#Qr code wall art

[copperbadge]

Recently I ran across an article about an art center that was doing creative expression classes for people with disabilities. Not that unusual, I've encountered that and trauma-oriented art therapy before, but it was the first time I'd come across the idea since getting diagnosed with ADHD. While the class was aimed more at high-needs disabilities, it occurred to me that I could -- if I wanted -- make non-prose art about being disabled.

Outside of my work in scene design I've never been much of a visual artist because I've never felt I had the combination of "something to say" and "a meaningful way to say it", but I started to question how meaningful and complex I really had to be to just make some statements about having ADHD. I can do it in prose, after all.

So I started thinking about how you would talk, in visual language, about things like time blindness, shame stemming from undiagnosed disability, the shift in behavior that medication can induce. Ways to express my condition to people who don't experience it. I still didn't really know how to build the pieces but whenever I went to an art museum I'd think about how I might do a gallery installation. The centerpiece of my mental gallery was a pair of barcodes, one marked "Neurotypical" and one marked "Neurodivergent".

[ID: An interior view of a small booklet, with pages marked 1 and 2, showing barcodes -- on the left, labeled Neurotypical, and on the right, in slightly weirder configuration, labeled Neurodivergent.]

And then I thought, why not make a zine? Nothing you're thinking of couldn't be put in zine form instead of on a gallery wall.

[ID: The booklet continues to pages 3 and 4; on page 3 is a postage-style label reading AUTISM with up arrows on either side, and on page 4 is a QR code labeled ADHD. The QR code technically should work but it just dumps a block of text I wrote about having ADHD into a browser.]

I grew up with zine culture in the 90s and I always wanted to make one but much like with visual art, I never felt like I had the right kind of thing to say; either I had too much to say or too little, and anyway I wasn't confident that what I wanted to do wouldn't just come off as trite and obvious. But you can make a six-page zine out of a single sheet of paper, so I did: I made Helpful Labels For Strange Brains by idab zines, a division of Extribulum Press. (i--dab is a term for a cuneiform tablet that contains a royal communication.)

[ID: The last two pages feature the same image -- a cereal bowl with a spoon in it, the spoon containing a single Adderall pill. One image, however, is captioned "Wake up. Pour yourself a cup of iced coffee. Fix a bowl of cereal. It's going to be a good day." while the other is covered in a detailed ADHD-style step-by-step process for the same actions, culminating in "It's going to be a day like that."]

I'm pretty pleased with how it came out -- the art all looks intentional and it still has that "taped this together after school" aesthetic I remember fondly from the 90s. And the confines of six pages, each only a few inches square, offers a good structure to keep things clear, simple, and meaningful.

[ID: The cover of the zine, labeled "Helpful Labels For Strange Brains" in a kind of esoteric stampy font.]

Especially nice is that if you wanted to you could just hand out the flat sheet, and let folks fold it into a booklet or not -- there's instructions for folding it on the back of the zine. Additionally I have some sticker backed printer paper so I could print it such that you could literally turn the labels into real labels.

Anyway if you want it, here ya go. You can print it on a single sheet of paper and follow the instructions on the back to fold it. I thought about selling it but I do not have the spoons to do a bunch of printing and folding and shipping.

[sanctus-ingenium]

we need to talk about Inprnt.com

Following a really good post with more screenshots and evidence by @dynasoar5 i'm going to talk about my own experiences with @inprnt and why I am about to put my shop on indefinite hiatus from Monday the 14th of August.

First of all I'll say that since starting my print shop last year it has been a significant help to me financially - I was able to not worry about affording car insurance or motor tax (together commonly over a thousand euro) when I bought my first car, for example. I am immeasurably grateful to anyone who chose to buy one and I treasure all the pictures I've been sent of my prints hanging up on people's walls. Right now they are displayed in a real (if small) art exhibition in my home town.

(top right print is not from inprnt though)

They're great prints. Never had any complaints about them. But here's what's going on behind the scenes.

Earlier this year, around March or April, Inprnt sales started increasing in regularity. I'd made as much as $600 a week during previous sales when I made proper promo posts here, but with this increase in regularity, I felt that I couldn't make promo posts every single week. And then one day, I'm not sure when tbh, the sale just never ended. It just didn't stop having that "Ending soon! 15% off your order" banner at the top of the site. Right now it says "Final Hours: $5 Worldwide shipping and save up to 35% off your order!" and not even for a second do I believe in this final hours bullshit. It's been 'final hours' for weeks now. Months, even.

Why is this a problem? Well, how tf am I meant to make a promo post for a sale that is always "ending soon!!" and then never ends. One week it'll say "this weekend only!!" and then when the weekend is over, the sale banner just changes its wording and the sale doesn't end. I can't promo this, it makes me look like a liar and a skeevy salesman by association! It makes the site look like it's 1 week from crashing and burning, and the site owners are just scrabbling to suck as much money from artists as possible before they drown.

And they are sucking money from us. To peel back the curtain, Inprnt money can only be transferred to my paypal account 30 days after the sale is made, just in case the order is cancelled and refunded. This means I used to make one withdrawal every couple of months, when there was enough build-up of money to make it worthwhile. It also forbids withdrawing any sum under $50 btw. I would make a withdrawal request and then, after a 10 business day wait, it would reach my Paypal account.

Not anymore! The past few withdrawals have taken over a month to complete. They are straight up keeping my earnings from me for longer the agreed period. This was my last fulfilled withdrawal:

Note the date.

Almost two months.

And here is the latest withdrawal request that still has not been fulfilled.

It's coming up on 1 month and if the pattern continues, it could literally be November or December by the time I fully clear all sales.

So what's going to happen to my print shop? Because my art is currently being exhibited with a QR code linking to the shop, I can't close the shop this week. Instead I will close it on Monday the 14th of August, next week. That means that on the 14th of September, I can withdraw all of the remaining money without having any left over. My account balance will go to 0 and stay there. Although I'll de-list my prints I will leave my account there, because at the end of the day I don't want to leave Inprnt. It still offers the best artist margins and as I'm now unemployed after graduating, the additional support is such a load off my mind. So this is a chance to wait and see - if they improve their services, I'll happily re-open.

