#wood markhor

[decoryear]

Handcrafted Wooden Markhor Statue, The Unique Wooden Markhor.

[artifacts-and-arthropods]

"Ram in the Thicket" Statuette from Ur (Iraq), c.2600-2400 BCE: this statuette is made of lapis lazuli, shells, gold, silver, limestone, copper, and wood

This sculpture is about 4,500 years old. It was unearthed back in 1929, during the excavation of the "Great Death Pit" at the Royal Cemetery of Ur, located in what was once the heart of Mesopotamia (and is now part of southern Iraq).

Sir Leonard Woolley, who led the excavations at the site, nicknamed the statuette "ram caught in a thicket" as a reference to the Biblical story in which Abraham sacrifices a ram that he finds caught in a thicket. The statuette is still commonly known by that name, even though it actually depicts a markhor goat feeding on the leaves of a flowering tree/shrub. Some scholars refer to it as a "rampant he-goat" or "rearing goat," instead.

It was carved from a wooden core; gold foil was then carefully hammered onto the surface of the goat's face and legs, and its belly was coated in silver paint. Intricately carved pieces of shell and lapis lazuli were layered onto the goat's body in order to form the fleece. Lapis lazuli was also used to create the goat's eyes, horns, and beard, while its ears were crafted out of copper.

The tree (along with its delicate branches and eight-petaled flowers) was also carved from a wooden base, before being wrapped in gold foil.

The goat and the tree are both attached to a small pedestal, which is decorated with silver paint and tiny mosaic tiles made of shell, lapis lazuli, and red limestone.

This artifact measures 42.5cm (roughly 16 inches) tall.

A second, nearly-identical statuette was also found nearby. That second sculpture (which is also known as the "ram in the thicket") is pictured below:

There are a few minor differences between the two sculptures. The second "ram" is equipped with gold-covered genitals, for example, while the first one has no genitals at all; researchers believe that the other sculpture originally had genitals that were made out of silver, but that they eventually corroded away, just like the rest of the silver on its body.

The second "ram" is also slightly larger than the first, measuring 45.7cm (18 in) tall.

Both statuettes have a cylindrical socket rising from the goats' shoulders, suggesting that these sculptures were originally used as supports for another object (possibly a bowl or tray).

The depiction of a goat rearing up against a tree/shrub is a common motif in ancient Near Eastern art, but few examples are as stunning (or as elaborate) as these two statuettes.

Sources & More Info:

Penn Museum: Collections Highlight

Penn Museum: Ram in the Thicket

Expedition Magazine: Rescue and Restoration: a History of the Philadelphia "Ram Caught in a Thicket" (PDF version)

The British Museum: Ram in the Thicket

A Companion to Ancient Near Eastern Art: Statuary and Reliefs

World Archaeology: Ram in the Thicket

Cambridge Scholars Publishing: Colour in Sculpture: a Survey from Ancient Mesopotamia to the Present (PDF excerpt)

Goats (Capra) from Ancient to Modern: Goats in the Ancient Near East and their Relationship with the Mythology, Fairytale, and Folklore of these Cultures

[ansariforge]

Unveiling the Masterpieces: 10 Best Damascus Knives by Ansari Forge

Hey there knife enthusiasts, buckle up because I'm about to take you on a thrilling ride through the world of fine craftsmanship and cutting-edge design. If you've been on the hunt for the ultimate Damascus knife to add to your collection, look no further than Ansari Forge. Renowned for their impeccable quality and unparalleled artistry, Ansari Forge has curated a collection that's bound to leave you in awe. So, without further ado, let's dive into the top 10 Damascus knives that are stealing the spotlight:

1 : Damascus Kukri Knife - This beauty boasts a bone handle and comes with a leather sheath, making it a perfect blend of style and functionality. Ideal for both collectors and outdoor enthusiasts.

2 : Damascus Steel Hunting Knife - Crafted with a camel bone handle and accompanied by a leather sheath, this knife is your perfect companion for all your hunting adventures.

3 : Damascus Folding Pocket Knife - Sleek, stylish, and practical, this pocket knife with a bone handle is a must-have for everyday carry.

4 : Hand-Forged 8-Inch Chef Knife - Elevate your culinary skills with this chef knife featuring a stabilized burl wood handle and a leather sheath. Precision and beauty combined in one.

5 : Full Tang Damascus Bowie Knife - Designed for the wilderness, this Bowie knife with horizontal carry leather sheath is your go-to for hunting and camping expeditions.

6 : Fixed Blade Damascus Gut Hook Knife - With a full tang wood handle and included leather sheath, this knife is tailor-made for skinning, hunting, and outdoor adventures.

7 : Ruby Ranger 9 Damascus Hunting Knife - Unleash your inner hunter with this masterpiece featuring a gut hook and a sheath. Crafted to perfection for your hunting escapades.

8 : Markhor Hunter Damascus Steel Knife - The horn handle adds a touch of elegance to this Damascus steel knife, making it a prized possession for any collector.

9 : Custom Handmade Forged Hunting Knife - With a horizontal leather sheath, this 9.5-inch hunting knife is a testament to Ansari Forge's commitment to excellence in craftsmanship.

Damascus Folding Knife Liner Lock - Practicality meets sophistication in this custom pocket knife with a walnut wood handle and sheath.

Each knife from Ansari Forge is not just a tool but a work of art that tells a story of craftsmanship and dedication. Whether you're a seasoned collector or a novice enthusiast, these Damascus knives are sure to captivate your heart and elevate your collection to new heights. So, what are you waiting for? Dive into the world of Ansari Forge and experience the magic of fine blades like never before. Happy slicing! 🗡️✨

[noxexistant]

