#was a prominent commercial illustrator

[thursdays-adult]

That’s actually probably largely dead on the money, and I love your interpretation of the family dynamics, valid.

The Consolation by JC Leyendecker, oil on canvas.

[suguruwithabow]

pics are from pinterest, dm me for credits/remove

𝗶𝗳 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹, 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗶'𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆, yuri satosugu

☆ ; female¡gojo satoru × female¡geto suguru (4,7k)

☆ ; where suguru is an illustrator and satoru is a famous yaoi manga writer.

☆ ; CW mature content , bad language , yuri satosugu , lesbian sex , rule63 , nipple stucking , oral , fingering , scissoring , idiots in love , friends/colleagues to lovers

☆ ; TW body dismorphya (might trigger an ed)

☆ ; ao3 | wattpad (eng) | wattpad (ita)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | +18 enjoy ! 🎀

Suguru likes to draw women. She likes the movements of the pencil on paper, how the dark stroke follows the fluid line of her hand and materializes the soft curve of the hips, the breast’s groove, the arch of the back.

She likes to draw showy clothes, with lace and ruffles, delicate silk bows that bloom like moonflowers at the center of the chest, on that thin boundary between what is modest and what is lewd.

She draws transparent stockings that climb up the legs almost to the thigh root, which in reality would tear like tissue paper and constantly slip down the legs, but which actually stay up on paper by magic. She draws mini dresses and shorts that might not even be commercially available, too impractical to wear, she draws voluminous and extravagant hairstyles, with pigtails, curls, and shiny clips.

She draws girls with beautiful doll-like faces, with long eyelashes and heart-shaped lips, their skin is as perfect as porcelain, their eyes are large and full of wonder, or mischief. They have slender necks and wrists, thin arms, and flat bellies, their full breasts are without stretch marks, their thighs are thick and soft, never seeming too large, never fat or unwieldy.

But it's just a drawing. Suguru lowers her gaze to her legs, sitting on the metal chair in front of the café while waiting for her colleague, looks at how the flesh seems squashed against the plastic, how the hem of her jean shorts prominently marks her tanned skin. She adjusts herself, lifts her heels so her thighs appear slimmer, takes a deep breath, and returns to her drawing, forcing herself not to think about it anymore.

Suguru wishes she were one of the girls in her drawings, or one of those models she sees on Instagram. She wants to look at her reflection in shop windows and not have to remind herself to have better posture, she wants to take a selfie with her phone without using conspicuous beauty filters she doesn't recognize herself in.

Suguru likes beauty but doesn't believe she is part of it.

There’s a girl sitting a few tables ahead, talking on the phone and sipping a colorful smoothie. She is beautiful in her light red dress, her hair is perfectly straight and shiny, her skin is flawless, and her makeup highlights the harmony of her facial features. She is slim, petite, pale, the kind of girl you would hold the door open for, the kind you would offer a hand to help her down the stairs. Suguru is almost six feet tall, has strong arms, athletic legs, she doesn't seem like the kind of girl you’d want to help, or simply be kind to.

Suguru draws that girl, the sketch takes shape on the white paper, even if incomplete, it perfectly captures the moment like a photograph: a crowded café, a beautiful and ethereal girl who attracts attention effortlessly, a classic beauty Suguru could admire for hours.

«That's beautiful, Suguru, you’re really talented.» Suguru jumps and the pencil falls from her hand. The tip breaks. She immediately covers the paper with her arm and turns to look at Satoru towering over her. «You scared me to death, Satoru. It's not nice to sneak up on people.»

The moment Gojo Satoru enters the café, all eyes are on her, and who can blame them? Satoru is the most beautiful girl you will ever see in your life if you ever have the chance to meet her. She is tall, even taller than Suguru, has big blue eyes that envy the sky, white hair soft as snow that falls disorderly on her shoulders, and the most regular facial proportions Suguru has ever seen. She wouldn't even be able to draw a person more beautiful than Satoru.

She has a pretty cherry-colored gloss on her lips, quirky-shape sunglasses, and baggy jeans with a ridiculously low waist. Suguru thinks she could never wear jeans like that, Satoru always complains about getting bloated after lunch, but that doesn't stop her from dressing as she prefers. Suguru, on the other hand, always wears loose and covering clothes, she doesn't like exposing so much skin, it makes her feel watched, inadequate.

Satoru laughs, showing off a row of perfectly-straight pearly white teeth. She lifts her glasses onto her head and sits down in front of Suguru. «Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Have you ordered yet?» «No, not yet,» the girl replies, turning the page and leaving the previous sketch unfinished.

Satoru calls the waiter, they order an iced coffee for Suguru and a strawberry matcha for Satoru, who also orders a slice of chocolate cake for herself, but when she asks if Suguru wants it too, she declines the offer.

Satoru starts pulling colorful notebooks and fresh printer paper out of her bag, opens the notes app on her phone, and begins scrolling through files; she is an eclectic writer, writing on any surface available.

Once, at a business dinner, Suguru had seen her scribbling on a napkin.

«I have two new ideas to work on, a classic soft BL set in school, and then something less mainstream. I haven't talked to the editors about it yet, I wanted to hear your opinion first, I'm sure they'll let me publish the first one in a collection of five or six volumes, but I have doubts about the second one, at most they'll consent to making it a graphic novel.»

Satoru and Suguru work in the adult manga industry, Satoru is a renowned yaoi manga writer under the pen name Hikari Mugen. She has only been writing for their publishing house for a few years, but was already very active on forums and fanfiction websites with the username limitlesscribe, where she was a prolific writer during her teenage years.

Suguru is happy to work with Satoru, she likes her extroverted and lively personality, which contrasts with her own reserved and introverted nature. Satoru gives Suguru free rein on organizing the panels to draw for their mangas, on the design of many characters and on the details of the setting. In the past, in fact, she often had to work with writers who wanted to dictate everything, even the smallest details.

Satoru provides general but accurate directives about the atmosphere she wants to create in her stories. She continuously makes boards on Pinterest, searches for books, movies, and even video games that might be useful, and sends everything to Suguru, who does her best to meet her desires, generally succeeding because Satoru is very enthusiastic about her job.

However, it's also true that Satoru is a full-time job: she talks incessantly and seems to lack an off switch. Sometimes she calls Suguru in the middle of the night with a new story idea, and during work meetings, it's not uncommon for her to zone out and write outlines and plots in her notebook. Finding inspiration in everything is her gift, but it's probably also a curse for those around her.

When their orders arrive, Satoru is already explaining the plot details she has in mind to Suguru, but she gets confused, rambles, changes the subject while talking, tells Suguru about a horror movie she watched on TV a few days ago that inspired a character, explains how she tried baking chocolate chips cookies providing details, a step-by-step guide and baking times, and mentions that her neighbors had a furious fight and the wife threatened to leave the husband.

Suguru struggles a bit to keep up, but she's happy to listen. After almost three years of collaboration, she's become very adept at discerning the plot of her stories from the events of Satoru's daily life.

The first story is very simple, almost trivial, she would dare say, a BL set in a high school featuring two academic rivals who become lovers. Nothing exceptional, a lot of introspection, teenage problems, internalized homophobia, and barely hinted sexuality – nothing too explicit, considering the teenage target audience.

Suguru has to admit, though, that Satoru is great with this shit. Her mangas sell like hotcakes, top the charts, and she's considered a real institution in the field, despite being only twenty-six years old. Suguru also deserves some credit for this; her style is highly appreciated by fans of the genre, with her attention to detail and intentionally unrealistic, almost angelic, character designs.

There are two types of people in the world: those who enjoy watching the expression of a beautiful boy while he cums, and those who lie.

In short, Suguru has her own good share of fans, and various other artists claim to have been inspired by Yami-chan (her pen name) for some of their mangas.

The second story Satoru proposes is very different from the first and, as she said, if her publisher ever allows her to publish it, it will probably be at most a one-shot or perhaps a graphic novel.

The protagonists are two Champions’ League soccer players. The younger one is the best soccer player in Europe, half French, half Brazilian, handsome, talented, born into a wealthy family, and disgustingly arrogant. His love interest, on the other hand, is a South Korean guy who moved to Europe to play on the same team; he is disciplined, from humble origins, but incredibly good at soccer. It’s not hard to imagine how things will turn out.

Naturally, the second story is the most fascinating, and while they talk, Suguru starts jotting down some character design ideas to show Satoru. They search Pinterest for images of "dread braids" for the Brazilian mc’s hairstyle and need to research the roles of soccer players because neither of them knows anything about that sport.

When they’re done, the sun is almost setting, and Suguru has had enough coffee to stay awake until Christmas. They tidy up the papers scattered on the table, Suguru puts all the sketches aside and promises to start working on the drafts that very evening. Satoru offers to pay for both of their orders and, after some resistance, Suguru accepts.

Leaving the café, they walk together towards the station. Satoru doesn’t live far from there and will walk home, but she insists on accompanying Suguru because, according to her, she feels more at ease that way.

As they approach the stairs, Satoru stops and reaches out her hand. «Watch out, someone must have spilled a smoothie.» A colored stain spreads, dripping on the steps. Suguru avoids it and grabs Satoru’s hand without even thinking.

When they are finally on the platform, the train arrives sooner than expected. Suguru waves goodbye to her friend and watches her through the sliding doors.

Satoru doesn't leave. She waits for the train to depart and disappear from her sight. Suguru feels a strange warmth in the pit of her stomach but she doesn't say anything and forces herself not to think about it.

***

A week later, Suguru is sitting on the couch in Satoru’s apartment. They had worked all day and Satoru wanted to be in a place that made her feel comfortable, so Suguru ended up invading her apartment and colonizing the living room.

They had been working on the storyboard all day. Of course, their editors approved the first of Satoru's two ideas – it's a safe investment, given that that genre of manga sells like hotcakes, especially if signed with the name Hikari Mugen – while they hesitated on the second one. Satoru is preparing a vision board to try to convince their bosses that the idea could work; she even wants to turn it into a series, not just a one-shot.

«Damn, I’m exhausted.» says Satoru, stretching lazily. She had been sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table the entire time because she wanted to leave the couch to Suguru.

«Come on, Satoru, we’re almost done and the deadline is tomorrow.» the artist encourages her, though she has to admit she is also struggling to concentrate now.

«But we’ve worked all day. Let’s take a break.�� complains the girl, resting her chin on Suguru's thigh, looking up at her.

«The sooner we finish, the sooner you can rest.» admonishes Suguru, who just wants to finish this work and go home for a nice warm bath.

Satoru climbs onto the couch and sprawls across Suguru like a child throwing a tantrum. Suguru doesn’t complain or push her away; in fact, there’s something comforting about feeling Satoru’s weight pressing on her, so much so that she reaches out a hand and starts gently untangling the knots in her messy wolfcut.

Satoru moans softly and wraps her arms around Suguru’s waist, her head resting on her chest. «Let’s take a nap before continuing.»

Suguru chuckles and removes her hand from Satoru’s hair. «Come on, be serious. If we stop now, we won’t want to continue later.»

Satoru doesn’t reply, only letting out a half grunt of disapproval, and takes Suguru’s sketchbook to flip through it a bit.

Among various characters they worked on together – failed initial designs, sketches for official illustrations and some manga covers – there are many other drawings unrelated to mangas.

They are mostly women, some seem to be entirely made up by Suguru, like video game characters dressed in skimpy and adorable outfits, while others appear to be real-life sketches, drawn on the subway, in the park, or at a bar.

«Wow, Suguru. You practically only draw girls.» Satoru says, not taking her eyes off the sketchbook.

«Mh?» Suguru asks, looking at her – Satoru is still half-lying on top of her. If it had been anyone else snooping through her drawings, she probably would have been angry, but since it’s only Satoru, she goes back to her work without giving it any thought. «Well, I don’t have many opportunities to draw women, so in my free time I like to keep in practice.»

Since Satoru only writes BL, Suguru doesn’t often draw female characters, and when she does, they’re usually side characters who appear very little in the manga. Before working with Satoru, she had illustrated a hentai manga, but the character design imposed for the female protagonist was so boring and trite that she ended up hating it. She doesn’t count it among her best works.

«Really? Well, I’ll write a yuri just so you can illustrate it then. Maybe set in an all-girls school, so you can draw all the female characters you want.»

Suguru chuckles again. «Thanks, that’s very kind of you, Satoru.»

«You’re welcome. Wow, this one’s beautiful! Though she’s a bit too flat-chested for my tastes.»

«Satoru!»

«What?»

«You can’t say things like that.»

«Why not?»

«Ever heard of body shaming?»

«What does that have to do with it? I didn’t say she’s ugly. I just said she’s flat; I like big boobs, it’s not a crime!»

«Gosh, you’re no better than a man.»

«No, indeed. I like big boobs; you have big boobs, you’re so lucky. I wish mine were bigger too.»

«Your boobs are perfect just the way they are, Satoru.»

«Do you really think so?»

«Yes, you’re so slim, if your boobs were bigger, they’d be disproportionate.»

Satoru sits up, cups her breasts in her hands and starts examining them, as if to verify Suguru’s words. Suguru watches her, unable to look away; it’s true they are very close friends, but certainly not so close as to grope each other’s breasts in each other's presence. Satoru has been wearing a summer pajamas all day, white shorts and a tank top with strawberries printed on it, so thin that Suguru can see the shape of her nipples terribly clearly.

She blushes furiously and hides behind her iPad. «Get back to work, don’t overthink it.» she says to cover her embarrassment.

Luckily, Satoru is easily distracted and reaches for some papers left on the coffee table in front of them. The fact that she remained straddling Suguru’s lap, however, doesn’t help.

«Look, I’ve sketched out some ideas for the sex scene in the soccer manga. Tell me what you think and then I’ll leave you alone.»

Suguru agrees and puts aside her iPad to look at Satoru’s sketches. God, that girl has a gift for writing, but she’s completely hopeless at drawing.

«I’m sure it’s amazing, but I can’t understand anything from these drawings. God, Satoru, an elementary school kid would draw better than you.»

«Hey! How rude!» Satoru laughs, snatching the paper from her hand. «What’s not clear? It seems pretty obvious to me.»

Suguru sits up; now they’re face to face and Satoru’s knees are planted on either side of her hips.

«I can’t even tell what position they’re in in this scene.» Suguru complains, pointing to what looks more like a doodle than anything else.

«What? You're exaggerating, it's so obvious, look.» and it happens much faster than Suguru can perceive. She's pushed onto her back laying on the couch, Satoru's warm hands slipping under her thighs as she keeps her in place. If Satoru were a man, her cock would be pressing right against Suguru's entrance.

«They’re in this position. The top holds the bottom down and rubs his cock on his ass.»

«Okay! I get it now, that's enough! The demonstration is exhaustive.» Suguru exclaims as she puts her hands forward, she feels her cheeks on fire as Satoru presses against her and holds her legs open. She is so focused, taking care to best show the position she intended.

Then Satoru starts to rotate her hips, the imprint of her pussy is clearly visible through the thin fabric of her shorts and Suguru is also only wearing a pair of gym shorts.

The contact is electrifying and the drop in her stomach makes her dizzy. Even through the layers of clothing, the friction between their intimacies is so pleasant that it becomes difficult try not to move to seek her release.

Satoru is more and more concentrated, a wet spot becomes visible in the center of the imprint of her count, but she continues to drag with terrifying slowness on Suguru's most sensitive point. The girl covers her mouth with her hand, partially because it's something they shouldn't do – they're colleagues, after all –, partially because she's seriously afraid of letting out some compromising sound.

Satoru's hands leave Suguru's thighs and move to her waist. Suguru is so curvy and her waist is so supple and tight that it seems to be made to be grabbed by Satoru's hands. Her ass often does nothing but draw attention to her unreal proportions.

«God, I wish so badly I had a cock right now.» Satoru murmurs with a smirk on her lips, more to herself than to Suguru, but she can hear it anyway and her eyes widen – she wants to say she's shocked, but Satoru's words only send an electric shock straight to her lower abdomen. «I would fuck you so hard for hours.»

She leans over her. They are close, Satoru's white hair tickles Sugur’s face and her eyes look like a mirror on the sea. She smells of coconut and vanilla like her favorite body wash from Victoria's Secret and her lips are so red and inviting that Suguru has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from tasting them.

«Suguru.» she whispers, and she doesn't seem to be able to say anything else. Satoru kisses her cheek, her jaw, her cheekbones and her chin, she places a feather-light kiss on her lips and the lighter her touch the more the fire inside Suguru blazes as if fueled by gasoline. Satoru is so intoxicating that she makes her feeling sick and stuck between desire, lust and paralysis due to fear and anticipation.

They kiss slowly, but for a long time. Satoru takes her time exploring Suguru's mouth, sucking her tongue, intertwining it with hers, alternating deep make-out sessions with small pecks on her swollen lips.

«You are so beautiful, you are so beautiful.» she repeats as her hands slip under her shirt, she caresses her breasts, Suguru's tits are so big that Satoru can't squeeze them with one hand, she also finds out that they are terribly sensitive, so she kisses her neck while pinching her nipples gently.

«Satoru, Satoru.» Suguru moans. She’s melted like a candle, sweat beading on her forehead and she feels like she's going to die every time Satoru moans against her skin.

«I've waited so long for you, Suguru.» she tells her in a breath. «Can I take off your clothes?»

Suguru wants to cry, because she really doesn't feel like one of the girls she draws: she's not petite, she's not skinny, but Satoru treats her like she's made of crystal, her delicate hands draw maps that lead to unknown places. It's the first time she feels like a little doll under someone's attention, she's always been the one to take the lead in other situations, so she nods desperately.

«Yes, yes.» she tells her. Satoru takes off her shirt, interrupting their kisses only to take it off her head. She looks at her like no one has ever looked at her before, tenderly, with respect and desire. Satoru wants to devour everything, and she knows Suguru will let her do it.

She covers her boobs with her hand because she feels shy under Satoru's ethereal gaze, but the girl only becomes even sweeter, more gentle, she moves her hands away and kisses her bare chest again, until her nipples are swollen, red and shiny with saliva, and the bite marks on the flesh do not throb painfully in anticipation.

She takes off her shorts along with her underwear, exposing her wet pussy that seems so eager for attention. Suguru isn't a virgin, but she's never done it with someone keeping the lights on. She much preferred the comfort of the dim light, the certainty that no one could see her.