It's a big deal to me because selling prints is sort of my ideal life as an artist. I never had the attention span or self-discipline for commission work and I found that it left me creatively stagnant. I always want to try new things, new concepts and ideas, and being able to think "yeah, people will like this as a print" while I experiment is honestly very reassuring. And I know that in going on hiatus, it'll break a lot of "buy a print" links in my circulating posts. Oh well lmao. If you want to buy a print right now - go ahead, it might be your last opportunity. Another way to support me would be to check out my ko-fi for once-off donations or some nice sketchbooks/comics/book samples you can buy, or subscribing to my Patreon.

As of right now, Inprnt owes me $381 (the unfulfilled request submitted above for $186.60 and my current standing balance of $194.80 which takes 30 days from each transaction to clear).

[lesb0]

I brought up the anti-didactics movement with my curatorial team (long story short, a wave of radical critical Marxist feminist museologists in the 90s asked why the average person felt too intimidated by their local museums to use them as free, public, federal spaces like the library

and in the 2010s, the next generation realized one significant cause of intimidation was didactics with complicated jargon and condescending language instructing them how to properly look at the art, summaries of all the extant academic arguments on one object, which causes them to feel like museums are exclusive, intellectualized, and only for anglo elites and ivory tower academics so they would look at the label and immediately think "I do not belong here". so most flagship museums ditched the labels a decade ago.

also art historians have never really looked at those + they slow down traffic when visitors queue up to slowly read them and negatively effect guest satisfaction + they take up minimum 4 inches of precious wall space + they need to be printed and laminated on expensive plastic out of our $150,000 budget)

so I am working on putting all my research on our artists on a QR code paper handout instead for those who wish to read :)

[larks-birdhouse]

GENLOSS FOUNDERS CUT THOUGHTS

i want to make it so so clear i don’t want to dunk on genloss. this is my braindump and i LOVED genloss. please support young creators as they grow and improve i beg of thee

im putting this under a cut because i expect it to be long 😭

❤️ - negative

💚 - positive

💙 - neutral

💚 once again reminded how much ranboo’s acting has improved since dsmp <3

💚 AND a fantastic reminder of how great the other actors are!!!! all the deaths still hurt and the security officers did SO SO GOOD

💚 i love that hetch is more evil now. hurts even more watching hetch manipulate ran even harder up to his death

💚 ranboo has survivor’s guilt :’[ god him slowly accepting it was his fault (even though it WASNT) broke me

💚❤️ i think redubbing certain parts makes sense, but for some reason it was just really obvious during niki’s intro?? it felt so jarring

💙 ngl i paused the premiere to catch the qr code. in my defence i was about half an hour behind already :’]

❤️ GOD i wish we saw more of the carousel folks. so much time spent on setting up mousetrap, so little on them. is that in of itself a commentary? genuine question i do not know

❤️ also i am so sad we didn’t see more of austin’s “hey what the fuck is happening.” there was plenty of it but i want MORE

❤️💙 and i wish there was a little more time on ethan’s fashion show simply because it is funny

💚 the play on words with austin being the straight man is still fantastic

💚 someone else pointed this out (i’m not sure who i saw it from first but i’ll find them) but hetch near exclusively calling ranboo “hero” is such a good detail. not their name, but their character

💙 i forgot about the charlie stream! but honestly i would fully believe that is something charlie would just Do

❤️ I WANT MORE SNEEGGGGGG WHERE WAS HE

💚 the ART!! the DESIGNS of the devices!! adds so much to the story and i’m so glad they were shared. such fantastic art too!!

❤️ the create-a-creature kinda came out of nowhere, i was so confused and i wish there was a bit more buildup

💙 about hetch saying they aren’t themselves anymore: how many times can the actors get tortured and brainwashed before they stop being themselves? how much of them can be taken and replaced before it stops being them? (theseus’s ranboo)

💚 I LOVED THE SQUIGGLES ANIMATIONS!!!! SO GOOD I NEED TO FIND MORE OF THE CREATOR’S WORK

❤️ i might have missed it so correct me if i’m wrong but i don’t think we had the wide shot of the hero-kill-inator or whatever and i WISH we did because it goes so hard

💚 in terms of ending changes, i loved both endings!! both so good for different reasons, and the “thank you” KILLS ME IM SO SORRY BOO I HOPE YOU CAN JOIN YOUR FRIENDS IN THE CANON AFTERLIFE

💙 actually only hell is canon. maybe heaven just Doesn’t Exist. only suffering

💚❤️ at some points i thought the gore was great and at some points i wanted MORE. all the blood seeping out from under the doors, the room they haven’t “reset” yet, the guts instead of food were all great. but i wanted more of surgery charlie’s suffering to contrast the absurdity and just generally more carnage

❤️ i also wish there was more audio gore with austin & sneeg’s deaths. the wall just kind of Stops with no indication of them being crushed and its not apparently obvious that they died

💚 gen zero preview!!! i’m so excited, wondering who will be brought in for that one

💚 hearing the echos of “just let me die” in the beginning was haunting, fantastic stuff loved it

💚 HOW DID I FORGET THE PHOTOS THAT WAS SO GOOD ARE THOSE REAL BABY RANBOO PHOTOS?? INCREDIBLE

💚 overall i quite enjoyed the founder’s cut! can’t wait to see what comes next and i’m so proud of ranboo!!

💙 what is it with media about content creator self inserts that suffer immensely with little to no comfort that draws me in so? why has this happened so many times??

[byzahraartz]

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[zytes]

Question from someone just starting with creating and then posting art to Tumblr, do you think I should be watermarking my pieces?

I’ve always disliked watermarks as they naturally tend to dissuade people from interacting with art in a natural manner; it depends very heavily on the size and placement of the mark, obviously. BUT, often times an artist will overzealously obscure their work with identification and it has a somewhat repulsive effect on the average viewer - a wall has been erected between the viewer and the art, in a sense. Watermarks, to me, exist to prevent very specific situations from unfolding with your work - almost all of those reasons seem to be financially motivated, like preventing strangers from printing your art out at home or reposting without attribution. Situations that could affect your ability to profit off of your work.

Admittedly, much of my perception about this issue was inspired by an article included in the book “Context” by Cory Doctorow, wherein he writes about how he’s benefitted from “thinking like a dandelion”, which is an idea that was inspired by conversation the author had with Neil Gaiman — I’ll try and summarize the parts of the point that are more relevant to visual arts; since portions of the allegory refer more specifically to certain qualities of written media.