Grrrr

If i mistake a brooklyn newsie for a manhattan newsie or miss any newsies out , please excuse it because there are just SO god dam many of them 😨😨😭😭😪😪

~~~

Birdsies ( Newsies "Bird + Newsies" )

Jack - Wood Pigeon

Davey - Eurasian Jay

Les - Eurasian Jay

Crutchie - Meadow Lark

Race - Rainbow Lorikeet

Albert - Cardinal

Finch - Finch

Tommy Boy - Pionus Parrot

Buttons - Kea Parrot

Elmer - Purple Martin

JoJo - White Bellbird

Splasher - Green-Cheeked Conures

Romeo - Great Bowerbird

Specs - American Woodcock

Blink - Sharp-shinned Hawk

Mush - SaltMarsh Sparrow

Skittery - Starling

Mike - Peregrine Falcon

Ike - Peregrine Falcon

Julian ( i know he isnt a real character BUT HE IS TO ME 😡 ) - Cape Penduline Tit

Henry - Ruby-Throated Hummingbird 

Sniper - American Kestrel

Smalls - Bee Hummingbird

Snitch - Kookaburra

Itey - Goldcrest

Snoddy - Cockatiel

Swifty - Gyrfalcon

Dutchy - Great Spotted Woodpecker

Bumlets - Yellow-Bellied Sapsucker

Boots - Russet Sparrow

Snipeshooter - Little Owl

Guttersnipe - Mottled Wood Owl

Katherine - Kiwi

-

Brooklyn Scewsies ( Brooklyn Newsies "Scale + Newsies" )

Spot - Leopard Gecko

Hotshot - Chahoua Gecko

York - Tokay Gecko

Mack - Leaf-Tailed Gecko

Splint - Rhoptropus Afer

Lucky - Golden Gecko

Scope - Tarentola Chazaliae

Stray - Frilled-Necked Lizard

Ritz - Tree Crocodile

Pips - Crested Gecko

-

Defrogceys ( Delanceys "Frog + Delanceys" )

Oscar - Ranitomeya Frog

Morris - Ranitomeya Frog

( Wiesel - Phantasmal Poison Frog )

-

Others

Miss Medda - Tabby Cat

The Boweries - Siamese Cat

Pulitzer - American Shorthair cross Siamese cross Ragdoll Cat

Nunzio - Fire Salamander

Hannah - Red Ruffed Lemur

Bunsen - Proboscis Monkey

Seitz - Ladoga Ringed Seal

Snyder - Black Mamba

Mr.Jacobi - Shih Tzu

Roosevelt - Newfoundland Dog

Bill - Markhor Goat

Darcy - Buff-Tailed Bumblebee

- mystery anon

oh, this is my absolute favourite, and so detailed!!! so many fantastic choices!!!

mike and ike being told apart by a Very slight difference in their feather pattern. les is literally just like a tinier rounder davey. katherine being a fancy little kiwi!!! (although i do also love the idea of her being something super colourful to reflect her wardrobe)

also JULIAN IS REAL TO US!!! special little guy!!! there’s enough boys here that, truly, what is one more? throw him in there. he deserves it.

[talenlee]

USP-08: August's Custom Cards

New Post has been published on PRESS.exe: USP-08: August's Custom Cards

The Masqued shed their old identities to become anyone; known mostly for masks they wear that distinguish them from normal partygoers on the Palace Boats. The Faceless have masks of wood, bone, and dirt, or create faces that look like animals just because they know it is hard, otherwise, to tell where to look when you talk to them. Some take on forms designed to express an identity that demonstrates their skill, their aesthetic sense. But then there are those, in these same magics, who have their identities shriven from them – people who need magical aid to restore themselves to being a person again, people who somehow are there, but not, manifested to the world but done so without an identity. It is a strange thing to have every name, and stranger still to have none.

Warning: Wizards employees, this post contains unsolicited designs of custom magic cards.

The theme of August was tricks. Tricks is a pretty broad group of things you can represent in the game, of course; a bunch of the cards were tricky by involving manifests (which let you do tricky things). Some were tricky because they invoked specific classic magic tricks. Some are tricky because they have changeling and enable a whole lot of different ideas in a little way. And some are tricks because the spell is something other than what it looks like.

Looking at these cards I’ve made I find myself kind of struggling to express how proud I am of what they represent in my head, but also, so afraid that there’s no clear vision for you, an outsider, of how well they work. Does this convey the right flavour? Am I overdoing this? Is it obvious what this is based on name and mechanics? Ah well, we’ll see.

In this flavour space, I think of the manifests as either proto-faceless, things that have not yet worked out how to have a identity, or failed Masqued, things that gave up their identity but weren’t strong enough to handle what happened. Again, like Changeling, this is two different ways of examining the same mechanic.

Quynn is the entrenched leader of the Masqued and possibly their first leader. A dedicated faceless manipulator, Quynn has spent so long orchestrating plans across identities amongst all the different factions of the Palace boats that Quynn has long since lost track of who is or isn’t on whose side, and that anything that renders these factions at peace with one another is not to be trusted.

Markhor is a sphinx living on the ice palace. They are an absolute pain in the ass; thery genuinely think the best way to convey information is to make it hard to understand because then you value it more when you solved it. Markhor is sure they are the smartest person in the room. They are possibly right. It doesn’t matter, they are just also very annoying.

Khenbish is a Temur planeswalker, who is stuck in the swirld of Ullaine’s reckless love. They believe in mysteries for their own sake, and exchange names for ideas. They are largely not that interested in what’s going on in this world, but it just so happens their home world’s morph magic and these wandering manifests are similar enough.

Aysun is a vampire lord meant to patrol the territory of the Outlands docks, there to keep the Barrens Scourged. She doesn’t want to, and thinks that’s stupid, and she’s not sure why. It’s probably because the assassination attempt she survived was done with a chunk of the Horned King’s horn, and now she has an ever-growing connection to the violent, primal part of nature that wants to feed. She’s disdainful of the Palace boats, and she has no idea how her loyalties will fall in the coming days.

Zyru is the prince of the Faceless. He’s not in charge of them – he’s just one of them so possessed of style and flair (and with such a pattern of behaviour) that Faceless happily regard him as their prince. Zyru is known for appearing in places, usually feasts and parties, and then rumbling someone who thought they could handle what the faerie-boy was about to deal out. Zyru’s technically got a side in this war, but most of all, he’s here to have fun.

Nil is the third of the Ravenous Hounds. The Hounds are meant to represent forces of nature trying to make death mean something – consuming the dead and cleaning up the work of planeswalkers. While Ole Doorscar attacks your life, and Psoglav feasts on bodies, it’s Nil who eats the soul, ripping away what you thought made you who you are.

And then finally, there’s Visha. Visha is a strange construct that lives at the Palace of the Dead. Periodically, Visha emerges, issues a proclamation and returns inside. Nobody understands what Visha is doing this for or why, but it’s now much more worrying when Visha appears and doesn’t go back inside, instead throwing some enormous porcelain hands.

I feel like I might spend more time than usual on single, specific card narratives this time, just because so many of these cards stand out in my mind. I can see how in the end of the design, a bunch of these cards’ relationship to tricks may be a bit obscure – like a Killer Approach is a fairly generic term for initiating a good magic trick. Still, there are some I think of as real treats!

Demask deserves special mention, as it is pushing the absolute limits of card space, in my mind. It was a sorcery originally, but the wording got larger and larger, until I opted for an aura (which also gives some counterplay). I had to get the wording base off a card called Dream Leash from Ravnica, which has a really odd wording because of templating changes since its original appearance.

Inviting Guest may hold a record for the most space on a card saved by avoiding reminder text. If it was a real card, it would also be the only card (that I could find) that has the word manifest on it without the reminder text for manifests (which makes sense; manifests are a complicated mechanic). In my mind, I think of the changeling as ‘Shion’ because the art reminds me of a friend’s OC (though the character is obviously a lot more flamboyant and rambunctuous than her.

There are two cards here that are secretly alchemy cards in disguise, or at least, that’s how they started. The Tide-Weaver multiplist is one, but the much cheekier one (in my opinion) is the Masque of Naught, which is meant to fulfill the role of the Juggernaut Peddler. It took a lot of wording iterations to pull that one down, including a bunch of very short names to try and save space.

The Usurper’s Palace (USP) is a collection of Custom Magic cards made with the general structure of a commander draft set. The cards are posted, one per day with different themes every month, to the Custom Magic subreddit, on my Mastodon and Cohost. Follow along for more!

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#2023CustomMagicCards #CustomMagicCards #UsurperSPalace

[supremewolfren]

The Devil's Gift ~ Part 11 (Final)

Summary: Poe Dameron is the honorary Prince of Hell - the leading choice for King of Hell. The only issue is the fact that he’s single. This is where you, his succubus’ best friend, come in. 

Pairing: Poe Dameron X Reader

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of previous trauma events.

Word Count: 2702

