I will not believe in swine flu as the apocalypse until it produces some zombies. Then I will get out my grill. I’m all down for a Zombiecue.
What a fabulously inspired man Goya was! I suppose my tastes tend to air on the side of the bizarre, but I cannot help myself. I am extremely fascinated by his painting style and these 14 or so “Black Period” paintings. I feel that they have such great passion and emotion behind them, more so than his other paintings.
Sometimes I don’t really like Art History, haha. I’m really not fond of the whole Renaissance religious movement of paintings. I’m definitely not interested in the whole Christian themed series of paintings spurned from that movement either. I like paintings with a variety of theme and message. I’m not knocking the religious movemet, christianity, or things related to such. It’s just…well…how many madonna and child pictures can you possibly look at?! It’s repetitive and gets dull.
This tortured artist stuff from Goya? Yeah. I’ll take that any day! I want some art with real heart and soul and a personal touch behind it. I don’t like “trendy” art. Well, okay I do, but I don’t give it the same respect that I do the really personal and meaningful stuff.
While his plight is terrible I’d like to thank those in the Great Beyond for delivering us this tortured soul so that we may discuss the fascinating dark corners of the human psyche. I’m very interested in also checking out the film “Goya’s Ghosts”. It looks like it would contain some fascinating insights on the man.
I’d like to discuss the painting below with all of you today. While my brain sometimes does not allow 100% cohesive or comprehensive setences…I’d like to at least throw my interpretation and views out there for people! Thank you to Prof. Williams Art History II class discussion this week about the social impact and meaning behind Francesco de Goya’s paintings.
The painting “Witches Sabbath/The Great He-Goat” is a painting of Oil on gesso. Sources estimate this painting’s creation between 1820 and 1823 as part of Francesco De Goya’s “Black Period.” This painting depicts a witches seance and gathering with a goat-devil at the helm. In many stories and legends the devil appears as a horned creature or goat-like man beast. This large, hulking, shadowy figure in the foreground dwarfs his cowering followers. One might think that this hulking beast could be the leaders of the Spanish Inquisition, and the cowering figures and deformed faces would be their followers. Perhaps the girl in the corner is representative of the artist. She is put in front of everyone, trapped with her hands in the muff, cornered with no way out.
I would interpret this as the artist seeing himself put on display as a political prisoner of the Spanish Inquisition. Seances and black witches often used young children and virgins as conduits for contacting the spirit world. Just like the girl in the painting, he would be sacrificed for a cause and wouldn’t be able to defend himself. Doing some research it also appears that literature of the time reflected the Devil in a positive light. Perhaps this painting would even have been socially acceptable in some circles.
This site has some fantastic close-ups of the entire image.
I see this painting as a passionate embodiment of the artist’s own struggle and turmoil. During this time in his life he was undergoing personal turmoil. He caught a very serious illness, he went deaf, and was under constant political threat from the ongoing Spanish Inquisition. I would think it hard not to inject this pain and torment into your work when painting is your livlihood. You paint what you feel, what you live, and what you hear or see. When your mood is dark it is only natural for your work to take on that same life! I only wish this man was still alive. I’d love to have spoken with him about his life. Hell, I’d learn sign language to do it even. What a fantastically tormented man.
I’m going to research Goya to all hell. *pardon my pun of sorts*
[As a side note if I might recommend those who like his black period paintings to check out some of the bizarre current artists of Hi-Fructose magasine. Some of them are very fascinating! A few issues back they ran a series of paintings that were just as gruesome and bizarre as some of these classic Goya paintings! It’s a fantastic magasine and really you should all go out and buy it…NOW.]
To start off this post, these are for sale!
(and are much more colourful than this picture may lead you to believe.
fuck cameras sometimes i swear to god it’s so annoying.)
