using that for about 3 years also.

When you’re creating a new drawing, how do you begin your process? Most of the time it begins with whatever I’m feeling, or thinking being manifested into an image. Sometimes it’s a thought theme I’ve been having, whether I keep thinking about themes like dreams, memory, death etc. and sometimes it’s just how I’m feeling, which could be super happy and excited about life or overwhelmed with anxiety and whatever else is going in my head. 

Any kind of thought or feeling I have I morph into symbols that exist in nature or whatever I think suits it best, and it kind of branches off from the original theme into more connecting themes. Making the actual picture, it always begins different. 

My main goal is always to use different ideas in every painting, so I think beginning every painting differently is kind of a natural thing that happens when I try to accomplish that. Sometimes I begin with an idea I had the night before when I was about to sleep and other times I just start sketching on the paper. I also will sketch on graph paper and keep layering my ideas using a light box or a window to trace. I could probably use flowers growing out of a melting eyeball to symbolize five different things, but I’ll try to use an idea I’ve never used before to challenge myself artistic wise and broaden my perspective on the symbolism that surrounds us in nature.

What type of things are you inspired by and how do they found themselves reflected in your work? I’m mostly inspired by nature. Rainbows, mountains, water, the sun, the moon etc. all exist without any war or hate or intention rather than to be. They surround us in the physical world, but also reflect the conscious mind symbolically and I try to translate that in my art. All my women represent mother nature, and her consciousness that transcends to living beings (humans and animals). I believe nature is a natural teacher, and it’s our choice to view it as just objects around us, or to learn from it. When you begin to study and interpret nature, you begin to open new realms of thought (and lack of thought) and expand your conscious mind. That’s been the only way for me to learn about my true self and all the truths that surround me, and there’s nothing more inspiring for me than the truth. 

Music also inspires me a lot. You can get the same vibe from a song that you find in a painting, and I find when I’m really into a certain band, it’s vibe will reflect off my painting. Whether it’s a more serious, sad vibe or a psychedelic, energic vibe. Right now, The Voidz are my main music inspiration. The foundation of my art is strongly inspired by bands like The Beatles, The Doors, Pink Floyd and Led Zeppelin. Tattoo art is also super inspirational. 

Even though my paintings aren’t intended to be tattoos, I’ve been told its tattoo like, and I think that naturally happened from just looking at so much tattoo art and being in love with it. Every now and then I’ll make a flash sheet, and when I sketch out ideas, it usually looks like a bunch of flash. I usually have an easier time making flash sheets than actual paintings. People in general inspire me. Sometimes a painting will be based on a person I met or saw. Even though everything I draw comes from the secret world inside my head, the secret world inside everyone else head is something that fascinates me and is something that will sneak into my drawings whenever I meet someone interesting.  

There’s a lot of surrealistic type of landscapes and worlds in your drawings from melting rainbows to lots and lots of eyeballs. What can you tell us about these worlds? They’re all part of the same world that exists in my mind, I like to “walk” through my mind and draw what I see. This world is mine because it’s my perspective, but it connects with every other conscious mind’s world. I could never draw theirs even though it’s the same world, because I could never fully understand their perspective of it. The worlds I create are always positive, even if they were born from any negative feelings or thoughts, they transform negative energy into positive energy. In this way they’re kind of healing places to create for myself, and hopefully also for anyone who visits them. Mostly these worlds are super personal, but they are based off the truth I know everyone can connect to in their own personal way if they’re willing to look deeper and find themselves in these worlds.

Where did you learn your knowledge of art or making art? Art School or Self taught? It was self-taught, but watching my sister paint and seeing what other artists use and how they paint, helped me a lot. Most of it was trial and error. I always liked drawing weird and symbolic things, so a lot of my beginning stuff is a big mess of ideas and constant experimenting. When you paint every day, even if no one is there to tell you what to do, you will eventually find your own personal art language and art will begin to make sense to you.

What’s something you can pass along art tip wise that you either learned in school or on the job so-to-speak? My biggest art tip would be to remember there are no rules to art. The only rules are the ones you make yourself. There’s no right way to make a line, or a color, or a face, or anything. That’s the most important rule I can think of, when you stop worrying about if what you’re doing is right or wrong, you start to realize how limitless creating can be. I mean, of course if you are going to do realism or use specific techniques you’re going to need to follow certain rules. But when trying to develop your own style, go with whatever works for you. 