AN: There is a flashback in this chapter - it is italicized.

Series Masterlist || Previous Part || Next Part - Epilogue

Blinking away the weariness from your eyes, you hummed softly. The girls had taken over your bed with intense vigor last night. They hung fairy lights from your ceiling and brought Bee into your room for the night. The lights were still on, causing your eyes to water a little from the stimulation. You felt at peace for the first time in months, healed? No, but peace? Yes. You felt at peace, you had your found family and that was all that mattered to you. Leia was the only one who didn’t stay in your room last night, but you could make her figure out at the doorway as she went to flip your full light on. The girls on either side of you immediately whimpered and groaned when she did, causing you to let out a light chuckle. 

No one made any attempts at communication but you all began to move and stand up. Leia’s smile this morning was beaming and incredibly bright as she twirled your dress to hang up on your closet door. It was gorgeous and fit incredibly with you and your personality, honestly, it was your dream dress. You immediately allowed your fingers to trace over the fabric with a soft yet beaming smile on your face. You could hear the girls behind you, excited chatter filling your ears. The only qualm you had about today was the fact that you hadn’t gotten to wake up with Poe, while you understood why and understood the girls need to do this it didn’t change the fact that you slept more at peace with him than without him. Leia was muttering something next to you as the photographer and stylists she chose for this came in. You barely registered the soft flash from the camera before you were turning with a beaming smile towards your girls, your family. 

You were lightly pushed into your chair at your vanity as both hair and makeup started on you with the soft shutter of the camera every few moments. You tried to keep your expression neutral as they worked so the woman with the makeup brush didn’t have to tell you to stop smiling but you couldn’t help the small soft smile that had made its way onto your features. It was small enough that it wasn’t going to affect the makeup but big enough that the camera could capture you at peace. 

“Do you want your horns out or in?” a soft voice asked, the one you recognized to be the hairstylist. She seemed timid about asking just based on what the kingdom had heard of you and heard of your return. With your own meek smile, you responded with a soft out but please don’t grab without warning. She had simply smiled in return, before adjusting your hair around your horns, allowing them to be shown off. They curled back slightly before going into a twisted pattern like a markhor. They were your favorite part of you, they were roughly 6 inches long and you had missed them dearly when they were gone. 

As the artist told you to keep your face neutral for lipstick, you took a deep breath to regulate your expression and not mess her up. As she painted your lips with a dark satin red color, Rey sat down next to you, her own hair and makeup already completed, she had a bright smile as she watched you. The only request you had made for this wedding was that it was outdoors in the woods. She wanted to ask why, and she was going too. Opening your eyes to her, you grinned now that both hair and makeup were away from you. Before she could open her mouth to ask the question that everyone had been asking, you grabbed her hand and pushed the reason into her head. 

Tumbling through the woods, the ever expanding forest that surrounded the kingdom and your home was your favorite pastime it had been since you were born you swore. You couldn’t remember a time where you weren’t constantly in the woods and weren’t constantly running around like a madwoman. This was where you met Poe for the first time. A little lost, not full of swagger yet but still just as obnoxious. Dodging a branch you didn’t even slow down until your body slammed full strength into someone else. A loud grunt leaving both of your lips as you both toppled to the ground. A shrill “I’m so sorry!” left your lips as you looked at the boy under you. He was cute even then, his dark eyes drew you in immediately. Poe cried then, only because of the way you both had landed had caused him to get hurt. You had quickly moved to help him, realizing you had dislocated his shoulder. 

“Careful, careful! You’re gonna make it worse!” you chastised as he tried to get up and get away from you. With a soft sigh you pushed him back down, and placed your knee against his chest, “this is going to hurt,” you warned before quickly moving his shoulder back into place. His sharp yell of pain made you look down at him eyes full of worry, “I’m sorry.”

You stood up quickly, before offering your hand to him. He stared up at you from the forest floor, eyes watching you warily, shaking his head softly. “I promise I won’t hurt you, I really didn’t see you there.” you mused, not moving your hand from its position. “What are you even doing out here anyway? I never see other people out here. Oh I’m y/n by the way.”

Slowly he took your hand which caused you to beam as you lightly pulled him up, offering stabilization more than anything. He brightly smiled at you once he was back on his feet, “I’m Poe!” he practically shouted at you, “I just wanted to go for a walk but got off trail and can’t find my way back.” He was sheepish then, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. 

When you threw your head back with a laugh, he had groveled for a moment but was enthralled by your beauty even then. He knew then that you were going to be a key person in his life. Without missing a beat, you tugged him along with you back towards your village on the outskirts. Despite your family being heavily involved with the royal family, they chose to remain at the outskirts. It was a comfort for them. “Cmon, my mom will be able to help. She’s the king’s cartologist.” You looked back then and saw the look of confusion on his face, “she makes the maps! She knows everything.”

Rey blinked as the memory ended, she couldn’t stop the smile that was on her face as she looked back at you. You were standing over by Leia now, getting ready to step into your dress. Leia held a crown in her hands, one that matched your dress perfectly. It was almost comical actually seeing you get ready, you looked so nervous but so happy to be surrounded by your family that no one could stop their smiles. Rey came up behind you then, and crouched down in order to assist with your dress, she was in charge of closing you in. The soft shutter of the camera still filled the room, occasionally accompanied by a flash, and you felt everything melt away as you stepped into your dress. As Rey’s fingers worked behind you, Leia placed the crown on your head, and your eyes filled with tears. These were your people. This was your family. You couldn’t have done it without them. 

—

Wings fluttered as everyone stood for you to enter, the sound was magical honestly. Gripping your bouquet, you blinked away the tears. Leia had gone before you, leaving you in the hall blocked by doors that led to the forest. Stepping in front of the doors, both guards gave you bright smiles, waiting for your confirmation to open the doors. A soft barely vocalized ready left your lips, the guards both nodded before turning to grab the handles, with a look back at you they nodded again which you returned. Opening the doors, you were greeted by how bright it was outside of the palace walls. 

Immediately your eyes found Poe standing with Leia, Finn and Rey. Rose had chosen to sit as the numbers were off with her, which you had laughed about because you didn’t care. You just wanted her there. She still wore a dress that matched Rey’s because she was still a bridesmaid. Stepping forward, your feet found forest floor, Leia’s powers had been at work based on the intricate archway that acted as your aisle. Vines had come from the ground and wove themselves together to create 6 individual archways, each one had different flowers. Ones that didn’t belong in hell but the meanings all came from love and life. The first flowers were Chrysanthemums, joy and long life. The second flowers were Dahlias, a lasting bond. The third were Tulips, meaning perfect love. The fourth were Orchids, love, beauty and strength. The fifth were Peony’s, beauty and elegance. The sixth and final were red roses, true love. 

Your bouquet was made up of all of the same flowers, Leia had given it to you before departing the hall. Tightening your grip on the flowers, you locked eyes with Poe. The smile on his face rivaled the brightness of the sun with how genuinely overjoyed he looked and was. Poe was a sucker for sentimental and marrying you in the forest that you met in? Sold. Seeing you in your breathtaking dress, looking like a true goddess to him? He was ready to sob, his eyes watered as he watched you walk down the aisle to him. You couldn’t stop the happy tears from escaping as you quickly brought a hand to pat them with the handkerchief that Leia had hidden in your bouquet. Your bright smile didn’t falter for a moment as you came to stand with Poe, his hand reaching for you as you reached the last few steps towards him. 

“Hi Stardust,” he spoke softly, pressing his forehead to yours for just a moment, grounding both of you, as you handed your bouquet to Rey and grabbed onto his hands with both of yours. Leia’s hands clapped together behind you, not as a loud break apart noise but an attention getter. She grinned at both of you. 