He begins with, “Mammals worry about what happens to each and every one of their offspring, but dandelions only care that every crack in every sidewalk has dandelions growing out of it. The former is a good strategy for situations in which reproduction is expensive, but the latter works best when reproduction is practically free — as on the Internet.”

So how do you “think like a dandelion” then?

“Your work needs to be easily copied, to anywhere whence it might find its way into the right hands. That means that the nimble text-file, HTML file, and PDF (the preferred triumvirate of formats) should be distributed without formality — no logins, no e-mail address collections, and with a license that allows your fans to reproduce the work on their own in order to share it with more potential fans. Remember, copying is a cost-center — insisting that all copies must be downloaded from your site and only your site is insisting that you — and only you — will bear the cost of making those copies. Sure, having a single, central repository for your works makes it easier to count copies and figure out where they’re going, but remember: dandelions don’t keep track of their seeds. Once you get past the vanity of knowing exactly how many copies have been made, and find the zen of knowing that the copying will take care of itself, you’ll attain dandelionesque contentment.”

The rest of the allegory more specifically applies to written work, but I’ll link it here for the sake of posterity. Essentially: every wall or pre-requisite that you establish before allowing a fresh set of eyes to fall upon your work actually may deter people from engaging with the work and sharing it with others. Signatures, subtle watermarks that are “baked” into the work, or maybe like.. a well-placed QR code that links people back to you — all of those would be my suggestion for someone who wants to leave a lasting, linking thread between a given work and it’s artist. If the right person sees your art and connects with it, there SHOULD be a way for them to follow that thread back to you and discover more; but if you over-prioritize demonstrating ownership over your work, you’re likely to drive those coveted genuine connections away.

On the other hand, if your primary goal is to sell prints or other products, brazenly watermarking your work will protect your bottom line from the kind of low-level art-scraping that drives all those shady redbubble shops and etsy stores that sell stolen works on cheap t-shirts and hankies. For me, art is a primarily social interest in which I prioritize the sharing of culture and ideas. I don’t want financial factors to take precedence and alter how/why I created something; it feels like I’d have to take much of myself out of my art in order to make it palatable for consumer spaces.

You should determine your priorities and then strive to make art that fulfills those priorities without compromise. I think you’ll find that self-satisfaction manifests readily at different points in the midst of that process.

[stickybehavior]

I love Jujutsu Kaisen. I did not have the heart to finish season 2 back in 2023 when it came out. In my heart of hearts none of the stuff that happened happened ⸜( ⌓̈ )⸝ but I do still enjoy getting stickers of these guys and art for my walls. Jjk is such a good anime! The stickers of Gojo, Geto, and Shoko made to look like it was drawn with blue pen, I bought from Leek! I really liked how cute they looked. https://www.etsy.com/shop/Leekville this is their shop ^ I could not tell you who the artists for the head stickers are, I am bad at keeping the business cards with the stickers or sometimes the artists don't have business cards but they have a QR code, which is genius... until you collect so many QR codes pictures that it becomes its own Pandora's box of "I have to look up all these artists", I am hoping that by having this blog and making individual posts of my stickers that I will be able to keep them more organized and be able to credit the artists better because artists deserve it! **If you know the artists please let me know

[aclowntiny]

Nails and Nighttimes- The8 x Gender Neutral Reader

You would have never thought meeting at a workshop could lead to such a brilliant evening… and such an awkward mistake.

Word Count: 4533 | First Meetings & Awkward Mix-Ups, Drama Queen Jun lmao | Warnings: very suggestive jokes/implications, but no graphic content as always 😘 language

(This man & his nail art! He’s so pretty & so are all his arts!!! I love him. Also expect a part 2 to this hehehe)

Signing up for an art workshop had been a spur-of-the-moment, zero-thoughts-head-empty decision. On the wait to get on the train your eyes had wandered around the station, grazing graffiti and stickers and posters on pillars until they stuck on one like glitter glue. The image of a beautiful gallery topped it, words underneath beckoning people to give themselves up for one of three “art experiences” guided by gallery affiliates themselves. Maybe the subway air vibrations and the mingling scents of passersby had you waxing poetic, but you’d been lamenting of late your lack of opportunities to meet new people, so maybe this was a sign. The gallery doors literal doors into some experience you were meant for.

Or maybe it would be a lonelier version of one of those wine and paint nights. Whatever.

Since you had some time on the train anyway, you scanned the QR code on the poster, pulling up the gallery site’s sign-up sheet to fill out all the fields as walls, lights, and dozens of occupied, distant yet so close to your world strangers chugged past.

Maybe it was luck that they still had spots open, your sign-up and fee being accepted immediately, no waitlisting required.

~

The very doors pictured on the poster that beckoned you loomed much taller than the image implied, much more imposing. And yet excitement buzzed in your chest as you shouldered your bag and stepped forward through them, following the map to pass from one room of paintings- ooh, impressionism- into another and down a short hallway that dumped almost right into your room.

Several people were already seated at various stools throughout the room’s tables, supplies strewn about them all and color wheels, art prints, and encouraging historical quotes decorated the walls. It felt like the first day of college all over again, entering a room of strangers and feeling the pressure to choose the right one…if you wanted to venture looking like you had an affinity for anyone. Otherwise you could simply start filling an empty table and see who, if anyone, chose you.

Nah. The guy with the glasses looked really cool.

You wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d taken these classes plenty of other times. Dark hair spilled down the nape of his neck, which he ran a hand bearing a few different rings and painted nails over. He had a loose black patterned jacket that looked designer draped over his white tank top, but rather than look cocky he simply sat calmly with his hands in his lap, waiting. As you slid into the seat next to his, he smiled at you, a very kind, genuine expression.

“Is this your first class here?”

“Did I look lost when I came in?” You teased, chuckling nervously.

“No,” he shook his head, voice calm and pretty as the rest of him looked, “I’ve just never seen you here before.”

“Well, you got me there,” you replied with a smile, “I am new. I just happened to see the poster for it in the train station.”

“Then it was meant to be,” he said.

“That’s what I thought, too. Maybe it really was. Oh, by the way, my name is (y/n).”

“I’m Minghao.”

“Nice to meet you. Are you an artist?”

