old ink drawing from my sketchbook because i need to get over my embarrassment over posting this stuff
[ID: A black-and-white ink drawing of a towering fantasy city structure. The structure is built of many buildings stacked on top of each other in an improbable curving shape, interspersed with wires, headlights, and pipes. There is a large batch of rocks hanging from the structure. The drawing has a sketchy quality and gets less detailed towards the top of the structure. /end ID]
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Since that gothic anthy piece I've been thinking about a whole gothic rgu au... I'd really have to dig in deeper into indian-british history in order to develop this further (and to dress everyone more accurately) but I'm tentatively placing this in the 1830s... Akio could be an indian nobleman who worked with/for the east india company... Maybe did some shady stuff for it and was rewarded with a lavish mansion in the uk... Utena is some plucky orphaned girl who becomes his protégé... Anthy is the woman hidden away in the attic... But utena glimpses her at night... Mrs rochester core...
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the Wave House gives me lot of Holiday House vibes… like the intention behind its purchase
previous owners include musical producers and musical artists though.
rod stewart rode off on the pacific coast highway, it was sunny..
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^ has never heard of breaking bald
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i keep imagining the statehouse as this huge house in the middle of nowhere. the entire property is in the middle of a grassland—yellow-green grass that reaches up to your knees kind of grassland. the plains. and there's a fenced off backyard behind the statehouse, but not more than a few hundred feet after it there's a forest—a temperate deciduous forest, like you find in the eastern U.S., with a creek a little ways in. venture deeper and you'll find a river. there's a mountain backdrop as well, and you know they're huge mountains, but they're so far away they appear a little small.
the house itself is... queen anne meets folk victorian-ish. shades of golden brown and white. there's a paved road leading up to it and a parking lot off to the side, about the size of a decently sized high school parking lot. and the road ends at the house. if you keep driving the other way, though, you eventually make it to town. a fairly urban city, with your standard fast food joints and stores and gas stations and whatnot. it's not the heart of a metropolis, not the suburban edges of it, but a decently populated urban city with a freeway or two running through it. somehow, somewhere, after a bit of an elevation drop maybe, absolutely rural plains gives way to the city. blink and you'll miss it, except no matter what you do, you'll always miss it.
the thing is, i keep imagining the statehouse and the land surrounding it as this little pocket in time and space, that exists on vaguely the same line as where central time meets eastern. the states are immortal, and that's practically magic, so why can't the statehouse be magic as well?
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Currently watching a video of flippers turning a beautiful house from the 70s into another sad beige resell garbage can. And my soul is crying.
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My nemesis, college, has kept me from writing the ending of DoS when I am literally one scene away so, out of spite, here's a snippet of the thing (derogatory) I have to write for my history of contemporary architecture class:
Colour is an often neglected theme, but one that is undoubtedly necessary in architecture. It is intrinsically linked to the expression of a work, being, sometimes, a recognizable characteristic of a style or language of architecture (some obvious examples would be the modernist architects and their use of white or the great presence of gold in many Baroque works). It is a theme from which it is impossible to escape, even if one does not make the active choice of painting (as an example, Giorgio Grassi said to have only chosen materials which already had a colour of their own, like brick, to rid himself of the decision) - all materials have colours and textures that will, inevitably, affect the reading of an architecture project.
Fernando Távora was an architect of great influence in the realm of portuguese architecture, in regards to his writings and his built projects as well. His work is marked by the search for an architecture capable of combining the best aspects of modern and traditional in a new style adequate to his ideals. Much of this search involved the use of different materials and, of course, colour.
Colour, on its own, means very little. What matters is the context in which it is found: the placement, the language, the material. For example: the residential neighbourhood of Ramalde, the convent of Santa Marinha, and the tennis pavilion in Quinta da Conceição all utilize white stucco on their exterior, but it would be erroneous to claim that this colour should be read the same way in these three works - something which, of course, will be explored in the present essay.
Fuck u. I wanna write about my two codependent besties having a terrible time in a fantasy land. And you force me to write about a guy I barely care about. Why u gotta make me do this?
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