“With all of the love in my heart, I am beyond happy to be binding you two together. You are both great people, and incredibly important to the royal guard. I knew when I met the both of you for the first time that eventually you would be together,” Leia began, as she grabbed the rope of binding, “Poe and Y/N have decided to share their own vows, but for the binding ceremony we must continue with the traditional binding words first.” She handed Poe a fiery end of the Rope of Binding,  “Poe Dameron, do you as Prince of Hell take Y/N L/N to be your wife and queen,” she tossed in with a wink, before opening her mouth to continue.

“I do!” Poe interrupted in excitement, he could barely contain himself. This was the love of his life of course it was a resounding yes! 

“I wasn’t finished,” Leia chuckled, “for all things good, for all things bad, for any sickness that may take, for all the healthy moments of chaos, for the truth in love.”

“I can’t help it!” he laughed in response as you laughed with him, “I do, forever I do.”

“Y/N L/N, do you as royal cartographer and now Princess of Hell, take Poe Dameron to be your husband,” Leia spoke as she tightly wrapped Poe’s hand in the Rope of Binding, pausing where your hands were joined, as she looked up at you, “for all things good, for all things bad, for any sickness that may take, for all the healthy moments of chaos and for the truth in love?” 

“I do,” you responded, firm and strong, a little teary but strong nonetheless. Leia grinned before wrapping your hand as well, crossing over towards your free hand to hold the other end as Poe held his.

“Then by my power of love and marriage, I bind you both together,” her voice was firm and strong but incredibly magical at the same time. It fluttered in the air as the Rope of Binding fully lit and seared your skin without pain. Your eyes flicked down, as did Poe’s neither of you expected that, the Rope of Binding didn’t scar unless it was a fated match. Leia gasped softly, not noticeable to the crowd but noticeable to you and Poe. It was the first time she had seen it, with a bright smile she looked to the both of you, “Poe, you may start with your vows, and ring exchange.”

Grinning, Poe tugged you forward slightly, just by a small step but forward nonetheless, “Starshine. There are so many words I could say. There are so many things I want to say, some I’ll reserve for later when it’s just us,” he chuckled at that as he gave you a wink. “Primarily I just want to say how much I love you. When I first proposed, I knew I had wanted to marry you. I’ve known it since the day you accidentally tackled me in these woods. I just didn’t know then how truly in love with you I was and am. When you didn’t come home on your last trek to Earth, I thought I’d lost you forever. I absolutely was not going to let that happen though. I’ve paid for losing you then, nightly when you launch me into a wall,” his eyes crinkled as a laugh rang through the crowd, you laughing along with them, “what I’m saying is, you’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere. I love you Starshine, forever.”

You were openly crying now, soft tears rolling down your cheeks as he pulled out his mother’s ring again, but this time your wedding band was attached to it, “I promise forever,” he spoke softly, sliding the ring onto your hand before gently wiping your tears. 

“Hotshot, you’re an idiot, in the most loving way,” you chuckled, beginning your own vows, not letting Leia interrupt the moment, “you’re my best friend and have been since the very first day we met. When I ran into you that day, I remember looking down at you and thinking how pretty you were, until I realized I had dislocated your shoulder. Bringing you home to my mom that first time, I knew then you’d be it for me in some way. She was enamored with you, and while she isn’t here anymore, she would be telling me ‘I told you so’ in the same loving way that Leia did when I told her I was in love with you. I spent every day that I was apart from you writing you letters, I never gave them to you,” you paused, turning your head towards Rey, who pulled your journal out and handed it to you, “I’m giving them to you now as a reminder of what we overcame.” Grabbing his hand again, you grabbed his ring from Rey, “I love you Poe, always.”

“If you don’t kiss her for that I will” Leia cut in with a laugh, “you may now kiss the bride Poe.”

Grinning at you, Poe immediately tugged you fully towards him, slamming his lips onto yours. A soft groan escaping both of your lips, your fingers immediately threaded into his hair, as one of his hands cupped your face, his lips were soft against yours. A soft “I love you” fell from both of you without fully pulling apart, you could hear the cheer of everyone around you, but your only thoughts and feelings were consumed by Poe. This was happiness. This was your dream and it was a dream come true.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Forever Tags: @guccirosegold @creatively-analytical

The Devil’s Gift Taglist: @Jadealicious06 

Poe Dameron Taglist: @doctoraceus @this-bitch-writes @dameronsgf @kaqua

Join my taglist here! 

[acrowamongsparrows]

Day 4 Accomplished/Macabre

His hand ran through the tall grass as he walked through the wood, a slight smile on his face as he felt the dew drops of early morning sticking to his fingers to slide among the scars of his trade.  He was hunter and trapper, but not in the sense that many thought.  When someone called for a hunter they expected a tall, meaty man covered in furs who spoke little and always had something monstrous to show of his prowess.  David was different.  

A beard was clear on his face but that only was due to the weather and how much Sara had been enjoying to play with it when the babe was in his lap.  Margaret would roll her eyes and smile at her husbands as she busied with their quaint home full of a mixture of hand-me-downs and furniture from Lan Exeter.  He was particularly proud of a looking glass he'd bought from a merchant ship from the south, there was something incredible of looking into heavens on a clear night.  His family was poor in the eyes of the city but in the eyes of Markhor he was quite the upper class, to almost the extent of Buckenhall if he really wanted to be.

But there was the differences again, David was content.  Not in a way that spoke of a man accepting his life, but true contentment and happiness in his small cabin with his girls.  He was happy with his steady trade of hunting game and bringing it to the small market or Alina.  He was happy to spend an evening in the Leaf, hear a wild tale, and go home to Margaret's arms or walk home hand in hand with Margaret when her mother could watch Sara.

Adjusting his half cape about his shoulders, David began to slow his pace as he peered between the weeds for his catch today.  They said he had sixth sense for where the game was hiding, but truthfully he knew he was just patient and could be quiet.  His gait grew even slower as he listened, no breeze which was good for him as it meant his scent stayed put.  A shake of the grass to the right would bring him to a stop, slowly easing himself down to one knee and breathing in softly through his nose.  With well practiced silence, David would slowly pull his crossbow from around his back to hand a bolt already held in place by a clip he'd imagined up himself.  He was lucky Candell could forge such a small item and for little cost.  

A finger gently moved the metal knob to the right and unlocked it before setting a bolt to the fire lane.  David let his breathing grow softer and tell her near held it, craning his ears to the sounds nearby that he knew was his quarry.  Speed and efficiency was the key if he hoped to bag his deer today, but knew that any false start or move could be just as disastrous.

Patience.

Patience was his power and he knew how to control it as he waited for one more move to pinpoint the exact spot of the deer's bed.

One breath.  Two breath.  Three breath.  A shift in the grass as autumn decided it needed to let forth a sigh as much as him.  A flash of yellow, a blink of black, and now he was pushing up to his feet.

One breath.  Two breath.  Three breath.  The deer was rising, two short antlers rising as fast as him as the black glassy eyes of the deer locked with his own.

One breath.  Two breath.  Pull.  The bolt flew straight and true, the skilled bowman's shot driving deep into the broadside behind the front let.  Three breath.

The deer in panic and pain flew, it's heavy legs pulling it straight up and bounding into the tall grass as it caught the flecks of crimson from it's wound as it stumbled back toward the wood.  David smiled as he followed the trail of blood, reaching back to reload his crossbow as he walked along behind it.  Today was a good day.

Blood flecked the crushed weeds as they grew thinner and broke into the forest edge into the woods.  Tuft of grass and scrape of dirt from a drug horn was only a few yards further, the beast was putting up quite a fight as he followed the trail of his prey.  The blood was falling faster as he walked, thicker, and more frequent as he sped up his step further into the wood in fear of losing the thing to some other predator.  Further he traveled that began to seem more likely what happened as he noticed the darker it grew the deeper he went after.  

"You gotta slow down by now," murmured David as he stepped over a large rock and pressed on, noting a torn bit of fur to match the splatter of blood nearby.  Still warm.  "Where the hell are you going?"