“Well,” Minghao replied, “I’m a regular at the gallery. I just think looking at beautiful things is good for the soul. I do enjoy painting, it’s a way to get my feelings out.”

Yeah, you were right, this guy was cool. “Nice. I’m not much of a painter, usually, so I guess I’m hoping this helps me improve. It’s just been a long time. I still have the painting I did of a family cat from high school, though.”

“I’m sure it looks great.” He could have been being sarcastic, but he sounded so nice you chose to believe it was genuine. The smile still looked kind, so…

It was about that time that your workshop instructor entered the room, introducing herself and the fundamentals of the class as well as the basic items she’d brought to serve as subjects.

“If you’re ready for a more advanced task or just want a challenge, you can choose something else, though,” she added at the end.

“Is that what you’re doing?” You leaned over and whispered just to tease your neighbor.

“You’re so confident in my abilities,” he shot back as you organized the tubes of paint and other supplies on your shared table, “but I have to admit that I did bring something to try.”

You mirrored his grin. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

Leaning down, Minghao unzipped the bag he’d had sitting by his feet, pulling a small patterned green glass vase out and setting it on front of him. “I’ve been wanting to get more practice with reflective surfaces,” he told you as he pulled himself back up, turning in one swift motion.

“Very nice. I bet it’ll look great!”

And for a while things got silent as you learned the best way to mix your paints, preparing them along with the composition of your images. One of the items your instructor had brought for everyone was a banana, but she’d also brought a checkerboard, so you decided to get ambitious and do the checkerboard in a diamond orientation, banana inverted on the bottom. Why you didn’t know, but it just seemed boring to only paint the banana.

“Look at you,” Minghao joked, “you’re already an artist.”

“Oh, yeah, we all know Van Gogh started with bananas.”

“Everyone starts somewhere, right?” He reminded you with a shrug and another soft smile. Those seemed to be his specialty.

As you painted, the pair of you provided each other with tips, quips, and questions; from it you learned Minghao was close to your age, a dancer, did a lot of music and filming projects with his friends- also musicians and dancers of course. He heard about your job, your train commute, your pet.

~

As your workshop came to an end, you were actually very satisfied with your painting. Definitely worth the price of the workshop, you dare thought.

“What are you calling it?” Minghao asked you, eyes scanning the piece beneath the room’s faintly dim light. “If you’re giving it a name.”

Indeed, you had been the only one to frame your piece like that or even pair those two potential subjects; even your instructor had been surprised, expression stilling for a bit, then widening. In amusement, pride, surprise? Probably a bit of all three. As you wiped your mess of yellow and black smudges off the dark surface of your table, your eyes flicked back to the painting where it dried.

“Sad Checkerboard.”

At that, Minghao giggled, a charming sound you found rather adorable. “Sad Checkerboard,” he repeated, shaking his head.

“I’m kidding. I think,” you said with a chuckle of your own, tossing the moist bundle of wipes in your hand down into the trash can on the floor. “I don’t know if you’re naming yours, but it turned out really well. The pattern looks so accurate.”

“Thanks,” he replied, gently wringing a brush clean at the sink from behind you, “it’s a bit similar to my nails, so maybe that’s why- muscle memory!”

“Oh yeah, I noticed they were painted, but didn’t really look- let me see,” you requested.

Holding out his hand, Minghao raised his eyebrows slightly as you grabbed it in both of yours, bringing it before your eyes to study the monochrome dappling that indeed resembled his painting in a simple black-and-white variant of the green blown glass. Guy had pretty nice hands, too, lithe and nimble like the rest of him- no wonder he was so good at dancing and painting. Even on canvases as small as his fingernails.

“Wow,” you blinked, letting go of his hand after what felt like minutes despite lasting seconds, “these are really good, too. So you do these yourself?”

“Yeah, I just got into it recently,” he answered with a nod as you both grabbed your bags, heading back out into the dim gallery hallway.

“Well, you’re clearly doing it right! Please do mine,” you joked, holding out your currently-empty fingernails in front of your eyes.

Minghao’s next words almost had you halting in the middle of the hall, causing a budding-artist domino pileup. “Sure, why not? Are you doing anything tonight?”

That serene, matter-of-fact expression didn’t waver, his rich brown eyes looking into yours evenly as if he’d said have a nice day. You floundered, opening your mouth in silence once before words came to you, almost not of your own volition.

“Oh. Uh, yeah,” you shook your head, “I’m not doing anything tonight. You’re not sick of painting?”

“No,” he chuckled, finally smiling again though his voice remained casual, “I guess I’m not. I can do your nails if you want. Follow me from the parking lot- all my nail art stuff is at mine and my roommate’s flat. If you’re cool with that?”

Your eyebrows shot up, but somehow your nerves weren’t firing as hard as they probably should have been- how far did this guy’s chill aura reach? Or was he just that comfortable to be around? Somehow you felt like you’d known him for way longer than a couple hours. “Is your roommate going to be home too?”

“Yeah, of course,” Minghao nodded.

“Alright, sure, what’s your rate?” You joked, shrugging the weight of your backpack down its loose strap at your side.

“Don’t worry about money, I just enjoy the process,” Minghao answered, sidestepping a glass display as you two closed in on the gallery’s front doors.

“Even better,” you replied with a grin, “lead the way.”

He was parked a ways closer than you were, but made sure you got to your car before heading back to his. Nice car, but not flashy, just a very clean-looking white sedan. It made you wonder if Minghao’s flat was going to be as monochromatic as the rest of him. How artsy his roommate was, too. Maybe there’d be canvases everywhere against the walls and tarps on the floor like every artist’s home in a corny romance film. But then again, chaos didn’t seem his style.

The route you followed behind his sedan didn’t take you so far from the gallery, it turned out, and at a large complex of flats you’d seen countless times. In fact, you had a friend who lived there and she found it typically quite safe.

Maybe you’d text her if you felt weird about anything. For the time being, though, it was all excitement, anticipation to see the mystery flat and have your nails done who-knows-how at the hands of a multi-talented artist. Plus, who were you kidding? Hadn’t your heart thudded a bit faster when his hand was in yours?

Such echoed in your mind as you pulled into a visitor parking spot by a row of flowered hedges, walking out to meet Minghao with both hands giving your backpack strap anxious tugs.

"Is it going to bother you if Junhui- that's my roommate- is watching a movie?" He asked.