But now Satoru is holding her legs open, her hot breath crashes against her opening, her wetness, and Suguru feels she can come like this, simply with Satoru caressing her pearl with the fingertip of her finger.

«You like it like that?» she asks her. Suguru squirms in response, trying to meet her light touch with her movements. It's nice, but it's not enough, not even close.

When Satoru puts her lips on her cunt, Suguru sees stars. She devours her so passionately, sinking her fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs, her tongue expertly teasing Sugur's most sensitive spot, gradually increasing the speed and intensity of her lapping. When Suguru fusses, Satoru moans shaking her with the vibrations coming from the back of her throat, and when she adds a finger that slides in and out of her opening it's Suguru's turn to moan out loud.

«Satoru… oh god, Satoru!» she screams out, entwining her fingers in the girl's snow-colored hair. She gasps as she is hit by the most violent orgasm she has ever had, her sweat slides down her neck, her legs tremble and her eyes fill with tears.

Satoru gives her a cat-like look with those impossible eyes as he continues to kiss the inside of her thighs and gently lick her most sensitive spots, making her arch her back from overstimulation. Satoru, however, is stronger than she seems and, no matter how much Suguru fidgets, the writer's pale and thin arms keep her firmly in place.

«You're so cute, like a little perfect doll.» «I'm not– I'm not a little doll, Satoru.» the girl goes reaches to her starting a passionate kiss, all tongue and lips making her feel as if a cloud of crazy butterflies were fluttering in her stomach. Satoru places one hand on her jaw, the other planted on her ass as she squeezes it tight, so much so that perhaps a mark will pop up the next day.

«You can't look at me with those doe eyes and tell me you're not like a perfect little doll, Suguru.» her name sounds so melodious coming from Satoru’s mouth, everything about her is so unreal, as if it belonged to an angel. Maybe that's why Suguru feels so good, so satisfied, with the perfect smile that blooms on Satoru's lips when she calls her name, or with the longing way she has of looking at her as if she were the most beautiful woman in the world.

Satoru doesn't see what Suguru sees, she doesn't find the stretch marks on her thighs disgusting, nor does she thinks her boobs are vulgar. She strokes her hips with her fingertips and tucks her dark, tousled hair behind her ears, continuing to tell her how beautiful she is.

She also takes off her own shorts, remaining completely naked, and Suguru was right about her: Satoru has the body of a supermodel. She didn't even believe that people like that existed in real life and yet apparently there they are, looking at her Suguru thinks that an angel has fallen to earth and that she has chosen to occupy her mortal days writing yaoi manga as a hobby. This is Gojo Satoru.

Satoru's pussy is covered in thin white hairs that Suguru finds incredibly adorable, everything about Satoru is honeyed and delicate – with the only exception of her personality –, which is why she is the first to make a move, rubbing her cunt against the other girl’s, and after a couple of playful thrusts it doesn't take long before the movements of their hips starts becoming more passionate.

Suguru discovers many things that night. She finds out that Gojo Satoru is hot as hell as he rolls her hips, eyes closed, cheeks red from the effort and mouth open letting out uncontrolled moans. She watches her hypnotized as she arches her back and pursues her pleasure by rubbing her clit against Suguru's. Suguru puts her hands around her waist, pulls her closer, Satoru's arms give out and she slumps against the arm of the couch, Suguru takes the lead.

It takes Satoru only three minutes to cum, but Suguru doesn't stop and doesn't even give her time to recover. Satoru squeals, but she's too weak to do anything, so she just lets Suguru fuck her like that until she comes a second time.

Suguru also finds out that Satoru likes to kiss her neck and chest, that she loves to cuddle up to her while stroking her hair and that she prefers light kisses like feathers because she finds them more intimate, more romantic, even if this seems a bit like a nonsense since she was stucking her tongue down Suguru’s throat just moments before.

«I'll think about the plot of a yuri manga.» Satoru tells her after a good half hour spent lying with their legs crossed kissing every single part of each other's bodies. «Then I’ll give the main character your appearance and I’ll fuck you every night in front of a mirror, so you can draw yourself.»

«It seems like a rather ambitious project to me. But I doubt people will like it.» «The hell? That's such a nonsense, everyone would love it. But maybe you're right, now that I think about it I hate the idea of someone else seeing you like this.»

She smiles, pressing a kiss on Suguru's lips. She blushes and looks down at their clinging bodies. She wants to stay like this a little longer.

«What do we do with tomorrow's meeting? The panels must be ready by half past nine.» the designer says, remembering the papers scattered all over the living room.

«I’ll call Tachibana and ask him to move the meeting to the afternoon. Sleep over, we'll finish working on it together tomorrow morning.»

Suguru smiles and nods, letting Satoru caress her stomach drawing imaginary shapes with her fingers, they talk about everything and nothing and then they fall asleep in the same bed, in each other's arms. For the first time they are not alone.

Fin.

[iwtvfanevents]

Rewind the Tape —Episode 1

Art of the episode

During our rewatch, we took note of the art shown and mentioned in the pilot, and we wanted to share. Did we miss any? Do you have any thoughts about how these references could be interpreted? How do you think Armand and Louis go about picking the art for their penthouse in Dubai?

The Fall of the Rebel Angels

Peter Bruegel the Elder, 1562

This painting is featured in the Interview with the Vampire book, and it was important enough to be included in the draft pilot script!

Bruegel the Elder was among the most significant Dutch and Flemish Renaissance artists. He was a painter and print-maker, known for his landscapes and peasant scenes.

Three Studies for Figures at the Base of a Crucifixion

Francis Bacon, 1944

Bacon was an Irish figurative painter, known for his raw, unsettling imagery and a number of triptychs and diptychs among his work. At a time when being gay was a criminal offense, Bacon was open about his sexuality, and was cast out by his family at 16 for this reason. He destroyed many of his early works, but about 590 still survive. The Tate, where these paintings are displayed, says this about the work: "Francis Bacon titled this work after the figures often featured in Christian paintings witnessing the death of Jesus. But he said the creatures represented the avenging Furies from Greek mythology. The Furies punish those who go against the natural order. In Aeschylus’s tragedy The Eumenides, for example, they pursue a man who has murdered his mother. Bacon first exhibited this painting in April 1945, towards the end of the Second World War. For some, it reflects the horror of the war and the Holocaust in a world lacking guiding principles."

On the Hunt or Captain Percy Williams On A Favorite Irish Hunter and Calling the Hounds Out of Cover

Samuel Sidney, 1881 [Identified by @vfevermillion.] and Heywood Hardy, 1906 [Identified by @destinationdartboard.]

Sidney was an English writer, and his prints usually accompanied his publications about hunting, agriculture, and about settling Australia during the colonial period. Hardy, also British, was a painter, in particular an animal painter. There's also a taxidermy deer, ram, and piebald deer on the wall.

Iolanta

Pyotr Tchaikovsky, 1892

The opera Louis and Lestat go to was composed by Tchaikovsky, another gay artist. The play tells a story "in which love prevails, light shines for all, lies are no longer necessary and no one must fear punishment," as put by Susanne Stähr for the Berliner Philharmoniker.

Strawberries and Cream

Raphaelle Peale, 1816 [Identified by @diasdelfuego.]

Peale is considered to have been the first professional American painter of still-life.

Outfits inspired by J.C. Leyendecker

Leyendecker was one of the most prominent and commercially successful freelance artists in the U.S. He studied in France, and was a pioneer of the Art Deco illustration. Leyendecker's model, Charles Beach, was also his lover of five decades. You can read costume designer Carol Cutshall's thoughts on these outfits on her Instagram.

The Artist's Sister, Melanie

Egon Schiele, 1908 [Identified by @dwreader.]

Schiele was an Austrian expressionist painter and protege of Gustav Klimt. Many of his portraits (self portraits and of others) were described as grotesque and disturbing.

A Stag at Sharkey's

George Wesley Bellows, 1909 [Identified by @vfevermillion.]

Bellows was an American realist painter, known for his bold depictions of urban life in New York City.

Mildred-O Hat

Robert Henri, undated (likely 1890s) [Identified by @nicodelenfent, here.]

Henri was an American painter who studied in Paris, where he learned from the Impressionists and determined to lead an even more dramatic revolt against American academic art.

Starry night

Edvard Munch, 1893 [Identified by @vfevermillion.]

Munch was a Norwegian painter, one of the best known figures of late 19th-century Symbolism and a great influence in German Expressionism in the early 20th century. His work dealt with psychological themes, and he personally struggled with mental illness.

If you spot or put a name to any other references, let us know if you'd like us to add them with credit to the post!

Starting tonight, we will be rewatching and discussing Episode 2, ...After the Phantoms of Your Former Self. We hope to see you there!

And, if you're just getting caught up, learn all about our group rewatch here ►

[judywisteria5]

Reflections on The CLAMP Universe and Cardcaptor Sakura

The goal of this piece is to critique CLAMP’s narrative techniques and character design, with extensive criticisms of Tsubasa and xxxHOLiC, but with no intent to demean the characters themselves.

This is an informal essay that initially aimed to explore why Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle "damaged" Cardcaptor Sakura and address the complicated emotions of Yue fans, along with the overlooked role of Yue as the Judge. My initial motivation was to critique Ohkawa’s treatment of Yue, but as I delved deeper, the complexity of the discussion grew, making it difficult to settle on a suitable title.

[Reader Notice]

This article is approximately 4,500 words, with logical connections between sections. Please avoid skimming if you intend to engage fully with my arguments.

The purpose here is to discuss the literary techniques and character development within these works. Although there is extensive criticism of Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle and xxxHOLiC, this does not imply a disparagement of any character. If you hold a different perspective, I welcome well-reasoned discussion. I will not respond to overtly aggressive comments; please avoid bringing in fandom drama.

The original text was in Chinese and published in 2022. I used ChatGPT for the translation and did an initial proofread myself.

I have a lot to say about Clow’s characterization and CLAMP’s failure in portraying him, but I haven’t included it here. English-speaking readers who are interested in discussing it are welcome to message me privately.

[Contents]

I. General Overview of CLAMP II. On Scriptwriting Flaws in CLAMP, with Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle and xxxHOLiC as Examples III. Cardcaptor Sakura: A Beautiful Yet Unrealistic World

IV. The Forced “Crossover” of CCS, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, and xxxHOLiC V. The Tragedy of Yue and the Inevitable Character Deterioration in Clear Card

VI. Reflections on Clow/Yue Fan Interpretations

[Note] Unless otherwise specified, "CCS" refers to Cardcaptor Sakura as a series, excluding the Clear Card arc. Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle （TRC���refers primarily to the manga version.

I. General Overview of CLAMP

Despite its popularity, CLAMP is particularly notable for its commercial acumen rather than other artistic strengths. Their success is evident in their keen market insight and adaptability across varied genres, especially in crafting small details (like character and artistic designs). However, they appear weaker when it comes to larger conceptual settings (such as worldbuilding). Although CLAMP’s illustrations are relatively impressive—particularly with art books being frequently published—their overall impact within manga itself is not as prominent. This is especially apparent in action scenes (like fight sequences), which often lack the necessary sense of motion and impact.

In terms of scriptwriting, CLAMP’s style could be described as “aesthetic-driven,” yet the content often veers into melodrama, with plots that lack logic and coherence. The themes they present can sometimes feel troubling: their works tend to emphasize "fatalism," placing excessive focus on an idealized notion of "love" that can feel unrealistic. Although CLAMP’s works are widely recognized, their scriptwriting level does not always match the acclaim they receive.

The following sections will delve further into the issues in their scriptwriting.

II. On Scriptwriting Flaws in CLAMP, with Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle and xxxHOLiC as Examples The scripts for CLAMP’s works are primarily written by Ohkawa Nanase, hereafter referred to as "Ohkawa."

Many fans regard TRC as a masterpiece, claiming it must be read in tandem with xxxHOLiC to truly appreciate its depth. I strongly disagree with this viewpoint. Below, I’ll refute several key aspects that TRC fans often praise:

The time loop involving the Real and Clone versions of Syaoran and Sakura at the end of TRC.

The intricate timeline with Real Syaoran, Clone Syaoran, Real Sakura, and Clone Sakura is frequently lauded as "mind-bending" and as something that "feels ingenious once fully grasped." In reality, though, this couldn’t be further from the truth! The author clearly lacks the expertise to handle time loop narratives effectively, leading to a storyline that is confusing and difficult to follow. In TRC, Ohkawa uncomfortably relies on ideas of "fate" and "inevitability" to explain the time loop, such as when Real Syaoran steps into Yuuko's shop, setting off a chain of events. However, even if readers accept these ideas, once they unravel the plot, they encounter paradoxes typical in time-travel fiction—especially issues related to the grandfather paradox, which the author leaves inadequately resolved. Moreover, the concept of a time loop itself doesn’t require multiple versions of Syaoran and Sakura to complicate the storyline—this intriguing concept could be fully explored with just a single character.

In the ACGN (Anime, Comics, Games, Novels) world, time loop storylines generally lack the craftsmanship seen in genuine science fiction, and there’s a stark difference between them. (Even Steins;Gate, often considered a “masterpiece,” handles this somewhat clumsily.) Instead, I would recommend Isaac Asimov's The End of Eternity, which showcases meticulous planning, genius in handling paradoxes, and an exploration of philosophical and sociological themes.

(Side note: TRC has numerous bugs, and here’s an interesting one related to CCS: Before Clow Reed warped time and made his error, the King of Clow Country was Fujitaka. However, after Clow’s mistake, Fujitaka splits into Fujitaka and Eriol in the Cardcaptor Sakura world. So, where did Fujitaka, King of Clow Country, come from in earlier parallel worlds? Thus, TRC was awkwardly linked with CCS solely for commercial gain, which I’ll explore in depth in Section Four.)

The CLAMP-style "Sense of Fate" and "Angst" In other works focused on themes of fate, some authors manage to express it with the resonance of Greek mythology or Shakespearean tragedy, while others rely on plot conveniences. I must reiterate that fate is a challenging theme in the ACGN realm, and CLAMP’s works—particularly TRC and xxxHOLiC, where fate is often central—are notably flawed in this regard. By comparison, I feel Puella Magi Madoka Magica addresses this theme relatively well.

TRC constantly emphasizes "costs." In Fullmetal Alchemist, another ACGN work, the concept of “equivalent exchange” reflects the author’s world-building efforts, with fair exchange rules—for instance, achieving immortality requires the sacrifice of countless lives. However, TRC’s world-building is practically nonexistent, with no explanation of the exchange methods or rules. How does Yuuko's shop operate? What can be used as payment? What kind of payment achieves what kind of wish? Ultimately, everything is decided by Yuuko herself. And yet, this “cost” is central to much of the story's angst, such as Clone Syaoran’s connection to Sakura and Real Syaoran’s memories with Watanuki.

In xxxHOLiC, although Yuuko does not return, TRC introduces clones, time rewinds, and space-time distortions while still insisting “the dead cannot return.” This approach feels highly contrived. xxxHOLiC asserts that “there is no coincidence, only inevitability. Every cause has an effect.” This overly deterministic view, combined with weak plot logic, makes Watanuki’s “poignant waiting” in a butterfly dream sequence feel hollow, lacking emotional depth.

Stories that effectively handle fate as a tragic theme often move the plot and create a tragic hero through a series of reasonable yet inevitable events, even if they involve supernatural elements like mythology or religious undertones. A modern example would be Tolkien’s The Children of Húrin, where, under a curse, the protagonist unwittingly kills his closest friend, unknowingly commits incest, and brings misfortune to anyone who draws near, unable to escape the curse. Each event is plausible, whether attributed to the curse or his own character traits.

In contrast, CLAMP’s unexplained ideas of "inevitability, cause and effect, fate, cost," etc., feel more like lazy ways to resolve conflicts and advance the plot, exposing the creators’ limitations. CLAMP-style “angst” largely boils down to “because the author says so,” requiring readers to suspend logical thought entirely, fully accepting the premise, and simply reveling in the “beauty of fate” and the “angst” it supposedly brings. This approach seems best suited to an audience in their angst-filled teenage years, and can be termed “manufactured angst.” For readers who prioritize narrative consistency and well-built worlds, such a plot structure is not only unconvincing but also confusing and awkward.

The Interconnections and Plot Twists between and within TRC and xxxHOLiC When it comes to the interconnected references and callbacks in CLAMP’s works, I can’t provide an in-depth analysis as I haven’t thoroughly read all of them. However, when a story’s core and the author’s skill fall short, no amount of layered references, plot callbacks, or parallels in visuals and character design can add real depth; it all ends up feeling shallow, lacking in substance. To draw an imperfect comparison, the first five chapters of Dream of the Red Chamber, especially the prophetic verses, were crafted by Cao Xueqin. If Gao E had continued the work from there, would the overall effect still be as mesmerizing?

The fatal flaw of Ohkawa’s signature twists lies in the fact that the early foreshadowing and groundwork are nowhere near enough to support the later “stunning plot twists,” which often feel forced and contrived. Creating these twists isn’t difficult because the text can be intentionally ambiguous and open to various interpretations. For example, inserting a few seemingly irrelevant, vague lines into the dialogue leaves space to “explain” (or even improvise) later. They might even deliberately create ambiguous lines and scenes, allowing for a range of explanations further down the line.

Take, for instance, when Fei-Wang tells Real Syaoran, “You’re just like me” (in an exaggeratedly dramatic scene). Most readers might think this suggests they share a common goal, like resurrecting the dead. Yet Ohkawa’s later explanation could be that Real Syaoran is like Watanuki, who is like Clow, who is then like Fei-Wang, making Real Syaoran like Fei-Wang. However, this explanation lacks any logical foundation. The context, preceding events, and the story’s world-building all fall short of supporting such a forced interpretation. Yet this is then presented as “reasonable” in the story’s development, which doesn’t count as proper foreshadowing. Even so, these kinds of setups still earn admiration from many readers, which is honestly quite amusing.

(Side note: In Cardcaptor Sakura, Sakura once told Yue, “You and Yukito-san are so similar,” a line that Yue himself didn’t agree with. However, should Ohkawa decide to “expand” on this line in the Clear Card arc, it might trigger a similar shock effect.)