Well since you’re at my blog you clearly understand that I design jewelry. Any reputable designer knows that the right model is key to selling your product. Models with an innovative face, beautiful mind, and strong body are just as critical as a well composed design. At TwinklesandGlitter we already have a few models, but we’re looking for our absolute, fantastic, amazing top model. This model will lead all photoshoots and publicity campaigns for the company. It’s time to get some fresh faces to display the newest, latest, most magnificent product!
As you may or may not know there was an open casting call in NYC to become our top model/spokesperson for TwinklesandGlitter@Etsy. It appears a few people got a little crazy andstarted some riots! It would appear that someone might have got a little too excited over the prospects of modeling glittery, neon coloured hello kitty necklaces. People, people, people…relaaaaaaax. You can check the footage here.
I apologise to those who were hoping to get a job, but the position of model for TwinklesandGlitter has been filled. Also, my insurance company will not be covering any of your medical costs. Great apologies for any inconvenience this may have caused you.
However, congratulations to our NEW OFFICIAL SPOKESPERSON/MODEL, Edward Cullen:
That will be all for this moment. Thank you for stopping by!
It’s officially spring break at the Academy. I suppose I should be more excited by this, but it came at the worst time! “Why?” you ask.
(A) I have no vacation planned (thanks bank account/economy for that one)
(B) My friends already had their spring break
(C) My room is a mess and my mother has demanded I clean it by the end of the week
(D) I was actually starting to enjoy my homework
(E) Also….have I ever mentioned how much I love lettered lists?
Anyhow…I am hopeful that my jewelry sales will pick up and I’ll be able to use the money to buy my animals some new toys and some treats. We’ve gone on the rations system as of late with regards to treats/toys since my car has gone into disrepair Thankfully I got a decent paycheck and a gift certificate to petsmart this past week.
Oh well. What can you do?
… … …
Actually, I’ll tell you what I can do. I can talk about my pet rat, Bean. Since his arrival, Bean has become the unofficial mascot of my art studio and a constant source of joy and inspiration. Allow me to introduce you to Bean.
This is Bean. The end.
Bean is an adorable little rat that my neighbour rescued from the “evil clutches” of her friend’s pet boa constrictor. This little adorable gentleman came to us a pitiful bundle of nerves, and so tiny he could fit in the palm of my hand no problem.
When Bean was a wee one he would squeal, scream, and squirm whenever you touched him. I can 100% understand why. He was kept in a cage within full sight of his predator, and came from a petstore with a mass stock of “feeders” (where hands surely meant impending doom.) When my neighbour Emma called me and asked me to come rescue this sweet little furball, she was under the impression that it was a female. Emma wanted me to take the little baby in and have my two female rats Zinnia and Ginny take care of it. When I got to her friend’s house I discovered it was not a girl but in fact a boy, and a very well endowed boy at that. I was all set to soldier up and say no. And then she handed him t He had giant ears, giant paws and giant eyes that looked up at me with such a pleading look… Between Emma’s begging and the rat’s terrified shivering, I broke down and agreed to take him home. Little Bean spent the rest of the afternoon hiding in a little hot chocolate box trembling in fear.
We went out the next day and bought him a bigger cage (he was living in a travel cage and previous to that, a cardboard box next to the snake.) This was supposed to be a temporary living arrangement, but anyone who knows me understands that once I name something…IT’S MINE.
A few weeks went by and poor little bean still had no home; mind you this is not for lack of trying. I called everyone! (To those of you who I phoned frantically, I’m sorry!) It tured out to be a good thing because the poor little thing somehow managed to get mites. My guess is that the petstore he came from probably didn’ take all that good care of their animals. The little dude was itching and scratching and biting himself. Poor thing! After a few rounds of Revolution from my vet Dr. Anecker (whose name I can NEVER spell correctly btw) little Beanie was cured. It was clear that he was grateful for our hard work and efforts. He rewarded me with lots of kisses and snuggles and adorable photo ops. Mom and I tried a few more times to find him a home, but they were definitely half-hearted attempts. Neither one of us could bear to see him go. I mean how could you possibly resist this face:
I’m so glad we rescued this little booger. Ain’t he just the cutest lil’ thing?!! I certainly think so.