You shook your head. “Not at all. If we need background sound that’ll be it.”

Minghao smiled, and with that you crossed the lot into the building, riding the elevator to the third floor.

Minimalist was how you would describe Minghao’s apartment, its colors indeed mostly matching the monochrome of his black-and-white outfit. The walls were white, hung with an intricate round metal piece with a Chinese character, 喜, centering its design as well as some flowing abstract paintings in the areas first visible.

“The main meaning of that,” he motioned to the character, “is happiness.”

“You guys have a lot of that in here?”

“Well, I guess you’ll find out,” Minghao bantered back.

Your voices, it seemed, tipped off your classmate’s cinephile friend, who was seated cross-legged on the armchair nearest you two. “Oh, you’re back! Hi! Did you want me to get out of your hair, or-”

“No, it’s fine, remember?” Minghao reminded him. “We might not even stay out here.”

“Right,” the man you assumed to be Junhui nodded, “well, I just finished Ratatouille, what should I watch next?”

His big smile as he scrolled titles on Disney+ had you mirroring the expression, a rush of childlike wonder overtaking you. “Ooh, do The Incredibles or Turning Red!”

“Oh, it’s been a while since I’ve watched The Incredibles, good call,” he nods your way before introducing himself.

Once you’d shared your name, too, you swiveled back around to Minghao, who was sending a fond smile your way. Feeling yourself flush, you twisted your heels on the white carpet several times before speaking.

“So, uh…nails? Out here, or…” Your words trailed off, hand feebly raising in a halted gesture. It was like visiting a friend’s house for the first time except without, you know, the prerequisite of friendship. Sure, you could copy shoe-removal practices, but how much say did guests have? Did they eat on the couch or table-only? Could they move freely or were they bidden to follow their hosts? What was normal behavior for these guys? Cleaning, if you had to guess. The place looked halfway to a mini-hotel.

“Yes, let’s do them out here. Wait here and I’ll get my stuff.”

“Ok!” Agreeing, you plopped down cross-legged on the carpet, not quite feeling cozy enough to drape onto a couch yet.

“So, uh, you guys met at that painting class?” Junhui’s voice came from his own couch seat just a bit above and adjacent to you.

You hummed in agreement. “It was my first one, too, and I was hoping to meet someone cool- guess I was successful, huh?”

You watched Junhui’s gaze flicker out of yours. “Uh, yeah, sure looks like it. What color are you doing your nails, then?”

This time it was your gaze that drifted. “I hadn’t really thought about it, honestly. I’ll take suggestions.”

“Grey.”

“No longer taking suggestions,” you joked, laughing as Junhui stuck his tongue out at you.

“Is he giving you trouble?” Minghao’s sweet tone rang out into the room as he passed through the doorway with a case in hand.

“No, just telling me to paint my nails grey. I was thinking of something a little more…”

He cocked a brow. “Exciting?”

“Bingo. What say you?”

“How about dark green? I’ve been wanting to try out this forest tone I got for a while now, but the black and white has held for so long.”

You grinned, extending your hand. “Perfect. I’m all yours.”

A part of you couldn’t believe you just said that, but it seemed Minghao let it slide, just peering intently at your nails as his palm slid under yours. Junhui's eyes slid between The Incredibles and you two as Minghao reached over your joined hands, pinching a little clear bottle between his fingers.

"Bottom coat first," he muttered, already focused as his dark lashes fluttered downward onto his cheeks. Your own gaze was reflected in the lenses of his glasses, eyes wide and faltering.

Minghao was as gentle and dexterous with the nail polish brush as he was with his paints in class, swiftly drawing the slight cold over each of your nails, the first of which almost made you jump, but you caught yourself with a faint flush. No need to make yourself look silly upon the pristine carpets of such an apartment as nice and composed as its owner.

Soon all ten of your nails shone with the faint iridescence of the priming layer, and you’d gotten a little too used to the feeling of your hand in Minghao’s for your own liking. Something about the way those brown eyes looked into yours had you wanting to take risks. Heck, ever since you laid eyes on that fateful museum poster, doors beckoning you, it had been caution to the wind, mundanity be darned. Or maybe fate really had taken the helm.

“So, what kind of music do you listen to?” Minghao’s voice cut into your swirling reverie, sending your brain bobbing back to reality as he shook the forest green nail polish bottle.

The cold sensation had become familiar by the time you watched green swipe over each of your fingernails, telling your impromptu manicurist excitedly about your favorite band. He listened intently as he could through his focus, nodding enthusiastically.

“I don’t think I’ve heard of them before,” he told you.

“I could show you some of their songs when we’re all done here,” you offered.

“That sounds great,” he replied, raising your hand to his lips and gently blowing the polish dry, gaze piercing yours.

“Wow, this is such a good movie, hu- whoa!” Junhui chimed in right then, turning around to see you both before whirling immediately back around.

In silent response, Minghao rolled his eyes cheekily. You couldn’t help but laugh, and soon he was, too.

~

His extra airpods were in his room, so once your nails were dry, you ended up making your way there, sitting on the bed when he patted the spot next to him. This time it was your eyebrows that shot up, but you complied, accepting the proffered earbuds. Holding them in your palm, you directed Minghao to one of your favorite songs and popped them in as he pressed play.

The space was as calming as you expected, a fancy incense burner resting on a dark wood dresser that perfectly matched the bed, which was draped with a pretty dark green and white patterned. He’d set his new painting down on some paper towels in case it was still wet, so it sat drying before a few bottles of cologne and a black jewelry holder also resting there. A speaker sat there, and a-

“I really like these instrumentals,” Minghao spoke softly, as if not wanting to compete with the music.

You smiled. “Me, too. They really do something unique, don’t they?”

“I think I’m going to send this to my producer friend. He might get some inspiration from the arrangement!”

Your heart swelled in secondhand pride for your music, happy to have found someone who does more than just listen and mutter a generic ‘yeah, it’s pretty good’. Minghao actually listened, thought about it. You appreciated that.

Scooting a bit closer across the silky bedspread, you motioned to the phone resting there, shoulder brushing his just slightly. “Now you pick one. We can alternate!”

Minghao’s music was unsurprisingly relaxing, though he just claimed that was ‘because it’s nighttime’, that air of artsy mystery that first drew you to him returning faintly.