Another tip I’d give is to not compare yourself to other artists. It’s good to be inspired, maybe using similar colors and a similar technique. But if you find yourself trying to be an extension of another artist, or straight up copying what they are doing, you’ll never find out what kind of artist you truly are.

What are your favorite Vans? All the yellow submarine edition ones were my favorite!

What advice would you give someone thinking about art as a career? If you are passionate about art and it’s the only life you can see yourself living, then do it. Art careers are different for everyone, and I don’t even technically have an art career yet, but I’m on my way. Be prepared to dedicate yourself and most of your time to your art. It’s a journey that involves only you. Don’t care what people say who tell you it’s not a good idea if you feel in your heart it’s how you want to live your life.

Anything you’d like to mention coming up the rest of the year? I’m making shirts and prints! Also I’m hoping to get a tattoo apprenticeship this year! Other than that, I’m just continuing to paint my mind and share it with people in hopes it can inspire them in whatever way they need it in their life😊

FOLLOW SABRINA | Website | Shop

[attract-mode-collective]

Scorpion Vs. Elon Musk’s Mom: FIGHT

Yes, that is indeed Elon Musk’s mother up there. And no, I do not have a bigger sized version of the pic. Guess we could always ask captain-price-official if one does exist.

Or perhaps make your own? Here’s Elon’s mum by herself (and in higher res)...

And with that, it’s time to see what else I tweeted during the first half of March! So, sticking with fighting games: which Street Fighter character does lighting better? Ryu, via the animated movie (via settei)...

… Or Bison, via the live action flick (via toghomevideo)...

I absolutely love win quotes from rom hacks (via bison2winquote)...

I have a massive backlog of games, yet Tekken 7 just shot straight to the top of the list, thanks to the knowledge that you can accurately recreate Dynamite Headdy characters (via mysterious0bob)...

This Hatsune Miku X Space Channel 5 figure is v. nice (via nendoroidoftheday)...

A friendly reminder to everyone that A. I'm a massive fan of Seaman & B. my birthday is about a month away (via nutastic)...

This scene at the beach with a Figma of Link, from A Link Between Worlds, feels more like Link's Awakening than anything else (via vyntic)...

Toys and models are no longer just for reenacting memorable in-game moments, they can also reproduce famous IRL events that surrounded the games themselves (via 8bitcentral)...

So what's the going rate for ET for the Atari 2600 that was supposedly dug up in for that so-called documentary, Atari: Game Over? Which I recently re-watched and still can't believe people think is real. At any rate, am assuming the autograph from Howard Scott Warshaw gives it some actual value (via it8bit)...

And what's the going rate for Chinese Famiclone karaoke carts, primarily one with Jackie Chan on the label. Am also wondering if it's cuz his songs are included... you are aware of his successful career in music as well, right? (via ulan-bator)...

Been struggling to come up with a zinger for the past 10 minutes, but ain't nuthin gonna beat "Welcome to the Velvet Room y'all!" (via jatayu)...

To be filed under: it's funny cuz it's true (via doctorbutler)...

So the weather has been awful around these parts, lots of rain & snow, which gets in the way of imagining a giant tetromino in the sky (via uvula.jp)...

When playing Super Mario Galaxy 2, please keep in mind that somewhere out there, despite being out of view, is the ghost of Luigi floating through vast stretches of empty space, with zero destination or purpose (via suppermariobroth)...

Speaking of Luigi, and Supper Mario Broth; they’ve taken the adventures he talks about in Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door and illustrated them in the form of a comic that closely adheres to the style of the game...

Also a friendly reminder of that rift between Mario & Luigi for a few years (they'd eventually make up & resume doing games together, as everyone knows) after Mario discovered his brother being all friendly with the enemy in Super Mario World (via peazy86)...

Yet another obscure Mario factoid: the move he uses to defeat Bowser in Super Mario 64 originates from an old furikake commercial that predates the game by about a decade (via suppermariobroth)...

Yet another random gif of Mario from the 80s, this one from a video guide from Super Mario Bros; I miss the days in which his look was not yet standardized (via suppermariobroth)...

And here we have a completely unlicensed Dr. Mario, unless Nintendo gave him the OK to brush up on his doctoring skills by assuming an alias at a family clinic in Houston TX (via suppermariobroth)...

It's funny how, when it comes to obscure Mario games, everyone brings up Mario Is Missing or Hotel Mario, but what about Super Mario Bros. & Friends: When I Grow Up? (via kazucrash)...

Mario gets his own breakfast cereal.

Luigi? Booze. (via @carolynmichelle)

A question that I posed on MAR10Day (via retrogamerblog)...