The trees broke again as he marched onward leaving a soft clearing before a copse of trees loomed ahead.  David came to slow halt as he looked up at those trees, they sat tall and still.  Much like the air around him as he licked his lips and tried to hear something out there in the open air.  Nothing.  A feeling of dread sat in the pit of his stomach as he stood there staring at the trees.  He should cut his losses and go home.  They had plenty.  Plenty of skins, meat, and money this wasn't worth it.  But human nature was an animal unto itself as curiosity burned brightly through logic, springing forward with his loaded crossbow to investigate further.

The yards to the trees took seconds to reach, but the smell in the air hit him far before.  Rank and earthy, like rotten meat as he coughed and lifted his sleeve to his mouth in hopes of saving him from the stench.  It was like a tide of putrid ilk that was awful and familiar as he wandered these woods for years to know the smell.  

Death.

It felt far to poetic to put it in terms like that in his head, but the thick air of stench made him want to vomit as he entered the gathering trees.  His eyes falling over the trunks of the trees as he noted a strange tangle of dark veins rising from the earth to dig deep into their bark.  They pulsed with an eerie almost breathing motion as he thought better of touching one, knowing his curiosity could only push him so far into this adventure.  But he needed to find out what was going on, the village needed to know.

He should have turned back but the blood trail lead into the enclosure.

The circle of trees wasn't large but it felt thicker by the strange rooted trees surrounding the perimeter as David let his eyes move swiftly about for signs of the deer or the thief who had drug it so far.  Maybe a wolf or a bear, it was the logical idea of what was out here.  His booted feets gently slid through dead leaves, going silent and quiet as he could be in the face of this unknown foe.  The crossbow resting in the crook of his shoulder as he looked about in the silent shadows, sweeping the area as he followed the trail.  Crimson were dashed by brown and yellow leaves as the blood shined in the dark but were also framed by strange purple fauna.  

Crouching down, David let his finger brush the face of one of the violet flowers but never picked it.  It felt like any other flower but for some reason he recoiled from it's touch, as if there was something ready to bite him in the face of plain beauty.  They felt wrong.  Blooming, season, and abundance as he stood back up again to follow his bloody trail again.  It felt like hours since he'd begun and by the deep shadows around him the sky was doing little to aid him in reminding it was only maybe early afternoon.  Night ruled here.

The trail ended at the base of a tree, violet flowers spread about in a blanket of bright ground stars as they stared at him much as the eyes ahead of him did.  So many eyes.

Crows rested in the many empty branches above, their white staring eyes regarding him in silent judgement at his presence within their hold.  Where once leaves of green or even red and gold had sat now were the many feathers of the birds.  Black and beyond counting, David could already feel his mouth growing drier and chest tighter as he felt a great warning coming from them as he stared up at them.  

Run away.  Run away if you can.  Run away.

Swallowing hard, David pressed on the last few feet in the face of the carrion nightmare that guarded from above and let his eyes settle upon what they surrounded.

His kill lay on the ground before that great tree, but it had not even made it halfway here on it's own thanks to his original bolt.  No the thieves were to be thanked for that.

Twisted, crouched, and eyes much like the crows above stared at him from now from below where they surrounded what he hoped was their meal.  But that would need mouths.  Teeth.  Tongues.  Taste.  Only the blank broken animal skulls with black empty sockets leered at him with their flickering empty witch light.  Hands like warped branches wrapped in thorns and vine to hold them split into what appeared as claws had obviously only been random bones split.  The bones were clearly just as good to do their work as they carved and ravaged the carcass of his kill, splitting the fur and skin like a ripe tomato to spill the precious dying life of the deer into the soil beneath it.  Greed was clear in that earth's hunger as the blood seemed to disappear as quickly as it spilled into the loose dirt.  His deer was not the first to litter these monsters table as the jutting hunks of bone and sinew lay strewn about with purple flowers growing in the bed of corpses.

David found he was gasping now, the thick putrid air filling his lungs as his legs grew weak to the sight of the graveyard of the macabre.  He wanted to look away from the eaters of the dead but only found his eyes widening as he looked beyond them to the base of the tree.

The picked apart face of men and women sat pierced and hung by the roots of the tree, their bodies splayed for all to see who could see.  There was no blood left among those dried husks of humans as their bodies were twisted and pierced by the foliage all around only to leave the slow succor of their bones.  Mouths wide in silent screams to match the holes of sharp beaks.  An offering to those above still.  There were to many faces in that tree.

One breath.  Run.  Two breath.  Run.  Three breath.  David was running.

The black leaves above moved as one and the collective caw of their hunger rang like thunder to match an ominous high pitched hollow roar from the lungs of some long dead being.

The flowers continued to bloom.

[juodojimirtis]

More inspiration for the story where Hastur turns into a dream man 🐐

• Thrived among the vikings and was greatly respected, adored even, by the heathen Nordic warriors. Used to be great at leading raids, however his skills got rusty over the years. Still has Ægishjálmur tattooed between his shoulder blades and Uruz on his left wrist.

• Attempted to intergrate himself into human society out of envy for Crowley's string of luck after the Apocalypse that did not happen. It was the headstart of his transformation.

• Works out at least six days a week. Takes regular showers twice a day (thought I'd mention given his sorry state in the show). Still, never quit smoking nor is he planning to.

• Has a mansion in Uppsala, Sweden (he's a Duke still, yo... it has all the mandarory assets such as a hot tub, a library and a fireplace). Works as an archeology professor in the University of Uppsala.

• Mostly listens to metal music - old school and not. Though his Wardruna shirt may betray he enjoys Nordic folk as well...

• Remembers many Nordic songs. Actually has a great singing voice, but doesn't like to demonstrate it. Knows how to throat sing.

• His hobbies (aside from pyromania and archeology) are guitar and mechanics (mostly old cars and motorcycles... somehow, he developed an appreciation for vehicles. He isn't sure how or when, but he might as well bond with lady Crowley over it).

• Loves the smells of gasoline and burning wood.

• Good friends with War. When the two go out bar hopping, Ligur often tags along, but usually gets forgotten somewhere in a ditch (Hastur is glad about that in case he might cross any ladies Ligur may creep away).

• Heavyweight. Prefers strong liquors.

• Has extremely ugly and messy handwriting.

• Warmed up to modern devices (especially with Netflix and Reddit around), but still gets paranoid he's being watched.

• Loves furs and wools (has a marrow deep loathing towards faux fur).

• Doesn't care for human food too much, but does love smoked fish and, for some reason, olives.

• Terrified of rollercoasters

• Sometimes enjoys frightening drunk teenagers by unveiling his "true form" - the offhandedly mentioned markhor I am not even attempting to draw .

• Yes... he still plots revenge on Crowley. The story I have in mind may snap the wheels of those plans though. 😈

[shinondraws]

I want a tattoo so badly and I finally sat down to actually brainstorm some and I actually do have a lot of solid ideas. I want some animal and nature themed tattoos and now I have a pretty good idea what I want. I have a lot of surface to cover so I could get several.

A galaxy tattoo, possibly done in a watercolour tattoo style, resembling galaxy paintings done in watercolours. I would combine this with an animal theme. My options currently are a bear (ursa) but on the other hand if I find a nice style I would like a tattoo of Megatherion Ultima, my galatic star eater panther. Or then I will get both.

A Japanese wood block/traditional Chinese/Japanese painting styled tattoo of a bird and some tree elements like branches. It would be a tall, vertical tattoo, like a scroll painting, on my arm. Mostly black and white with some accent colour.

Another animal tattoo combined with a plant element. One example would be my Lichen King piece where I put lichen on moose antlers. A moose would be perfect since it's a a very important animal to Finns and it's an animal that I would consider and old god. And lichen and moss are very nice.

Some skull/ bust of a horned animal, such as markhor. Markhor is one of my favourite animals and I love the horns. Combined with a very interesting line style it would make a really cool tattoo. I might also combine the animal with some plant element. A skull would be really neat with some small plant, such as linneae borealis which is one of my favourite forest plants.