You swapped songs, tried on Minghao’s glasses, looked at a few other paintings he did, watched his latest dance routine and learned some of it yourself, heard some funny stories about Junhui’s little brother…

…and somewhere along the way fell asleep, slipping so seamlessly into the deep of it you passed without awareness.

~

You woke up in a haze, eyes fluttering contentedly half-open. Your bed seemed extra comfortable, relaxing rhythm greeting you as you woke. Reaching up to push your blanket off, your hand passed through naught but empty air. Eyes opening a bit wider, you realized you weren’t underneath anything. And you were still in your clothes.

You’d never left Minghao’s apartment. In fact, as you slid further out of the morning-tide blear, you realized that very comfortable thing your head was propped up against was his chest. He’d passed out, too, it seemed, airpods still in his ears and peaceful expression on his face as his eyelashes fluttered.

Jolting upright, you tumbled off the side of the bed, face on fire. Minghao’s eyes flew open as your warmth left him, blinking up at you as a pensive look crossed his face. No surprise, just a study of you and your frantic haste.

“I’m so sorry,” you exclaimed, “I didn’t mean to stay the night!”

“I didn’t exactly mean for you to stay the night,” Minghao shot back, rolling over onto his stomach and propping his head cheekily on folded arms.

“Fair enough.”

“But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t nice, right? I kind of liked sleeping with you.”

If it was even physically possible, your face felt even hotter. “Don’t say it like that!”

That earned you another cute giggle, this one perhaps a bit nervous, too. “Alright, alright. Well, since you’re here, want breakfast?”

“I’ll make breakfast,” you told him, shaking your head in exasperation, all of which was self-directed, “it’s the least I can do for imposing.”

“You didn’t impose. I was the one who brought you into my room.”

Would your face ever cool down again? “I was the one who wanted my nails painted.”

“But who offered to paint them?” Minghao countered; his eyes slid down to your hands. “They look great, by the way. The green really complements your skin tone.”

Holding out your hand, you followed his gaze. “Thank you! I think so too, honestly-”

“Great, so since you dropped it I’ll make breakfast!” Minghao cut you off triumphantly, launching up off the bed and out into the flat.

“Hey, wait!” Heart leaping, you followed him, shuffling out and through the carpet of the living area where you’d half-listened to The Incredibles the evening prior, other half of you enjoying makeshift salon treatment.

You couldn’t help smiling faintly to yourself as you passed through the kitchen doorway…

…at least until you got in there, eyes immediately meeting the wide gaze of Junhui, who sat at the table with a blue bowl full of porridge in hand and a stiffening spine. Why was he looking at you like that?

“Here, (y/n), sit down.” Waving you into the chair catty-cornered from his roommate’s, Minghao returned to the refrigerator. “Do you like pancakes?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” You shot back with a smile.

He looked at you fondly. “Pancakes it is. I think we have everything for them. Alright, I’ll be right back.”

The moment Minghao disappeared out the door, socked feet padding across tile and back into carpet, his roommate spoke up.

“You’re really special, you know that?” He asked before taking another spoonful of porridge.

Your brow crinkled in confusion. “What do you mean? Are you upset?”

“No,” he shook his head, glancing down at his bowl, “it’s just awkward talking to you now that you’ve, you know, known my roommate carnally. But he never takes people home like this. Minghao’s always been a really friends-first kinda guy, so the fact that he brought you here is a big deal. I mean, you know how much he likes you already, I’m sure, I guess you’d know better than me,” he trailed off with a nervous chuckle and another spoonful of porridge, "but even without that I can see the love eyes he gives you."

If you thought your insides were turning somersaults before, well holy shit. You spluttered, heat you'd just managed to chase away returning beneath your whole skin, melting over you past your cheeks and down the rest of your body. Junhui’s words sparked mental images you didn’t need, translucent flutterings across your mind’s eye that got locked away the moment they surfaced. Incredulous as you felt, you had to concede that you did walk into his apartment with his roommate a stranger, only to emerge in the morning wearing the same clothes.

Blinking, you replied the only way you could; somehow the incredulity escaped your tone in favor of an awkward drone. “We fell asleep listening to music. I passed out in his room and offered to make him breakfast.”

“Oh,” was all Junhui said to that, single syllable drawn out, over-pronounced by slow-moving, exaggerated lips. His bowl suddenly became fascinating, totally capturing his attention as if the stuff sloshing in it wasn’t the planet’s drabbest color.

Right then, Minghao returned through the doorway, smiling serenely in ignorant bliss at you. Junhui glanced at him, then positively stared at you, wiggling his eyebrows and mouthing “love eyes” before falling a little to the side, covering his face and snickering at his own comment.

Did he know something you didn’t? Then again, he also mistook you for a one night stand.

“Want help with the pancakes?" You asked, rising up from your seat a little too fast, giving a harsh squeak of chair legs on tile.

“Alright, since I know I won’t hear the end of it otherwise,” Minghao teased, sliding a drawer open and handing you a large spoon, “the scale is right above you. You can be in charge of the dry ingredients.”

Suddenly even the brush of your skin during the spoon sendoff had you flustered.

"Hey, what's with him?" As he poured milk into a glass measuring cup, Minghao nodded toward his roommate, who now peered up from his bowl with innocent eyes and scruffy hair. "Did he say something to make you uncomfortable?"

Scraping off the heaped top of your flour cup, you placed it gently on the scale, a tiny cascade of white dust snowing onto the chrome surface. If you ever wanted to see your handsome new artist friend again, it was probably wise to keep your mouth shut. But then again, you'd also get a very quick idea of how true Junhui's words were if the response you received was a clear rejection. Maybe it was better to have sure footing. Or maybe whatever it was about Minghao that sent your inhibitions reeling was kicking in again at the domesticity of his requests, the gentle way he'd guided you as you attempted his dance, even taking your arms at one point to reposition you, body slipping tightly against yours just for a moment.

"No," you shook your head, turning it towards Minghao to whisper into his ear and smiling in spite of yourself at the way he pressed closer, "he just, er, thought you brought me here under different pretenses."

As if just to keep you on your toes, Minghao giggled, shaking his head and responding just as unexpectedly as you'd expect of someone whose mind seemed to rest on a greater, far more beautiful astral plane than the average layman, nonchalantly spinning words expertly as one who sat at a workspace and willed story. "I won't know your body until I've known your soul." He shook his head, too. "Let me at least take you on a date first, hm?"