In summary, the values and narrative techniques in CLAMP’s works often seem rather peculiar, fully revealing Ohkawa’s limitations as a creator (even though she once audited literature courses at a prestigious university, her work’s results speak for themselves). CLAMP’s audience adores TRC and xxxHOLiC, while readers who don’t appreciate this style often struggle to continue and may even doubt the work’s quality. Unfortunately — or perhaps fortunately — I find myself in the latter category.

III. Cardcaptor Sakura: A Beautiful Yet Unrealistic World

Without the nostalgia of childhood, CCS is essentially a typical, idealized Mary Sue-style shoujo manga. It heavily emphasizes gentleness and a “magical allure,” which can come across as somewhat hollow. Even the progressive themes it’s praised for today, like “love transcending social status, identity, and gender,” aren’t unique to this work alone. During the golden age of Japanese manga, CCS wasn’t an especially standout work.

Like CLAMP’s other works, the CCS manga lacks real-world logic. However, as an idealized shojo manga, its conflicts are far less intense than those in other CLAMP works, so the absence of realism doesn’t feel as jarring. CCS presents a beautiful, dreamlike world (though this idealization is taken to an extreme in the character of Yue, the Judge; under close scrutiny, it’s doubtful this perfect world could hold up — more on this in Section Six). For this reason, CCS doesn’t quite qualify as an exceptional fairy tale. A true fairy tale should resonate with all ages, and telling a simple, pure, beautiful story well is no small feat. In the ACGN (Anime, Comics, Games, Novels) sphere, I consider Ghibli’s Castle in the Sky to represent the pinnacle of this genre. The Ghibli world might feel plausible, but CCS’s world feels purely fantastical. Healing, gentle stories also have layers, and when the setting and plot logic feel more realistic, the gentleness and healing resonate more deeply. Even so, CCS remains CLAMP’s best work in this genre and may even be their only truly “pure” story. Due to CCS’s theme, the work almost entirely avoids the script flaws discussed in Section Two, with none of the dark, glamorous style, twisted, chaotic plotlines, or subtly angsty themes that characterize many other CLAMP works.

About 80% of CCS’s immense success can be credited to its anime adaptation. (Though I haven’t researched the manga’s sales or the anime’s viewership ratings, this is my subjective conclusion.) Compared to the manga, the anime’s storyline is more well-rounded (such as the addition of Syaoran competing for the cards and Li Meiling’s character). The characters are portrayed in more depth, addressing many of the manga’s script issues and removing some elements difficult to accept in reality (such as Sasaki Rika’s teacher-student relationship). The anime feels more grounded than the manga, enhancing its healing effect without feeling hollow. Furthermore, the anime’s art direction is more refined and diverse (with additional outfit changes and Clow Card designs). Combined with factors like the peak of Japanese animation’s expansion at the time, these aspects contributed to CCS’s widespread popularity.

In summary, CCS is CLAMP’s only purely sweet shojo manga, suitable for all ages and wholesome, and this is what most CCS fans love about it. This fanbase doesn’t entirely overlap with the audience for CLAMP’s other works.

IV. The Forced “Crossover” Between CCS, Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle, and xxxHOLiC

In discussions surrounding Cardcaptor Sakura (CCS), it’s common to see people recommending Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle (TRC) and xxxHOLiC, claiming that these works "explain" certain plot points in CCS. I strongly disagree with this viewpoint. I believe that if you enjoy the healing, wholesome themes of CCS, along with elements like magical girls and costumes, it’s best to avoid watching TRC and xxxHOLiC, and there’s no need to delve into CLAMP’s other works either.

The crossover between CCS and TRC/xxxHOLiC fundamentally disrupts CCS’s independent charm for two main reasons:

Firstly, CCS is entirely different in genre from other representative CLAMP works, especially TRC, as discussed in Section Three.

Secondly, using character names from CCS in TRC and xxxHOLiC is purely a commercial tactic, designed to draw attention by tapping into CCS’s popularity. Beyond shared names and appearances, there’s essentially no thematic or plot-based connection between TRC/xxxHOLiC and CCS.

Since TRC appears to have a closer link to CCS, I’ll primarily use it as an example for analysis.

So, what is TRC really about?

[Plot Overview]

In summary: The first half consists of episodic dimension-hopping stories, with Syaoran traveling through various parallel worlds to collect feathers to save Sakura. Most characters in these episodic arcs are from past CLAMP works. The latter half focuses on unveiling the truth (with a slew of Ohkawa-style twists) and the final confrontation with the antagonist, though this section’s handling of time loops is poorly executed, as previously discussed.

In detail: At the moment of Yuuko’s death, Clow Reed briefly wishes she could "open her eyes again." Because of Clow’s overwhelming magical power, this wish stops Yuuko’s time and distorts space-time. This thought ultimately takes form as Fei-Wang Reed, the final antagonist. Fei-Wang orchestrates a series of events to torment Syaoran and Sakura (hence the episodic dimension-hopping). Meanwhile, Yuuko and Clow work to restore the timeline and correct this mistake. In the end, their efforts succeed, but both die in the process, leaving Syaoran and Sakura with a slightly better outcome.

[Characterization]

Syaoran: The classic shounen protagonist — brave, kind, and determined to protect the heroine.

Sakura: A gentle, kind heroine who initially needs saving but gradually grows into a resilient and courageous character.

Clow Reed: A kind, gentle figure driven by remorse, striving to make amends for past mistakes.

 

As we can see, this has virtually no connection to CCS: the plot is unrelated, and changing the characters’ names wouldn’t impact the story in any meaningful way.

The Syaoran and Sakura in TRC are merely the typical shounen manga leads, sharing almost nothing with their CCS counterparts, particularly Sakura.

In TRC, Clow serves mainly as a plot device to supply the core conflict and backstory. Over half the manga passes with Clow appearing in fewer than 20 panels (I counted carefully; his longest scene is a four-page flashback from Sakura’s memories). His characterization is minimal and fundamentally inconsistent with CCS’s depiction of him as whimsical, eccentric, and morally ambiguous. Aside from their names and appearances, the only connection between Clow in TRC and CCS is the title of "great magician." In TRC, it’s explained that Clow left the CCS world due to a space-time distortion and that he had to “fill in the gaps” in a parallel world to correct his mistake. This connection is entirely forced—why would he need to “fill in the gaps” to fix his mistake? There’s no reasonable explanation. If the story were altered so that Clow from Cardcaptor Sakura simply passed away naturally, while TRC featured a powerful magician named “deeR wolC” who distorts time and space and works to make amends... it wouldn’t change the story in any meaningful way.

In fact, after CCS concluded, Ohkawa gave several well-known interviews where she firmly stated (paraphrased): “CCS is not in the same universe as other works. CCS is complete with no sequel.” This clearly indicates that Clow’s death in CCS has nothing to do with TRC. The claim in TRC that "Clow left his original world to atone for his mistake" is just a convenient excuse by Ohkawa, who lacked the scriptwriting interest to fully address TRC’s central conflicts, so she used Clow as a scapegoat. Using Clow across TRC and xxxHOLiC ultimately came at a high cost — it led to a complete breakdown of his character. (This, of course, is also one reason I find Clow and Yuuko as a pairing highly unconvincing, an issue I’ll discuss in more detail later.)

In conclusion, CCS is a self-contained, internally consistent work that doesn’t need and shouldn’t be linked to TRC or xxxHOLiC. However, the Clear Card sequel to CCS shows signs of merging with these two works. While CCS is itself a commercial work, this pursuit of greater profits by capitalizing on CCS’s popularity to promote more commercialized works undermines CCS’s simplicity, purity, and beauty — a counterproductive move.

Syri once said that TRC is “a product of CLAMP’s creative burnout, now stale and contrived.” I find this assessment very accurate. Although early CLAMP works like RG Veda and X have melodramatic plots, they are filled with creativity, inspiration, and even a touch of BL aesthetics. However, TRC is simply a repackaging of these early works, commercially reprocessed. Comparing the iconic moments in early CLAMP works with those in TRC and later works, the former have a powerful emotional impact, while the latter feel more like beautiful but soulless dolls. This phenomenon only becomes more evident in CLAMP’s later works, especially in Clear Card.

Some critics say, "CLAMP’s commercial strategy resembles Apple’s: build a closed ecosystem (story chain), reuse core templates (worldview), and extract the last drops of value from classic characters (popular characters)." This commercial model is fully realized in TRC, and perhaps TRC’s success gave CLAMP a taste for this approach, leading their subsequent works to lean even more toward commercialization. (Though, personally, I think a comparison to Marvel Cinematic Universe might be more fitting.)

The artistic merits of this “repackaged content” have already been discussed in detail in Section Three.

V. The Tragedy of Yue and the Inevitable Character Deterioration in Clear Card

(Due to heightened emotions during writing, this section may be somewhat disorganized and will be refined later.)

Yue embodies many classic CLAMP elements, incorporating various iconic traits from earlier CLAMP works.

Design Elements: Cherry blossoms (anime-only, during "The Final Judgment"), Tokyo Tower (also anime-only, appearing in "The Final Judgment"), the moon (Yue is literally a symbol of the moon), and feathers — all of these are signature CLAMP motifs.

Art Style: In the manga, Yue’s eyes, hair, and feathers are rendered with an intricate, lavish style, closely resembling classic CLAMP aesthetics. Although CCS generally adopts a simplified, clean shoujo style, Yue’s design still stands out as distinctly different from other characters.

Character Traits: Yue relies on his master and develops feelings due to his subordinate position. When his master reincarnates, he is destined to fall into a one-sided devotion, with slumber and waiting themes that define his existence…

The problem is obvious: Yue’s aesthetic and character setup don’t quite align with CCS’s themes. He feels more like a character suited for one of CLAMP’s earlier works, better placed in an intense, "fate-driven tragic romance" typical of the CLAMP style.

Furthermore, if Yue’s character were developed with realistic logic, it would likely mean his attachment to his former master, Clow, is deeper, making it harder for him to connect with his new master. This setup contradicts the idealized shoujo philosophy where the protagonist is universally adored. In other words, in a shoujo manga, everyone should love the universally beloved heroine, Sakura Kinomoto, and Yue’s design clearly contradicts this convention.

When CCS was created, the character settings might have been somewhat spontaneous, carrying over traits from CLAMP’s earlier style. This led to characters like those with dual personalities or souls (like Yukito and Yue), as well as conflicting lines and official character details. There’s also added complexity, such as one persona still having feelings for a former master. However, as CCS gained popularity, these casual elements turned into significant issues. As a gentle, comforting shoujo manga, CCS relies on its core themes staying intact, but Yue’s character starkly exposes CCS’s lack of realistic logic and could potentially undermine its themes of warmth and kindness.

As a commercial team, CLAMP’s Ohkawa may lack the writer’s attachment and regard for her characters, as seen previously with her treatment of Subaru. Even if Ohkawa did want to develop her characters carefully, as mentioned earlier, her skills might not fully support this. So, what kind of treatment could Yue receive in this context?

Most likely, Yue would be deliberately sidelined or subjected to official out-of-character (OOC) moments, eventually resulting in his character’s decline.

And thus, in Clear Card, we see a Yue who doesn’t resemble "Yue" at all: outwardly cold, but actually a soft-hearted tsundere; he seems like he’s going to scold Syaoran, but instead gently touches his face (an utterly puzzling scene); he quickly devotes himself entirely to protecting Sakura, showing almost no reaction to Clow (although in the original series, every mention of Clow subtly affects him) and even goes so far as to scold Eriol over Sakura…

The original CCS ends without revealing whether Yue eventually moves past his heartbreak or remains sorrowful. However, at the very least, Eriol left open the possibility of accompanying Yue, preserving the integrity of CCS’s theme. However, Clear Card, as a direct sequel, fails to address Yue’s unresolved issues. No one comforts or regards him as an independent being — everyone simply prefers Yukito. Under these circumstances, the attempt to create a warm, healing atmosphere only weakens the other characters. The character who suffers the most from this decline is Eriol. As the only one who truly understands Yue’s feelings and experiences, he should offer comfort, even if he isn’t Clow. As Clow’s reincarnation, he absolutely should. In the original CCS, he pays particular attention to Yue, not only focusing on Yukito. In Clear Card, even if actual conversations aren’t shown, we might assume private exchanges took place between Eriol and Yue. However, in scenes where “Eriol, Kero, and Yue meet,” there’s no indication of any private communication between Eriol and Yue. Eriol even leaves a message for Kero but not for Yue. How is this “kind”? He shows more concern for Ruby than for Yue. Doesn’t he recognize Yue’s gentle, soft-hearted nature? Syri once criticized the overemphasis on “Syaoran x Sakura” and “You’re the best!” moments, and this view is valid. The deliberately heartwarming atmosphere feels hypocritical in these circumstances.

Conclusion

In the original CCS, Yue is the only truly tragic character, while the other character designs remain largely intact.

Viewing CCS, TRC, and xxxHOLiC together, Clow’s character has completely deteriorated (and if Watanuki in xxxHOLiC is made into Clow’s reincarnation, this would collapse entirely), with some associated characters also affected.

Considering CCS, TRC, xxxHOLiC, and Clear Card as a whole: all the characters have ultimately suffered from inconsistency and decline.

VI. Reflections on Clow/Yue Fan Interpretations

Firstly, for me, fan creation isn’t just entertainment—it’s a way to explore interesting questions and think about life. So, I tend to analyze works and characters with a more realistic perspective, blending in my personal experiences and thoughts. I’ll often dive into a whole “plate of dumplings” (the entire work) just for the “vinegar” (an aesthetic or intriguing concept, not just a character or pairing). Since I can’t make my own “dumplings,” I rely on others' works for this “vinegar” that can only be savored along with the “dumplings” (meaning character issues need the context of plot, setting, etc.). In Clow, Yue, or Clow and Yue, I’ve found that exact “dish of vinegar” I crave.

Secondly, my fan creations lean toward a “gap-filling” style. I enjoy constructing stories and backgrounds that align with the original based on limited information. I especially like exploring what might have happened before the main storyline—like stories of Clow, Keroberos, and Yue.

But honestly, CLAMP’s works make terrible material for fan creation:

As I mentioned, CLAMP’s worldbuilding is loose, the plot lacks logic, and it just doesn’t hold up to scrutiny. Using any reasonable logic to think about these settings just ends in "meltdown."

CLAMP’s works are “fan creation killers,” leaving little room for fans to build on. They churn out spin-offs, novels, audio dramas—ways to boost their commercial value and basically dictate how fans should interpret the work. But I don’t want to follow their way of doing things. CLAMP throws away the “vinegar” I crave, instead serving up industrial sugar or blades that I can’t stomach.

A Short Piece

This is a short piece I wrote two years later to counter some CLAMP fans.

If creating a character requires 100% effort, then CLAMP’s portrayal of Yue is 60% creation and -40% destruction, leaving a mere 20% of creativity. As for Clow, his character is so poorly constructed and hollow, riddled with logical contradictions, that I can’t even evaluate the effort needed to create him. Honestly, Clow is just a lazy storytelling device Daioh uses to set up background and conflict, saving herself a load of work—way more than she put into Clow and Yue as characters!

Let me be blunt: the core elements and relationship of Clow and Yue are simple (art aside): Clow is a half-British, half-Chinese great magician with knowledge across East and West who created the 52 Clow Cards (a spirit deck for divination) and the guardians Keroberos and Yue (representing the sun and the moon). He deeply loves his creations, treating them as his children. Before passing away, he used foresight to prepare for the next master and ensured that those connected to the Clow Cards would be drawn to the guardians. Clow is gentle, wise, and mischievous; Keroberos is lively, Yue is calm and pure, with the moon’s nature, and deeply loves Clow. It’s that simple. Since CCS ended, every CLAMP work depicting Clow and Yue has steadily destroyed these core aspects, completely ruining both characters and their relationship. So, where exactly is this "characterization" CLAMP supposedly offers?

And as for that argument, “you shouldn’t criticize creators while enjoying their work”—that tired “fan rule” against criticizing creators—it’s ridiculous. CLAMP makes manga for profit (I call it “money-grabbing” because CLAMP has no professional ethics), and it’s the readers who fund them! Discussing CCS online adds to its popularity; in my youth, I even bought merchandise. In other words, I paid for CCS as entertainment, only to find out it’s trash after looking closer—so shouldn’t I be allowed to criticize the creators? Frankly, those few core traits and some art are more than enough to fuel all my writing and headcanons, far surpassing CLAMP’s shallow portrayal of Clow and Yue. Does my passion for Clow and Yue have anything to do with CLAMP’s flimsy plotlines? Clow and Yue can easily be separated from the original work and its creators. I won’t accept any rhetoric about "you can’t criticize creators" or “you have to know how to make your own ice before judging a refrigerator!” I only care about the core elements here. I paid for this and can take what I like from it to fuel my own enjoyment.

And to end with my usual bluntness: Anyone who backs CLAMP can’t truly love Clow Reed and Yue. You just don’t honestly care about these two characters.

[kultavalo]

Summary: Jake and Josh visit a museum on their day off and learn about the life and art of J.C. Leyendecker.

Tags: Josh x male!OC, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, art history, brotherly bonding, marriage proposal

Word count: 8.9k

The museum was quiet that Wednesday morning.

Jake and Josh had gotten up early on their day off in Chicago. They had set out on just wandering through the city for a while, meandering in and out of shops, grabbing breakfast and coffee along the way. Simply enjoying their free time in a new city.

They had been walking for a few hours when the lightly overcast sky had turned dark and angry. When the clouds broke, the sudden and unrelenting downpour that was released forced them to seek shelter somewhere warm and dry. A museum had been their best option for a few blocks and the twins had always been able to appreciate all kinds of art.

Jake had grabbed a pamphlet on the current exposition as Josh paid for their tickets.

“J.C. Leyendecker.” he read while Josh shrugged off his soaked jacked and ruffled a hand through his rain flattened curls.

“Ever heard of him?” he continued, handing Josh the booklet as he peeled off his own coat and made an attempt at drying his hair with the flimsy scarf he’d been wearing. It didn’t do much but at the very least it stopped the long strands from dripping too much water onto his shirt.

Josh looked at the pamphlet as he waited for Jake to finish putting his jacket onto a hanger and shrugged.

“It looks vaguely familiar, I think he made ads and anti war propaganda in the early twentieth century? But honestly what artist from that time didn’t dabble in that kind of content.”