Additionally a small sea turtle tattoo. Just a silhouette, done in a very sinmple but neat style. Sea turtles are some of my favourite animals and I have a bronze sea turtle pendant that I love very much. It came with a small note saying how the sea turtle is a symbol of wisdom and fortitude.

I have been looking for different styles and artists and I want to find the best for each idea. It would be best if the tattoo artists would be local but pretty much all the artists are all over the world so I'm like welp.

If anyone has any cool tattoo artists in mind, in general or for a specific idea feel free to send me a message!

I think I might want to start with a small one, like the sea turtle, but having several tattoos would be so cool. I need to save a lot of money though, especially if I end up getting a tattoo abroad.

But now I have a clearer idea than before so I can progress!

[ask-the-magic-nations]

Gabriel

Full Name: Gabriel Visser

Age: 8

Country: Luxembourg

Birthplace: Kautenbach, Kiischpelt, Luxembourg

Patronus: Least Weasel

Wand Wood: Apple

Wand Core: Giant Bone

Hogwarts House: N/A

Current Role: Living with his parents in Luxembourg

Ayesha

Full Name: Ayesha Akhtar

Age: 6

Country: Pakistan

Birthplace: Loralai, Balochistan Province, Pakistan

Patronus: Markhor

Wand Wood: Deodar

Wand Core: Pari Hair

Hogwarts House: N/A

Current Role: Living with Harish and Yao in Cornwall

Daniel

Full Name: Daniel Lupei

Age: 6

Country: Moldova

Birthplace:  Sectorul Rîșcani, Chișinău, Moldova

Patronus: European Otter

Wand Wood: Oak

Wand Core: Iele Hair

Hogwarts House: N/A

Current Role: Living with his grandparents in Pașcani, Romania.

[dustedmagazine]

Ulaan Passerine — The Landscape of Memory (Worstward)

The Landscape of Memory by Ulaan Passerine

Consistency can get you taken for granted. Who calls their friends because Richard Thompson played another great guitar solo? Steven R. Smith has had to manage that risk for years. The Los Angeles-based multi-instrumentalist has been making music in a small room in his house since the latter part of the 1990s, when he first differentiated his solo work from what he played in Mirza and (a bit later) Thuja. The essentials have been the same from the start. Smith layers instruments, including familiar tools of rock and one-offs of his own design, into evocative, evolving melodic sequences that give you a feeling that you’re somewhere else. The location and the vibe that goes with it might vary; under the name Hala Strana, he made music that made you feel like you were walking into some 19th century eastern European village, and everything around you was in black and white, while Ulaan Khol evoked the same pit of hell as Keiji Haino does in full-on rage mode. Ulaan Markhor rumbles like Crazy Horse trying to be Booker T. & the MGs, and records made under Smith’s own name are a grab bag of experimentation; he even sings on one of them. But you can always be sure that Smith will steep the music with so much feeling and atmosphere that you’ll feel irrevocably touched by it.

In recent years Smith’s most frequent handle is Ulaan Passerine. Googling the name’s components will only get you so far, but they distinguishing quality of Smith’s work under that name is patient craft. Some of his work has been as unbridled as a volcanic eruption, as rough as unfinished wood, or as ramshackle as that great, lost soundtrack that Swell Maps did for Béla Tarr. But while you will hear hints of such effects in Ulaan Passerine’s pieces, which usually span the length of a tape or LP side, they are fixed into larger frameworks that are as perfectly joined and smoothly varnished as the work of some master carpenter. “The Landscape of Memory” opens with a patiently strummed 12-string guitar and muted drums, then swells and broadens in short order, carried by massed strings and a foregrounded spike fiddle whose coarseness contrasts exquisitely with the smoother sounds around it. Then most of the instruments give way to a distant drone, which gives you pause and sets you up for a guitar passage as melancholy as your favorite late-night Neil Young tune.  

This is classic soundtrack of the mind stuff, vivid enough that it would scare many a filmmaker who would hear this music and ask, “Where am I going to find sights as strong as these sounds?” Which may be the reason why Smith, after 20-odd years, hasn’t scored a film yet. And maybe he never will, but that won’t be a tragedy, because a great flick awaits anytime he puts out a record, you put it on, and close your eyes while it plays.

Bill Meyer

[decoryear]

Stunning Wooden Markhor Statue, Handcrafted Wood Markhor Sculpture.

[tignya]

Write your quirks and different beliefs

Here are some of mine:

Hold your breath whenever you go by a cemetery or dead animal so the spirits won’t linger for longer than wanted

Never EVER eat in fives

The black squirrel will follow you everywhere

Every time you go past the markhor exhibit at the zoo, go through the woods path

[lolosart]

Markhor is the Lord of Grievous Valley. He rules over all the beasts of these dark woods. Their eyes, ears and noses are as good as his. . #folllow the #link on my bio and learn a little more about #InSearchofSacha. There is a #video that think you will like. . #pencil #sketch #art #illustration #indiegogo #storybook #graphicnovel #lolosart #followme https://www.instagram.com/p/B1eqCMvDNmT/?igshid=3c255kiped0c

[huntingtypes]

Popular Hunting Forms

Antilope Hunts

Chasing for pronghorns is in its very own class, and in correlation with the expense of chasing European game, it is really an entirely moderate chasing structure, despite the fact that it happens in Africa, with all the energizing encounters that carries with it. At a similar sort you can be practically sure of returning home with an extremely pleasant choice of trophies and an abundance of incredible recollections. 

Most by far of Antilope Hunts happen on chasing ranches in either Namibia or South Africa, and these chases can be customized to the individual client's desires and needs, both concerning which game species you wish to chase, regardless of whether your convenience if appropriate for the entire family or not, and whether you wish to remain in sumptuous of increasingly straightforward environment. Peruse increasingly about antilope chases here.

Major Game Hunts

Major Game Hunts doesn't simply mean chasing enormous creatures, it likewise implies huge difficulties and encounters. In fact talking most chasing in Africa is in reality Big Game chasing. Indeed, even numerous types of pronghorn are viewed as evident major game creatures. On the whole and premier it is The Big Five, that spring to mind when one discussions about major game chasing. Lion, panther, wild ox, elephant and rhinocerous, would all be able to in any case be chased in Africa, albeit without a doubt, not many licenses are issued every year for the last yearly. 

One of a kind to West-and Central Africa are chases for species, for example, the Bongo, woodland bison and the Giant Eland which is likewise a full-blooded major game creature. Chasing for both The Big Four and the major event creatures all in all can be done with a totally clear cognizant, also overseen chasing implies than far mor creatures will be spared from poachers, than will lose their lives to trophy. Peruse increasingly about Big Game chases here.

Mountain Hunts

Mountain chases are testing when estimated under any parameter. You will be tested both physically, rationally and in fact. In the meantime it is troublesome not to fall under the spell of the mountains unforgiving however mystical magnificence. It is additionally up in the mountains that you will discover the absolute most looked for after trophies on the planet, for instance Snow Sheep, Blue Sheep, Mountain Goat and maybe the powerful Markhor or one of the a wide range of sub-types of Ibex; Asiatic, European and Spanish.

 It is unquestionably evident that a considerable lot of these trophies are just found in a portion of the world's most difficult to reach corners and are somewhat costly, yet it is additionally positively conceivable to take a stab at mountain chasing at a value level that by a wide margin the most seekers can manage. Europe can offer various diverse mountain goes, the Alps, the Pyrenees, the Carpathian and the Tatra Mountains. Here, at a truly sensible cost, you can appreciate great, testing chasing for, for instance Chamois, Mouflon or maybe for one of the diverse sub-types of Spanish ibex. Peruse increasingly about mountain chases here.

Roebuck Hunts

The Roebuck, and specifically the chase of this creature, holds a spot near many seeker's hearts. Seekers in the UK are fortunate to have great roebuck chasing, with huge trophies at sensible costs directly on there doorstep, however it is as yet energizing to make a trip somewhere else in Europe to appreciate chasing in fifferent environment and to encounter different nations chasing customs. It must be said that Poland is Europe's driving goal for roebuck, which offers astounding chasing regardless of if we will probably grass numerous bucks or a solitary huge trophy. 

Like England, Hungary is a nation that is outstanding to devoted roebuck seekers, and is a goal that has situated itself as a goal offering huge trophies. As of late France and Spain have become famous as goals offering great roebuck chases. The roe deer is found all through Europe, and in pretty much every nation the roebuck chases have their very own neighborhood character. For some voyaging roebuck seekers it is never again simply the number and size of trophies that is significant, they are more intersted in shooting a buck is whatever number nations as could be expected under the circumstances. This may incorporate Turkey, Bulgaria, Serbia, Croatia, Scotland, Finland or Romania. Peruse progressively about roebuck chasing here.