That one painting class really had been fate, antithesis to your many laments, proof of good things happening to those who wait. And hey, you liked Sad Checkerboard, too. Money's worth and them some. Maybe things were moving a little fast, but you were tired of those endless days alone on the train, life chugging past. It was why you'd signed up in the first place- for a little adventure. You couldn't complain when you finally got it.

Minghao raised his eyebrows, lowered them again teasingly in a bit of a chastising look. I'm waiting, his sparkling eyes said.

Reaching over for the flour cup, which had measured the perfect amount on the first try, you smiled. "Of course. Now, do you want chocolate or vanilla pancakes?"

[nancyfmccarthy]

The Museum of Urban Art

The Museum of Urban Art is a permanent outdoor exhibition in the Campadoglio neighborhood of Torino. Campadoglio is a 19th century working class neighborhoodhood which was miraculously saved from the urban renewal projects of the early 1960’s. It is a lattice of straight streets with low houses surrounding inner courtyards. The plain stucco exterior walls became the canvases of the art project that began in 1995. The project is a collaboration between the neighborhood and the Albertini Academy of Art. There are 147 works created by 95 different artists. Most have a QR code nearby, offering information about the work as well as the artist.

It was about a forty minute walk from the city center but felt like a different world.

The streets are still open to traffic, but since it is a residential neighborhood, it’s a pleasant place to stroll.

.

.

Although there is some graffiti in a few places, the art itself seems to be respected and left graffiti-free.

.

.

[farmerbebop]

It seems like an entire lifetime has passed since I last posted. I was back in my hometown. And here are some updates.

1. The only one who was still there, had time and was interested in hanging out with me is mostly just my dad. (You shouldn’t be so surprised to find out you are not so popular in real life if you have been blorbo posting to an audience of ten people on tumblr dot com). I spent most of the time at home listening to him talking about everything and eating with him. That’s something he can’t expect from my little sister and brother. They would rather go out to eat foreign food and don’t like to listen to him “moralising”.

I was born in a different time. When I was a baby, dad made chicken broth for me out of chicken feet because he couldn’t afford any meat. When he needed pork for my porridge he would buy bones but sweet talk the butcher lady so she left some more meat on the bones. Then he would take me out drinking with him after kindergarten (don’t worry it’s not what you think). I was the only kid among a bunch of drunken men so I was treated like a princess by the waitresses. They would bring me the best food they could find every time my dad brought me in. That’s how I got to eat chicken drumsticks for free.

Even if I had all the money in the world, no waitress would treat me better than when I was just a poor man’s daughter.

2. They have put an automatic door at the gate of the Temple of Literature. You have to scan the ticket to get through it. Buy some dried plums at the shop and you scan their QR code to pay with your phone. Ask a 15-year-old where they hang out with their friends in their free time and the first answer is “shopping mall”.

I asked my stepmom about a new piece of wall decor at home and she said it’s some Japanese secondhand stuff. “Importing thrown-away stuffs from Japan is a business now. We are like their dumpster”, she said. My cousin’s daughter speaks better English than me, she is four year old.

They recently built a big museum for military history. It’s not completed yet and the entry is still free. When I was there with my friend on a Thursday morning, it was packed with people. Everyone was taking selfie or having photo taken as if they didn’t just see thousands years of wars, after which their country is becoming more and more like its enemies.

3. My little sister used to say she would go to the fine arts museum with me when I’m home. But ever since she got into the most famous “elite” high school in Vietnam, she has been “working” day and night for the six clubs that she is in. Every time I asked what she was doing she was “working on her deadlines”. She has meetings, interviews, reviews, feedbacks. She knows 600 fellow club members. She has to write posts, design posters, organise events. Her ambition is to get promoted to a “higher position”. I only got to see her at dinner. And she just got into high school a few months ago.

She showed me the instagram page of the robotics club at her school. They have photoshoots for their members as if they were actors. And my blorbo looked in most studio photos like he just came back from a parent-teacher meeting.

4. My little brother is still not showing much interest in studying. But he still wants “an easy job with a high salary” and doesn’t show any interest in “hard work” either. My dad has tried a lot of things and still can’t get his son to turn over a new leaf. “The family method” wouldn’t work on my brother, he said. He means the way his uncle “fixed” him back in his youth.

Back then, dad didn’t learn anything at school. One day after he failed the university entrance exam, his uncle came to his house. He was drunk and he told my dad: “Look at your parents! They gave you everything and you are a good-for-nothing! How can people as talented as your parents have such a useless son as you?! You don’t deserve to bear our last name!” Then he vomited everything he has just eaten and made my dad eat that.

My dad, as proud as he was, had to eat the vomit and started studying after that.

The education system has ruined this new generation, he said. They learn to get good grades and they give out good grades when it fits them. All the politicians telling them to learn hard today will be arrested for corruption the next day. There are as many university graduates as puppies, just as clueless and just as helpless. If your parents are not rich, are not high-ranking officials or don’t have any “connections” then you are on your own.

“Whoever has land to sell nowadays is rich”, he said. And the famine drove my great grandparents out of their hometown in 1945 so we don’t have any land, he also said.

5. My aunt called me a rice ball because I have gained weight. Too much blorbo posting, I guess. Everyone tells me I need to exercise more. My exercise is now my new hiatus and I hope they don’t mean the same thing.

[skybristle]

can i know whitch brushes do u use,, i think u use ibis paint too right?

sorry I didn't have access to my tablet when u sent this but. here's the ones I mainly use

some of these r custom [I can judt grab the qr code if you want] but yeah.

I use mechanical pencil for sketching sometimes

in my usual art I have v clean lines so I just use slight mods of the felt tip pen [just end thickness is smaller so pen pressure can do its magic].

airbrush for gradiants.

sketchyy is actually a brush I mainly use for texture. like with a gradiant ill set it at a big size and low opacity and use it like an airbrush

sputtering is for freckles [not rlly used now that I'm into rw]

digital pen is when I feel like using something bulkier to draw. good stress relief

the resr except the last 2 r for painting. I don't have a method i just kinda threw shit at the wall I don't kno2 what I'm doing

pointilism 5 is for texture usually. i use it a lot to make something look snowy or dappled

clouds [real] is just a good texture but on occassion I will actuwll6 use it for clouds

[nice-bright-colors]

So I did this today. Took a picture of some wall art at the restaurant and shared it through this QR code thingee.