Side Note: I love snakes as much as the next person, but really now? Why anyone would choose to feed their pet snake live food is beyond me. Snakes will 100% definitely convert to a frozen diet if you work on it. There’s this website and this website and this website which offer advice. Not only is it a horrible, cruel way for these poor animals to spend their last few moments, but it can lead to injury for your snakes. Please, consider making this change! I also think it’s cruel to keep a snake as a pet; they’re much too wild and free to be kept in a small, tiny tank. But that’s another discussion altogether.
My friends are looking for a bassist!!!
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I have had a love affair with these dolls since forever and a day. However, this is the creepiest fuckin’ thing I have ever seen in my life. Yet….also the most…..fascinating? I don’t quite know.
When a student meets his or her most formidable foe, homework, they should…what else?!…..PROCRASTINATE! So here I am! Procrastinate, procrastinate, procrastinate….procrastinate! Darling, if it were a career choice, I’d be a professional.
It’s that time of year again! The twelve headed demon known as midterms has reared its ugly head. Thankfully it appears that I only have to take one midterm, for Art History II. I’ve had Prof Williams before, so I know how his midterms are laid out: multiple choice, true/false, one essay question. The essay is always a compare/contrast assignment where you compare two works of art. I am supposed to be familiar with this giant list of artworks for possible comparison, then he narrows it down to A vs. B or C vs. D. It’s not a terribly difficult midterm. The only trouble I have is with all the dates and names we’re supposed to memorise. My brain is going to just explode!
In Analysis of Form things are progressing as can be predicted. I am maintaining my C grade with lots of hard work. Despite my mediocre grade I’m getting nice feedback from my professor. He seemed to like my drawing and I apparently only have some minor things to correct. Although I hate admitting it, I am definitely learning a lot in this class. It’s my least liked class, but that usually happens whenever I get a class that challenges me. I like challenges, but I hate losing them. (who doesn’t, though?) This week we’re moving on to figure drawing. I can finally breathe a sigh of relief! While I’m not an ace at it, figure drawing comes a bit easier to me than this fabric and still life stuff does. I’m also a bit more practiced in that with my Fashion Illustration class assignments from previous semesters. Thank goodness! I guess those classes weren’t “wasted time” after all! I’ll finally get to see if that practice paid off. I sure hope it has. I’d hate to think I’ve wasted time learning something I’ll never use. That’s the worst feeling ever. This week I’m supposed to draw 2 figures in line, and then begin a final drawing of the plastercast torso from our models kit.
My English class does not appear to have a midterm, which I find rather odd, but I’m not complaining! YOU HEAR THAT GODS OF THE GREAT BEYOND!? I AM NOT COMPLAINING. SO PLEASE DO NOT HAND ME A TEST WHEN I LEAST EXPECT IT. I LOVE YOU ALL. YOU ARE ALL EXTRA SHINY AND IMPRESSIVE AND AMASING. THERE IS NO NEED TO TORMENT ME, JUST AN FYI.
I’m supposed to be studying. I’m supposed to be drawing. I’m supposed to be doing a lot of things. However, I feel a great need to blog and it is an urge that I cannot resist!
So, let’s procrastinate further by elaborating on my love affair with caped crusaders!
Since I was a little kid I’ve been in love with the idea of superheroes. My father first introduced us to superheroes via the Adam West version of Batman. It was glorious! We’d sit down every Sunday afternoon at my Grandpa Joe’s house to watch an episode or two My brother’s and my attention was held rapt by technicolour onamonopoeia starbursts and neon coloured smoke. I never understood why my parents laughed every time Batman and Robin swung into the frame; To an adult it seemed hilariously campy, but to a kid in elementary school it was serious business. We were hooked! That year for Halloween my mother made my brother an exact replica of Adam West’s Batman out of shimmering spandex. The poor woman was tortured for months after that as my brother refused to take it off. He wore it to bed every night and usually well into the next day. He launched himself into the air off of every piece of furniture within his reach. My poor dear mother, haha!