Jake smiled as they started walking into the gallery.

“Makes a living I guess.” he said, opening the booklet and finding the directions to a guided tour through the artworks.

He showed the map to Josh. “Ready to waste a few educational hours here?”

Josh glanced at the map, still absentmindedly fussing with his hair.

“Sure, “ he replied, “beats getting even more soaked I suppose.”

Jake let out a small laugh. “Always the optimist.”

Josh stuck out his tongue at his brother and Jake playfully bumped his shoulder as they walked past the first few sketches showcasing rough drafts of magazine covers.

“These are actually really pretty.” Josh said, eyeing a pencil sketch of a man straightening his tie in a mirror.

Jake flipped through the next page of the pamphlet. It held a little blurb about the artist which he read aloud as they slowly walked from painting to painting.

“Joseph Christian Leyendecker was one of the most prominent and financially successful freelance commercial artists in the U.S. He was active between 1895 and 1951 producing drawings and paintings for hundreds of posters, books, advertisements, and magazine covers and stories. He is best known for his 80 covers for Collier's Weekly, 322 covers for The Saturday Evening Post, and advertising illustrations for B. Kuppenheimer men's clothing and Arrow brand shirts and detachable collars. He was one of the few known gay artists working in the early-twentieth century U.S.”

Josh, who had only half been listening to his brother, more interested in the visuals in front of him, stopped in his tracks when he heard Jake speak the last sentence.

A small smile crept onto his face and a warm feeling started to bloom in his chest. It generally wasn’t too hard for Josh to connect to other artists, knowing the creative process and struggles all too well. But something inside him always soared when he could connect to them on a personal level like this. Finding another queer artist always made him happy, especially when they had lived and worked and loved freely during a time where that wasn’t generally accepted.

Jake looked up from the booklet when Josh had stayed quiet. He recognised the look on his twin’s face well.

When Josh had just come out to him in their early teens Jake had made it a point to listen to as many queer artists as he could find and show them all to Josh as an awkward, pre-pubescent way of showing his support to his brother.

Josh had always appreciated that.

So the fact that they had now unknowingly stumbled into an exposition on another queer artist meant a lot to the both of them.

Jake lightly bumped Josh’s shoulder with his own, shooting him a small smile in acknowledgement. Josh bumped back and mirrored Jake’s smile. It was a nice moment where words were completely unnecessary.

After a while they walked on to the next painting and Jake continued to read from the pamphlet.

“Leyendecker ,also known as 'J. C.' or 'Joe', was born on March 23, 1874, in Montabaur, Germany, to Peter Leyendecker and Elizabeth Ortseifen Leyendecker. His brother and fellow illustrator Francis Xavier, aka "Frank", was born two years later. In 1882, the entire Leyendecker family immigrated to Chicago, Illinois. A sister, Augusta Mary, was born after the family immigrated to America.”

Josh lazily walked past the paintings, staying within earshot of Jake and appreciating the art in an entirely new light.

He’d liked the imagines when they’d first walked in, simply enjoying the artistry and skill that obviously went into the creation of the paintings.

But now he was able to see beyond that.

He noticed how most paintings just depicted men, and in the few where women were also shown it seemed like the men looked at them at first glance, but when you carefully followed their eye lines you’d notice that they were almost always looking at other men.

He lightly chuckled at the subtle realization.

A few feet behind him Jake continued to read, having stopped momentarily to look at a few paintings himself.

“After studying drawing and anatomy under John Vanderpoel at the Chicago Art Institute, J. C. and Frank enrolled in the Académie Julian in Paris from October 1895 through June 1897. Upon their return to Chicago, the Leyendecker brothers took an apartment in Hyde Park. They also shared a studio in Chicago's Fine Arts Building at 410 South Michigan Ave.”

Josh looked back at Jake with a fond smile.

Jake walked up to him and slung an arm around his shoulder as they both looked at a picture of a young boy being happily fitted for his first suit.

“Brothers in art, working together.” Jake smiled, lifting his hand from Josh’s shoulder to ruffle his still damp curls.

Josh laughed as he pushed Jake’s hand away.

“Let’s just continue the tour dumbass.” Josh said with a smile.

They stopped in their tracks as they entered the next room.

The exact same face was staring at them from every painting. Sometimes he would be blond, sometimes dark haired, but the features were always identical; soft slightly round cheeks, a button nose, a slight widow’s peak, dimpled chin, and soft sleepy eyes.

The man was always neatly dressed in a suit or morning coat, placed in different situations; reading a newspaper, walking outside, smoking a cigarette. But it was always definitely him.

The twins shot each other a quizzical look and Jake continued reading from the pamphlet.

“This room is dedicated to Leyendecker’s muse and long time partner Charles Allwood Beach. Beach was Leyendecker's studio manager and frequent model, often posing for the Arrow dress shirts and collars ads. Beach quickly became the official face of the brand, effectively making their secret romance a front page feature across the U.S.”

Josh scanned the room once more. There must have been at least a hundred pictures covering the walls.

Showing this same man, depicted over many years, in many ways. And each of those pictures had been created by another man who obviously loved him very much.

A small lump started forming in his throat, and he had to blink a few times to keep his vision from going blurry with tears. He didn’t wanna cry right now, he wanted to look at every painting and be able to appreciate all their details.

Jake silently followed him around the room, looking at the pictures and leafing through the booklet for any more interesting information.

As they stopped in front of a painting of a man and a woman standing on a staircase while looking off to an unseen scene to the right, Jake continued reading out loud.

“In 1915 Leyendecker and his two siblings moved into a newly built studio and home in New Rochelle. A few years later in 1918 Beach joined them and took up residence at the house full time. The 1920s were in many ways the apex of Leyendecker's career, with some of his most recognisable work being completed during this time. This popularity extended beyond the commercial, and into Leyendecker's personal life, where he and Charles Beach hosted large galas attended by people of consequence from all sectors. The parties they hosted at their New Rochelle home and studio were important social and celebrity making events.”

Josh smiled wide, eyes never leaving the painting in front of him.

“I love that for them.” he muttered, voice coming out a bit crackly due to the lump still firmly wedged in his throat.

Jake looked at his brother, a soft smile played on his lips. He knew what the crackly voice meant. Josh was imagining the love these people had shared. He could visualize the house, the living together, the parties, the extravagance.

And Jake knew Josh was comparing it to what he and his boyfriend had right now. The quiet nights between tours, the holidays they shared, the love that had lasted them eight years and felt like a well that never ran dry.

Jake loved how happy Felix made his brother. Josh deserved all the love in the world and Felix seemed hellbound on providing that.

Josh was absolutely lost in thought. He was still looking at the painting in front of him but his eyes were miles away.

Jake didn’t want to interrupt, but he suddenly realized he really needed the bathroom.

He lightly placed his hand on Josh’s shoulder knowing that would make him pay attention to what Jake was saying but not fully snap him out of his daydream.

Josh turned his head ever so slightly towards Jake as he spoke. “You stay here for a bit, I'm gonna go find a toilet.”

Josh nodded lightly and grabbed the pamphlet as Jake pressed it into his hand, not wanting to take it with him as he went for a piss.

Finding the bathroom was a bit of a quest. The gallery didn’t seem to use directional signs and seeing as Jake had left the pamphlet with Josh he was unable to check the map for any clues.

It took him about five minutes of wandering in and out of art-filled rooms before he finally spotted a door with a sign that read “toilets”. Jake let out a relieved sigh as he slammed open the door and tumbled into the first stall he saw. He hadn’t fully realized how badly he needed to go until he was struggling to open his belt.

He washed his hands after he was done emptying his bladder and excited the bathroom feeling much more relaxed.

A feeling that quickly faded when he realized he had no idea which direction he had come from.

In his rush to find a bathroom on time he had completely neglected to pay attention to the turns he had made and which rooms he had entered. Lightly cursing at himself he started to try and find his way back through the maze of a museum.

It took him another seven minutes to find the Muse’s room again where he had left Josh, having gotten a little distracted by the art he encountered on the way.

Josh had moved to the other side of the room, his back now towards Jake. he was looking at a big sketch of two men standing next to each other, their backs turned towards the viewer, the man on the left casually resting his hand on the shoulder of the man to his right. The edges of the picture were lined with detailed sketches of one of the men’s head’s, the hand on the shoulder, and the other man’s hands gripping his gloves behind his back. It was a nice simple picture and Jake didn’t think too much of it.

Until he looked down at Josh.

Josh was standing, tightly hugging his own chest, the booklet still grasped in his left hand but now opened to a page Jake hadn’t read yet.

His shoulders were shaking softly and with a start Jake realized he was crying.

Worry washed over him as he slowly made his way over to his twin.

What could possibly have happened in the last… shit, fifteen minutes, had he really been away that long? But that still didn’t explain why Josh was crying. They both had their phones on them, if he’d been worried he simply would have called. And Josh had never been that codependent.

“Josh?” Jake spoke softly as he stopped next to him.

“What happened? Are you alright?” He tried to keep too much of the worry out of his voice but he was unsuccessful. Jake hated seeing Josh cry.

Josh let out a shaky sob as he turned to face Jake. his eyes were rimmed red and his cheeks were streaked with tears. For a moment Jake had thought the art had simply made Josh emotional but this was obviously more than that.

“It’s never gonna change is it?” Josh spoke, voice sounding small and hurt and so unlike how he usually sounded.

“What is?” Jake asked, slightly confused.

“Everything! The people, the hiding, the judgment, the shame. The inability to just live life and love without explanation!” Josh said, his voice steadily growing louder and sounding almost desperate.

He wiped at his face and sat down on a nearby gallery bench with a deep sigh, he stared at the ground for a moment as he handed Jake the pamphlet.

Hoping he’d find some answers there Jake quickly skimmed the page Josh had turned to in his absence.

Apparently Leyendecker’s success had only lasted about ten years. The rise of better film and photography equipment eliminating the need for photorealistic art, especially for advertisements.

The money stopped coming in. The parties became less and less frequent until they stopped entirely. The house he and Charles had built became a chore instead of a pleasure, and after J.C.’s brother Frank died in the early twenties the couple became more and more isolated as the brewing start of the second world war had relit the fires of persecution of prominent queer people.

When Leyendecker died on the 25th of July, 1951 he was pretty much completely isolated from the outside world. The remains of his estate were split evenly between his sister Augusta Mary, and his partner Charles Beach.

Upon his death Leyendecker had instructed Beach to burn many of his letters and paintings.

Beach had been unable to fully destroy these last vestiges of his love, instead selling them so he could continue to afford the upkeep on the house they had shared for thirty five years.

Charles died of a heart attack three years later.

Jake’s heart felt heavy with this new information.

He sat down next to his brother, wrapping an arm around his still shaking shoulders.

Josh spoke through ragged sobs.

“ What if you die first? And Sammy and Danny? What if Felix dies before me and I’m left all alone. Or what if I die before Felix and he has to burn whatever he has left of me because keeping it could mean he’d be putting himself in danger. It’s been almost a hundred years and I feel like barely anything has changed. We keep getting these glimmers of freedom only for them to be snatched away again at a moment's notice.” Josh sobbed into Jake’s shoulder and Jake’s heart shattered at these previously unspoken worries that had obviously been haunting Josh’s brain for a while.

“We’ve been together for eight years.” Josh continued.

“Eight full years. He’s the love of my life and I’m scared to hold his hand in public because that small sign of affection could sign our death sentence. I’m scared to touch him when we go to a restaurant, I’m scared to dance with him when we go out. I’m just so scared, all the fucking time and sometimes I feel like I just wanna stay at home with him and never go outside again cause at least when we’re together in our own space I feel safe.”

Jake hugged him tighter, putting down the pamphlet on the bench beside him and adding his other arm to the hug as well.

Josh was sobbing violently, heaving breaths wracking his body and despite being the same size, at this moment he looked incredibly small to Jake.

It took a good few minutes before Jake felt like he had the growing lump in his own throat under control enough to speak.

“I can’t predict the future Josh.” he started.

“No one can. And I don’t know who will die first, but I can definitely bet on my liver giving out before yours.” he paused as Josh let out a tiny huff, not quite the laughter Jake had hoped for but it was a start.

“No one is gonna burn anything, I’ll make sure of that. If anyone so much as takes out a match near any of your stuff my ancient ass is gonna take them out faster than they can say ‘grandpa put the sword down’” Josh chuckled slightly at that and Jake’s heart slowly started piecing itself back together.

“I can never fully grasp what you’re going through. And I hate seeing you suffer like this. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to help change how scared you are and I hate that too. But I do know one thing.”

Josh looked up a little at his brother’s face, eyes even puffier than before, skin blotchy with tears.

“What’s that?” he muttered, wiping his sleeve across his cheeks.

“Felix loves you more than life itself.” Jake said with a smile.

“That man looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky.”

Josh gave him a watery smile at that.

“And I also know,” Jake continued, “That you love him more than anything too. Whenever you see him your face lights up like the fucking sun.”

Josh looked down at his hands for a moment, a smile playing on his face as he thought about the man whom he had spent the last eight years of his life with.

“Honestly we all thought you guys would stop being so disgustingly in love after a few years and just settle into tolerating each other like the rest of us mere mortals. But I don’t think you two will ever stop acting like lovey dovey teenagers who just confessed their first crush.” Jake laughed and Josh let out a small chuckle.

“I’m sorry our love is so unbearably cute Jake, we’ll try and tone it down a bit.” Josh muttered, still smiling as he absentmindedly picked at his nails.

Jake grabbed his shoulders, gently but firm enough to make Josh look at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Seeing you two like that makes me believe all is right in the world. I never really believed in true love man, but when I look at you guys… you radiate so much joy and positivity and care, I can’t help but feel loved just by proximity.”

Josh beamed at him through his tears.

“I love you Jakey. We both do.” he said as he sniffled and wiped at his nose with his sleeve.

Jake pulled him into another hug. “I love you too Josh.” he replied. “And I’m so incredibly happy you two found each other. No matter what happens, I’ll always make sure you’ll be safe.”

Josh let out a shaky breath and held his brother tighter. The future was just as unsure as it had ever been, but he knew it would be okay as long as he had his family.

After a few minutes of just sitting together in silent embrace Josh took a deep sigh and slowly let go of Jake.

“Do you wanna continue the tour?” he asked as he rubbed his hands across his still damp cheeks.

“Only if you want to.” Jake replied. “We can also check if the rain has stopped and go grab a coffee somewhere.”

Josh nodded at that. As much as he appreciated the art, it just reminded him of the struggles of the past. He needed to return to the present for a bit.

They silently made their way back to the lobby of the gallery.

Jake went to grab their jackets as Josh went to find a bathroom. He really did need to pee but he also appreciated the quiet opportunity to splash some cold water on his face before heading out onto the streets again.

He glanced at himself in the mirror above the sink. His hair was all frizzed up from the rain, his eyes were red and bloodshot, and his skin was blotchy and tear streaked.

He looked like a wreck.

As he splashed more water onto his face he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, signaling a text.

Probably Jake asking what took him so long.

He quickly grabbed a towel and dried off his face and hands before walking out of the bathroom, ignoring his phone.

He found Jake idling around the tiny museum gift shop, holding both their jackets in one arm and lazily spinning a rack of postcards.

“Has the rain stopped yet?” Josh asked as he walked up to his brother and took his own jacket out of his arms. The fabric was still a little damn but thankfully the sudden downpour hadn’t soaked it too bad.

Jake grimaced as he slipped his arms into his own jacket, the denim not having been quite as waterproof as Josh’s bomber jacket.

“I think so.” Jake replied, "looks a lot better anyways.”

It still drizzled slightly as they walked outside but it wasn’t too bad.

Jake was absentmindedly fiddling with his phone as they walked but he seemed to know where they were going so Josh simply followed him, mind racing too much to fully care where they’d end up.

After about a ten minute walk Jake suddenly stopped and Josh almost crashed into his back, not expecting the sudden cease of motion.

“What the- why did you stop Jake?” he asked, looking at him with a confused frown.

“We’re here!” Jake beamed, gesturing at the building in front of them.

Josh looked at the building, having been too lost in thought to notice it before.

It looked like a cute little cafe, two big windows sat on either side of the front door and wherever there was even an inch of exposed brick large trellises of climbing ivy had found their home.

There was a sun and a moon painted on the left and right windows respectively and underneath in golden lettering Josh read; “Sun and Moon cafe, purveyors of good coffee and safe spaces since 1876”

Above the front door a giant pride flag lazily waved in the slight breeze.

Jake was still doing what he always did when trying to cheer Josh up; research and connection.

As much as Jake was a walking thesaurus he often preferred to show his affection and support through actions.

Josh felt the lump in his throat returning in full force. He swallowed hard and shot his brother a warm smile before walking into the cafe.

The interior was cozy. Warm brown wood panels covered the walls and there were plants hanging from the ceiling. There were a few small window seats to both sides of the door. Two sets of steps on either side of the room led to a bigger elevated seating area and nestled between the stairs was a small barista bar.

The walls were covered with posters and artwork promoting all kinds of pride events, drag performances, and community events. Some posters seemed to date back at least fifty years.

Jake closed the door behind them and quietly shuffled past Josh until he stood in front of him.

“How about you go and find us a table, I’ll order the drinks.” he said, smiling as he saw Josh look around in wonder.

Josh quietly nodded and slowly made his way up the stairs, still looking at all the posters lining the staircase.

The upstairs seating area was quiet. There was a woman in a corner booth leafing through a book as she absentmindedly stirred her coffee. One of the tables near the right staircase was occupied by two men talking together and laughing.

Other than that the cafe was empty. It was a Wednesday afternoon after all, Josh had almost forgotten that.

He looked around at the tables, trying to decide which one would give him the best view of the restaurant while still being able to pay attention to Jake when he noticed something peculiar.

All of the tables had been scratched to shit. The surfaces and the table legs looked rough, like a herd of cats had attacked them on a daily basis for years.

But when he looked closer he realized it wasn’t just random scratching. There were names and hearts and full sentences and declarations of love, carefully carved on every square inch. None of them seemed to overlap.

He traced some of the letters with a finger, trying to read what it said.

“Forever yours, Sue and Bonny”

“Ted + Allen, never apart “

“Roberta and Juliet, rebels for life”

"Joe and Charlie, in this life and the next"

On and on the carvings went and Josh wanted to read them all.