It's not Super Mario Bros, but simply…. Bros (via therubberfruit)...

I've never wanted something "bootleg" to be official as much as as this Dark Souls fan art. And if the actual game somehow looked like this, that would be... gladly welcomed (via gamefreaksnz)

Oh God, Nier is amazing and all, but I would SO be down for a yelling & screaming match with Yoko Taro on this point (via @Avisch_)...

Behold my fave Twitter thread in recent memory: "You see, that was taken from Africa, but it belonged to the Keyblade Masters. Imma take it off your hands for ya."

"Nah, It was taken by British soldiers in Africa but it's actually from Gaia. A sword far heavier than any sword has rights to be, yet a true 1st Class will wield it with ease. Don't trip, I'm gonna take it off your hands for you."

"Nah, It was taken by British soldiers in Africa but it's actually from Hyrule. Originally crafted by the goddess Hylia herself. Only a true hero that is pure of heart and strong of body is capable of wielding the sacred blade. Don't trip, I'm gonna take it off your hands for you."

Naturally the star of Home Alone 1 & Home Alone 2 has both a NES Classic and Famicom Mini, like all Hollywood bigwigs (via @SimonParkin)...

While discussing Ready Player One with a colleague, was reminded of the dude who was so inspired by the book that he turned his apartment into an arcade (and then his fiancé broke up with him; via nydailynews.com)...

Recently there was some kind of event at Sega HQ, I think? Details are basically nonexistent due to the language barrier, but far as I can gather, 16 super fans were invited to come by & party (via @SEGA_OFFICIAL)...

... If you check out #セガ公式アカウントオフ会 you'll see numerous pics from the get-together, though the one thing that stands out is the assortment of Sega hardware (via @KK__Cy)...

... MIA, cuz no variants were on display, is my fave alt ver. of the Mega Drive: the Wondermega. But @yu100s took one of his own… with the ugly ass US Sonic 1 NOT FOR RESALE cart inserted, Jesus fucking Christ...

The Sega logo in katakana looks pretty hawt (via @Exciteless)...

... Yet the Sega logo in Arabic which is official, is even hawter (via boingboing.net)...

Please enjoy your daily recommended dosage of an erotic hospital-management sim (via @topherflorence)...

NCSX makes the fidget spinner comparison, though the fidget cube seems a bit more appropriate; behold the fidget game controller...

Toy Fair recently took place, and naturally I took tons of pictures. You can find all of them on my personal Instagram, though a few are worth re-posting here. Like the latest in NECA's line of classic movie characters, as they appeared in video game adaptations...

Though in the case of their take on the Alien vs. Predator arcade game, they even included Capcom's original characters...

Unpainted, pre-production figures from Reflection's upcoming Ghost 'N Goblins line, sporting the oh-so popular Kenner-eqsue retro look...

Pint-sized arcade cabs, available this fall for $400. They’ll come unassembled, though dead simple to put together; the construction of the assembled mini cab was surprisingly sturdy, plus the screen wasn't bad (contrary to the picture that my iPhone's camera paints). Though the controls were shit; no word on whether the parts can be swapped or not...

Was delighted to not not only see Cuphead merch at Toy Fair, but more than just one instance (though this was the only time I was allowed to take a picture)...

Came across a producer of infant goods that had a selection of Super Mario baby bibs...

I asked the rep if this was their first foray into video games and the answer was "Yes." And when asked who's been mostly buying them, was told "Video game collectors, who don't even have children… it's so bizarre!!!"

Sticking with bibs, here's a set that tied to Dragon Quest (via miki800.com)...

... I asked on Twitter what they said and @alexfkraus was kind enough to provide translations, here and here.

Was so inspired by @MinusWorld listing which characters he'd like to see in the next Super Smash Bros that I decided to cite a few of my own:

- Mona from WarioWare - Nester from Nintendo Power’s Howard & Nester comics - Link from that Japanese A Link To The Past commercial - A deck of Hanafuda cards

... BTW, had no idea Ollie also mentioned a Hanafuda; I only saw his initial four, initially! Anyhow, my second round of choices:

- Ashley from Another Code - The "who are you running from?" guy in the Game Boy Camera - Lucas from The Wizard - The 4WD from Stunt Race FX (since Fighters Megamix with the Daytona USA 2 car clearly ain't ever happening)

I alas forgot to include BoxBoy, much like how I got these Uniqlo shirts when they were on sale last year (via minusworld.co.uk)...

Here we have my fave reaction on Tumblr to the Nintendo Direct with the Smash 5 reveal, if only for the punchline (via mendelpalace)...