I really hope this is true and 1.2 pounds of food is delivered to a food bank.

Makes me feel better about a fast casual plant based lunch for 2 costing $40…then add on an $8 tip.

However, the food was sooooo good:

Before we left, the Wife™️ wanted a cookie to go. She came back to the table with an oatmeal cream pie. To which I said, “I’ll give you a creampie!”

The very pregnant lady behind me and the guy she was with both spit out their drinks at the same time.

I guess I’m not all that classy after all.

[ahmetmertugrul]

What is your favorite QR code?

Interstellar civilization era, the future world, mysterious super sci-fi alien colorful Lotus rod-shaped glass building, magnificent, Crystal clear, lake, sky, Spacecraft, super sci-fi architecture suspended in the sky, sky fortress, war machine, high-tech, electronic screen lighting, Super sci-fi visual feast space, sci-fi, mystery, sci-fi, surreal, super-clear pictures, HD pixels, ultra-HD, 5D, 8K resolution, pixel perfect, perfect ultra fine detail.

______________________________________________________________

Tilt-shift photo of a restaurant, miniature people eating, chefs making food, people at work, creative photography, miniature photography, beautiful lighting, emphasis lighting, global lighting surreal, ultra-detailed, unreal engine 8k.

______________________________________________________________

A hedgehog wearing a blue coat at a dinner, unreal engine render, 8k.

______________________________________________________________

Icebergs North lights heaven illustration, Unreal engine render 8k, beautiful natural lighting.

______________________________________________________________

Imagine a modern and technology-inspired living room with a unique twist. The centerpiece of the room is a striking circuit board interior wallpaper that covers one wall. The wallpaper features intricate circuit board diagrams, electronic symbols, and vibrant metallic tones.

______________________________________________________________

Let us create the QR code that suits your needs. Feel free to ask any questions.

Send me a message.

[girlbossminerva]

Non exhaustive list of stupid things visitors do at my work (work at an art museum)

A woman OPENED a closed display cabinet and stepped inside despite my colleague asking her THREE TIMES, to stop what she was doing.

On multiple occasions, people come up to the pair of painted Vans set on a pedestal and grab them as if they crossed a threshold and magically ended up in a shoe store.

Me, giving a tour to a group of kids: these hanging lamps are part of the installation, be careful

Annoying pretentious man who sneaked in on my tour: *TAPS A LAMP TO MAKE IT SPIN*

Me: Remember not to touch anything 🙃

Someone: touches a painting

Me: excuse me, please don't touch :)

Them: Oh I wAnTeD tO fEeL tHe TeXtUrE

Me, on desk duty: and we have an interactive exhibition downstairs, you just download an app with the qr code

Lady: really? My kids will love it! *Leaves and returns 8 min later* EXCUSE ME, IT'S NOT WORKING!!

Me: huh, that's strange, did the app not-

Lady: WE STOOD THERE FOR 5 MINUTES AND NOTHING APPEARS

(....they were standing in the dark empty room that was clearly out of service for the moment)

People put their babies on the NASTY DUSTY FLOOR and just let them crawl around and get dirty.

Yet another lady touches a painting, I tell her not to, she looks at me like I'm an inferior creature, I smile instead of telling her how if the law didn't exist I'd push her down the stairs over and over until I got tired of it :)

A guy tries to take a photo of a piece from too close, I tell him to please not do that and avoid crossing the very clear white lines painted on the floor, his friend comes up and the guy decides to inform her of what I said....by leaning into the wall inches away from a piece 🙃

And the one reigning the hall of fame rn

My manager had to sen me to watch over the exhibition upstairs because the girl that was there wasn't feeling well. This was due to a little girl that almost pushing and breaking a figurine, when my friend told her to keep an eye on her daughter the mom yelled at her, told her she "could never understand how hard it was to be a mother" and that is why she couldn't be bothered to hold her child by the hand, and continued to blame her for her problems. This woman then went downstairs, let her child loose, another colleague told her to be careful, the woman snapped again and finally left, grumbling about how we were "anti-children".

[jennyeliseprince]

As I began working on my still-life creation, I faced a challenge in drawing a table that matched my abstract art style. Seeking inspiration, I stumbled upon a fun still-life by Matisse. His work featured a table emerging from the corner of the composition. I drew insights from his work and decided to follow suit, outlining the area around the table with a window in the background, wall space, and a floor area. This approach allowed me to create a sense of depth and dimension in my artwork.

After I mapped out the interior space, I added the first layer of color to bring it to life. Then, I searched for images to use in the collage. I knew I could always return to perfecting the use of color later.

I grabbed some magazines and set a 30-minute timer to stay focused. The timer helps me make decisive decisions while cutting things out.

When the timer went off, my collection consisted of various items, including everyday commercial products, mouth-watering food, and iconic pop culture figures.

After cutting out the images, I took my time to arrange them on the page in various ways. I experimented with different combinations, carefully deciding on the best placement for each item.

I gave my chocolate cake a face and morphed an owl with Drake's face.

After affixing the images, I grabbed my art supplies and revisited each section, intensifying the colors.

As a millennial, I grew up playing video games and indulging in sugary treats. However, when I recently created a collage depicting my life in 2023, I realized how much it had changed, especially in terms of how I acquired goods. To highlight this, I incorporated a box filled with beauty products on the table, as online shopping has become the new norm. Additionally, I added a QR code to the collage, since they are quite trendy these days. In fact, I recently used one at the airport to order a glass of wine without interacting with a human.

I decided to feature the book about Prince Harry because my friend and I had bought it together, but we never got around to reading it. I always feel like some pop culture books are trending, but not all have a significant impact, and some just end up collecting dust. Sorry, Harry, but the new book about Britney Spears is now the talk of the town.

As for the Drake owl, it symbolizes our consumerist era since Drake is incredibly wealthy, enjoys spending money, and takes pride in looking good. I viewed myself as the puppy in the composition, always ready for a consumerist treat.

I included an orange for my photo documentation because I planned to eat it for breakfast. I also borrowed my husband's N64 controller and featured his favorite game, Zelda.