Driven Hunts

Driven Hunting is likely the most extreme chasing and untamed life experience you can envision. A line of mixers drive the game forward towards a line of holding up firearms, ensuring that at that point land before the seekers. Driven chases are likewise a standout amongst the most testing actually, representing an extraordinary content of the seekers marksmanship aptitudes. 

Planning great on your neighborhood shooting extent is frequently the way to an effective driven chase. Nations, for example, Poland and Hungary play most to the greater part of the determined chases in Europe, as over decades they have prevailing with regards to making a superb setting for these chases, which are completed here with extraordinary polished methodology. Lately nations, for example, Romania, Croatia, Turkey and Spain, have showed up as great driven chase goal, and are presently giving Poland and Hungary a decent keep running for their cash, in the race to turn into the best determined chasing goal in Europe. Peruse increasingly about driven chases here.

Stag Hunts

The fantasy of chasing for stags sits at the back of about the entirety of seeker's brains, and consistently an ever increasing number of chases make their fantasies work out by going abroad to chase for the stag trophy they had always wanted. For some stag chasing is synonymous with chasing for the relentless Red Stag - the King of the Forest, while others incline toward the lovely Fallow Buck, or the timid and unconventional Sika Stag. 

In any case, stag chasing implies substantially more than simply this, it can incorporate for instance Whitetail deer in Finland, Wapiti in the USA or Rusa on Mauritius. There are surely numerous conceivable outcomes to pick between. As Europeans we are honored to have the rutting season chases for the strong red deer directly on our doorstep. This is a chasing experience that ever seeker MUST involvement with least once in their lifetime! Peruse progressively about stag chasing here.

Wild Boar Hunts

There is something otherworldly about chasing for Wild Boars, and the Wild Boar is in itself almost the seeker's ideal quarry. Wild hogs are testing, they request regard, and under the ideal conditions can develop to a tremendous size. It is conceivable to chase for wild pigs from numerous points of view: lying in pause, on driven chases, on the more controlled little determined chases and even with chasing hounds. 

Regardless of which chasing structure you pick, you can be sure of being tested, in light of the fact that a wild hog, particularly a major wild hog, will never give itself a chance to be beaten without a battle. In the course of the most recent few decades populaces of wild hog have developed significantly over its whole range, and our chances to appreciate chase for hog have never been exceptional than they are presently. Peruse progressively about wild hog chases here.

Pigeon Shooting

On the off chance that you miss testing chasing, at that point pigeon shooting could be exactly what you are searching for. Here you will appreciate a sufficient chance to take numerous shots. It is conceivable to chase Pigeons lasting through the year in, for instance, England and Scotland. While the chasing is completely shocking in pre-fall, numerous truly appreciate chasing in the spring. 

In the pre-winter you have numerous chance of consolidating this chase with different sorts of unpleasant shooting, including chasing for birds, woodcock and bunnies. The pigeon shooting in Argentina is world fame. Here you can keep running into gigantic quantities of the supposed "birds", which are like wood pigeons. Peruse progressively about pigeon shooting here.

Bear Hunts

Chasing bear is an extremely exceptional encounter. It does not shock anyone that to participate in a bear chase is many seeker's greatest chasing dream. The energy associated with chasing bears is, basically, discovered no place else. These chases happen in goals, for example, Canada, Alaska, and Russia just as a couple of nations in Europe, for example, Romania and Croatia. In North America it is conceivable to chase both wild bears and darker bears (grizzly), while in Europe and Asia one chases for the European dark colored bear and the Siberian darker bear separately.

Popular Hunting Forms Watch The Video

[inexpensiveprogress]

Keith Henderson’s War Diaries.

In the copy of The Listener from March 1941, there is a piece by the artist Keith Henderson on his first year as a War Artist with the Air Ministry. 

Before any artists had been appointed by the Air Ministry, William Rothenstein had requested permission to make portraits of airmen at bases in Scotland. Rothenstein pre-empted Keith Henderson, the official artist, in working at Leuchars base, which meant there was nothing for Henderson to do; Rothenstein was often referred to in print as an “official artist”, although at this time, it was not the case.

Henderson was one of the first two artists, alongside Paul Nash, appointed as a full-time salaried artist to the Air Ministry by the War Artists’ Advisory Committee, WAAC. Rothenstein’s work ended up with Henderson having to concentrate on ground crew, aircraft hangars, repair shops and runways for subjects. Although the painting ‘An Improvised Test of an Under-carriage’ provoked fury in the Air Ministry and contributed to Henderson’s six-month contract not being extended, it was among the artworks shown at the first WAAC ‘Britain at War’ exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in New York in May 1941. The painting shows a man jumping up and down on the wing of a Lockheed-Hudson to test the undercarriage.

Keith Henderson was a Scottish painter who worked in both oils and watercolours, and who is known for his book illustrations and his poster work. He had a long professional career that included periods as a war artist in both the First World War, in which he served in the trenches, and in the Second World War. The muted colours and tones of his work remind me of Eric Ravilious, it is that style too, but Henderson’s work was between Ravilious and Christopher R. W. Nevinson.

 Keith Henderson - An Air View of Montrose, Angus, 1940.

War-time notes of a Peaceful Artist.

Turning over the pages of a diary that I began last April on being appointed one of the two official artists to the Air Ministry, I now read over passages here and there with reminiscent amusement and, yes, a certain genuine pleasure too. During the last war I kept a diary, not only while with my regiment but after being seconded to Intelligence with the XV Corps Squadron, and then Fifth Army Headquarters. The new diary, the one for this war, begins: 

 Keith Henderson - A North-East Coast Aerodrome, 1940.

April 19, 1940. Started with Helen from home yesterday evening towards the east coast, leaving snow on our Lochaber mountains and daffodils under the wintry trees. Curlews calling from every direction. Tomorrow… 

April 20. This my first day of official duty has been a hideous failure. A guard at the aerodrome entrance, I drive in superior and nonchalant, returning the sentry’s salute. On to the Orderly Room. Adjutant, Commanding Officer, Intelligence Officers. Nervous as a cat, I hope they will not see through my calm affability. Cigarettes and a stroll towards the Mess. The ante-room is enormous: African buck, markhor, and other trophies of the chase branch out one above the other towards a lofty ceiling. The leather armchairs are so ample that officers reclining in them appear to be asleep. Crowds of others standing about, all very much alike. They observe that the Commanding Officer has a guest. Introductions, a glass of sherry. Presently through swing doors into the Mess Room, which is enormous. Lunch with one of the Wing Commanders, very friendly. But the afternoon, oh, the afternoon was hell. During a conducted tour round the hangars  l saw nothing whatever that I particularly wanted to paint. The wind was hideously cold, the light bleak, and I had an exhausting stomach-ache. Violent and continuous noises of engines being tested. No ideas. 

 Keith Henderson - Night: An Air Gunner in Auction Turret, 1940.

April 22. Serene spring weather. All has gone well, so well that I’have had to steady myself with thoughts of the horror of the conquered in Poland, Norway, and elsewhere. A man’s philosophy is usually in accord’ with his circumstances, both interior and exterior. Optimists do not have stomach-aches. Mine had vanished. From the high control tower at least three marvellous possibilities appeared. Two sinister and monstrous bombers were awkwardly entering their hangar. They have the eyes, the mouths, legs, bodies, wings of elephantine obscene. insects, but stupid insects. Prod them and they will not move away or retaliate. There is no mind within. They are utterly vacant. I must paint them like that. How lucky am I to have been appointed to this delightful work. 

April 24. Three pictures have now been begun. I am using a monochrome mixture of white, yellow-ochre, and a little raw umber. This will make any alterations to the composition easier before a more or less rapid final painting begins. 

 Keith Henderson - Study of Royal Air Force Machine Gunmen, 1939.