You can 100% add our meeting “the real live Batman” at the local comics shop to the list of life-changing events. There used to be a really neat comics shop in the mall, before it went all SIMONized with corporate crap, where Dad would take us every weekend. We stood in line for what seemed like hours. Dad held my brother on his shoulders. Mom held my hand while I protested on my tip toes, jumping up and down trying to see. He must have been about 6 feet tall; my brother Steve’s height reached barely to the man’s knees. We walked up to him and stared in awe. Here he was, the real deal! We were face-to-knee with the real, live, official Batman. “What’s your name, young man?” he asked my brother. I don’t remember at all what my brother said to Batman, but I remember his face very vividly: His eyes sparkled and his perfectly white baby teeth beamed as he smiled ear to ear. I’ve still never seen a look comparable to that pride and joy displayed in that one, glorious moment. “And you, young lady, what’s your name,” he said. I still remember his gravelly, raspy voice. It was the coolest thing I had ever heard. “I’M ELLEN!!!!!!!” I shouted and stuck out my hand. He laughed and shook my hand. Batman said he was very pleased to meet me. Imagine that! Batman was excited to meet little old me! Sublime, absolutely sublime. Mom and Dad of course interrupted the conversation because they wanted to take a picture. Batman stood up, once again towering over us, and tousled our hair. “Alright kids,” he rumbled. “Let’s take this photo!” He flipped his cape at exactly the right moment.
The photo captures him in all his dark knight glory. I wish I could find where I stashed the photo, because it’s really, truly adorable. I know my mom must have more than one copy, but I can’t find any of them anywhere. You’ll have to wait for that until another time my dear readers, so sorry!
My parents graciously fed into the love for the caped crusader. Mom and Dad went to every comics shop and toy convention imagineable to get the most unique stuff. Mom even made my brother his very own batcave since there wasn’t an actual playset at the time that was worth buying. They bought every action figure under the sun so my brother could complete his collection, including one very incredible mint-in-box Riddler from the aforementioned Batman television series. Dad bought it from some crazed collector. To that man’s horror and my brother’s delight, Dad let him rip open the package as soon as we bought it. In hindsight that was pretty stupid, but I am sure that the look my little brother’s face was 100% worth that man’s probable anyeurism.
I only had one or two of my own batman figures, but I always loved to sit and play along with my brother. I hated that there were only boy superhero figures, so I always played with Poison Ivy and Catwoman. There was something exciting about a woman with all that power! I knew all about Batgirl from the old tv show and the Batman cartoon on saturday mornings, but she was never really all that impressive to me. I respected her for trying, but I really didn’t have any deeper feelings like I did for Batman. Each weekend I would wander through the shop. I perused the shelves looking at all the covers, searching for something more than muscled men in spandex. I looked high and low to find a hero of my own, and that’s when I saw her.
She had gorgeous sparkling blond hair. She had a bright red hairband. She wore a blue mini-skirt, red shiny boots to her knee, and a form fitting white t-shirt. Right there, plain as day on that shirt was a blazing red and yellow ‘S.’ I had heard of Superman, sure. Who doesn’t know the mild-mannered farm boy turned reporter turned Kryptonian superhero? But this…this was something brand new. This was Super… Super… Supergirl! Finally, there was hope that I could be a superhero, too! Supergirl proved to me that a woman could be a real, legitimate caped super hero and be taken seriously. She was perfect, with her muscled arms and legs gleaming and that badasscape flowing in the wind.
Hey, cut me a break. I was 10. It wasn’t until years later that I learned most female superheroes are usually just a fanboy’s fap-fodder!