“Oh cool! The website said this would be here but I didn’t know if it would be accessible.” Jake said as he carefully climbed the stairs holding two giant cups of coffee and lightly startling Josh out of his focus.

“What are you talking about Jake?” Josh asked.

“Well I did a little google search for some cool cafes when you were in the bathroom and this place was pretty high on the list.” Jake answered as he set the two cups down on a table near the left hand stairs.

“Apparently it’s one of the first public queer spaces in the country, and somewhere in the early twentieth century a tradition was started for couples to carve their names into the tables to make their relationships official. It basically meant you were married.”

Josh stared at him slack jawed. Jake nonchalantly sat down at the table, taking a sip of his coffee and scrunching his nose a bit before grabbing the sugar.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re the best brother in the history of all brothers?” Josh said as he slowly slipped into his own seat, still in awe at how considerate Jake had been.

“Yeah, Sammy says it quite a lot actually.” Jake smiled as he took another sip, now seeming more satisfied with the taste.

Josh snorted at that. “Well I know that’s a lie.” he chuckled as he took a sip from his own coffee.

“You’re right.” Jake nodded sagely “Danny actually says it the most.”

Josh laughed loudly.

“Now that I do believe!” He remarked as Jake let out a laugh of his own.

The pair chuckled for a few minutes, not really laughing at the bad joke but simply being caught in a fit of giggles that kept bubbling up as soon as one of them got quiet.

The day had been much more emotional and draining than either of them could ever have expected and the small moment of levity was like a breath of fresh air.

As their giggles finally died down Jake leaned back in his chair with a small sigh, face angled towards the ceiling, eyes closed, simply enjoying the quiet of the cafe for a moment.

Josh looked down at the table and thought about what Jake had said the carvings meant. His fingers went back to lazily tracing the letters as he spoke softly.

“I’m gonna ask Felix to marry me.”

Jake’s head quickly snapped back to look at his brother’s face. Josh almost looked shy. His fingers still tracing the carvings, eyes focused on the movement.

“Holy shit!” Jake exclaimed. “Finally!”

Josh let out a laugh at that.

“I felt like it was time.” he said, still not meeting Jake’s eyes.

“You don’t fucking say.” Jake replied. “I mean I’m not saying there was a betting pool or anything but both mom and Sammy definitely owe me money now.”

Josh finally looked up, a frown on his face. “You bet on whether or not we’d get married?” he asked, sounding slightly offended.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jake replied. “We always knew you were gonna get married. We were just betting on who would ask who first.”

Josh let out a snort. “You fuckers are unbelievable.” he laughed.

“When are you gonna ask him?” Jake asked when his twin had stopped laughing.

“I don’t know yet.” Josh replied. “Trying to think of the right moment.”

Jake nodded. He tried to think of the best way to go about proposing to someone but anything he could come up with just didn’t feel quite right.

“Do you have a ring yet?” he asked instead.

Josh looked down at his hands again, trying to hide the blush that slowly crept up on his cheeks. He nodded his head lightly.

He slipped one hand into the front of his shirt and pulled out a long silver necklace on which a beautiful silver ring hung.

The band was a little over a quarter inch in broadness. The outer edges were slightly raised and in the middle of the band there were several stars engraved, their centers adorned with tiny diamonds that reflected a multitude of colors in the soft cafe lights.

“Shit man, that’s gorgeous.” Jake whispered in amazement, eyes wide as he took in the tiny work of art.

“Thanks.” Josh smiled. “I designed it.” he carefully placed the chain back under his shirt, placing his hand over the fabric, softly pressing the ring against his chest.

“Why do you have it on a chain though?” Jake asked. “Aren’t you scared you’re gonna lose it?”

“ A little, I guess.” Josh replied. “But wearing it like this against my skin… I don’t know, it sounds stupid.” he quickly took another sip from his coffee, looking around the room to try and avoid eye contact.

Jake positioned himself right in Josh’s line of sight, making it nearly impossible for Josh to look away from his brother’s face.

“Come on man, you can tell me, I promise I won’t say it’s stupid.”

Josh sighed and looked into his cup as he spoke, still avoiding looking directly at Jake’s face.

“Wearing it like this against my skin makes me feel like I'm charging it up with my love.” he said, face turning bright red.

“I commissioned it six months ago, received the finished product three months later and I’ve been wearing it every day since.” he shot a glance at Jake who just looked at him with a goofy smile.

“You’re such a romantic Joshy.” Jake smiled as he rested his head on his hands in a theatrically lovestruck way.

“Honestly if Felix doesn’t say yes I just might.” he continued shooting Josh a toothy grin and a wink.

Josh snorted into his coffee and smacked Jake on the shoulder.

“Gross dude!” Josh laughed as he wiped the foam off of his top lip.

“I hope you’re not talking about the coffee.” a familiar voice spoke behind them.

“I could really use some caffeine after that flight.”

Josh turned around with an incredible speed. He would recognise that voice anywhere.

“Felix?!” he exclaimed in shock as he looked upon his boyfriend who was definitely here and holding a suitcase and might have heard… oh god he could have heard everything.

“What- how- when- what are you doing here darling?!” Josh was at a loss for words, a feeling he was not too overly familiar with.

“Well sweetheart, maybe if you checked your phone more than twice a day you’d know.” Felix laughed.

Josh frowned and quickly grabbed his phone out of his pocket. The only one who had texted him today had been Jake when he was in the bathroom.

But one look at his screen quickly reminded him that even though he had felt the message come in, he’d never actually checked who had sent it. The message read:

“Hello my love, I managed to get the next two weeks off from work so I’m hopping on the next available flight to Chicago. Let me know where in the city you are and I’ll come to you. Miss you, love you, see you soon.”

Josh stared at his phone in confusion.

“But I didn’t reply so how did you-” his sentence was cut off by Jake loudly slurping his coffee. He wiggled his fingers in a little wave and shot Josh a shit eating grin when he looked up from his phone screen.

“You motherfucker…” Josh whispered, eyes wide in realization.

Jake made an exaggeratedly insulted face, pressing one hand to his chest as if he were clutching a pearl necklace.

“Come now Joshy.” he said, tone trying to match his expression but unable to keep the amusement in his voice from slipping through.

“If it hadn’t been for this motherfucker that poor boy would have spent all day wandering the cold empty streets of this big scary city! You wouldn’t have wanted that would you?”

Josh rolled his eyes at Jake and instead turned his attention back to Felix who was trying his best to suppress his laughter.

The shock at suddenly seeing his partner had started to fade away and instead Josh was now awash in an overwhelming feeling of love that seemed to flow out of a bottomless pool in the pit of his stomach.

He wanted to hug Felix and never let go, kiss him until his lips were red and sore. But the bubbling flow of love flowing through his guts was quickly poisoned by fear. They were in public.

He got up from his chair and walked over to Felix, using all the restraint he could muster to simply give him a friendly hug. It hurt him, having to let go so fast, but their safety was worth more than his emotional comfort.

As they let go however, Jake softly cleared his throat behind them.

Josh looked back at his brother and saw him silently tapping a pride sticker pasted on the wall next to their table.

Jake was way too fucking observant.

But a slow realization did start creeping its way into Josh’s mind.

This was a queer bar. A safe space. They could be as affectionate as they wanted here and no one would care. The fact that there were barely any people in the bar also helped ease the anxiety when Josh turned back to his boyfriend and softly kissed him on the lips.

Their first kiss in public resembled their first kiss in private an awful lot.

It was shy and soft and sweet and perfect. Felix had wrapped his arms around Josh’s waist, pulling him flush against his chest. Josh stood slightly on his tiptoes as he draped his hands around the taller man’s shoulders, one hand automatically snaking its way into his hair like it had done so many times before in the privacy of their own home.

They held each other for a long while, pressing their foreheads together once their lips disconnected.

“I missed you so much.” Josh whispered against Felix’s skin.

Felix smiled and pressed their lips together once more before replying. “I missed you too, so much.”

Josh hugged him tightly for a moment before letting go and, now fully realizing what he’d done, anxiously looking around the room.

No one looked at them. No one had even seemed to notice them. The woman in the corner was still reading her book and the two men at the table across from them were too caught up in their own conversation to pay them any mind.

Jake was silently sipping his coffee and reading through the menu that came with the table, making a valiant effort to grant them some semblance of privacy.

Josh turned back to Felix, heart still racing from love and anxiety and the general whirlwind of emotions the day had brought.

He cleared his throat before he spoke, unsure which emotion his voice would linger on when he spoke.

“You wanted coffee right?” he asked, voice having landed on anxious giddiness. “I’ll get you some coffee.”

Felix nodded with a smile. “Coffee would be nice, thank you my darling.” he said, giving Josh’s bicep a squeeze before taking a seat at their table.

Josh smiled back before walking down the stairs to order at the till. His head still swam and it took him a few moments before he actually realized the woman behind the counter had spoken to him.

She slowly waved a hand before his eyes and gave him a warm smile as he blinked out of his musings.

“Hello there.” she smiled. “Back again from far away?”

Josh shot her an apologetic smile back. “Sorry, yeah, bit distracted at the moment.”

“No worries, what can I get for you.” she asked as her hands idly fluttered over the till, waiting to enter his order into the system.

“Uhm, I’ll have a large latte please and…” his sentence drifted off as he looked at the glass cabinet filled with baked goods.

Josh could feel his stomach rumbling, not really having eaten since breakfast which would have been at least six hours ago by now.

The cabinet was filled with all manner of cakes, cookies, and sandwiches. The amount of choice was a little overwhelming.

“Uhm.. what do you recommend?” he asked the lady as he gestured at the many food options.

She smiled as she excitedly walked Josh through her favorite options. He eventually picked a spicy cream cheese and cucumber sandwich for Felix, a salmon and lox bagel for Jake, and a slice of carrot cake for himself.

He paid for his order, waited a few minutes for the drinks and food to be prepared and then took the tray of items up the stairs and back to their table.

He walked slowly, not wanting to drop the tray on his way up the narrow staircase. As he got about halfway up he started to catch slivers of a conversation. Too focussed on the tray he was carrying, it took Josh a while to realize the conversation he was overhearing was between Felix and Jake.

Josh always loved when his brother and his boyfriend shared a moment together. They didn’t have much in common, having completely different jobs, hobbies, and general interests. But whenever they found something they could both nerd out over, Josh enjoyed nothing more than to just sit back and watch them have fun together.

This conversation didn’t seem to be about some new tv show or movie they had both seen though. Josh wasn’t sure what it was actually about.

“You can’t go first man, you’ll make me lose money!” Jake’s voice came in a hushed tone.

“Jake, I really don’t care about your stupid bet.” Felix replied in the same tone.

Bet, bet… what bet? Why did that sound so familiar?

Were they talking about Jake’s bet about who would propose first? But why would they be talking about that?

Josh’s racing mind was cut off by Jake’s voice, now speaking at a normal level.

“Oh sweet, I’m starving!” he exclaimed.

It took Josh a second to realize what his brother was talking about, until he remembered he was still holding the plate of food and Felix’s coffee which was now slowly getting cold.

He quickly continued up the stairs and placed the tray on the table, distributing the food and sitting down next to his boyfriend.

Felix gave him a warm smile and comfortably slung an arm around the back of Josh’s seat and Josh’s heart fluttered.

The anxiety he had felt earlier that day about not being able to share these little moments with his partner seemed like such a distant memory in a way.

Of course it wasn’t fully gone. 27 years of fear doesn’t just go away with one good experience.

But the fact that these comfortable tiny things were now a part of his reality made him feel safe in a way he had rarely felt outside the confines of his own home.

Josh smiled back at Felix and took a bite of his cake when he remembered the confusing conversation he’d overheard as he walked up the stairs.

“So what were you guys talking about?” he asked nonchalantly between another bite of cake and a sip of his now lukewarm coffee.

The panicked look Jake and Felix shot each other didn’t go unnoticed by Josh. but he chose not to comment on it, too curious to see what reply they’d come up with first.

“A movie.”

“Music.”

Their replies came at the same time.

Josh raised his eyebrows and shot both of them a look over the edge of his coffee cup.

Felix looked absolutely terrified and Jake resorted to taking the biggest bite of his bagel he could possibly fit in his mouth and desperately avoiding any and all eye contact with anyone.

The answer as to what they had been discussing was pretty clear.

Even though he was immensely amused at their reactions, he kept a straight face as he put his cup back on the table and stood up.

“I see,” he spoke gravely. “If you two will excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

And with that he turned his back to them and descended down the stairs again.

He could hear their panicked whispers behind him and something that vaguely sounded like Jake choking on his bite but he paid it no mind.

He simply walked back to the coffee bar and waited in line behind some new customers who had just entered.

He patiently waited for the people in front of him to finish their order and smiled at the woman behind the counter when his turn came.

“Back so soon?” she smiled back “everything okay with your order?”

“Yes the food is great, thank you.” Josh replied.

“I was just wondering, is everyone allowed to carve into the tables? Are there any rules?”

The woman behind the counter, Josh now noticed her name tag read ‘Jocelyn’, gave him a knowing smile.

“I’m very happy you asked.” she said as she dug behind the counter and pulled out a clipboard with a form.

“It used to be a bit more informal,” she said, seeing the confused look on Josh’s face.

“But seeing as this has been declared a historic establishment we now unfortunately have to deal with a bit more paperwork.”

Josh nodded as he started to read through the form. It wasn’t too complicated, simply a list of rules, an empty space to fill out what you were about to carve so if it ever became unreadable evidence of it would still exist, and a place to sign to signify you had read the form.

The rules were pretty standard;

Don’t carve over any previous carvings.

No obscenities.

Don’t damage the table in any way that could compromise its functionality.

The carvings can take up no more than two and a half by two and a half inches.

Josh filled out the form and handed it back to Jocelyn who quickly skimmed through it and put it back behind the counter.

“Very nice. Do you have a carving utensil or would you like to borrow one?” she asked as she looked back up at him.

“Oh uh, I’ll borrow one please.” Josh smiled sheepishly, not really having thought about how he would actually create the carving.

“Of course.” she smiled and rifled behind the counter once more.

A few seconds later she handed him a short stubby knife. It definitely looked sharp enough to do the job, but the blade was also short enough to avoid accidentally cutting your fingers.

Josh beamed brightly at her.

“Thanks, I’ll return this before we leave.”

Jocelyn nodded back with a smile. “Have fun and be safe!”

Josh straightened his face again as he walked back up the stairs, keeping the knife out of view as much as possible.

Jake and Felix were quiet, panicked whispers having died down; they now both stared into their respective coffee cups, looking slightly shell shocked.

Josh almost felt bad for them. Almost.

Felix looked up at him as he stepped foot on the landing. He opened his mouth to speak but Josh simply raised his hand to cut him off.

He sat back down in his seat and looked at the table for an empty spot. The table was pretty much covered but as he moved his plate of cake he found a spot that seemed to be just the right size.

“Josh, sweetheart, what are you-” Felix started as Josh started dragging the short blade over the wood.

“Josh what the?!” Felix sounded alarmed at his actions, not used to seeing his boyfriend perform random acts of vandalism in public. But out of the corner of his eye Josh saw Jake put a hand on Felix’s arm to quiet him.

“Shh, it’s allowed.” Jake spoke.

Above his head Josh could hear his brother and his boyfriend quietly arguing but he didn’t pay much attention to what they were saying. He was too focussed on making sure the letters of Felix’s name would be readable for a very long time.

As soon as he was satisfied with his handiwork he sat up and handed the knife to Felix, cutting him off mid sentence.

“Here, now you carve my name.” he said, holding the handle of the blade out to the love of his life, who still looked incredibly confused but to his credit did take the knife and did as he was instructed.

Josh shot a glance at Jake who also still looked somewhat puzzled but as Felix started carving realization seemed to dawn on him and a smile started tugging at the corners of his mouth.

While Felix was focussed on the table Josh deftly unclasped the necklace from his throat and let it drop into his lap. He silently slipped the ring off of the chain and held it in his left hand as his right nimbly stuffed the necklace into his pocket.

It took a minute but soon Felix too had finished his carving and sat back up, handing the knife back to Josh.

Josh finally allowed himself to smile as he took the knife and carefully placed it onto the table.

“There.” he spoke, shooting a sly grin at Felix. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours”

Felix’s eyes frantically shot back and forth between the twins.

“What?” he asked, voiced small and confused.

Josh smiled at his husband.

“Carving your names into the table has been a tradition here for queer couples for over a century. In times where legal marriage wasn’t possible this meant that you were married in any way that mattered. We’re married now darling. And I know that bulge in your pocket isn’t just ‘cause you’re happy to see me so come on pretty boy, show me what you got.”

Felix’s puzzlement turned into a wide grin as he dug into his pocket and took out a box.

Josh stared in awe at the silver band that rested against the blue velvet lining of the box.

In the center of the band there was a tiny, expertly engraved depiction of a sun with a face. It was almost reminiscent of a tarot card with its closed eyes and soft smile. Engraved tendrils of lights shot off from its face and encircled the ring. It was beautiful.

Felix was equally in awe as he stared at the ring in Josh’s palm.

Their hands shook slightly as they placed their rings onto the other’s fingers and when they looked up at each other’s faces they saw their own watery smiles mirrored back.

Their lips met in a teary eyed kiss and for a moment it felt like they were the only ones in the room.

Even though it wasn’t technically official, the way Josh felt as he disconnected his lips from Felix’s to look back down at their names carved into the table told him that the man he now held in his arms, the man he had held as close as humanly possible for the last eight years, was now really, truly his for life.

Josh looked back at Felix, pressed their foreheads together and let out a wet laugh as Felix suddenly started peppering his face in kisses.

He managed to get both Josh’s cheeks, his left eye, his forehead and the tip of his nose before Josh devolved into a fit of giggles and grabbed Felix’s face with both hands, holding him still as he stared into his husband’s eyes before pressing their lips close again for another deep kiss.

They were so lost in eachother that the sudden sniffle emanating from the other side of the table actually startled them.

Jake hadn’t meant to snap them out of their moment but the tears had been running down his face ever since they had finished the carving and if he hadn’t sniffed his nose at that moment he would truly have turned into a blubbering mess.

Josh smiled softly at his brother.