May 5. From the ground this strangely retarded spring is at last clearly visible. Trees are in bud and millions of small dowers give an impression of Chaucerian gaiety. Up in the air scarcely any of this tiny brilliance shows yet. There are just stretches of moorland and of ploughland in various shades of pale buff and maroon, with here a diaper dressing of lime, there a flutter of gulls, a few sombre forestry plantations and many lesser woods wherein only'an occasional pale willow is conspicuous, old stone farmhouses with their haystacks in rows, a ruin near a newer castellated mansion, small lochs all silvery grey, an appearance of desertion far and wide. From the air the earth has no flowers. Eastward is the wonderful coast-line, red sandstone mostly, fretted away into natural arches and pinnacles. The jade green sea is as lovely from above as I remember it in the last war. Those white festooned breakers along the Beaches seem without sound.

 Keith Henderson - An Improvised Test of an Undercarriage, 1940.

May 6. Today I tried the experiment of taking up more than mere notebooks. I took a canvas, a dozen brushes and a full set palette. The Palette was disastrous. Within a few moments of taking off, I noticed Indian red on my sleeve. The observer crept forward to the navigator’s seat where I was, and shouted into my ear, ‘Have you got everything you want?’ ‘Yes, thank you’ I shouted back, ‘but you have got some ultramarine on your cheek. I remembered noticing an air gunner holding the palette at a dangerously acute angle as he handed it to someone. And worse. Nearly all the so carefully arranged large clumps of paint round the palette’s edge were, I saw now with dismay, gone. They had evidently slipped off or been smeared off. But I could not be Without them. They must be found, scraped up penuriously from the floor or anywhere. Then I saw the legs of the air gunner. My precious cadmium red! The observer, the pilot even, all were strangely daubed handed round proved in that cramped space more distributive than cleansing. Their hands, their faces, their flying kit were crimson, blue, white, black, yellow, or tartan. It was a great success.

Keith Henderson - Camouflage Hangars and Gas Gong, 1940.

May 7. My bedroom at the aerodrome is quite comfortable. I shall never forget my astonishment when an efficient batman offered me early tea. I was then getting up at 4 am. for a dawn picture. This morning it had to be 3.30. As we rose into the upper air through ground mist three swans also rose through the ground mist. They Hew north. I found myself thinking: ‘Where exactly is the centre of the Universe?’ And I answered myself: ‘ Wherever you happen to be at the moment’. In mid air ’the centre of the Universe is definitely not on the earth’s surface. All who fly will agree about that. Suppose yourself flying west. You wish to turn south. The great rigid wings slant over. But for all the planetary pull of gravitation, it is not the aircraft which appears to be askew. Not at all. The earth on the other hand has gone mad. It has heaved itself up, sea and all, steeply into space, a huge menacing wave that will not subside until the dial shows the wings horizontal. They will be in a moment. Now they are. Now the earth is itself again, flat, detached inhuman, without laughter or any birds singing. 

May 8. A letter from the Air Ministry. I wrote some time ago 'asking for permission to go to Narvik or Stavanger on a bombing raid’. The Air Commodore at Whitehall answers, ‘Under present conditions it is quite out of the question that you should visit Norway‘. Right. Well, that exonerates me. I am certainly not going to do fancy war pictures from photographs and descriptions. 

Keith Henderson - Loading Gantry for Pluto, 1940.

May 9. Home for another short rest, tired. No, not depressed. There must be no regretting all that I have not accomplished, but simply a ‘proud delight in all that I have accomplished. Let me be luxuriously lazy. For several days on end I need not do anything. I loll in this white window Seat looking down the length of the room towards Aunt Nell‘s two rococo mirrors on either side of the Chinese lacquer cabinet. One of the dogs in the farmyard barks. I love the faint pink, wallpaper with its bunches of blue-grey and white flowers. I am happy. I think I have been asleep. I must go and see how things are coming on in the walled garden. 

May 11. Back at the aerodrome. The usual crowds assemble as soon as I set up my easel for a large picture to be called ‘Repairs to a Bomber’. Since last night when I came round to see that all was in order, the men have produced, in the most frightful raw flat yellow, on the side of the particular aircraft that I am painting, a huge figure of Donald Duck. They want me to put this into the picture, but I really cannot. It would spoil the whole thing. The effort to find words that might show them why it would spoil the whole thing is almost too much during working hours. 

 Keith Henderson - Dawn: Leaving for North Sea Patrol, 1940.

May 12. On other machines they have now painted other grotesques, including the wholly inexcusable Popeye. A sergeant pilot says that these effigies will 'cheer up the Jerries’. And this while the news becomes more serious than any news ever announced in the world before.

 Keith Henderson - Wings over Scotland, 1940.

May 16. While I was touching in the ‘horns’ of the bomber a young pilot who had been standing beside me asked: ‘How do you begin a picture?’ My answer, which was regrettably long, failed to give satisfaction. I could feel that. There was silence; and then - would I come for a flit with him? When? This afternoon? Well, I did rather want to get on with that thing of the coastline…. He went off at once and came back to say that all had been fixed. We were to go in the Jewel. On my way to the Mess I reflected that a machine called the Jewel sounded pleasantly airworthy. Later I discovered my mistake. Not Jewel, but Dual, a machine with dual control. ‘You must take a turn’, he offered. I made no answer, doubtful as to what this implied. When the parachutes and Mae Wests and other paraphernalia for all concerned are collected we drive across to the Dual. The engines have of course been sending out dust gales to the rear for a good while. We heave ourselves in. Before taking off, the pilot looks round and holds up his right thumb. The rest of the crew hold up theirs. All is well. The noise increases, is doubled, trebled, deafening in spite of ear plugs. We are moving forward, moving more swiftly. We have left the ground. As soon as we are at the right height I begin sketching. The time goes by. I muse vaguely about art meanwhile. Art is more than national, more than international; it is supernatural-magic-always* has been since cave days, always will be. There. The drawings are finished. We may return. Presently the pilot nudges my elbow. I am sitting on the learner’s seat close beside him. What is it now? What? He points to the controls and points at me. Does he mean that I am to ‘take a turn’? I hesitate. His reply to my very sensible hesitation is to cross his arms and lean heavily with his head on one side as if sound asleep. Something must be done. I seize the crescent. He is awake again, ready. We have lost height. I pull back. We rise, rise higher. The North Sea is empty of shipping. No, there’s a distant convoy. So it is. This is rather delightful. At a pinch, if the pilot were to become a casualty, could I carry on ? I might, I really might. But I certainly could not land. I should just have to go on and on, flying round the world indefinitely.

 Keith Henderson - Repairs to a Bomber, 1941.

May 23. Abbeville fallen. Boulogne fallen. Well, as to our next move, that rests with the Higher Command, not with me. Defeat ? That is an idea that I’ve never even glanced at. Have any of us ? Probably not. Better not. In the evening I have just finished a life of Wallenstein, and am beginning Lady Mary Wortley Montague’s Letters.

June 13. At home fér another rest. More carrots sown and the artichokes, thinned out to three feet apart, should do well. The Germans are only sixteen miles from Paris. 

 Keith Henderson - Gas Practice in a Hangar, 1940.

June 14. The first flowers of Campanula Carpatica have appeared, and Helen this afternoon made a delicious cinnamon cake. All down the steep brae towards the river there are foxgloves in full bloom. While raking beechmast into heaps on either side of the drive, I have been watching the cows. They are let out from the byre. They walk very slowly for about five yards, looking straight ahead. Then one of them stops. Gradually they all stop. Why? Two of them move slowly forward a few steps. A long pause. A few others follow and stop again. Another long pause. Do they want to go anywhere in particular? Why need they? A strawberry Ayrshire slowly turns her head. She looks at me for a long while without interest. Then she turns away, having learned nothing. They have nothing to do all day long. A black Galloway, with bracken in her tail, sits down, slowly and heavily. Five minutes later a polled Angus sits down, slowly and heavily. At the end of half-an-hour they have all sat down. Absolute peace here, and news has just come that the Germans have entered Paris.

 Keith Henderson - Ascent of the Met Balloon, 1940.

So the diary goes on - a continual contrast between busy warlike aerodromes and exquisite days on leave. That was almost a year ago. How angry we felt then and how obstinate. Today, even more angry and more obstinate, we are surely, I think, feeling much more hopeful. -

The painting ‘An Improvised Test of an Under-carriage’ provoked fury in the Air Ministry and his six month contract as a war artist had come to an end. His work was exhibited at the time but unlike Eric Ravilious his work has more or less been ignored.

*not a typo.