Shortly thereafter my dad purchased a Supergirl figure (animated cartoon version, of course because she was less risque) for my brother’s figure collection. It quickly turned into my action figure, and I stole her away to my room. Whenever I finished playing, I placed her safely on a shelf in my room. I looked at her every day when I woke up. She stood strong and proud, smiling in the face of all her adversaries. I vowed that I would be just as strong as her! In school I was often picked on, but I learned to stand up for myself pretty early on. I did all of that before I had even heard of Supergirl, but as soon as I did it was even more so. I became the defender of the weak, the protector of the downtrodden! I was determined to be just like Supergirl. I watched every episode of the Batman/Superman cartoon in hopes she would appear. She wasn’t on it very often, but when she was it was glorious. Dad even found me a comic where Supergirl saves some stray animals and brings them to the vet to be adopted. Hey, if you know me personally you’ll understand why this was just as impressive to me as Supergirl’s punching someone in the face. I know at some point when I was in high school, I even had my very own Supergirl sweatshirt. I wore that thing practically every fucking day (until I accidentally shrank it in the dryer.) I think I gave it to Jesh eventually, but who knows. My love for Supergirl runs deep, seriously. (Although I am embarassed to say that although I am a huge Supergirl fan, I have not seen the Supergirl movie. Really though, can you blame me?? Yeah, I thought as much.)
I have always wanted to save the world. I have always wanted to be my own brand of super hero. I mean really, how glorious would it be if you were one person during the day, and at night you got unleash your “other self” on the world. You could let your true colours shine. You could be kicking ass and taking names. You could bring justice to the world. You could have the best time of your life, all for the sake of saving humanity. It’s the perfect life goal.
I remember once in high school my poor mother had to console me as I cried into the wee hours of the sad state of our world. I wailed about war and injustice. I sobbed about slimebuckets and cruel minds. I bawled about bombings and death. My wonderful mother sat next to me rubbing my back and hugging me until I passed out from exhaustion. I remember, just before I fell asleep, that I told her I wanted to save the world. I didn’t understand why I just couldn’t protect everyone from horrible things. Mom told me that sometimes people don’t want to be saved. She said sometimes, people don’t understand that there are better things out there. She said sometimes people turn a blind eye. I was horrified at this statement, because I knew it was true. “But mom, I can’t accept that! I’m going to save the world! I’m going to change things!” Even though it was pitch black in my room, I knew she was smiling. She kissed my forehead and hugged me. She told me if I wanted to save the world, nothing could stop me.
Sometimes I think my mom and dad are superheroes, too; they just wear invisible capes.
I was supposed to see Watchmen this weekend with Christina, but I was a tool and didn’t finish the book. I can’t believe I left that to last minute either, ugh. Speaking of Watchmen! Is it wrong to say I would 100% totally accept an invitation for some deliciously devious and raunchy sex with Rorschach? Ooooh. *shudder shudder* I love tortured souls. I just really can’t help myself! I absolutely love rough boys! I have yet to inform Boy that I will be sad if he doesn’t end up tattooed to the hilt…maybe I should do that later. I’m sure he doesn’t need encouragement and just a job and a full bank account, lulz. Boy isn’t really rough and tumble, but he can be if he wants to be I suppose. I don’t know. Hmmm…
I think I may go accelerate the procrastination process by reading some more Watchmen. The movie is out now, and I’ve had the book since…jeez…since before September! Stupid Twilight series hooked me and got in the way of intellectually stimulating reading material. Blast!
The weather is gorgeous, too. It is making me absolutely nutty that I will probably be stuck inside doing homework and studying. Actually, I might just say fuck it and go outside to read and/or study for awhile. I mean, why not? I’ve already pushed all my assignments to the last two days. What’s not to say I can push it for the absolute last day? Nothing! Absolutely nothing, my friends!
Her badass toolbelt glittered in the sunlight.
“AND SO, MY FRIENDS, I BID YOU ADIEU!”
She flew off into the skies.