‘Are you crying Jakey?” he asked, trying to sound teasing but unable to keep the real emotion out of his voice.

“Shut up. No I’m not.” Jake sniffled back, wiping at his eyes and nose with the back of his sleeve, silently cursing at the apparent lack of napkins in this cafe.

“I’m just upset that seeing as neither of you fuckers actually proposed no one is gonna win the bet.” Jake said, tears still streaming down his face.

Josh and Felix both let out a loud snorting laugh at that and scooted their chairs over to each side of Jake in order to trap him in a warm hug.

“Let go assholes,” Jake protested weakly “you two just lost me a lot of money!”

“Oh boo hoo.” Josh chuckled as he squeezed his twin tighter. “Maybe that’ll teach you not to bet on people’s important life events.”

Jake grumbled some curses under his breath but his hands snaked around both Josh’s and Felix’s waists in order to return the hug.

After a few moments of comfort they all let go and scooted back to their own seats.

They finished their food and coffee and talked about how to start planning an actual wedding, who to invite, where to have it, what they would wear, color schemes, etcetera.

After a while when Jake started suggesting they go with purple and green for the colors the newly weds decided it was time to leave seeing as Jake was obviously getting bored.

As they walked downstairs Josh remembered to return the knife to Jocelyn.

She gave him a bright smile as she saw him approach the counter, holding Felix’s hand.

“All done?” she asked as she took the knife from Josh and stored it back safely in its designated spot.

“Yes. Thank you.” Josh smiled back and the three of them started walking towards the door.

“Wait! I have something for you!” Jocelyn called after them.

The three men stopped and turned back as she put a small box obviously meant to carry home baked goods on the counter.

Josh, Felix, and Jake looked through the little plastic window at the top of the box. Inside were two cookies, beautifully decorated with lavender flowers made out of icing and swirling letters that read “Just Married”

It took all three of them some conscious effort to keep the tears down once more as Josh and Felix profusely thanked Jocelyn.

Jake picked up the box of cookies as Felix was still dragging his suitcase around in his right hand, and his left hand refused to let go of Josh and Josh in turn hand lost his right hand to his husband and his left hand was desperately trying to open Felix’s umbrella as they stepped outside into the drizzling rain.

Josh finally managed to get the umbrella open and he and Felix walked with their shoulders pressed together and their hands entwined. More free and in love than they ever had been.

Jake couldn’t help but smile and take a picture as he watched his brother and his brother-in-law walk out onto the gray streets of Chicago.

He also snapped a shot of the cookies in his hands and sent both pictures to the family group chat. waiting for chaos to ensue, he turned off his notifications and quickly hurried after the two love sick idiots in front of him, cursing himself for not bringing an umbrella of his own as the skies above him opened up once more.

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Good morning World and the USA The Greatest Gift

The essence of God is one of generosity and love. From the very beginning, depicted in Scripture, God has shown His willingness to give, exemplified by creating humanity in His image (Genesis 2:7). His nature encourages us to give in return, allowing us to experience the profound gift of being able to bless Him.

During the Christmas season, this spirit of giving can sometimes fade amidst the rush and commercialism. Instead of being a time of joy, the holidays often become stressful and challenging. Many in the church possess unique gifts meant for the edification of the Body of Christ, yet too often, fear or feelings of inadequacy hinder them from using these gifts. Some may even feel that their lack of prominent gifts indicates a lack of divine love or approval.

In contrast, others may be actively using their gifts, achieving success in worldly terms, yet their endeavors might not align with what God desires for them. Ecclesiastes 4:4 warns against "chasing after the wind," highlighting the emptiness of labor fueled by envy rather than genuine purpose.

The body of Christ is missing many members who are called to fill vital roles, as creation waits for the revelation of God's children (Romans 8:19-22). Amidst the busyness of life, God desires heartfelt connection over mere activity. Prayer can reveal the simple joy found in everyday actions, as illustrated by a vision of serving a loved one as an authentic expression of love.

People often seek fulfillment through accomplishments or legacies, but when these become the focal point, they can turn into idols. True fulfillment can only be found by prioritizing God above all else (Matthew 6:33).

Ultimately, actions done "as unto the Lord" carry significance in His eyes. No effort is too small when motivated by love and obedience, reflecting Christ's humility and sacrifice for humanity.

This holiday season, we are invited to thoughtfully celebrate Christ's birth by expressing gratitude and giving back. We are called to demonstrate love through service, mercy, and selflessness, embodying the greatest commandments to love God and our neighbors (Luke 10:27).

If you seek a deeper connection with God, you can receive Him through prayer, asking for forgiveness and inviting Him into your life. Romans 10:9 assures that confession and belief lead to salvation. In surrendering yourself to God, you find a lifelong gift of eternal life in Him.

May this Christmas inspire us to give the greatest gift—blessing the heart of God—each and every day throughout the year. From: Steven P. Miller, @ParkermillerQ, gatekeeperwatchman.org , TM, ‎Founder and Administrator of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups. #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #SPARKERMILLER Wednesday, December 25, 2024, Jacksonville, Florida USA 1:55:54 PM www.facebook.com/gatekeeperwatchnan www.facebook.com/

[uwmspeccoll]

Shakespeare Weekend!

This weekend we delve into Shakespeare’s great comedy The Taming of the Shrew, the thirtieth volume of the thirty-seven volume The Comedies Histories & Tragedies of William Shakespeare, published by the Limited Editions Club (LEC) from 1939-1940. The Taming of the Shrew was likely written in 1594 shortly after Shakespeare arrived in London and was published as part of the First Folio in 1623. It was printed in quarto by William Stansby for publisher John Smethwick in 1631 as A Wittie and Pleasant comedie called The Taming of the Shrew based on the 1623 folio text. Over the years, The Taming of the Shrew has been adapted numerous times through opera, ballet, film, television, and radio. 

When the LEC published their version of The Taming of the Shrew in 1940, they asked American typographer and artist William Addison (W.A.) Dwiggins (1880-1956) to illustrate it. A prominent type designer and commercial artist, Dwiggins was known for his bold geometric Art Deco style, pristine calligraphy, and high standards of book decoration and printing. His illustrations for The Taming of the Shrew are composed of simple yet meticulous line drawings printed in a blood-red color called sanguine. They envelop the contrast between light and shadow within the subjects and although sparse, capture the sprightliness of the play. When LEC asked Dwiggins to prepare a note on his illustrations for their members, he submitted a cheeky note in calligraphy stating, “If an illustrator succeeds with his project he doesn’t need to say anything about aims: the pictures will do the talking”. 

The volume was printed in an edition of 1950 copies at the Press of A. Colish. Each of the LEC volumes of Shakespeare’s works are illustrated by a different artist, but the unifying factor is that all volumes were designed by famed book and type designer Bruce Rogers and edited by the British theatre professional and Shakespeare specialist Herbert Farjeon. Our copy is number 1113, the number for long-standing LEC member Austin Fredric Lutter of Waukesha, Wisconsin. 

View other posts related to W. A. Dwiggins.

View more Limited Editions Club posts. 

View more Shakespeare Weekend posts. 

-Jenna, Special Collections Graduate Intern 

[nananarc]

EXCUSE ME WHILE I RANT FOR A BIT

So anyway I finally started with the graduation project and, lemme tell ya, it was annoying. I mean I expected this, but it's still annoying.

The school and the mentor wants things to be of a certain aesthetic and standard so it can fit with the general public's taste and eventually it can be picked up by a publisher. it has to be commercial and easy to digest, for a lack of better words. Which is like, the opposite of essentially what i am as a person and as an artist.

So anyway I'll be doing Truyện Kiều again, illustrating the full book with better art this time. Here are some sketches I did:

Below is the mentor's very quick sketch for demo:

Which is. Ok cool, it's very traditional, Vietnamese fine art design and aesthetic. The thing that you see everywhere in books and media. The thing that is taught in fine art school. And it's also very HIM because he's a very prominent artist since a long time ago. I'm not talking about the difference in the era clothing tho because he demoed in Nguyễn dynasty while mine is of the Trần dynasty.

My style was criticized (politely) that the face doesn't look pretty, the nose is too prominent and big, the lineart is too scratchy and loose, and that I have to restrict the freedom in my lineart more.

Which is. Like. Pretty much all the things that i like about my art the most. I don't really like drawing "pretty" people, I wanna draw distinct and unique people. I like the fact that the nose is prominent because that's a very Vietnamese facial feature. Our nose is big, flat and flared. And I like it. AND I DIDNT EVEN DRAW IT THAT BIG. it's already stylized and stuff. The lineart is scratchy and spontaneous because that's how my ADHD brain works! And I like the freedom, the raw unfinished feel to it. And my way of scrawing is kinda similar to sculpting in a way that I like to put in a block of line or shape (yang) and then erase it and putting in more nothing space (yin). And I like Maximalism and Kitsch and Neo-traditionalism so I love to do things a bit crazy and new and filled with emotions.

My mentor comes from a very different generation, and a different field than me. He's very commercial, leaning more into minimalism, fine-art conservative and traditional aesthetic. WHICH IS THE OPPOSITE OF ME. Sadly we don't get to choose mentor cos there's only one lmao.

And also I don't understand why I have to aim for publishing in Vietnam too, because that's not where my target customer is. I'm a niche artist with limited customer base and they are international clients (who mostly pay better, treat you better, and appreciate your art more than the general public in VN do). Luckily I have a bachelor in business admin so I know how to do brand and marketing myself, othewise id just keep on trying to please everyone (flexing a little bit, but i was graduating with excellence and on the top 10 of my intake lmeo). Not to mention the fact that why do I even have to publish in the first place, because this is a school, it is a place to experiment, make mistakes, and learn. It's not a place to conform to the industry to make a living. If I wanna do that I would not be here and start working for a company already!

I understand it when they said that it would be a huge advantage if you can get published, but then again, that route is not for everyone, and it's not the only way to be an illustrator like they said. I have my own path to walk on, and I don't think they are aware that we even have those paths, because they are from a different generation. I mean, that's why I was struggling so much before to find a footing, because virtually no one here knows there are other paths! I had to dig things up myself through sweat, blood and tear.

Anyway I rant but i will keep trying to fight and do it on my own terms. They can't make me anyway. There's gonna be sticks and stones, but I mean, I can't physically make myself do something I do not wanna do. There's another option which is to drop it because I don't need the certificate anyway, but I wanna finish a big project of my own too.

[genevivesverses]

Edward Gorey: History of an Eccentric Creator

While styles of artists like Tim Burton, Laika Studios, and Neil Gaiman are widely known, it's notable to me that the adoration for Edward Gorey's distinctive style doesn't always receive the same level of recognition.

Gorey began drawing at 18 months (!) and taught himself to read by age three. He skipped several grades and engaged in various school activities and publications, he left Francis Parker School with high scores, earning scholarships both to Harvard and Yale. At 17, with pending WWII draft notices, Gorey briefly studied art at the Art Institute of Chicago before joining the U.S. Army during World War II, serving until after the war's end, mainly at the Dugway Proving Grounds in Utah.

In 1946, Edward Gorey enrolled at Harvard, majoring in French Literature, and delved into various artistic pursuits, including publishing stories, poems, designing sets, and directing for the Poets Theatre. Despite somehow ending up on both the Dean's List and under constant threats of expulsion, he excelled. In 1953, upon being offered a position at Doubleday Anchor in New York City, Gorey became a prominent figure in design, illustrating over fifty covers and gaining recognition as a major commercial illustrator. After stints at other publishing houses, he turned freelance in the early 1960s, illustrating well over five hundred books for others while also crafting his own works. His career began with the 1953 book "The Unstrung Harp," a precursor to graphic novels, praised by Graham Greene and recognized as a "minor masterpiece" by The London Times. Edmund Wilson's acclaim in The New Yorker marked the start of Gorey's exceptional fifty-year career, resulting in 116 written and illustrated works.

From displaying art at the Francis Parker School in 1939 to showcasing at the Mandrake Bookshop during his Harvard years and even as far as California, Edward Gorey's artistic journey was expansive. In 1967, Gotham Book Mart invited Gorey to exhibit at its newly opened second-floor art gallery, a collaboration that spanned thirty-two years. This partnership led to occasional publications of new Gorey works by Gotham Book Mart and collaborations with figures like Samuel Beckett and John Updike. Gorey's love for theater blossomed into involvement in off-Broadway productions, summer Cape Cod plays, and the 1973 design of "Dracula" for a Nantucket theater. The Broadway adaptation, "Edward Gorey’s Dracula," opened in 1977, achieving immense success, earning two Tony Awards, running for nearly three years, and touring globally.

Having frequented Cape Cod for years, Gorey's connection to the region deepened in 1979 when he used royalties from the New York Dracula production to acquire a two-century-old sea captain's home in Yarmouth Port. By 1983, he made the decision to bid farewell to New York City and establish his residence on the Cape. Amidst this shift, Gorey intensified his involvement in small experimental plays, maintained an active presence in publishing, art exhibitions, etching creations, and juggled a demanding workload of commercial projects. In 1980, he was commissioned to design animated introductions for Boston Public Television's Mystery! series, a collaborative effort with animator Derek Lamb that remains an enduring testament to Gorey's artistic legacy, encapsulating the essence of several of his works in a concise half-minute.

Gorey, known for maintaining the mystery and refusing to "explain" his books, revealed a glimpse into his philosophical inclinations during a single interview. When pressed about his beliefs, he identified as a Taoist, leaning towards surrealism. Examining his early teen art unveils evident influences from Di Chirico, Dali, and Ernst

Edward Gorey's multifaceted body of work, encompassing humor, complexity, seriousness, and provocation, has solidified his position as a significant American figure in literature, art, and theater that should always be remembered!

[detectivedrewshouldgetaclue]

Happy Saturday, Clue Crew! I want to talk about the art displayed, next to Nancy Drew’s bed (as seen in Alibi in Ashes). I’ve already discussed (in a previous post) how Alphonse Mucha is featured, quite prominently, in several of the ND games. At a glance, one might think the three, framed posters, on the yellow wall, are his work. However, they were done by a contemporary of Mucha, named Paul Berthon. Like Mucha, Berthon worked in the Art Nouveau style, which is why it is easy confuse their pieces!

Paul Berthon…was a French artist who produced primarily posters and lithographs… Berthon studied as a painter in Villefranche-sur-Saône before moving to Paris… His study of the decorative arts influenced his print making, influencing the strong lines and natural details that guided his art. The vast majority of Berthon's lithographed posters did not include advertisements and were meant to stand on their own.

The piece on the far left, of Nancy’s wall, is a print named The Salon de Cent (Salon of the One Hundred). If you are unfamiliar what “the Salon” is, in reference to art history, it was:

…the official art exhibition of the French Academy of Fine Arts (Academie des Beaux-Arts) in Paris. First held in 1667, its name stems from its location at the Salon Carre in the Louvre. For almost 150 years…the Salon was the most prestigious annual or biannual art event in the world.

The aforementioned print, was advertising Salon des Cent, which was a commercial art exhibition in Paris, based at 31 Rue Bonaparte.

The Salon sold color posters, prints and reproductions of artwork to the general public at reasonable prices. The Salon held exhibitions until 1900. Many of the posters advertising Salon des Cent exhibitions have themselves become collectors’ items.

The middle poster of Nancy’s Art Nouveau collection, is another advertisement, for violin lessons (Leçons de Violin).

The last poster of the trio is L’Ermitage.

L’Ermitage was a monthly, literary review that was published in Paris, France between 1890 and 1907.

The publication came under new management in 1896 during which time the literary review was reorganized. Subjects included in the magazine expanded beyond poetry and plays to also include that of the visual arts. With the expansion of subjects, the editors decided to commission Art Nouveau illustrations to grace the covers…

Art Nouveau reflects the ideals and desires of Paris at the end of the nineteenth century, which include happiness and indulgence in life and beauty without all the turmoil and problems of the newly industrialized world. In this piece, Berthon uses a woman with long, flowing hair and flowers as a symbol of beauty and purity. The print consists of just four colors in addition to the black ink.

L’Ermitage was included in the Les Maitre de L’Affiches series, or Masters of the Poster. This series was originally offered as a subscription for collectors, in which a different poster was mailed out monthly and which could be bound together at the end of the year. L’Ermitage was mailed out in 1900 as plate 227 of the series. These posters were greatly appealing due to their smaller, more manageable size, and the high quality of printing materials. The original larger posters usually had to be rolled up to store and were printed with a lesser quality ink.

A lithograph copy of L’Ermitage is currently on display at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art in Los Angeles, California, the United States.

That does it, for the posters, on the yellow wall! But you’ll notice a canvas, prettily centered over Nancy’s bed. This is the very recognizable Almond Blossom, by the one and only, Vincent van Gogh.

You’ll see that the piece, in ASH, is a mirrored image, of van Gogh’s original. I can only assume this was done for copyright purposes, but that’s just conjecture.

Vincent loved nature. Blossoming trees, like in the painting Almond Blossom, were one of his favourite subjects to paint. He painted a number of variations on the theme: ranging from a small flowering sprig in a glass to lavishly blossoming trees.

Almond trees flower early in spring. The tree therefore marks the arrival of spring and the start of new life. And that was very appropriate in this case, as Vincent didn’t paint this work for just any old reason…

The painting was a gift for Vincent’s newborn nephew. The boy was born on 31 January 1890, and Theo and his wife Jo named him Vincent, after his uncle. Van Gogh was delighted to hear the news: ‘It does me, too, more good and gives me more pleasure than I could express in words’.

The painting became a treasured possession as soon as Vincent presented it to Theo and Jo as a gift. At first, it hung prominently above the piano in Theo and Jo’s living room. Later, once Jo had moved to Bussum following Theo’s death, the work hung in her and her son Vincent’s bedroom.

Following the death of Vincent and Theo, all of Vincent’s paintings passed into Jo’s hands. She sold a number of works during her lifetime, but Almond Blossom was so precious to Jo and her son that it was never to be sold. And that’s why to this very day, it is on display at the Van Gogh Museum.

For Van Gogh, painting Almond Blossom signified a new start. At the time, he had already been at an asylum in Saint-Rémy for almost ten months. Due to an attack of his illness, Vincent had not worked for weeks. He was now allowed back outside to paint, surrounded by nature.