And here we have my fave reaction on Twitter (via @redford)...

This one is also great because wrestling (via @SteveYurko)...

Speaking of wrestling, remember that time Tazz, while commentating for Smackdown, was also playing a game of Final Fantasy X-2… or so he thought? (via defjamvendetta)

"hey quick question whoever's developing the wwe games now: what the fuck"

"It helps him eat small fish"

"better question: why isn't this an option in every game ever"

"FAIR POINT" (via snoozlebee)

Whereas most publishers in Japan, during the 80s & 90s, had festivals (or carnivals) centered around shmups, Asmik's was based on women's wrestling (via oldgamemags)...

It's not for a video game, though the illustration is by someone who has been involved in a few; it's by Satoshi Yoshioka, of Snatcher and Policenauts fame (via videogamesdensetsu)...

It's not for a video game that actually exists, but is instead a completely fictional instructional manual, one that makes you wish it was real (via tomeccles)...

Just when you think you've seen every ultra, wacky & obscure video game box art there is to see out there (via @CoolBoxArt)...

I have a serious soft sport for the usage of video game imagery among early 80s musicians (via siryl)...

... What the final product looks like BTW/FYI...

A. so there's a VR version of Fruit Ninja, did not know that, & B. if you like watching people play it (for whatever reason), yet wish you could actually see a person swinging a sword and not just some abstract swiping motions… here ya go (via prostheticknowledge)...

Playing games in VR is so 2017… Handling your collection of games in VR? Now THAT is very 2018 (via mendelpalace)...

Lots of friends are playing the new DBZ fighting game, though I'll give it a shot once it hits the arcades and is also in a cab like this (via @Fotosdecomics)...

I absolutely need to get my hands on this S.H. Figuarts Shinya Arino (via tinycartridge)...

Available right now, some Altered Beast, Bare Knuckles, and Rent-a-Hero resin kits (via miki800.com)...

Cursed? More like blessed amirite (via @Pretzel_Pup)...

I know Yoji Shinkawa is best buds with Hideo Kojima, but would he be open to doing another gig at Konami? Cuz him art directing a reboot of Twin Bee would kinda be the best (via @SESKOU)...

There's money on the table with this Metroid X Pepsi mash-up, am confident of this (via ryangilleece)...

Cuz even someone like Samus Aran needs a good stretch every once in a while (via jon-bliss)...

And this third piece of Metroid fan art in a row is very much related to Metroid 3, aka Super Metroid (even though it technically depicts the ending to Metroid 2; via mmillus)...

Awakening indeed (via brookietf)...

For those who have asked, yes, I have seen the hack that connects the Switch to an itty-bitty black & white TV...

Though I'm only really interested in tiny b&w CRT TVs if I can play Duck Hunt on them (via arcade-crusade)...

I not only dig teeny-tiny displays for light gun games, but also for driving games as well (perhaps some of you might remember the following from this)...

Back to tube displays; seeing Zelda on a CRT also reminded me of how Dark Souls look on a CRT, aka CRT Souls or 480i Souls (which again I'm hoping regular readers of the blog remember, especially since the original post has fallen victim to a Tumblr bug)...

"while playing king's field just now i died in the magic cave of fire and when i warped back there were beautiful graphical glitches everywhere" (via mendelpalace)...

Some landscapes, filled with beauty and mystery and terror, are accidental (see: the graphical glitches from before)… whereas others are completely deliberate, as in the case of Atlantia (via obscurevideogames)...

Once again, I REALLY need to figure out a way to play some PC88 games (via obscurevideogames)...

Here we have a semi-common Space Invaders sighting for the time, in an episode of Battle Fever J, one of the earliest Super Sentai shows (via himitsusentaiblog)...

And here we have a rare Game Gear sighting, in old OVA anime, Starship Girl Yamamoto Yohko. Hell, it’s a rare Game Gear in anything sighting; the only other example that comes to mind is Rumble In The Bronx (via @TheOtaking)...

And an equally rare Sonic on the runway sighting (via kotaku.com)...

I normally watch a video in its entirety before making a recommendation. Yet when it came to this overview of Last Bronx's legacy in Japan (and lack thereof in the West), hearing the main theme to Beat Takeshi's Violent Cop near the 3 min mark was all I needed (have since watched the whole thing, and as expected, it's another awesome Kim Justice production)...

And finally, a friend notes: "subzero's right arm is real close to trump's spinal column

just sayin" (via @jbillinson)...