Vincent worked hard, but that cost him dearly. Once he had completed the painting at the end of February, he had an attack that lasted for two months; his longest ever crisis. Once he had recovered, a new disappointment awaited: Vincent had missed his beloved flowering season.

‘If I’d been able to continue working, […] I would have done others of the trees in blossom. Now the trees in blossom are almost finished, […] I have no luck’.

Vincent chose an unusual perspective for Almond Blossom. He painted the branches from below and very close up. It is as if you are lying on your back on the grass, looking up at the branches above you, so that you can no longer see the entire tree. Vincent had seen this approach in Japanese printmaking and was inspired by it. These prints often zoom in on details from nature, and the image was sometimes cropped.

The subject itself also feels very Japanese, as blossom played a significant role in Japanese printmaking.

There you have it! I hope this information helps you appreciate ASH and Nancy’s room, a little more. I know I really appreciate the art, featured in the Nancy Drew games. I think it’s part of why I went into art history, to begin with! I owe a lot, to these games.

That is all. Happy scrolling.

[illustratedvancouver]

A rare dozen of original works by E.J. Hughes is coming up for auction at Heffel, works by E.J. Hughes from the Barbeau Owen Foundation.

Anticipated closing time: Thursday, September 26, 2024 | 02:00 PM ET

Barbeau has probably assembled the single most important collection of Hughes' work to date. Opportunities to acquire works by Hughes are rare to begin with, from a prestigious collection such as this, all the more-so.

From Heffel: E.J. Hughes is renowned for his BC coastal and interior landscapes, rendered in oil, acrylic, and watercolour. His work in the medium of printmaking is less well known. Ian Thom wrote, “Although his print oeuvre is small—only twenty or so—he is one of the most significant printmakers to have worked in British Columbia.” In 1937, E.J. Hughes was working in a partnership with Orville Fisher and Paul Goranson. The trio, fellow graduates of the Vancouver School of Decorative and Applied Arts, produced a number of prints and murals together. This work may have been intended as a study for a woodblock print, linocut or mural. Totem Poles at Stanley Park was reproduced in Ian Thom’s 2002 monograph on the artist, and Thom described the work as follows: “A tonal study that uses only black and a series of yellows, it is a striking example of foreshortening and arbitrary cropping. The work recalls, albeit in different form, Emily Carr’s Totem and Forest (1931) in the abrupt conjunction of the poles and the forest behind.” He concluded, “This image is one of the most remarkable of Hughes’s early works.” Revisiting past subject matter later in his career, in 1985, Hughes painted a similar, larger work in watercolour, also titled Totem Poles at Stanley Park. Angling for commercial success in the Depression years, Hughes produced a small suite of linocuts depicting Stanley Park in the mid-1930s, including this pleasing view of Second Beach. Dating from 1936, this early work predates the building of Second Beach Pool in 1940. It brings to mind the fine block prints of Walter J. Phillips, whose work Hughes admired. Of special interest, Robert Amos relates that it was while sketching in Stanley Park that Hughes met his future wife, Fern Smith. Jacques Barbeau wrote about this print, “The mood is tranquil and serene. Yet it illustrates Hughes’ subtle ability to suggest less to achieve more.” With very few colours and sure, sinuous lines, Hughes generates interest in the foreshore rocks, the ocean waves and the dark evergreens beyond. Near Second Beach telegraphs Hughes’s graphic design skills and is one of his rare print works. This same image, with a slightly different tonal range, is in the National Gallery of Canada’s Prints and Drawings collection (acc. no. 29253). Collector Jacques Barbeau said his interest in the art of Hughes was first sparked when he saw one of the artist’s paintings reproduced on the front cover of a 1958 Vancouver telephone directory. More than a decade later, in 1969, Barbeau acquired his first work by Hughes after paying a visit to the Dominion Gallery in Montreal, which had represented Hughes since 1951. Barbeau purchased several “cartoons,” the detailed graphite drawings that the artist, a meticulous draughtsman, would prepare leading up to an oil painting. Over the years, as Hughes transitioned from oils to acrylics and watercolours, the collection of Barbeau and his wife Margaret Ann (née Owen) grew to 80 works, encompassing sketches, prints and paintings from all phases of the artist’s lengthy career. Fifteen masterpieces from this prominent collection have been on loan to the Audain Art Museum in Whistler since 2016, on public display in the Barbeau–Owen Gallery.

[fdrlibrary]

FDR the Art Collector

This undated sketchbook contains watercolors and pencil drawings by Alexander Jackson Davis (1803-1892), one of the most prominent American architects of the nineteenth century.

Davis began his career in New York illustrating various buildings in the northeastern United States. In 1829, he started his first architectural firm, Town & Davis, with partner Ithiel Town, and then later opened his own firm. As one of the most prolific American architects of the nineteenth century, Davis designed buildings all over the US, including government buildings, commercial buildings, churches, and private homes. He favored Gothic Revival, Greek Revival, and Italianate styles. He also designed interior elements and even furniture.

Franklin D. Roosevelt purchased the sketchbook in February 1942—two months after Pearl Harbor and amid some of the darkest weeks of World War II.

This acquisition illustrates two important things about Franklin Roosevelt. He had an extraordinary ability to compartmentalize his life—using hobbies and personal interests to help himself manage the many stresses of the presidency. And he had an abiding love of and interest in the history, landscape, and culture of the Hudson River Valley.

Shortly after purchasing the Davis sketchbook, FDR shipped it to his distant cousin, Margaret “Daisy” Suckley, an archivist at the Roosevelt Library, to be added to his collection of Hudson River Valley art and artifacts. “I bought this several days ago,” he wrote Suckley, “and it should go to the Dutchess County collection as a loan. Some of the watercolors are really lovely.”

See more sketches by Davis on our Digital Artifact Collection: https://fdr.artifacts.archives.gov/objects/1944

Join us throughout 2023 as we present #FDRtheCollector, featuring artifacts personally collected, purchased, or retained by Franklin Roosevelt, all from our Digital Artifact Collection.

[paralleljulieverse]

‘Who is queen of all the garden?’: 70th anniversary of The Rose of Baghdad (UK version) Christmastime 1952/53

Ask almost anyone the name of Julie Andrews’ first film and the automatic response will be: “why,  Mary Poppins...of course!” It’s part of Hollywood folklore that, having been passed over by Jack Warner for the film adaptation of My Fair Lady because she wasn’t a ‘proven movie star’, Andrews was offered the title role of the magical nanny in Walt Disney’s classic 1964 screen musical. It earned Andrews a Best Actress Oscar straight off the bat and catapulted her to international stardom as Hollywood’s musical sweetheart. Her film debut in Mary Poppins has even been a question in the ’easy’ category on Jeopardy!  (Answered correctly, natch, for $100 by Steven Meyer, an attorney from Middletown, Connecticut). 

But, with all due respect to Alex Trebek and general knowledge mavens everywhere, Julie's very first film actually came out more than a decade before Mary Poppins. In 1952, when the young star was just 16 going on 17, she was cast to voice the lead character of Princess Zeila in the UK version of the Italian animated film, The Rose of Baghdad. 

It’s an easily overlooked part of Andrews’ oeuvre, figured, if at all, as a minor footnote to her later Broadway and Hollywood career. But The Rose of Baghdad was a not insignificant stepping stone in Andrews’ rise to stardom and one, moreover, that prefigures important aspects of her later screen image. So, on the 70th anniversary of the film’s British release, it is timely to look back briefly at The Rose of Baghdad.

La rosa italiana

Produced and directed by Anton Gino Domeneghini, The Rose of Bagdad -- or, in its original title, La rosa di Bagdad -- was the first feature-length animation ever made in Italy and also the country’s first Technicolor production. As such, it commands a prominent position in Italian film history (Bellano 2016; Bendazzi 2020).

La rosa di Bagdad was a real passion project for Domeneghini, a commercial artist and businessman with a successful advertising company, IMA, headquartered in Milan. During the 30s, Domeneghini’s firm handled the Italian marketing for many major international clients including Coca-Cola, Coty, and Gillette (Bendazzi: 23). With the outbreak of WW2, the advertising industry in Italy was effectively shut down. In an effort to keep his company afloat, Domeneghini rebranded as a film production company, IMA Films. 

Inspired by the success of animated features from the US such as Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (1937) and the Fleischer Brothers’ Gullivers Travels (1939), Domeneghini decided to produce an Italian animated film that could emulate the crowd-pleasing dimensions of American imports but with a distinct Italian sensibility (Fiecconi: 13-14). He threw himself heart and soul into the endeavour.

Based on an original idea developed from various stories Domeneghini had enjoyed as a boy, La rosa di Bagdad was conceived as an orientalist fairytale pastiche. The plot was patterned loosely after the Arabian Nights, complete with an Aladdin-style boy minstrel, a mystical genie, tyrannical sorcerer, and a golden-voiced princess. But it was embroidered with a host of other elements from assorted folktales and pop cultural texts.

To oversee the production, Domeneghini handpicked a core creative team including a pair of stage designers from La Scala, Nicola Benois and Mario Zampini, and a trio of head artists: animator Gustavo Petronio, caricaturist Angelo Bioletto, and illustrator Libico Maraja (Bendazzi: 23). They helped craft the film’s distinctive aesthetic with its striking blend of comic character-based animation and figurative exoticism of the Italian Orientalist School of painters such as Mariani, Simonetti, and Rosati (Fiecconi: 17). 

Music was crucial to Domeneghini’s vision for the film. Fiecconi (2018) asserts that “the original creative part of the movie lies in the musical moments where the film seemed to celebrate the Italian opera” (17). Domeneghini commissioned the celebrated Milanese composer, Riccardo Pick-Mangiagalli, to write the film’s musical score. It would be the composer’s last complete work before his untimely death at age 66 in early-1949 and it has been described as something of “a summa of Pick-Mangiagalli’s art” (Bellano: 34). Combining Hollywood-style romantic underscoring with Italian and Viennese classicism, Pick-Mangiagalli composed a broadly operatic score replete with arias, waltzes, and orientalist nocturnes. 

Given the difficulties of wartime, the production process for La rosa was long and arduous and the film took over seven years to complete. At various stages, more than a hundred production staff worked on the film, including forty-seven animators, twenty-five ‘in-betweeners’, forty-four inkers and painters, five background artists, and an assortment of technicians and administrative assistants (Bendazzi: 25). Colour processing was initially done using the German Agfacolor system but it produced a greenish tint that was not to Domeneghini’s liking. So after the war, he took the film to the UK where it was reshot in Technicolor at Anson Dyer’s Stratford Abbey Studios in Stroud (Bendazzi: 24).

La Rosa di Bagdad finally premiered in 1949 at the Venice Film Festival where it won the Grand Prix in the Films for Youth category. The following year, the film was given a general public release in Italy. Leveraging his professional training as an ad man, Domeneghini crafted an extensive marketing and merchandising campaign for the film that was unprecedented at the time (Bendazzi: 30). It helped secure decent, if not spectacular, commercial returns for the film in Italy and encouraged Domengheni to shop his film abroad to other markets in Europe (Ugolotti: 8). 

The English Rose 

It was in this context that a distribution deal was brokered in early-1951 with Grand National Pictures in the UK to release La Rosa di Bagdad to the British market (’Many countries’: 20). Not to be confused with the short-lived US Poverty Row studio whose name -- and, even more confoundingly, logo -- it adopted, Grand Pictures was an independent British production-distribution company established in 1938 by producer Maurice J. Wilson. While it produced a few titles of its own, Grand National was predominantly geared to film distribution with an accent on imported product from the Continent and Commonwealth countries (McFarlane & Slide: 301).

Retitled The Rose of Baghdad, the film was part of an ambitious suite of twenty-six films slated for distribution by Grand National to British theatres in 1952, the company’s “biggest ever release programme” (’Grand National’: 16). The screenplay and musical lyrics were translated into English by Nina and Tony Maguire, and a completely new soundtrack was recorded at the celebrated De Lane Lea Processes studio in London (Massey 2015). 

To do the voicework for the English-language version, Grand National assembled a roster of diverse British talent from across the fields of theatre, radio and film. The distinguished BBC actor Howard Marion-Crawford lent his sonorous baritone to the role of the narrator. RADA graduate and popular radio comedienne, Patricia Hayes voiced Amin, the teenage minstrel. Celebrated stage and film star, Arthur Young voiced the kindly Caliph, while rising TV actor Stephen Jack provided a suitably menacing Sheikh Jafar. 

The biggest and most publicised name in the line-up, however, was Julie Andrews 'enacting’ the role of Princess Zeila. Much was made of Julie’s casting, and she was the only member of the British cast to be given named billing on the film’s poster and associated marketing materials. Scene-for-scene, her role wasn’t necessarily the biggest. Other characters have more lines and more action. But, as the symbolic “rose” of the film’s title and the focus of narrative attention, Julie as Princess Zeila had to carry much of the film's emotional weight. 

And, musically, Princess Zeila certainly dominates proceedings. Her character is meant to posses a golden voice of rare enchantment and the film showcases her virtuosic singing in several key scenes. As mentioned earlier, composer Riccardo Pick-Mangiagalli imbued the score with a strong operatic flavour and this is nowhere more apparent than in the three coloratura arias that he penned for Zeila: “Song of the Bee”, “Sunset Prayer” and the “Flower Song”. In the original Italian release, the part of Zeila was sung by Beatrice Preziosa, an opera soprano of some note who performed widely in the era with the RAI and had even sung opposite Gigli (Bellano: 35).

In her 2008 memoirs, Julie recalls the challenge of recording the Pick-Mangiagalli score:

“I had a coloratura voice, but these songs were so freakishly high that, though I managed them, there were some words that I struggled with in the upper register. I wasn’t terribly satisfied with the result. I didn’t think I had sung my best. But I remember seeing the film and thinking that the animation was beautiful. I’m pleased now that I did the work, for since then I don’t recall ever tackling such high technical material” (Andrews: 143-44).

The Rose opens

The British version of The Rose of Baghdad had its first public screenings in September of 1952 at a series of trade events organised by Grand National to market the picture to prospective exhibitors. The first such screening was on 16 September at Studio One in Oxford Street, London, followed by: 17 September at the Olympia in Cardiff; 19 September at the Scala in Birmingham;  22 September at the Cinema House in Sheffield; 23 September at the Tower in Leeds; 25 September at the Theatre Royal in Manchester; and 26 September at the Scala in Liverpool  (’London and provincial’: 32; ’Trade show’: 14). 

In promoting the film, Grand National pitched The Rose of Baghdad as wholesome family fare perfect for children’s matinees and double features. “A fascinating cartoon to enchant audiences of all ages” was the campaign catchline. They especially plugged the film’s potential as a seasonal attraction with full-page adverts in trade publications that billed it as the “showman’s picture for Christmastide”.

One of the film’s first UK reviews came out of these early trade screenings with Peter Davalle of the Welsh-based Western Mail newspaper filing a fulsome report:

“Ambitious in scale as anything that Disney has conceived...it has very right to demand the same intensity of judgement conferred on the Hollywood product. I have little but praise for it and I hope my enthusiasm will infect one of the country’s cinema circuit chiefs to the extent of giving it the showing it deserves” (Davalle: 4).

Ultimately, the film was unable to secure an exhibition deal with a major cinema chain. Instead, it was given a patchwork release at various independent and/or unaffiliated theatres across the country. 

The Tatler theatre in Birmingham proudly billed its 14 December opening of The Rose of Baghdad as the film’s “first showing in England”. Archive research, however, evidences that it opened the same day at several other provincial theatres such as the Classic in Walsall (’Next week’: 10).  Other notable early openings included the Alexandra Theatre in Coventry on 22 December -- the day before Julie premiered in the Christmas panto, Jack and the Beanstalk at the Coventry Hippodrome -- and the News Theatre in Liverpool and the Castle in Swansea on 29 December.

The film’s initial London release was at the Tatler in Charing Cross Road where it had a charity matinee premiere on 28 December sponsored by the West End Central Police with 470 children in the audience from the Police Orphanage (’Pre-release’: 119). The film then continued a chequerboard rollout across the UK throughout early-1953 with concentrated bursts around school holiday periods.

Because of the fitful nature of the film’s release pattern, The Rose of Baghdad didn’t attract sustained critical attention, though there were short reviews in various newspapers and publications. The critical response was lukewarm with reviewers finding the film pleasant, if lacking in technical polish. Most praised the English soundtrack with generally kind words for Julie:

The Times: “This Italian cartoon, ‘dubbed’ into English, proves once again how much more happy and at home the medium is with animals than with human beings. Mr. Walt Disney never did anything better than Bambi, which was given entirely over to the beasts and birds of the forest, and the Princess Zeila, the rose of Baghdad, proves just as unsatisfactory a figure as Snow White and Cinderella. The fault is that not of Miss Julie Andrews, who speaks and sings the part; it seems inherent in the medium itself...The Rose of Baghdad is not, however, without some delightful incidentals (’Entertainments’: 9).

The Observer:  “Intelligently dubbed English version of full-length Italian cartoon...Nice use of crowds and minarets; one or two brilliant shots...; variably jerky animation; trite comedy; chocolate box princess...Not at all bad, a little too foreign to be cosy” (Lejeune: 6).

Picturegoer: “Charm stamps this full-length Italian cartoon, dubbed in English. Technically, it hardly bears comparison with the best of Disney. But it has genuine freshness and some appealing character studies...There is a delicate, very un-jivey musical score, and Julie Andrews sings attractively for the princess” (Collier: 17).

Photoplay: “The under 20′s and the over 50′s will love this one...Young B.B.C. star Julie Andrews ‘enacts’ the role of the Princess and sings three of the film’s seven tuneful songs....Yes, you’ll love this -- make it a must” (Allsop: 43).

Kinematograph Weekly: “Refreshing, disarmingly ingenuous Technicolor Arabian Nights-type fantasy, expressed in cartoon form. Made in Italy and expertly dubbed here...It hasn’t the fluid continuity nor flawless detail of Walt Disney’s masterpieces, but even so its many charming and novel characters come to life and atmosphere heightened by tuneful songs, is enchanting” (’Late review’: 7).

Picture Show & Film Pictorial: “Such a charming mixture of heroics,  villainy and romance should not be missed, and although the animation is not as good as first-class American cartoons, the colour and the songs are delightful” (’New Release’: 10).

The Birmingham Post: “[A]n Italian cartoon in colour which equals Disney in artistic invention though not in smooth animation...Fancy flies high but always it takes us with it. Much of the colour work is beautiful...The characters remain always between the covers of the story book, but within their limited living rom they are a  gay and enterprising company” (T.C.K.: 4).

Coventry Evening Telegraph: “It would be difficult to find a more delightful fantasy for Christmas entertainment than “The Rose of Baghdad” (Alexandra) -- the new Italian full-length cartoon. Until recently, Hollywood held an unbreakable monopoly in this field of coloured picture making. Now we have the opportunity to see a new and refreshing approach to the subject...All dialogue has been English-dubbed and appropriately enough Julie Andrews, who opens in Coventry pantomime tonight, sings and speaks the part of the little princess Zeila” (Our Film Critic: 4).

Faded Rose 

The Rose of Baghdad continued to pop up at various British theatres across 1953 and was even screening as a second feature at children’s matinees into 1954 and 55. In 1958, the film had a special Christmas TV broadcast in Australia where much was made of the fact that it featured Julie Andrews who was riding high at the time on the success of My Fair Lady (’Voice’: 15).

Ironically, the film would receive its most high profile release many years later in 1967 when a minor US film distributor, Trans-National Film Corp, secured North American exhibition rights for the property. Trans-National was one of a series of companies set up by Laurence “Larry” Joachim who would find modest success in later years as a distributor of martial arts films. With a background in TV gameshows, Joachim was known for his aggressive marketing strategies and he was very “hands on for the theatrical campaigns and art work for all the movies with which he was involved” (’Larry Joachim’ 2014).

In an effort to capitalise on Julie’s sudden film superstardom in the mid-60s, Joachim tried to sell The Rose of Baghdad as a ‘new’ Julie Andrews musical. He gave it a new title as The Singing Princess and marketed it with the dubious tagline: “It’s joy, it’s magic, it’s Julie Andrews”. He even billed the film as made in ‘Fantasticolor’, an entirely fictitious process. 

Registered with the Library of Congress in April 1967, The Singing Princess wasn’t released to the public till November of that year, likely to coincide with the holidays (Library of Congress: 121). It opened with a series of ‘children’s matinees’ at over 60 venues in New York before rolling out to other theatres across the US (’Children’s show’: 105).

It’s not clear if Joachim had access to the original UK source elements or if he just used a standard release print, but release copies of The Singing Princess were decidedly sub-par. They were marred by artefacts, colours were muddied and the soundtrack was prone to distortion. Moreover, by 1967, the film was hugely dated with old-fashioned production values and glaringly anachronistic elements. Joachim even had to edit a few sensitive scenes which were either too graphic or impolitic for the times.

The Singing Princess was not well received. Indicative of the dim response is this New York Times review summarily titled, ‘Feeble Princess’:

“The Singing Princess has joined the parade of foreign-made movies that turn up on weekend movies, most of them only fair and some of them incredibly awful...Parents would do well to read the smaller print in the ads...for the picture stars ‘the magic voice of Julie Andrews’ and emphatically not the lady’s magical presence....As an hour-length, fairy-tale cartoon of Old Baghdad the film is feeble entertainment compared with the technical wizardry and dazzling palettes of Walt Disney and others. It is possibly best suited for very small toddlers who may never have watched a cartoon on a theater-size screen. The distributor said that the film was made years ago in Italy and later dubbed into English in London, where apparently a very youthful Miss Andrews was recruited to sing three very so-so tunes. Those pristine, silvery tones certainly sounded like her on Saturday, but in the diction department she could have learned a thing or two from the Andrews Sisters. As a matter of fact, while London was revamping Old Baghdad, Italian-style, it might have been a good idea to set it swinging” (Thompson: 63).

The hatchet-job US release of The Singing Princess is the English-language version that has largely circulated since. In the intervening years, it has been given several TV, video and DVD releases of varying degrees of technical quality. None of which have helped the film’s reputation.

Not surprisingly, the film has enjoyed rather more favourable treatment in Italy. To mark the 60th anniversary of the original Italian release in 2009, La rosa di Bagdad was carefully restored and reissued on Blu-Ray. There have been some recent attempts to couple these restored visuals with the existing Singing Princess soundtrack, but it would be nice to see a properly remastered English-language version, ideally from the original audio elements if they still exist.

Heirloom Rose

Although it was never a major entry in the Julie Andrews canon, The Rose of Baghdad is not without critical significance. Not only was it Julie’s first foray into film-making, but it was also an early instance of the animation voice-work that would become a major part of her latter day professional output with recent efforts such as the Shrek and Despicable Me series. 

In addition, Princess Zeila signals an early entry in the long line of royal characters that would come to inform the evolving Julie Andrews star image. By 1952, Julie was already a dab hand at playing princesses, having donned crowns several times both on stage and in song. She would proceed to ever more celebrated royal character parts from Cinderella and Guinevere in Camelot to Queen Clarisse in The Princess Dairies and Queen Lillian in the aforementioned Shrek films. 

Ultimately, though, the principal historical significance of The Rose of Baghdad lies in its status as one of the few recorded examples we have from Julie’s early juvenile career in Britain. She worked assiduously in these early years, giving hundreds, if not thousands, of performances on stage, radio, and television. Sadly, other than a few 78 recordings and the odd surviving radio programme, very little of that early work remains. One lives in hope that more material may surface in coming years. In the meantime, The Rose of Baghdad offers a tantalising glimpse back into this fascinating early period when Julie was ‘Britain’s youngest singing star’.

References:

Allsop, Kathleen (1953). ‘Photoplay’s guide to the films: Rose of Baghdad.’ Photoplay. 4(1) January: p. 43.

Andrews, Julie (2008). Home: A memoir of my early years. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson.

Bellano, Marco (2016). ‘“I fratelli Dinamite” e “La rosa di Bagdad”, l'Italia e la musica’. In: Scrittore, R. (Ed.). Passioni animate. Quaderno di studi sul cinema d'animazione italiano, Milan : 19-52.

Bendazzi, Giannalberto (2020). A moving subject. Boca Raton: CRC Press.

‘Children’s show’ (1967). Daily News. 8 November: p. 105.

Collier, Lionel. (1953). ‘Talking of films: “The Rose of Baghdad”.’ Picturegoer. 25(929): pp. 17-18.

Davalle, Peter C. (1952). ‘Film notes: Italy treads Disney trail.’ Western Mail and South Wales News. 20 September: p. 4.

‘Entertainment: Film Of Botany Bay. (1952). The Times, 29 December p. 9. 

Fiecconi, Federico (2018). ‘L’arte preziosa della Rosa / The Precious art of the Rose’. In Gradelle, D. (Ed.). La rosa di Bagdad: Un tesoro ritrovato. Parma: Urania Casa d’Aste: pp. 6-11.

‘Grand National offers ten British.’ (1952). Kinematograph Weekly. 1 May: p. 16.

‘Larry Joachim, distributor of kung du films, dies at 88.’ (2014). Variety. 2 January.

‘Late review: The Rose of Baghdad.’ (1952). Kinematograph Weekly. 18 December: p. 7.

Lejeune, C.A. (1952). ‘At the films: Dan’s Anderson.’ The Observer. 21 December: p. 6.

Library of Congress (1967). Catalog of copyright entries: Works of art. 21(7-11A), January-June. 

‘London and provincial trade screenings.’ Kinematograph Weekly. 11 September: p. 32-34.

‘Many countries covered in big Grand National List’ (1951). Kinematograph Weekly. 1 February: p. 20.

Massey, Howard (2015). The great British recording studios. London: Hal Leonard Publishing.

McFarlane, Brian, & Slide, Anthony. (2013). The encyclopedia of British film. 4th Edn. Manchester University Press.

‘Next week’s cinema shows.’ (1952). The Walsall Observer. 12 December: p. 10.

‘New Releases: Rose of Baghdad’ (1952). Picture Show and Film Pictorial. 59(1361). 20 December: p.10.

Our Film Critic (1952). ‘Seasonable fantasy.’ Coventry Evening Telegraph. 23 December, p. 4.

‘Pre-releases and release dates.’ (1952). Kinematograph Weekly. 18 December: p. 119.

‘Rose of Baghdad.’ (1952). 

T.C.K. (1952). ‘Cinema shows in Birmingham: Italian cartoon.’ The Birmingham Post. 17 December: p. 4.

Thompson, Howard (1967). ‘Screen: Feeble princess.’ The New York Times. 13 November: p. 63.

‘Trade show news: colour cartoon feature.’ (1952). Kinematograph Weekly. 11 September: p. 14. 

Ugolotti, Carlo (2018). ‘La rosa di Bagdad: il folle sogno di Anton Gino Domeneghini / The Rose of Bagdad: the mad dream of Anton Gino Domeneghini.’ In Gradelle, D. (Ed.). La rosa di Bagdad: Un tesoro ritrovato. Parma: Urania Casa d’Aste: pp. 12-21.

‘Voice of Julie Andrews.’ (1958). The Sydney Morning Herald. 8 December: p. 15.

Copyright © Brett Farmer 2023

[handeaux]

Cincinnati’s Law & Order League Fulminated Against Pornographic Pollution

Cincinnati’s obsession with dirty pictures goes way back, long before Robert Mapplethorpe sent the Queen City into a tizzy with his “Perfect Moment” exhibition at the Contemporary Arts Center in 1990.

As early as 1854, The Ohio Organ Of The Temperance Reform, published in Cincinnati, railed against the obscene pictures decorating the city’s saloons. The newspaper had an idea where those naughty paintings originated:

“The fashionable saloon keepers who ride in their fine carriages, occupy prominent seats in high places, and control the elections of our officers, are confederates with prostitutes, and it is not unlikely that the obscene pictures which cover their walls are furnished by the proprietors of houses of infamy.”

In 1864, while the Civil War raged, William Walker, who kept a small bookstore on Third Street was hauled in on charges he sold obscene pictures to young boys for thirty cents apiece – a tidy sum in those days. According to a reporter for the Daily Commercial [14 July 1864], who was obviously a connoisseur:

“A large number of the pictures were seized – several thousand in all. The most of them are photographs – some colored – and in their variety they represent as vulgar a collection probably, as were ever seen.”

When a Cincinnati scam artist, Dr. William Raphael, who conducted his work under the guise of fortune-telling, was arrested in 1876, one of the charges brought against him involved his library of erotica. According to the Enquirer [30 April 1876]:

“Among the number was a volume of obscene pictures of men and women naked in conditions too horrible to describe.”

It was not only criminals and fly-by-night conmen who dealt in salacious images. Meyer Silverglade, proprietor of The Hub, one of the premier saloons in town, was dinged in 1901 on a charge of exhibiting obscene pictures at his elite establishment.

A fair number of Cincinnati’s saloons reserved a small back room as a gallery to display photographs and paintings of “the kind men like,” as they once described such images. William Miller, keeper of a saloon at Second and Ludlow streets in the East End, was arrested for just this reason and readers of the Cincinnati Post [11 April 1892] could almost hear the reporter smacking his lips as he described the inventory:

“In the rear of his bar he has a little room partitioned off where to gratify his depraved mind and the vile tastes of a particular few of his patrons, he has arranged a large number of obscene pictures so suggestive and disgusting as to call for police interference.”

Some of the photographs in question were imported. Pictures from Paris always carried a risqué cachet. But some were homegrown. George Morrison and Frank Jennings appeared in police court in 1890 to answer charges they enticed young women from the West End – location of Cincinnati’s red-light district at the time – to pose for obscene photographs. Although the evidence was “too filthy” to be heard in court, both men were fined.

Because newspapers were too timid to publish testimony that was “too filthy” to be heard in court, or to print images of a “suggestive and disgusting” nature, we might wonder just what all the fuss was about. Or, we might have been left wondering had not the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette, in the issues for 13 April and 14 April, 1887, published illustrations that were condemned by a Cincinnati watchdog group.

The Law and Order League was dedicated to removing all sorts of immoral activity from Cincinnati. They opposed gambling, prostitution, anything enjoyable (theater, music, baseball, saloons) on Sunday and, of course, pornography. The League published a resolution in the Cincinnati Post [18 April 1887] blasting the Commercial Gazette for publishing the two images reproduced here:

“Resolved: That we solemnly protest against the violation of the law by the publishing and circulating of such obscene and indecent pictures as appeared in the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette of April 13 and 14 in connection with the advertisement of the ‘People’s Theater,’ and we hereby call upon the Mayor and Chief of Police to prevent such exhibitions as are advertised by them.”

The mayor and police chief did nothing of the sort and the reviews for the People’s Theater production were generally favorable and often enthusiastic. The troupe in residence was the Night Owls, who boasted eight handsome women and three costume changes “made before the audience, a novelty only to be seen in the Night Owls.” In addition to the leggy women, the Night Owls featured a “funny Dutchman” (German comic), a couple of French duetists warbling tunes from the latest operas and a gymnast or two. Rave reviews appeared for several weeks with no evidence of police or other interference.

Still, filthy pictures were not universally condoned in Cincinnati, despite being promoted as “the kind men like.” A dispute about the propriety of indecent images in a saloon erupted into fisticuffs in the wee hours of 22 November 1898. Frank Eagan and Harry Talbing had spent the evening pouring suds down their throats at an East End watering hole. In his cups, Talbing insisted on displaying one of his French postcards. Eagan took offense and demanded that Talbing return the offensive photo to his pocket. Talbing demurred and Eagan smacked him upside the head. The battle escalated and the pair found themselves in front of Police Court Judge Edward Schwab. Even though Eagan initiated the tussle by striking first, it was Talbing who went to the Workhouse for 30 days, based on his taste in art.

[marshallpupfan]

So, I know you do have some major disagreements with the writers of PAW Patrol (so do I, especially about our spotted pup),

So, in your eyes what all would needed to be done to explain away, or correct the major faults without disregarding Seasons worth of content, while returning things to the status quo of Season 1?

Also, P.S. I'm beginning to write & illustrate a PAW Patrol book (about Marshall & keeping it normal for P.P's world) and would love to have your creative input & feedback.

I've been mulling over this question for a while now...

...and to be honest, I don't exactly know how to answer this one. Truth be told, I don't know if it can be corrected at this point, especially since those who have any influence over it just don't seem to care (neither those at Spin master nor the folks working on the movies). Not to mention, my opinions on the current state of the franchise aren't exactly universal. Then again, if you had asked me this about a year or two ago, back when I had a lot more enthusiasm for the franchise, I could've given you a proper and more thoughtful answer.

I suppose, if anything, my way of fixing it would be to simply bring back that level of care and effort that went into the earlier seasons. Back then, the show felt like it was more than just another toy commercial... at least, it did to me, anyway. Rescues had a better sense of fun and variety, their choice of pups for missions were far more interesting, character interactions and personalities were more prominent, among other things. That's not to say everything was perfect, but it certainly won me over, to say the least.

If they could do that, and also start paying more attention and coming up with ideas and stories that don't conflict so heavily with previous seasons, then I think I'd have a much easier time overlooking some of its faults. Besides, I think just about everyone would enjoy the show a whole lot more, too... even those who liked season 9.

(Also, give Marshall more screen time, of course. lol)

[proudalleyfashion]

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Kendrick Lamar Merry Christmas Special Edition Nike Air Force 1

The Kendrick Lamar Merry Christmas Special Edition Nike Air Force 1 is an inspired collaboration that combines the festive cheer of Christmas with the cultural depth of Kendrick Lamar’s artistry. This sneaker transforms the classic Air Force 1 silhouette into a vivid statement piece, blending bold holiday colors and Lamar’s iconic presence. The yellow and red base, accented with a black Swoosh, evokes a warm and celebratory vibe, making it perfect for the season.

What sets this design apart is the attention to graphic detail. The shoe features playful, holiday-themed illustrations, including snowflakes, gift boxes, and symbolic references to Lamar’s lyrical genius. “Merry Christmas” and Lamar’s signature are prominently displayed, adding a personal touch that appeals to both sneakerheads and music fans. The balance between festive motifs and artistic sophistication ensures that this sneaker feels authentic, rather than overly commercialized.

In terms of versatility, the sneaker shines as both a fashion statement and a collector’s item. It pairs effortlessly with holiday attire, such as cozy sweaters and jeans, while also standing out in a streetwear context with cargo pants or oversized hoodies. The premium materials, including soft leather and durable stitching, enhance its practicality without sacrificing style.

This limited-edition release is not just footwear—it’s a celebration of culture and creativity, bridging the worlds of fashion, music, and festive joy. The Kendrick Lamar Merry Christmas Nike Air Force 1 is a perfect representation of individuality and seasonal cheer, making it an essential piece for fans and collectors alike.

Style & Design of Kendrick Lamar Merry Christmas Special Edition Nike Air Force 1

The Kendrick Lamar Merry Christmas Special Edition Nike Air Force 1 is a festive yet versatile sneaker that blends holiday charm with the artistry of Kendrick Lamar. The yellow and red base serves as the canvas for vibrant holiday-inspired graphics, while the black Swoosh adds a sharp contrast that ties the design together. The inclusion of cheerful elements such as snowflakes, gift boxes, and bold “Merry Christmas” text reflects the warmth and joy of the holiday season. At the same time, Kendrick Lamar’s signature brings a personal and cultural depth to the shoe, making it much more than just a seasonal piece.

From a stylist’s perspective, this sneaker is perfect for adding playful energy to casual holiday outfits. Pair it with dark denim jeans and a bright red sweater for a cozy yet stylish Christmas-inspired look. To enhance its streetwear appeal, combine the sneakers with relaxed-fit joggers and a puffer jacket, letting the vivid colors of the shoe take center stage. The mix of holiday motifs and modern design makes it an ideal choice for creating outfits that are both festive and trendy.

These sneakers are also an invitation to experiment with layered, eclectic looks. Incorporate accessories like beanies or scarves in complementary colors to tie the outfit together, or pair the shoes with bold prints and oversized silhouettes for a more avant-garde style. The Kendrick Lamar Merry Christmas Nike Air Force 1 stands out as a fusion of celebration and individuality, offering endless possibilities to express personality through fashion. Whether styled for the holidays or worn year-round, this sneaker is a vivid statement piece that exudes both festive spirit and cultural relevance.